#let me be a part of the craze again PLEASE

[dibbs-n-scribbs]

It feels so bittersweet getting back into Gravity Falls again at an age where I can finally fully comprehend and appreciate the show in its entirety. I was 7 when it came out and found the episodes very fun and entertaining. Every now and then I would go back and revisit it, usually being late to whatever new sensation revolving around the show occurred (this was because I grew up with tv providers that would take away the cool cartoon channels for months-years so I could never watch original premiere dates like other viewers. I also didn't use social media till i was like 13, so youtube recommendations would remind me that I had just missed the Mcgucket author theory, Cipher Hunt, etc). Even going back when I was 15-16, it was fun to revisit episodes I would quote very often, but I'd still feel bad about not having watched every episode yet or even missing the series finally. I'm late to every single fandom ever (I mean I just got into Columbo like 30-50 years later), and even with the new resurgence in GF with the Book of Bill, I didn't here about it until weeks later, and I'm not even getting my book until late November. I've been rewatching some episodes, and I'm experiencing a feeling of nostalgia and grief - reliving the old times while feeling bad for not being able to experience it on time with other fans. Even with the resurgence, the saying "See you next summer" hurts to hear, as there may not be any other Gravity Falls content ever again, as Alex Hirsch might want to move onto other projects (also summer just officially ended too :'0). Being 12 years since the show began, I hope there will be more opportunities to share experiences with other GF fans, but even if there isn't, I'm very glad to be alive in a timeline where Gravity Falls exists as a show. It has created a new format of modern cartoons and will forever hold a big place in my heart. All this rambling to say that I love this show and hope to one day become a big part of it and other shows like this.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

GIF by aenhanse

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: You confront Miguel.

warnings: breeding kink, cum play, animalistic behaviour (not quite ABO), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise and degradation, Miguel eats ass like a fucking champ, general filth etc etc. very very 18+, minors dni (and i will b blocking!) 

a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! I will say, all the comments about relationship building and stuff do make me laugh a little bc this part is literally just p0rn with a teensy tiny bit of feelings.. but if you follow me this should be pretty standard by now.

wc: 4k ish

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

You let yourself in again, but not until after pounding on the door. 

You think he's home, the scent of something in the air. At first glance, his place is empty, but a mess : cushions ripped off the couch, kitchen ransacked of its contents, floor covered in blankets and clothes. It makes you worry: Miguel is so clean it's scary . He would never leave his place like this. You hear something from his bedroom and rush towards it.

He's there, back turned on the bed. But something's wrong. In sweats and a tank top, he's breathing heavily, clutching at the sheets. 

"You shouldn't be here." He strains. 

Eyes wide, you step closer. Is he in pain? Is he hurt? "Miguel. I just want to help. Did something happen?" 

All he does is shake his head, unable to make eye contact with you. "I c-can't let you… please, bichita. It's not safe for you."

Your heart breaks at his helplessness, you get closer, and perch on the bed next to him. He jumps at the hand you place in his shoulder. Fuck. He's drenched in sweat. 

"Miguel, please. Let me in… I'd do anything. Just let me help."

He groans with his head in his hands. "I know, bichita. That's the problem. I can't let you…"

You look at him properly now. He's writhing on the sheets, tense and unable to sit still. Guiltily, all you can think is how good he looks; pretty even when his hair sticks to the nape of his neck, when he groans lowly at your presence. Your eyes rake down his body, looking for a secret wound, or something he's hiding. When you spot it, you gasp. 

Miguel is rock hard under his sweats. And he is massive. 

It clicks. Ashamed, he makes hesitant eye contact with you. "It's not usually this bad. And it gets worse if I'm near someone I'm…" He breathes. "Someone I'm attracted to."

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement; of the situation. "I think that's just what erections do, Miggy." 

He rolls his eyes, too annoyed to be as uneasy for a moment. " No , God, I meant my DNA. There's something wrong with me, something animalistic , that makes it ten times worse. I'm going crazy. Smell, taste, touch… and it doesn't just go away. "

You hum. "And what's your hypothesis?" 

He looks at you, a little crazed, but he gets it. If you talk to him like it's one of your status reports, like it's another mission, maybe he can stop thinking about pounding you into the sheets and filling you up with his cum. 

He clears his throat. " You . Gets worse when I t-think about you, or you're near."

You've got a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles that go straight to his head. 

"What makes it feel better?" 

Deep breath. "Touching myself. But I haven't… and I won't-" 

"Why?" You smile like a Cheshire cat. Are you… enjoying this? 

"I can't. You're a friend and it's a violation of your trust."

"It hurts. You're in pain. I give you full permission to give yourself some relief. You can touch yourself, for me. I want you to feel good."

His hips buck up involuntarily. Just thinking about it is driving him crazy. " Mierda. Stop talking like that-" 

"Like what?" You bat your eyelashes. 

"Like that ." He hisses. "Like you want to get fucked."

He squeezes his eyes shut, even more guilty. "I'm sorry. That's not appropriate at all. I shouldn't have… snapped like that."

You rub your legs together: you're fucking soaked. Like this, with his senses going crazy, you don't know if he can smell it, taste it in the air. The thought makes you even wetter. 

You mumble. "Meant it, Miguel. I just want to watch."

Agonisingly slow, you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches, eyes wide, trying not to lean into it. 

"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, if it makes you feel better." 

He grabs his crotch, rocking into his palm. You're breaking him down, bit by bit. 

"I think you like punishing yourself, Miggy. You think you deserve it. How long have you been like this? Weeks, I bet. When all you needed to do was ask me. I would've helped you over the phone if you wanted it. Told you how to stroke your cock, where to put pressure, asked you if it felt good. Think about how good it would feel. The relief. "

You rock on your heel and it doesn't go unnoticed. You light him on fire, and the thought of you getting off only pushes him closer to the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper. He nods fervently. "I've always wanted you in my mouth. Just wanted to know what it would feel like; how pretty you'd look when you cum."

It's too much. His back arches, and he groans, spilling into his sweats. Astounded, you look up. So. Much. Cum. You didn't think a person could physically produce so much, but here he is, coating the inside of his boxers with it. Miguel, however, looks embarrassed: his first orgasm in a week and it's spilling into his trousers in front of a pretty girl like a teenager. He groans, covering his flushed face. 

"Can I…?" Your eyes are wide in amazement. Shakily, he nods. 

Is it bad for you to say he looks just like you imagined? Tan, long and with a bit of girth, and under all the cum he seems well-groomed. He's still half hard, which is impressive considering the sheer amount of cum splattered everywhere. Probably, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. As you pull down his boxers, your very obvious glee makes him pause. 

"...you like this?" He seems genuinely confused, and it makes you giggle. You've flustered him, yet again. 

Resting a head on his thigh, you look up at him through innocent lashes. Your other hand swipes cum off his tip, making his cock jump. "Could ask you the same. You're still hard." 

"I can't believe…" He mutters. "You're gonna kill me." 

"What do you want, Miguel?" You put a hand on his length, rubbing up and down ever so slightly. "You want to get off?" 

"I want…" It makes him grunt all the same. He goes from wayward glances to looking you straight in the eyes. " You . I want you." 

"How do you want me?" Deceptively innocent, you coax his length back to full mast with your hand. 

How do you want me? There are a thousand thoughts flying through his head, and his brows tense with the weight of them. Head back, he leans into your touch. He doesn't want to scare you, with the way he's been thinking about that question long before you asked: weeks, months, years before now. You see him hesitate, and bite his lip.

Your hands still and he cries out, cursing the loss of warmth. "M'not asking again." A little softer now. "No judgement, Miggy. I just want to help." 

Deep breath. "Anyway I can. Wanna fill you up with my cum. On top. U-Underneath. Mierda. I want your mouth. I want your sweet cunt. I-" 

You silence him with a moan when you envelope his cock with your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss as you bob up and down. Just the tip, teasing , and he's already addicted. With a pop, you separate, pressing sticky kisses and kitten-licks to his shaft and torso. He can't take his eyes off of you: peeking up at him through wispy lashes, licking up his cum. 

