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steviewashere · 2 months ago

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Steve's parents get a divorce, but they blame it on Steve instead of their own problems. (I got carried away with an idea, sorry)

CW: Suicide Attempt, Gun, Discussions About Divorce, Self-Deprecating Thinking

Everything turns out fine! This ends more hopeful than it sounds, I promise!

They're just like, "You're the only reason we had to stay together. If you weren't born, then we could've separated years ago." And just generally making him feel like dog shit for being their son. And they add insult to injury by counting every single one of his failures, the way he "embarrassed" them and "failed" them. They belittle him for not making it to college—siting that if they knew he wasn't going to be intelligent enough to make it, that they could've used the money they set aside for something better; like a vacation trip or to move out of Hawkins or to get a divorce attorney.

They're not calm about telling him at all. Just level 100 mad and fuming. His parents are shouting at one another, they're shouting at him, he's shouting back at them. When he starts crying, his dad tells him to stop acting like such a "hysterical woman" about everything; that he's "not even affected" by the divorce; that "not everything's about you, Steven, my god."

He doesn't know what to do once his parents finally calm down for the night, going to separate bedrooms; his mom packs her bags and states she's staying with her sister; Steve is left with his dad who refuses to talk to him—unless he's drunk out of his mind and angry. A lot of nights just ends up with tense, awkward one-sided conversations with his dad where he's told over and over again, "I could've still loved your mother if it wasn't for you."

And, sure, Steve knows the divorce isn't his fault. At least not 100%. But you can only hear something so many times before it starts to become true, right? So he begins believing that maybe he really was the pinnacle to all this. That if he had never been born, never been raised, never lived with them, that they could've lived happier, more well off lives.

And then this overwhelming self-consciousness begins to spread into other parts of his life. He begins to believe that Nancy was right in calling him bullshit—because he was shallow and he was a fuck-up and he was bad at being a boyfriend. He begins to believe that if he never threw that party, Barb wouldn't have died—that her death is, somehow, directly his fault. He begins to believe that if he'd never been so naive and stupid and a failure, that Robin wouldn't be involved in any of this mess.

He isn't sure if Hopper means it when he says "son". He isn't sure if he believes Eddie when he says, "I love you." He doesn't trust himself to fuck everything up with Dustin, because he can't stomach the idea of Dustin turning away from him and ridiculing him and brushing him off—same with Max. He isn't certain if Robin's actually his best friend, or if she's just doing it because she has to—because they fucked each other's jobs at Scoops and so she had to help him, or because they're the only two on the outside of the Upside Down/Vecna bullshit, because they know each other's secrets.

He isn't sure about his place in anything. And maybe there's a lot more that is his fault.

And when Eddie tries to tell him it isn't, Steve argues with him; screams at him that he's just saving face or pitying him or loving him out of obligation. Steve's insecurities end up being so bad that Eddie just goes, "I think...I think we need some time apart from each other. I think you need to figure yourself out before we can continue whatever this is."

And then the same thing happens with Robin. Where Robin leaves him with, "I'm your best friend because I want to be. I'm not pitying you. And you're not my obligation. If you're feeling doubts, maybe we need time to ourselves—really think things over."

And then it just continues to trickle down.

Until all that's left is him. Him and his stupid drunk dad. Him and this realization that he really does ruin everything he's involved in. And he could try to mend it all, but now he's too exhausted to try. So he just leaves it all as-is. He just continues on like this indescribable loneliness is his normal.

He goes to work at Family Video, but doesn't talk to Robin even once while he's there. And his car is always empty. And his heart is always heavy. And his bed is always cold. And the pictures he has of all the people he's ever loved are beginning to fade, but now he can't take new ones.

He's grown so insecure that he proved himself right, in a way. Yeah, he really was the hardship in all these relationships—but only because he made it harder, by ignoring the way everybody was quick to reassure him.

Now he doesn't know what to do, how to fix things. He's alone. He's miserable. He's depressed.

Steve's always tired now and he's not keeping himself tidied the way he used to. He's too quiet now. He shows up where he needs to and then he hides. He's not eating right. He's not smiling anymore. He's forgetful. He's pale and sickly and gaunt. He won't flirt with anybody, he won't laugh with anybody, he won't make new friends, he won't reach out to anybody. He just shuts down.