Pretty, plump lips smack at his tip obscenely. He can't help but think about how well it suits you; mouth around his cock like something holy.  Precum pours from his slit and you lap it up, chasing his moans. Your own moans vibrate deliciously around him and he wraps a hand in your hair. Finally. You want him to enjoy this, to lean into your head-bobbing, and force your head down onto his dick. You want to feel him in the back of your throat, bullying into the warmth of your mouth and moulding you into the shape of him. 

It starts with a little pressure at the back of your neck, deceptively subtle as he rocks his hips into your face. Making eye contact, you look up and feel your pussy clench around nothing. His eyes are lidded, gorgeous, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet rosy lips. 

"You want it, hermosa ?" His voice has a different texture to it: deep and wanting and needy. 

As best you can, you nod, humming affirmations around his cock. Oh God, of course you do. You want him; anyway you can, anyway he'll let you, more than he'll ever know. 

He pushes you down, hard, cock hitting the back of your throat like a piston. You gurgle and choke around him, throat tightening in a way that makes him melt. You force yourself deeper, hot tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your hands claw at his thighs, nails digging so tight into the fabric you think he might bleed. Winding a hand down to your heat, you press your palm into that sweet spot at your clit and Miguel watches, hungry. 

"Oh fuck , you feel so good. I'm gonna– m-mierda – m'gonna cum."

With a final tug, he pushes you down so your nose brushes at the curly hairs leading down to his cock, spilling into you with vigour. It pours down your throat and you drink it up with pleasure. 

"All gone?" He asks, panting with exertion. In response, you open up your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue so he can inspect it. He stirs when he realises just how cock drunk you are: nary a trace of him left on your tongue.

Slowly, he brings a thumb to your mouth, and watches intently as you swirl it around, and suck on it keenly. The pressure makes him light headed, other hand reaching for your waist to pull you up. And pull you up he does, turning you around so he can take off your suit and have you seated on his lap, where you belong. 

You let him, shrugging off the top half of the suit as he pulls down your zipper. Surprisingly gentle, he traces the slope of your shoulders, and down to your bare ass. He groans. No underwear, because of course , you want to kill him. You want him to die, pussy-whipped and half-hard. He pushes you towards the wall, back pressed flush against him. He drags his fangs across your neck and whispers into the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver. 

"Once I start," He kneads your ass, grinding his cock against you. You gasp. He's still hard. "M'not gonna be able to stop. And it's not going to be sweet, bichita . You leave now and I won't be angry . I–I'll give you space, whatever you want."

" Miguel," Head back, you moan into his touch, dragging his hand towards your slit, hoping he’ll relieve the pressure at your pussy. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow– fuck– f-feel it when I walk and know it was you . Need it. Need you , please-" 

He bites into your shoulder, and you moan wantonly, back arching into his length. He places your hand on the wall, palms flat. Like the chaser after a burning shot, he soothes haphazard squeezes down your back with his mouth. Hot, messy kisses, as he sinks to his knees. He forces you to hinge at the hip.  Breasts pushed against the cool wall, you gasp when you feel him spread the globes of your ass as he presses his tongue to your hole. He licks the length of your slit, and like a slut, you lean into it. 

"Prettiest cunt I've ever seen, hermosa." He brings his hand to your clit, giving you a wet slap as he watches you shudder. Again, and again, until you cry out. 

" Miguel, fuuuck." 

How has he gone his whole life without hearing you say his name like that? Yet again, he almost cums in his pants, loosely shoved over his aching length. All he can do is watch as your holes flutter and clench around nothing, mesmerised. 

"You'd look even prettier filled with my cum, hmm?" He presses a sticky kiss to your puckered asshole, before easing his tongue inside. One hand holding you open, the other comes to play with your pussy, swirling your wetness around your throbbing clit. 

He tongue-fucks you with fervour, like a man starved: only coming up for air to babble obscenities. 

"Tan bonita, bichita." Slowly, he eases his fingers into your cunt, scissoring them open and shut. He wants to break you apart with only his hands, if you'd let him. "So pretty– fuck. So soft, baby. Beautiful."

You're close and he knows it, fucking yourself on his fingers and face like a bitch in heat. Undeterred, he brings a thumb to your clit pressing down with juust the right amount of pressure. 

"Wanna feel it, hermosa . Can you cum for me? All over my fingers like a good girl, just like that, así de simple."

With the way he paws at your pussy, all you can do is clench around his fingers. He guides you through a shaking, biting orgasm, licking up your cum with a flourish. Even with shaky legs you manage to turn around and pull Miguel up, and he follows eagerly. He looks fucked out already, eyes low and lips swollen with your slick. He motions to strip, stretching his tank top across the expanse of his chest and letting his cock spring free from his sweats. When you move to help him, he stops you, moving your hand from his tank to his solid torso beneath. He wants you to touch him; to feel your soft palm run across his skin, and sink into the warmth of your body. 

One hand at your waist, he presses you against the wall, grinding his cock to your clit. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and they fit like they belong there. Close, impossibly close, and his pupils are blown, wide. It's like he can't decide what he wants to do to you, sharp red eyes darting over your lips, your neck, down to the juncture where you both meet. A paralysis of choice, and all he can do is drink you up in the low light. 

And so, you make a choice for him, lips crashing against his, hand snaking around to guide his cock into your hole. He sinks into you - finally - and you swallow his moans in the aftermath. He's slow to start, eyes screwed shut as he gets used to how tight you are around him. Slowly, he rocks into you, the heat of his palm steady at the crook of your back. 

Miguel opens his eyes, caging you in with his other arm. He's testing the waters, angling his hips to find the spot that makes you tick.

"I didn't-" He breathes. "Didn't think it would be like this." 

You look at him in your haze, brows knitted. 

"I thought that when I finally fucked you, it would be more romantic." He gives you a strained chuckle and warm smile. "This is better in some ways, though." 

"Better , Miggy?" 

"Real." Your cunt flutters around him, and his pace stutters. Not once does he break eye contact, something swirling beneath the surface. "Not in my head. God , that sounds pathetic."

You giggle into the crook of his shoulder. It shouldn't be possible, but his eyes soften even more. And then, his expression changes into something dangerous. 

"I can't do this just once, bichita. You can't give me a taste and then take it away. Es cruel, mi vida."

As if to punctuate his point, you feel his tip slam into that spongy spot in your walls. His strokes become more calculated, punishing and exact, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

"Miguel – fuck– that's not fair- " 

"Can't keep humping my hand como un perro , like a dumb dog, anymore." He brings both his palms to your ass, spreading you apart, and pulling you up onto his dick so your toes barely touch the floor. The slap of your ass against his thighs and heavy balls fill the room, pornographic in nature. 

"Let-" Smack. " Me-"  Smack. " Fill-" Smack. " This-" Smack. " Cunt. " Smack. 

You babble into his ears, affirmations and praise that makes his heart and cock swell. 

'So pretty, Miguel. Yours. All yours." You rake your hands through his hair, harshly tugging him closer in a way that makes him burn up. Clenching around his length, you wrap your legs around his waist. He barely falters, pulling away from the wall and slamming into you regardless. You've seen him like this before; fiery determination that flares up on a tough mission. Tunnel vision: a razor-sharp resolve that has manifested itself in a man hellbent on your pleasure. 

"Miguel. Miguel, I-" I love you, I love you, I love you, I- " -wan' you to cum with me. Deep, please."

Now, his pace gets sloppy, hips stilling to drive himself as deep as you asked; so you can feel him long after you separate. Hot, sticky cum pumps into you and his balls strain with the effort of it. You claw your hand against his back, trailing delicious marks with your nails. When you clamp around him, you swear you see his eyes roll back - lost in the bliss of your cunt. Together, you come down from the high, bare chests panting against one another. 

"Don't look at me like that." His lips graze yours, soft and plush. You stretch your chin upwards, chasing the trace of a kiss he refuses to give to you. Eventually he relents, leaning into a sweet kiss, arm wrapped around your waist. 

He pulls himself off of you with a wet smack, gently carrying you to his bed. He places you in his sheets and you look beautiful, blissful, and fucked out. Cum drips onto your thighs and he feels a pang of possessiveness. His cum. His baby.

Clambering in to spoon you, he can't help but paw at your pussy, using his fingers to stuff his cum back into you, tracing lazy circles on your thigh with his other hand. 

"I'm on birth control, Miggy. So no need to worry." You snuggle into his touch, bare skin against one another. 

"Wasn't worried." He grunts, sounding almost disappointed. You catch his tone, intrigued.

"No harm in trying," You lilt, turning around to place your palms flat on the wide span of his chest. "You wanna fuck a baby into me?" 

Nodding, he groans, head back into the pillow, and you push him onto his back. Pussy throbbing, you straddle his hips; thighs tight around his middle. You can feel him growing harder in the slick of your slit. 

You arch into him, tender hand around his throat. It's a sight he won't forget easily: you on top of him, the gloom of the night tracing the swell of your tits. An angel, all the same. You whisper something into his ear that gives him goosebumps; a full body chill that goes straight to his cock. "My turn, bichito."

~~~

"You never called." Miguel says, laying his head next to yours, after wiping you down with a clean towel. He hands you a spare shirt of his, and you put it on, self-conscious. 

The two of you had fucked well into the night, making good on your promises. His stamina was relentless, pumping load after load into you, pussy-drunk and babbling. There was an intensity there that couldn't be explained: one that made both of you crazy for one another, burning you out between the silky sheets of his bed. Something you had initially attributed to his rut, whatever he had called it, but desperately hoped it was something more. How could this be just sex? After everything you had said and done, it would crush you: to taste the forbidden fruit and have it snatched away just as easily. 

You had both laid there for a bit, afterwards, cock softening in you. Plugging up his cum, he had said, but it felt more intimate in the quiet calm of his bedroom. 

"You didn't either." You throw back at him. 

"That's not th-" 

"I know, I know. It just felt weird, s'all." You turn from him, looking up at the ceiling. Counting the mottles and marks in your head, suddenly shy. After all the filthy things you've said and done to him, he still makes you shy. "I thought I did something wrong."

His heart breaks. "No, no , it wasn't-" 

"Not just today. Last time…a-and the time before that, honestly. We see each other less. You're always busy with something. Felt like you were avoiding me." Rubbing your temples, you sigh. "S'why I cut some corners on the mission. Made mistakes. I thought if I did well, and we had something to talk about…"

"Mierda." You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see the disappointment in his scarlet eyes. But it isn't disappointment, and it’s not directed at you. 

"I wanted to call, but I didn't. Because I didn't think you would answer." Finally, you turn to see his brows knitted: swirling with shame, guilt, sadness. Quickly you add, "I mean, I know why now. I think. And it's really on me, I should've said something or-" 

"I just… I didn't know what to do with it." He takes your hand in his, squeezing tight. 

"...I don't understand."

"All this love I have for you." He says, impossibly soft. "I didn't know what to do with it."

You know him like the back of your hand and you've heard it all: angry, snarky, giddy, beautiful Miguel O'Hara. But this? Confirmation of the feelings you've held for years at this point, dismissed during late nights and pored over during lonely ones - this? 

"And I didn't think you felt the same way, how could you? You're beautiful, and smart, and you have this… way of making people burn as bright as you. So I poured myself into work. That's all I know how to do, bichita. Work. Suffocate under everything. You don't deserve it."

With the way he says it; resigned, matter-of-fact; you want to cry. Still, he hangs on to the notion that he must earn it : that his claws are too sharp and fangs too bloody for redemption. For love, for life, for good things. Miguel O'Hara; doing what needs to be done. Alone, always. 

You come closer to cup his chin, to make sure he's looking at you. There can be no ambiguity, no gray area when you say what you want to say. 

"You don't tell me what to do, O'Hara . " You press a kiss to his cheek, and another to trembling lips. "I decide what I deserve. No-one else does, not even you."

"It's not like you listen to me, anyway." He says with a shaky smile. 

Sitting up slightly on your forearms, you place your head up on his chest. Listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. You don't need your super senses to know that he's alive, that he's here. The look in his eyes; you couldn't explain it if you wanted to. 

"Bichita." You say, out of the blue. No doubt due to your poor pronunciation, he winces. "What does it mean?" 

Clicking his tongue, he waves it off. " Very vulgar, you don't want to know. I mean, I shouldn't really-"

"Hmm." Shaking your head, you feign ignorance. "It's just that Lyla said it meant sweetheart, or little bug... terms of endearment, I think was the phrase."

"She said that?" He frowns. "Lyla's filling your head with nonsense, m'afraid. It's sarcastic. Post-ironic, metatextual… it comes across completely different in Spanish, mi vida."

"Post-ironic? That's not even the second most pretentious thing you've said today…" Giggling, you bury your head into his chest. 

"Of course not. I reserve my best stuff for you."

"Real classy, O'Hara. Bet you say that to all the poor women that end up in your bed."

"Nope." He hums. "Just the ones I've been in love with for the past two years."

He pulls you closer, smiling into light kisses on your shoulder, the fat of your stomach, your thighs, on your cheek. Kisses everywhere, anywhere he can reach.

"Just you, bichita." He breathes into your skin. "Only you ."

_

_

_

taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @ebrysteria

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

Choso just can’t get enough of you.

Oftentimes, you prefer to ride him because it’s always so nice to see him laying beneath you with his aroused expression. Choso allows it because he wants to please you and be good however he can. But every once in a while, he gets too frustrated and flips the position.

“W-what are you doing, Cho?”

You gasp when your back makes contact with the mattress, Choso’s larger body sliding in between your thighs quickly. He pushes your legs up until your ankles are beside your head, folded into a mating press.

“M’ sorry,” he utters. “Just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Choso groans when he finally slides into your tight cunt again, his erection almost painful from how hard it is. You feel so much tighter from that angle, your walls constricting around Choso’s large cock as he begins to thrust into you.

He starts panting roughly, his hips meeting the backs of your thighs. It feels so good to have him inside, rubbing up against all the right spots. Your eyes fall closed from the intense sensations.

“Fuck…I wanna breed you so bad, y/n.”

Choso begs beside your ear.

“Please…Please let me come inside of your sweet pussy…Ha, dammit-“

His words trail off once he feels you clenching around him. It only makes Choso thrust into you even harder, nudging up against your abused cervix. He’s acting like a crazed man and you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t attractive.

“Y-you can,” you whimper. You want his come inside of you so badly. Your walls constrict around him some more, attempting to milk his cock for all that its worth.

Choso lets out a defeated moan as he begins to place open mouthed kisses against your neck.

“Thank you…Thank you,” he murmurs beside your ear.

“Gonna fill this pussy up now…Gonna come, oh fu-“

Choso’s breathing hitches in his throat when the coil snaps. He groans loudly, his hips rocking into yours as he shoots his load into you. It feels so warm and sticky, splashing against your cervix. It twitches inside of you from the intensity of the orgasm.

Choso watches his cum slip out of your pussy afterwards. He’s always so fascinated by the sight of your bare pussy seeping with his essence. He has to seriously control himself from pounding you into the mattress even more.

Read part 1 here

JJK master list link

[min-imum]

part 1

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: this is part 2!!! part 1 linked above, gn!reader, lingerie, mingyu has a big dick (everyone act surprised), light bondage…?, unprotected sex (sounds nice in theory but it’s not in practice. wrap your willy don’t be silly), a little bit of crying!, ummmmm

mingyu hurries out of the building at 5.59pm. he pretends he doesn’t hear seungcheol hyung screaming for him from the second floor and books it — his goal is to get home as fast as he can.

it’s just one minute, seungcheol hyung won’t be that mad about it… hopefully.

when mingyu bursts through the door, hair disheveled, bag thrown haphazardly over one shoulder, clutching his phone in a death grip, you’re lazing around on the couch.

In That Damn Lingerie.

well, not just the lingerie — you’re also wearing a sheer little robe over it, and if anything, it just makes mingyu even harder in his pants.

you bounce up to him to greet him with a smile, but before you can even offer to take his bag off him, he drops it onto the floor and grabs you by the hips to pull you into a bruising kiss.

“shit, baby,” he moans. “it was torture waiting for work to be over. you’re such a minx.”

you giggle, letting him run his hands over your body with a crazed look in his eye. “just wanted to give you a little present while you were at work.”

he doesn’t know what to touch, his hands roaming everywhere across your body. he starts from your hips, then moves down to grope your ass, then slides them back up to run his palms over your chest. you whimper and arch into his touch.

“gyu,” you moan. he hums, kissing along the length of your neck from your ear to your collarbones. you grab his biceps for support as he sucks harder and leaves marks to replace the fading ones from a few days ago.

“dolled up all for me?” he asks in a low voice. you both know the answer, but he wants to hear you say it.