And then one day, he shows up to Family Video. He talks to Robin for the first time in months. He apologizes. He's smiling. He's laughing at her jokes. He hugs her. Then, he gives her his favorite album on tape—his most cherished cassette—and refuses to take it back when she turns it down.

And then he does the same to Eddie. Steve gives over his favorite t-shirt with a simple, "So you don't miss me." He kisses Eddie and they have sex and they giggle with one another and praise one another.

And then he apologizes to Dustin and Max.

To Nancy and Jonathan.

To Hopper.

Everybody's thinking that Steve's back to himself. Back to normal. That he got over what had been bothering him. Because he seems more level headed and clearer and happier. He's funny again. And he's hugging them, so hard he pops backs. He's telling them over and over and over that he loves them. That he missed them. That he hopes they didn't miss him too much. Makes them promise they won't miss him too much if he goes dark like that again, trying to play it off as some teasing, playful remark.

However, the only one who is suspicious is Hopper. Because something about Steve's behaviors feel familiar and planned and plastic. He responds the way Steve wants him to—sometimes. He forces Steve to stay longer at hang outs, even when something nervous flashes across his face—a blink and you'll miss it sort of thing, which is why Hopper believes he's the only one that catches the falter, the drop. And he hates the way Steve talks about his parents' divorce; "I kinda got in the way here and there. But it's fine, really, they're divorcing now and they'll get me to themselves one on one. Won't have to worry about both being there. Don't wanna make somebody do something they don't want to." Hopper keeps a really, really close eye on Steve.

And then he sees something new.

He and Joyce host a BBQ party with everybody invited. Steve's there. Sort of. Talking to everybody when they talk to him. But then he does this thing. This thing where he goes completely silent and sits off to the side, sort of relaxed in a lawn chair. And then he looks out everybody. With a soft reverence. With a soft sort of adoration. And acceptance. Some weird, nearly missed acceptance. Like he's allowing something inside him, something to take place while everybody's in the backseat. Or, more so, like Steve's in the backseat and he's letting everybody drive him somewhere.

Steve leaves half way through the BBQ. With a throw away excuse. He's smiling, bright and cheery. It won't meet his eyes, not really. There's color in his cheeks. He's holding himself casually. Nonchalantly. Still accepting something.

Hopper pretends to take a phone call while everybody's cleaning up outside. Pretends Callahan needs him. And then he follows Steve as closely as he can without being spotted. They end up in a forest that opens to a grassy clearing. It's quiet. Empty.

He parks far, far away from where Steve did. Goes the rest of the path on foot, stepping everywhere Steve did, right where it's oddly the quietest. And then he stops, hiding behind a tree, eyes thrown around it.

Steve's not too far away. Standing in the open. The shiny happiness has fallen off his face. Leaving him blank and bare. Vulnerable in an unsettling, nauseating way. There's a backpack in his hand. He crouches down and unzips it. Stands back up with something held tight to his front—something Hopper can't see, so he steps out from behind the tree, still standing off quietly, watching.

Steve raises his arm. Flicks out his wrist. And there, in his tight, white-knuckled grip is seemingly brand new handgun. A handgun. It's not up to his head yet, to his temple where Hopper suspects he's going to place it.

Hopper, frightened out of his skin, does the only thing he can think to do. With all his chief of police bravado, he shouts out, "Freeze!" And Steve, surprisingly, stops. "Drop your weapon."

And Steve doesn't.

"I said drop your weapon, Steve."

And then Steve holds his arm straight out from his side. Hand visibly quaking. The gun drops to the grass. Drops in a way that sets it off, just once—bang! And the noise alone startles Steve so bad that he crouches down and covers his ears and balls up into himself. Still next to the disposed gun.

Of course, Hopper hurries to him. Pulls him in tight. Shushes him when he cries and sobs. Rubs his back when Steve hunches over and expels the contents of his stomach. And then he just nods his head, muttering, "I know, I know you are," when Steve begins apologizing.