“yes,” you gasp. “all for you, gyu.”

he lifts you up easily and carries you to the bedroom, laying you down on soft sheets and kissing you again. his lips are reddened and bruised from the kissing and you have no doubt you look the same.

when he finally finds it in him to peel away from you, he leans back and tugs his shirt over his head. his body never fails to make you squirm — the defined lines between his pecs and outlining every one of his abs are testament to the strength contained in his body.

he peels off his pants next, and the length straining against his boxers makes you drool. this is what you’ve been craving all day.

“gyu,” you whine. “touch me.”

he kisses you again as he helps you out of your robe. as much as he loves it, it’s getting in the way. his eyes roam your body, now clad in just the red lingerie from earlier, appreciatively. the pictures are nothing compared to the real thing.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he grunts. “the pictures earlier, and now this…”

you’re absolutely gorgeous. the red compliments your skin tone and matches the flush on your cheeks. seeing you wear his favourite colour makes the blood rush down to his dick embarrassingly quickly. he groans as his cock, still confined in his underwear, brushes against the bed.

however, he’s been staring for a little too long, and you’re getting impatient. you spread your legs and pull your bottoms to the side.

“i prepared myself already,” you tell him. “fuck me, please, gyu. i need it. i’ve been waiting for you all day.”

you’re going to kill him.

“okay, baby. fuck.” he exhales harshly as he finally removes his boxers. his cock springs up, engorged and painfully hard, and he hisses as he strokes it once, twice, with a lubed hand.

he slaps the tip of his cock against your hole, teasing, making you whine — a bit of payback for the suffering he had to endure after you sent him your present.

“gyu, stop teasing,” you beg. “just put it—”

he grabs both your wrists and presses them to the mattress above your head, then slides his cock into you in one smooth stroke. your mouth snaps open in a silent scream.

no matter how many times you’ve taken his cock, he’ll always stretch you good.

“keep your hands here, baby,” he instructs.

you nod obediently, and he releases your wrists to hoist your legs over his shoulders instead, and then he fucks you like he means it.

every thrust stretches you out deliciously, making you moan in stuttered little ah-ah-ahs as he fucks you relentlessly. tears slip out of your eyes in pleasure, but you keep your arms above your head like he instructed, fingers twisting harshly in the sheets.

above you, mingyu groans in pleasure at the tight heat around his cock. “shit, baby,” he pants. “you feel so good.”

your eyes roll back in lieu of a reply as his cock hammers at your spot. you babble incoherently, unable to form words.

“so pretty for me. so good.” he praises.

“g— cum, cum,” you whimper. “gonna…”

“cum for me.”

you orgasm with a scream, your warmth tightening around his cock so hard it makes his hips stutter. he looks down at you, tears running down your face, hair splayed out on your pillow, lingerie rumpled. he thrusts into you thrice more before he comes with a curse and a groan. his face twists in pleasure as he empties into you and fills you up with his cum.

mingyu holds you tight for a few moments before letting you go and pulling out slowly. his cum leaks out of you from around his cock.

“don’t move, baby.”

he grabs his phone, then snaps pictures of your disheveled state — your flushed face, your bruised neck, your crumpled lingerie, and his semen leaking out of you. “you look so pretty like this,” he tells you.

this is premium jack-off material for the next time he has to go on tour without you.

finally satisfied with his pictures, he starts to clean you up thoroughly with a wet cloth. you let him remove your lingerie for you to add to your laundry pile. he slumps down on the bed next to you once he’s done and giggles when he finds you already asleep.

“goodnight, my love,” he whispers anyway, kissing your forehead and pulling you close to him. you snuggle into his chest, seeking his warmth even while asleep, and he wraps an arm around you protectively.

he falls asleep with you, safe and satisfied, in his arms.

[chillinglyadventurous]

A Real Treat

“Leave the bowl on the porch,” he said between kisses placed on your shoulder.

Word count: 1,387

Tags: NSFW, MDNI

“Which one of you is going out with the twins?” You called into the living room from the kitchen, dumping candy into the large plastic bowl on the counter. You pulled out a Twix, unwrapping it before popping it into your mouth. “I don’t want what happened on Summerween to repeat itself.”

You could hear Dipper and Mabel shuffling around in the attic, fighting over whether they should be ketchup and mustard or salt and pepper. You laughed when you heard Mabel yell, “Why do we always have to be food?!”

You were kind of glad you weren’t going with them. You’d be up and down all night giving out candy, but the ruby red slippers you were wearing were not conducive to the weather despite hitting mid-calf, so you carried your bowl into the living room to find Ford. He stood by the fish tank and just the sight of him made you laugh. His hair was a mess and the white lab coat he was wearing was splotched in fake blood. Well, you hoped it was fake. He was really leaning into the whole mad scientist thing.

Ford smiled when you came into the room, placing your bowl on the t-Rex skull. “You look beautiful.”

“It was the only women’s costume that didn’t make me look like a slut,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Why is it that women’s costumes have to be slutty? It's freezing too! Who wants to be wearing basically nothing and freeze all night?”

He kissed your forehead, hand falling to your hip. “I could keep you warm.” His voice in your ear caused a shiver to roll down your spine. That wicked grin faded when Stan and the kids came down the stairs. “Ah, Stanley, what are you supposed to be?”

You clocked the striped suit. Stan’s face was painted white, eyes blacked out. You stepped back from Ford’s hold. “Beetlejuice.”

“Who?” Ford laughed. “Who is Beetlejuice?”

Mabel’s jaw dropped, “If one of you says that again, I’m going to lose it.”

“Beetlejuice!” Dipper shouted.

Stan gave an annoyed huff. “Okay, losers, stop that.” He ruffled ketchup’s and mustard’s hair, “You condiments ready to hit the road? I’ve scoped out the best neighborhood. If we get there early, we have a seventy-five percent greater chance of snaggin’ some full-size candy bars. I’m not playing around with that fun-sized crap this year.”

“Have fun,” you laughed, “and, Stan, please don’t let them eat all of their candy tonight. You’re not the one who has to take care of sick kids in the morning.”

Stan waved you off. “Yeah, yeah, you young people and this health craze. Whatever. What happened to stuffing your face with sugar and no consequences, huh?”

“I’m 30.”

“Yeah,” Stan sputtered, “young.”

“Bye, [Y/N]!” Dipper and Mabel called as the sprinted out the door.

Stan waved over his shoulder. “Have fun handin’ out candy, nerds.”

When the door slammed shut you gave a sigh of relief, thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos this time. Summerween had been a nightmare.

You laughed, arms winding around Ford’s neck again. “Why is it that your brother can do math when it comes to money and candy, but nothing else?

He shrugged in response. Your words quickly forgotten. “So,” Ford leaned into your hold, “who is Beetlejuice?”

“It’s a movie,” you said simply. “We can watch it when they get back. It came out in 1988, so you just missed it.”

For the most part, you and Ford took turns handing out candy to the kids who dared to traverse the spooky and dangerous, if you were being honest, maze Stan had set up in the front yard. When you weren’t handing out candy, however, you were draped over your boyfriend who’s six fingers kept trying to sneak their way up the hem of your dress as a slasher film played on screen. His plans were thwarted with each knock on the door.

“You’re turn,” he huffed. He helped you stand, hand grazing up the back of your thigh as you stood.

You could feel his eyes peeling away at your clothes as you walked to the door. It made you blush. You tried to forget the way his teasing hands felt on your legs, the way he did his best to seem sly enough for you not to notice.

You opened the door to see four children dressed as a witch, a fairy, a ghost, and a vampire. “Wow,” you gushed, “you guys look great!”

“Trick or treat!”

You gave them each a large handful of candy. You smiled, hoping your two trick-or-treaters were having just as much fun as the kids sprinted away from the door and into the darkness. Still, you just hoped some candy monster wasn’t stalking Dipper and Mabel. That was a mess.

Two hands taking hold of your waist pulled you out of thought. “Leave the bowl on the porch,” he said between kisses placed on your shoulder. His arms snaked around you as Ford rested his chin on your shoulder. “ His fingers fiddled with the braids in your hair.

“It’s almost 9:00,” you sighed as you pressed back into him. “The kids will be home soon.”

“All the more reason to leave the bowl on the porch.”

He looked so mischievous when you turned around in his arms. Before you could speak, he lifted you off your feet, the door slamming shut. Your legs were tightened around his waist. His face was pressed firmly to your neck, kisses dropped haphazardly as he carried you through the Shack. You thanked the Ford who built this house all those years ago for not putting his bedroom too far from the front door when he dropped you onto the mattress.

“Based on Stan’s plans for the evening,” his voice was gruff as he pushed up the hem on your dress, “we have approximately twenty minutes.”

He didn’t bother to undress himself, sliding your panties down your legs. No time to respond, he hitched your right leg over his shoulder, pinning your left knee to the mattress. “You look good enough to eat,” he chuckled, sliding down your body. “A real treat.”

He disappeared beneath your dress, his tongue on you. You gave a shaking moan. His tongue swirling and dipping inside of you. You sighed his name as you felt two of his digits slip inside of you, hitting that spot with a simple curl. Just as you were teetering on the edge, your name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer, he pulled away. Wet kisses were worked up your whole body.

With a rushed brush of his lips against yours, you felt him push inside of you. Twin gasps escaped the two of you and you loved that sound. Everytime you found yourself with him between your legs, that sound was always your favorite.

He stayed still for a long while, enjoying the feeling of your warmth around his length, the way your walls fluttered around him, how wet you were for him without much effort. “You’re stunning,” he punctuated his words with a deep kiss to your lips.

As his hips rocked into you, you held tight to him. You didn’t care about the sticky fake blood across his lab coat that had begun to coat your thighs. You’d be covered in it by the time this was over, but you couldn’t care less.

“We have to make this quick.” You were already there. Painfully, you waited for that single thrust that would finally make you cum. “Please, Stanford.”

It was hard, upward thrust right into your G-spot and you came undone. He ignored your moans, you begs for him to never stop. He fucked you through it until you were pliable and limp against the sheets. That was when his rhythm falters, a sharp ‘fuck’ falling from his mouth against your cheek.

Neither of you had a chance to catch your breath before you heard Stan grumbling outside. “Why’s the candy bowl outside?” Both you and Ford jumped up. He followed you into the living room, zipping his pants as he went.

“Hey,” you grinned, feigning innocence, “get a good haul?” Ford’s hand found the small of your back, unable to resist touching you.

[bb-eilish]

desperate and whiny dom!anakin (not proofread)

-he’d have you pressed against the wall of the shower, your leg propped up by the ledge and everything. Your hair in his hand as he lightly pulls your head to the side, his forehead and nose resting against the side of your cheek and head.

-his hand would be groping your ass, drifting over the wet skin of your thigh before he gently reaches your pussy, feeling up the wetness that so fiercely calls to him.

-he’d groan, tracing his fingers along your folds. “So perfect, baby, so perfect for daddy. Letting him play with you wherever he pleases, my little princess”

-his voice is strained and desperate but loving no less

-“Little pussy is so wet, you been thinking of me, baby? Hm? Thinking about daddy getting home so he can have you again? His fingers tightened in your hair, causing you to mewl and whine.

-“Missed you so much, daddy, missed you inside me” Your voice is high pitched and your words are slurred, it only makes him harder, knowing how little he has to touch you before your little brain practically melts in your head

-“I know, baby, i’m here, gonna take care of you” He says before slowly pushing a couple fingers you, your mouth parts and your eyes close

-doesn’t take long before he’s pulling out long, whiny moans from you and you’re begging him, not exactly sure why

-“That’s it, that’s right, baby” He’s practically drooling now, moaning with you, desperate to make you feel good. “Love my favorite girl’s perfect fucking pussy”

-and when you cum around his fingers he’s quick to insert them in his mouth, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull at the taste

-his self control is no where to be seen as he lowers himself and kneels in front of you, shoving his face in between your thighs to greedily lap up any juices he can

-you gasp, fingers curling in his wet hair, weakly trying to pull him away

-“daddy no, too sensitive” you’d whine, body twitching at the oversensitivity

-“i know, baby, daddy’s sorry” he’d reply before encompassing your entire pussy in his mouth, soon opting for sticking his tongue inside you, as far as he can

-his actions are crazed and desperate, tears sprout in your eyes as you babble out nonsense, not able to do much else besides that and taking what he gives you

-his nails dig uncomfortably into the fat of your thighs but you can’t seem to mind as he seems to whimper into your pussy, his eyebrows upturned at the front as though you’d let him taste the most divine flavor he’s ever encountered

-his groaning stimulates you further, beckoning you closer and closer to the edge once more. Your head is spinning and you don’t even feel the drool that dribbles down the corner of your parted lips

-“Thank you, baby, daddy’s so grateful to have you, to have your pussy”

-his hands moved to the globes of your ass, pushing you further into his mouth which causes you to lock up and cum again, which knocks the wind from you

-he moans when he senses you, nose pushed up against your clit as he collects all you offer him with his tongue, murmuring thank you’s that you can’t even understand anymore

-unexpectedly he lets out a series of whines and moans before he grips you harder, reaching his own orgasm hands free. The tile of the shower is splattered with his cum, a result of the desperation you stir in him so easily

[littlexdeaths]

precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

[euphemiaamillais]

playing dangerous pt 2 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//kidnapping//eventual stockholm syndrome//mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation//emotional manipulation//mentions of sex/sexual harassment

part 1 is here

you wake to the sunlight streaming through the french doors the next morning. your head is pounding, not doubt from the posca. while it had sent you into a dreamless sleep, you can feel a throbbing hangover coming on. there is little noise in the house, nothing but your breathing gracing your ears, and for a moment you forget where you were.

but when you feel the restraint around your wrist, you remember that you were in some strange man’s apartment, subject to his every whim. which, so far, you were thankful, had only been eating the food he’d brought you.

the door opens, and he comes in baring more food. this time, an assortment of spreads and toast. at least he has the decency to feed you well, though you can’t help but wonder if the food is laced with poison. you’re too starving to think too much about it though.

‘good morning,’ he grins, a positively psychopathic gaze in his eyes. he sets the tray down, and presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘did you sleep well, darling?’

you shudder at the pet name. ‘well, my wrist really hurts,’ you pout, wondering if he will be swayed by your wide eyes. ‘do you think you could loosen the restraint?’

you’re also aware of your bladder pressing against your stomach, full from last night’s posca, and you’re reminded of how desperately you need to go.

‘once you’ve eaten,’ he promises, and turns to start buttering the toast. the sweet aroma of jams and spreads fills your nose, your mouth watering. ‘what would you like, princess?’

you glance at the array, and decide on a thick pot of strawberry jam. you’d eat that every morning at home, with a cup of tea. alas, there only seems to be a very milky cup of coffee on the tray, but it’s better than nothing.

‘strawberry jam, please,’ you offer a smile, and he begins to spread the confiture across the golden toast. it does look delicious.

‘there you go,’ he hands you the toast. he’s even sliced it into little triangles, worried that you won’t be able to eat it in such big slices, seeing as you’re just so delicate.

he watches you eat it up like it’s your last meal, surprisingly ravenous for a girl your size. your tongue glides over some of the jam, and he feels his hands clench as you do so. it’s so seductive, even though you mean it with complete innocence. he can’t help but think of you doing that as you suck his cock, pink tongue gliding over the aching tip of his shaft…

‘thank you,’ you offer, seeing how he eyes you.

he hands you the cup of coffee, a little embarrassed that it’s so milky—he was distracted by the thought of you, waiting for him in that room, that he’d poured too much in. you accept it, a little disgusted by the bitter taste—you were never one for coffee—but down it with a forced smile on your face.

‘good girl,’ he coos, placing one hand on your thigh. ‘you’re so good to me, don’t you know that?’

he looks crazed, blue eyes glistening with insanity, praising you in spite of only knowing you for what, twenty-four hours? you wonder if your parents have thought to go looking for you. your mother is probably weeping. your stomach churns at the thought.

‘would i, uh, please be able to use the bathroom,’ you are clenching your legs together in desperation, bladder throbbing with need.

he tilts his head, but sees the way you gnaw at your lips. he can’t have you wetting yourself again, now that would just be humiliating.

‘alright. but you’ll have to let me in there with you,’ he admits, and you cast him an exasperated look.

‘no!’ your eyes swell up in mortification. ‘please, it’s so… embarrassing…’

he sighs, moving his hand further up your thigh, fiddling with the hem of your silky slip. ‘if you want to use the bathroom, i’ll need to watch you in case you try to hurt yourself. i can’t have you bleeding out on the tiles…’

he winces a little at the thought of you trying to slit your wrists with his razor, too distraught at the idea of having to be his that you’d rather be welcomed into the arms of death. no, you wouldn’t allow that to happen. you’re his girl.