Hopper has to take him back to the house. To where everybody is still enjoying their BBQ. But he sneaks Steve in. They end up just sitting in Hopper's bedroom. Steve's gone completely silent, no more mask on his face. So Hopper begins talking about himself. About what he experienced, the guilt he carried, how he felt like so much was his fault—even if he'd been told it wasn't.

And Steve asks, "What changed?"

And Hopper, honestly, truthfully, "I don't know, Steve. I want to say El, but I think it was more than her. I wish I had an answer."

"I'm sorry," Steve says—for the millionth time. "I thought I was covering it up well." He sniffs. "How'd you know to follow me, Hop?"

"Son"—and Steve's eyes well with tears again, so Hopper squeezes him in tighter—"you were the most lucid I'd seen you in months. I knew what you were showing wasn't you."

Wobbly and wet, "Will everybody be mad? I feel like I've been lying to them."

"No," Hopper immediately answers, "they'll probably be very sad that you felt like you had to do this. But I don't think they'll be mad."

"But...but I...I—what if they think I've been trying to guilt them into...into being around me again? 'Cause I...it's my fault they all left me."

"You'll have to be honest, son. And it's gonna be scary, I know. But you've been carrying around a lot of weight the last few months, hell the last few years—you've been putting on a very convincing front. I think everybody will understand." Hopper brings Steve into a side hug when he begins to weep again. "And if they don't," Hopper adds, "then you've got me. I know it's not all the same, but I promise you that I understand, okay?" He pulls Steve back. Looks him in the eyes. "But you've got very good, very empathetic friends. These people really do love you. They love having you in their lives—we all missed you before, we were waiting for you to come back. They don't want to miss you forever. You got that?"

And Steve just breaks down again. And Hopper allows him.

Okay, this started as an angst thing where Eddie had to, like, comfort Steve after what his parents said. But uh...I spiraled?

#I didn't mean to go that direction. but it just happened.#read content warnings!#angst and hurt/comfort #stranger things #steve harrington #jim hopper #steve harrington & jim hopper #steddie #everybody else is there. i just don't feel like tagging them

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secriden · 7 months ago

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This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

#this episode broke me in ways i wasn't ready for because of style's backstory so fair warning there's no level of objectivity whatsoever #i'm sure much as already been said about this line and this moment and i'm sorry if i'm just repeating someone else (please let me know!)#i haven't had the time or physical OR emotional capacity to actually read any meta on episode 5 #so i apologise in advance if i screwed up anything but these are just my (somewhat disjointed and very emotionally driven) thoughts #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #fadelstyle #style sattawat #fadel #thk ep 5 #thk meta #hui talks thk #hui talks thai bl #i understand why dunk said this scene was so hard and weighty and was his favourite now #(or at least i think this was the one he means?? I vaguely remember an interview where dunk talked about them talking #before they have sex and how emotionally charged it was)#i'll have to go through my tags and see if i talked about it #but either way our boys both did such excellent jobs this episode #as they have been doing every episode but each time i really am just... newly awed by their talent and my adoration for them grows <3 #joongdunk #joong archen #dunk natachai

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zorosdimples · 11 months ago

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UNDER HIS THUMB ꒰ uraume x reader x sukuna ꒱

minors and blank/ageless blogs do not interact—i will block you. cw: suggestive content. nonconsensual nudity. dubious touching. brief descriptions of cannibalism and violence. suicide mention. reader is referred to as “bride” and “wife.” reader has breasts. wc: 1053. notes: uraume ily—please ditch shitkuna for me <3 (based on this idea)

A fire blazes in the yawning hearth, bathing your bedchamber in a warm titian. The shadows of flames leap and dance across the cragged stone walls—a solar flare—a cosmic spectacle. Logs and branches resembling human bones sputter and spark, crackling in your ears. You shift in your seat.

The diaphanous veil remains pinned to your crown as Uraume’s fingers move deftly through your locks, the sweeping gossamer that brushes your ankles now pooling on the floor. They unravel the intricate updo they crafted for the ceremony, your hair a glowing halo in the firelight, head bowed in gentle subservience. The pins that bite at your scalp are crusted in blood; the sharp pain has long-since softened into a dull throb.