‘oh..’ your voice trails off. you find it hard to rebut him, you’re so desperate to go. ‘okay.’

you cede all right to him, losing what seemed to be the last bit of your autonomy left. he loosens the restraint, and you clutch your wrist, nursing the nagging ache that has been bothering you all night. you see the french doors, and debate throwing yourself off the balcony. however, it’s foolish. falling that far would be terrifying—worse than a life spent with this man, whatever his name is—and so you follow him as he guides you to the bathroom.

the apartment is more gorgeous than the bedroom. high walled and of black marble, it stretches out across what appears to be the entire floor—and you come to realise that it’s the penthouse. whoever he is, he must have a lot of money. you’re not very interested in politics, but you know president ravenstill has many cronies—perhaps he’s one of them.

the bathroom is cold when you enter, but you’re so desperate to go that you rush to the toilet. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you look awful. your hair is matted, and you’ve got a few fresh bruises trailing up your arm; pink and purple dots spoiling the skin. you don’t smell great either, and eye the beautiful shower in the corner.

he is watching you like a hawk, and if you weren’t in such a great need to go, you probably wouldn’t have been able to. you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you finish, and go to wash your hands with one of his fancy soaps. when you’re done, you turn to him, a tender look on your face.

‘would i be able to use your shower?’ you ask, biting at your lip. his heart pounds in his chest. his cock stirred a little at the thought of getting to see your naked form. not that he’d fuck you just yet, but the notion that he’d merely get to see you was too much.

‘of course, sweetheart,’ he nods, grabbing two towels from the cupboard by the sink.

you go to turn the faucet, getting splashed a little by the hot water. it feels delicious against your freezing skin, though. you turn back to glance at him, willing him away with your mind, but he remains.

‘would i be able to do it, alone?’ you ask softly, but he shakes his head. your heart drops.

‘i’m sorry princess, you know my rules. i’ve got to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. i couldn’t have that now, could i?’ he asks, tilting his head. you shake yours in response, and more than humiliated, you begin to strip yourself off.

he watches as you pull your slip off, revealing an elegant figure, a perfect ass, and long legs. you shiver, more out of embarrassment than cold, deeply ashamed to be exposing yourself to a man. nobody’s ever seen you this naked before, and you’re shy about the way you look. he’s begging you to turn around so he can see the front of you, but you attempt to manoeuvre yourself so that he can’t see your breasts or other parts.

the water warms your skin, and you toss your head back in delight, feeling it soak your hair and wash away the grimy feeling. you face away from him, and when you have to reach to grab the soap, do your best to move in a way that he can only see your back. it’s the least humiliating way. you’d never thought any man but your husband would see you like this, but clearly, he had other ideas.

coriolanus had to settle his breath in attempt to fight the growing erecetion in his trousers, seeing you so bare was too exciting. he wishes you’d turn around, wondering how pretty your breasts would look, how pink your nipples would be, and if your cunt was as lovely as he’d imagined. he wanted so badly to touch you, to slip his fingers inside of your tight pussy and watch you writhe beneath him. he wondered if you’d ever touched yourself—he doubted you had. you were too innocent for that.

you lather the shampoo in your hair, feeling great relief as you wash your scalp clean. you run your fingers through the mats, wincing a little as they tug. he’s got some lovely smelling soaps, you have to admit, and while you let the shampoo sit, you rub your skin with one that smells like roses. you take care of course to wash between your thighs, embarrassed that you’d supposedly wet yourself the day before, and freshen yourself up with the scent of the rose soap.

soon enough, you’re smelling lovely; it’s potent but in a clean way, the smell pleasant to your nose. you finish washing the shampoo out, and go to scramble for the conditioner when you realise that it’s not there.

‘excuse me,’ you attempt to shout with your back turned to the wall.

‘i can’t hear you, princess. turn around,’ he laughs a little, watching as you squirm, terrified of exposing yourself to him.

‘please, i just want the conditioner,’ you beg, feeling like a pathetic fool, having to plead for something as simple as hair conditioner.

‘you have to turn around for me to give it to you,’ he warns, holding the bottle in his hands.

you sigh, and remembering the knots in your hair, realising you have little choice in whether or not to turn around. you can’t have those clumps getting any worse. so, deeply ashamed, you surrender yourself to him, sliding the shower door open and stretching a hand out.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and seeing the cruel look in his eyes, you shake your head, afeared of what he’ll do if you utter something that won’t please him.

‘you’ll learn,’ he warns as you grasp for the bottle, his other hand gripping your wrist before you can move away. ‘that i always get what i want. okay, princess? you can’t just hide yourself from me.’

he brushes your wet hair to one side, fingers trailing down to your bare breast. he doesn’t dare touch you too much, but ghosts his fingers over to remind you that this is his now. you belong to him, whether you decide to obey him or not. he knows you’ll learn to love him soon enough, and be a drooling mess, begging for his cock to fill you up.

‘so pretty,’ he murmurs, and you shudder, feeling cold droplets of water hit your back. the shower is still running, and you’re aching to get back in and finish washing your hair.

he lets you go, but watches you with scrutiny, admiring every footstep you take back to the shower. you’re so beautiful, and all his… how utterly perfect you are. after what had seemed like a lifetime of searching, he’d finally got what he wanted.

now all he had to do was make you his, in body and in heart.

—

you’d dried off after your shower, and he’d given you a robe to wear because your slip needed to be washed. you feel horribly naked, wishing there was something to wear other than a robe. it would be easy for him to take advantage of you, hands roaming up your robe to caress your thighs, and god knows what else. you’d never been touched by a man before, having only had a few stolen kisses with some of your classmates at the academy, but you were too shy to have let any of them take you.

and besides, your father was insistent that you had remained pure until he found you a suitable husband. preferably one of president ravenstill’s many sons. you got more for a virgin, as disgusting as the notion was. they were a rare commodity in the capitol these days.

once he had tied your restraint back—to your other wrist this time, he really was so kind—he pressed a kiss to your cheek and told you he was going out. you were upset, he hadn’t told you how long he would be, whether or not you were going to be alone for the rest of the day, but you didn’t press further. at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him assaulting you any further. god knows what he’d do if he sat with you, barely clothed, for more than a few minutes.

so, quite bored, you sit and run your mind across who he could possibly be. he’s got an almost familiar face; noble, an aquiline nose and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. he can’t be that much older than you, twenty-two at most. perhaps he was a senior when you were a freshman at the academy? you remember that year well, that girl lucy gray had won, though it you were advised to forget about it, with the threat of dr. gaul turning you into one of her creations if you didn’t comply with the secret-keeping.

you’re sure you went to school together, but you can’t place his name. he’s probably from one of those old families, judging from the fact that he’s got connections with president ravenstill and how his apartment is carved out of fucking marble. your family is wealthy, sure, but you’ve never seen an apartment like this in your life. has he been watching you since your days at the academy? the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

you wonder why he even chose you, of all people? what kind of person would kidnap someone instead of talking to them? he’s obviously got psychopathic tendencies. and he’s mentioned he wants you all for himself—why could he not just have approached you and asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant in town? you would’ve accepted; he’s handsome and wealthy.

there is something brutal about him, you think. some notion of possessing you that makes his blood run hot. he can’t let anybody else have you, it seems, which is why he won’t even let you go free from the room. you’re too scared of death to try anything foolish like suicide, but perhaps if you managed to slit your wrists artfully enough you’d just end up in hospital. your parents would be able to come get you.

if he decides to touch you, you could always cry rape. that’s if the authorities would listen. but from the looks of things, the peacekeepers would do very little, and his connections that he’s mentioned would probably leave him with legal immunity. it’s a hopeless and dire situation.

you find that your face has been stained with tears—you’ve been crying, it seems. you were so caught up in your thoughts that you had hardly noticed how distraught it had made you. your lip trembles when you question whether or not you’ll ever go free. what if he keeps you here forever? what if you’re never able to go outside again, to feel the snow on your cheeks, the sun caressing your neck with its warm rays? it’s too awful to bear.

—

he returns home in a good mood, and when he opens the door to your room, there’s a smile playing upon his lips. he’s carrying an array of bags, looking almost like the women who spend their hours shopping at the ominous capitol mall. you eye him curiously, wondering if he’s come true on his promise and purchased you something more than a flimsy slip to wear.

he sets them down at the end of the bed, and undoes your restraint, which leaves you feeling more suspicious. it usually takes more convincing than a sad-eyed gaze. you crawl to the bags, your curiosity getting the better of you, and open the largest one.

there’s a lot of pink tissue paper, scented with the potent aroma of lavender, and you pull it out a little carelessly. he sees the joy light up on his face when you pull out the first dress. it’s simple, but you do have to admit, very pretty. it’s made of black satin and is quite short, but it will do—perhaps he intends to let you leave the house after all.

you dig through the rest of the bags, quite pleased with what he’s purchased you. clearly he had somebody help him; while he has good taste for a man, he obviously wouldn’t know much about what you liked in particular. you were grateful for the sweaters and tights, thinking about how frigid it was.

the last bag he pulls out from under his arm. it’s small, and the tissue paper has a familiar scent you recognise; not like the lavender of the other ones, but a more sensuous musky smell. you recall your friends going into that store to buy things to wear for their boyfriends. you shudder thinking of what he could’ve purchased for you.

he slips his hand inside the bag, and pulls out a tiny, silky thing that you’re sure will barely even cover your ass. at least it’s not as blatantly obvious as a lingerie set, but you’re still aware of his intentions.

‘i want you to put this on, now,’ he commands, handing the slip to you. it’s a soft pink, and the hem is edged with chantilly lace. if it wasn’t from him, you probably would’ve actually liked it.

‘do i have to?’ you ask, and are immediately met with a warning glare. you’ve stepped too far—and he hoists you up from the bed.

he grips at the sleeves of your robe, pulling you flush against him. his breath is heavy, and his eyes are brimming with anger. your heart pounds, and you’re certain he can hear it. hear your fear.

‘you will do as i say,’ he seethes, using one hand to undo the tie of the robe, aggressively shoving it off your shoulders.

you shiver, the robe falling to the ground, and you cling to grasp at your breasts, covering yourself up for shame. he grabs the slip, careful not to ruin it, and forces it over your head.

you were right about it being tiny. he stands back and admires you, the way it hardly covers the top of your breasts, leaving little to the eye, and how the hemline comes just under your ass.

‘turn around,’ he says, an awaiting gaze on his face.

you turn, and hear him groan a little, the soft curve of the bottom of your ass sticking out of the slip. he’s so blatant about his desire, dressing you up like a little doll and making you spin for him, showing yourself off to him. it feels unnatural, vain in fact.

‘god, you look so fucking perfect in that,’ he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. you feel something hard pressing against your ass, and try not to let yourself tremble with fear.

‘so pretty, baby,’ he presses a hot kiss to the nape of your neck, lips moving down your collarbone. ‘i could just eat you right up… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

you say nothing, too shocked for words. you feel his teeth graze against your shoulder skin, sucking a soft bruise—marking you as his own.

‘hm? why won’t you speak. i love it when i see your pretty lips tremble around the words. you’re scared, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your skin, but you feel so cold. his hands are like ice.

‘i’m sorry…’ you offer, but he gives your hip a pinch and you cry out.

‘you’re sorry? that’s not good enough. i need to know how thankful you are that i’ve bought you such pretty clothes,’ he scowls.

‘thank you,’ you realise you don’t know his name, and thus the words fall flat.

‘thank you? come on, that’s pathetic, sweetheart,’ he laughs, the sound ringing loud in your ears.

‘i don’t even know your name,’ you attempt to face him, but his hold is so tight that you’re locked in.

‘mhm…’ he sighs. ‘i’m sure if i tell me you’ll remember. we were at the academy together, but you were so small then. probably too afraid of the seniors to say a word.’

your mind flashes back to being fourteen—it’s not that long ago, and yet it feels like a lifetime has passed. his sandy hair and icy blue eyes—of course. he was the mentor of lucy gray… the one who had turned her into such a spectacle. coriolanus snow. you remember now. he disappeared for a few months, sent to 12. you paid little attention to politics, you were too young to care.

‘snow,’ you murmur, and he nods, a proud sound coming from his lips.

‘there you go,’ he coos, stroking your arm. ‘see, you’re not completely stupid? all that babbling and yet you were still able to recall my name.’

you’re so pathetic, he thinks. so stupid that you’ll probably be in love with him soon enough. he thinks about how desperate you’ll be for his cock, begging and whining like a little whore, mouth agape and waiting to receive him. he’s reminded of the hard bulge that’s pressing at your ass, and wonders if it’s too soon to satisfy himself with you.

‘i just can’t wait to have you,’ he whispers in your ear. you feel your stomach churn with terror. ‘can’t believe you’re not even wearing any panties… what a fucking whore. you didn’t even think to put them on.’

he’d bought you many pairs of lace underwear, but you’d left them at the bottom of the bag, too ashamed to even dare putting them on. in hindsight, you only left yourself more vulnerable. there was nothing keeping him from slipping his hand between your legs now.

‘please…’ your lip trembles. ‘i can’t do that.’

your legs shake a little, and he shoves you down on the bed. he stands above you, locking your legs between his thighs, and crosses his arms in disappointment.

‘but i’ve been so good to you,’ he clicks his tongue in displeasure. ‘i bought you all these pretty things… and you won’t even wear them for me!’

‘i’m sorry,’ you plead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. ‘please—i’ve never done anything like that before. i wouldn’t even know what to do!’

a malicious grin plays at his lips. ‘oh, but that’s even better. i can teach you how to please me. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? getting on your knees for me and showing me how well you can take my cock? or perhaps i can take you from behind…’

you squirm, trying to scramble away across the bed, but he pulls you right back to where you’re sitting.

‘shhh, i won’t hurt you, i promise. you’re like a little doll. i couldn’t bear to break you,’ he coos, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. ‘you’ll be good for me, won’t you?’

‘yes,’ you force yourself to reply, the threat of his touches more than enough to get you to obey.

‘yes what?’ he quirks a brow, a warning gaze in his eyes.

‘yes sir,’ you reply, watching as a look of satisfaction crosses his face.

‘such a good girl, hm?’ he sticks a hand between your thighs, tracing the sensitive skin.

you can’t help but gasp—his cold hands make your skin dance with goosebumps. you hate that there’s a tingling coming from your core. your body is betraying you, signalling that you want him to touch you again.

‘look at you squirm, it’s pathetic,’ he laughs, gripping your thigh with his big hands. ‘i’ll leave you for now, sweetheart.’

he removes his touch, and begins to walk to the door. you notice he’s not tied your restraint this time, and choose not to say anything. a devious look draws upon his face.

‘don’t think you’ve escaped me yet. i’m still waiting for you to thank me properly,’ he warns, and you sink back into the bed, feeling utterly hopeless.

what are you supposed to do? surrender yourself to him willingly, or let him have you one way or another? there’s very little choice in the matter.

—

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[nepentheansea]

Better Unspoken

© nepentheansea all works are my own and contain mature content!

𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ・𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

premise: Theo isn't sure how much more he can take without telling you what you mean to him.

pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

warnings: angst, swearing... My type of Love Confession!!!

wc: 2.8K

a/n: I'm sorry. <3

His strides seemed to slow, the once steady pace that you had set, had fallen short. You were leading, blissfully unaware of the lack of companionship by your side in the moment. Theo had fallen victim to the very thoughts that plagued him, letting them dictate his every move as he watched you trudge forward, back up to the castle doors, happily. He watched as you laughed to yourself at the conversation you were seemingly having with him. He watched the snow fall onto your cheeks, instantly melting at your touch, or the way it coated your beanie and coat. He was mesmerised by you, every little thing that you did, he was mesmerised. You had been with one of his closest friends for some time now, and yet he couldn't seem to be happy for you, for Enzo, and it was simple really, he couldn’t because it wasn't him that you were happy with. 