“I hate him,” you announce.

(It’s how you cope with your precarious situation: burying your fears beneath carefully woven layers of disdain.)

Barren aside from a bed, a wardrobe, and an armchair, your threadbare accommodations are as cozy as a dungeon. No torch, tapestry, or looking glass adorns the walls. Your companion’s expression is hidden as they continue their work atop your head.

Uraume chastises you after a few beats, affectation frigid as ice. “You shouldn’t speak of your husband in such a manner.”

You snort. This one-sided union will only further scar the ugly face of matrimony; looking upon your captor with respect or affection is as likely as you kissing the cheek of your slain mother a final time. “My ‘husband’ for all of ten minutes.”

“And still your husband, nonetheless.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you snap.

Uraume pushes you to your feet and fluffs the veil with a hum. They circle you, appraising your body—the flimsy, silken robe that ripples across your curves hides nothing from their piercing stare—then, for what must be the fifth time, they adjust the knot that holds the garment together. When their eyes meet yours, you find yourself falling for the ruse, plucking fresh buds from a field of fuchsia.

How you wish their gaze held more than cool indifference.

Ever perceptive, they reach out to gingerly tuck a wayward strand behind your ear; if you close your eyes and still your heaving chest, you can pretend that it’s an intimate gesture—the touch of a lover. “Rarely do we have a say in our own fates,” Uraume muses.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you quell the urge to embrace your attendant. (It’s a disgraceful thought for a newlywed. But you can’t spool in the words that unfurl from your lips, the edges raw, frayed with longing.)

“I would have taken my life if it hadn’t been for you, Uraume. I can’t stand him.”

“Master Sukuna would never allow you to harm yourself.”

“Tch—that vile brute cares little for my well being.” Hatred flares within your chest, your once-blooming heart now withered with rot. Tears of anguish blur your vision and make each syllable tremble. “If he didn’t want to harm me, he wouldn’t have murdered and feasted on my family.”

A smile tucks itself in the corners of Uraume’s lips like a secret, though you miss it—misty-eyed and waist-deep in a deluge of painful memories. “You seem to forget that I prepared their flesh at my lord’s behest.”

“I can’t fault you for being trapped under his thumb; you’re kinder than you give yourself credit for, anyhow.”

They chuckle darkly. “And what leads you to believe that?”

It doesn’t occur to you until this moment that you’ve edged closer to Uraume. If you leaned forward, you would smell the frost on their porcelain skin, taste the mint on their breath. Despite yourself, you reach out, cupping their cheek.

“You’ve been my devoted caretaker since I arrived, patient and helpful at every turn. Your presence is the only constant here—my sole comfort.”

“Oh? Is my blushing bride ready to consummate our unholy union?” A rumbling voice cracks the tense air open like a bone, marrow seeping out, juices staining the tender earth.

Your neck snaps to the doorway. Your monster of a husband nearly blots out the frame with his inhuman physique, clothed in nothing but a simple pair of black trousers, both sets of arms crossed. Disgust pinches your brow and purses your lips; you sneer.

“With you? Never.”

Amused by your vehemence, the King of Curses approaches you, both mouths curled into wolfish grins. Uraume bows as Sukuna invades your space, two clawed hands wrapping around your waist, the other two cradling your skull. He demands your attention, irises a wine-dark sea of skeletons and ichor. A cursed siren urges you to plunge into its depths. End your suffering.

“Uraume—has my wife been inappropriate with you in my absence?”

Without hesitation, they answer: “Yes, my lord.”

Several sets of eyes—one belonging to Uraume, the others to Sukuna—gorge on your discomfort. You bristle under their scrutiny, and fruitlessly attempt to rip yourself from your husband’s grasp, nails scratching angry lines across his tattooed forearms.

He clicks his tongue. “My naughty little bride.”

Bile burns your throat at the mock-endearment, bitterness coating your tongue. For as resolved as you’ve been, you shake with rage, the hulking beast before you stoking the embers of your wrath. He smiles something sharp and wicked before releasing you. You stumble backwards, limp as a ragdoll.

“Uraume,” Sukuna commands.

There’s an unspoken agreement between master and servant. When Uraume steps forward and swiftly unties your robes, you shriek, the fabric slipping open to expose your nude form. They proceed to rip the garment from your body; it falls to the floor in wispy shreds.

Attempting to preserve your dignity, you scramble to wrap an arm around your chest and press a palm between your legs. “This hardly seems proper,” you pant.

Sukuna snickers as he sits at the foot of your bed, spreading his legs. “How else is a ‘vile brute’ supposed to learn the intricacies of his little wife’s body if not through careful examination?”

As much as you want to spew poison at him, you gasp when Uraume’s chilly lips graze the arch of your neck, their delicate hands slipping up to caress the swell of your breasts. Unable to stifle the moan that warbles past your lips, you make the sinister decision to revel in this pleasure—no matter how short-lived, underhanded, or wrong it may be.

#not sure which warnings 2 tag… just read the cw pls #i love this concept so i hope u do too. kith kith #uraume x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #༄ kae writes #tw dubcon

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angelyuji · 5 months ago

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stepbro what're you doinggg

sorry im like super behind on a lot of my classes cuz i was super sick the past couple days so i think im losing my mind (fun fact: absolutely bombed an exam i thought i did well on so fuck me ig)

a lot of you are fans of my step/fauxcest peter and caleb stuff so i wanna write more for my silly little freaks (both you guys and them) to add some variety ill be doing some stepdad stuff becuz... i can... so ive written for 4 characters and ill be posting them each day or so after some final touchesss teehee so enjoy this one!!

18+!!!! minors dni!!!!!

"bully" reader x "victim" stepbro!peter parker (all adults in this fic!!)

tw // yandere, stepcest, noncon, peter is a little lying shit, bullying, general yandere/toxic shit!!! (lmk if im missing anything pls)

"how many times have i told you to be nice to him?" may and your father glare at you as peter stands behind them, watching you carefully.

"he started it!" you point at peter with a glare. your dad rolls his eyes and may sighs, disappointed.

"(y/n), even the school told us you've been bullying peter." you stay silent, “getting him shoved into lockers? stealing his things? throwing food at him? anything ringing a bell?” your dad reads off the letter from the school.

you stand, indignant, "he was telling his friends that we're dating! he's spreading rumors, so yeah! maybe i did “bully” him, but he's a lying sack of shit that deserves it." you seethe, practically spitting at peter.

your dad gives you a disapproving stare at your last few words, but may's eyes widen as she turns to peter, "is that true, peter?"

peter stutters, eyes flickering between the three of you, "i didn't- i would never-"

your dad raises a hand, making peter pause, "peter. we need the truth. all may and i want is for the two of you to a family."

peter hesitates before sighing, dejectedly, "i used to have a crush on (y/n). i was just telling a couple of my friends about it. someone must've heard wrong." he trails off, but seeing his aunt's bewildered expression continues, "i don't anymore! just you know... i did."

"no! he's lying!" you try to defend yourself, but may exhales in relief and your father looks at you, disappointed once more.

"(y/n), this could've been solved easily if you had just talked it out with your step-brother." you try to speak, but he talks over you, "go to your room. i'm so disappointed in you." you scoff and stomp off. you hear may lecturing peter about letting rumors spread and you slam the door closed.

night falls and the house was quiet once more. you lay in bed, letting your tears fall freely. your window squeaks and you sit up, startled.

"i told you no one would take your side, (y/n)." he speaks, voice muffled by the mask.

"get out of my room, peter." you spit, teeth clenched. he scoffs. "just cause i said i wouldn't tell them about spider-man, doesn't mean i won't scre-" your words get caught off in shock as webs plaster your mouth shut.

“god, shut the fuck up, (y/n).” peter pulls off his mask, annoyance clear on his face. he steps closer and you scooch back in your bed. your back hits the headboard and you eye the door, seeing if you could make it. before you could react, peter was on top of you, forcing you onto your back. he kisses down your neck and presses his lips to your collarbone. his tongue drags across your skin, forcing a whimper from you. he pulls your waist closer to his, pressing himself against you. peter whispers into the deepening kiss, “don’t bother trying to run, (y/n). you don’t have the power here… i do.”

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