“Crazy, righ- Theo?” You turned around, stopping in your tracks to face him. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and his body ridgid. “Are you okay?” You spoke so softly, your words so caring and delicate as you approached him. Theo made no move, no gesture towards you, it was only a numb look. His gaze fell to the imprinted snow beneath your feet, studying it as if it had the answer to his questions. It had been eating him alive. This past year tearing him apart little by little, and he wasn't sure that he could keep it to himself any longer. He felt as though he had to tell you, no matter the consequences, he just had to. Your voice, softly calling his name again, had him looking back up at you, his eyes soft and sorrowful, and it scared you. He took a step forward, leaning his head down slightly before he opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. 

“I have to tell you something, and I….” He was struggling to find the words, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to help him out. 

“What is it, Theo? Can it wait till we get to the cast-” you start, before he cuts you off, taking another step towards you in desperation. 

“y/n….please just listen to me…”

“Oka-what do you mea-” you started, a hint of panic in your tone. His suddenty was making you nervous, that is until realisation hit you. Standing there, staring up at him, the crazed look in his eyes, and you knew. Knew what he meant, what he wanted to say. You could see what was hiding behind that look, the soft yearning, and need for understanding, the pleading, far before it had even begun. There was no coming back from what he was about to say, nothing that could be done to stop it, but you had to try. You shook your head, your breath hitching the moment he took another step forward, mere inches from where you stood. You held your breath, staring at him, nearly frozen out of fear. 

“Theo, please. Don't do this, please don't do this-” It was barely a whisper that left you, and he heard it, you knew he had, but it didn’t stop him. He moved forward, frantically reaching out for you as if he would never get the chance to touch you again, as his hands met your arms, grabbing them as he lowered himself just enough to be level to you. 

“I have too, I have to tell you how I fee-” He started. You could hear the urgency dripping off of each word, the way he seemed to speak as if he was fearful that he would never get his chance to say it again. His eyes darted between your own, a glass like glaze over the soft shade of blue, as he searched for some type of understanding behind them.

“No Theo, no you don’ t, you don-” It was almost a whine, an involuntary beg on your part, as you pulled from his grasp, and yet made no movement to get away from him. 

“Y/n, please, you have to understand, I can’t help it, i can’t just stop it, you know that, you know I can’t-” 

“Theo think! Please! Think about Enzo..” you tried, tried to make him think about his lifelong friend, the one that stood between the pair of you and everything that Theo wanted. “He is your best friend, your best friend! Please, please think about that before you say what you are about to say. Theo pleas-”

“I know, I know he is, trust me I know-” there it was again, the shaky breath, the soft tones of imploration. 

“Enzo, Theo-” you pleaded, forcing back tears that were on the cusp of escaping.

“And I know that! I know that y/n, and I love him like a brother I promise you I do, but I can’t just sit by. I can’t! Not without telling you how I feel, y/n please-” he implored, his hands coming up to reach for you again, only to fall flat by his side when you shy away from him. He hated this, seeing the way you were fighting him, the way you were pleading with him to stop, but he couldn’t let you. Perhaps it came down to some diluted fantasy, one where you would allow him to tell you how he felt, one where you would see what he meant, see his desperation and the desire for you, that you would have some type of understanding and would chose him, and sure he knew that wasn't going to be the case, but he had to hope. 

“Theo…” you mutter, your heart breaking for him, for the wounded way he was looking at you, for the way his hands were nearly clasped together as if he were in prayer begging for forgiveness. “Theo ple-”

“Y/n I am in love with you, and I can't just make it go away…I can’t-I can’t, and I can’t by any means keep it to myself..not anymore, y/n. Not when it is killing me little by little..” he couldn’t seem to stop himself as he spoke. His voice hoarse and broken as the confession that he had been holding in for only merlin knows how long now, was pouring from him as if he had no control over it anymore in floods of pathetic desperation. Perhaps he didn’t have any control. Perhaps the lie that he had been living was tearing him apart piece by piece, and the only way to soothe it was to get it out to you, to explain and pray that you could understand, no matter the repercussions it was sure to have. It had begun to take its toll on him, watching you with Enzo, pretending that he was nothing but happy for the pair of you. It consumed him, driving him to mere madness and this felt like the only way to solve it, and he hated it. He hated himself for it, for thinking that it was okay, that maybe there was a chance he could steal you for himself, a chance that you would want him just as much as he wanted you. He hated himself for doing this behind his best friends back without so much as a care. It was so unbelievable selfish and he knew that, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t care not when he had spent all this time loving you, watching you, needing you. He knew what this could mean for his relationships with not only you, but Enzo too, and he was willing to throw it all away for that small sliver of hope that you would return his feelings. 

Theo took a deep shaky breath, trying his hardest to read your thoughts, to see if he could understand even the slightest bit of what you were feeling towards him, but the moment your lips parted, he panicked, fear consuming him. He couldn’t let you speak out towards his admission, he couldn’t let you stop him. 

Your hand reached up to silence him, to cover his mouth and cease the flow of the poison he was trying to spew, but it was of no use, he was faster. He reached out grabbing ahold of your hands, soothingly running his thumbs gently over the tops of them, appalled at how cold your touch was. Your hands were frozen, you were cold, and here he was, selfishly keeping you outside the castle walls, simply for his own greed. He couldn’t feel nature's effect, not anymore, not while fuelled with pure adrenaline, but you, a poor innocent bystander in this, could. He clamped your hands together, hoping that covered by his, could find some warmth in them. 

“Y/n…I can’t…I can’t go on like this, knowing that I feel this way.” He was breaking, and you could see it. He needed you to feel something other than an undeniable no. He needed reassurance that this, what he was confessing wasn’t for nothing, but you couldn’t give him that, not now. You wanted to reach out for him, to offer him some type of comfort no matter how small, but what would that fix? Nothing, and though you hated to admit it, you were afraid that it might not only give him some senses of hope, but also that it would do nothing more than confuse not only him, but you. You loved Theo, you always had, and perhaps not in the way that he did for you, or at least never to the degree that he was experiencing. There was a small sliver of you that once wanted him the way he wanted you now, and that small sliver was begging you on its own to let him continue to pour his heart out. But you loved Enzo, and you had for some time now. You loved him and who you were with him, and nothing was worth risking that over. All you could do was to shake your head, soft desperate ‘no’s escaping you, praying, no, pleading that he would stop, that he would give up, because it wasn’t fair, none of it was. You sunk your teeth, feebly into your quivering bottom lip, slowly shaking your head, your eyes flooded with unreleased tears. You weren’t breathing, holding onto that breath like a tether, as you waited. 

“I have to make you understand…I can’t spend another moment listening to the stories of you and Enzo, knowing that it should be by your side, that it should be me taking care of you, making you smile and laugh, making you happy every waking chance that I can… I can’t take more of pretending that it doesn't hurt me, or that I’m okay when I'm really not.  Y/n, please, I am begging you…make it stop, please for me…. Tell me you- tell me you love me or- no, just tell me you love m-….” he couldn’t finish his sentence, the words caught in the back of his throat as he looked down at you with those soft pleading eyes, that glass-like look to his eyes now one filled with tears of his own, but the tears that were beginning to fall from your eyes held him captive, they silenced him. 

He could feel his world shattering before him as he looked at you, could feel you pulling away in ways that he knew he couldn’t follow, couldn’t pull you back from. He had single handedly ruined the only thing in his life that had any meaning to him whatsoever. You were slipping from him, and knew that no matter what he did, there was no going back. Nothing was going to fix this, it had been ruined beyond repair, and it was killing him. He couldn’t stand to see that pitiful look reflected on your face, the one that confirmed everything he was thinking, the one that caused him to stop breathing in a moment of lasting heartbreak, the one that filled him with horror. It was over, he was certain of it.  He couldn’t be your friend, not after what he had just told you, not when he knew that you would go back and tell Enzo, not when he knew you hated him, and that he was sure of. 

It wasn’t the truth though, you didn’t hate him, you weren’t even sure that that was something that you were capable of even doing when it came to Theo, but you couldn’t lie, you hated what he had done. You hated it because it meant that no matter what he or you wanted, things were no longer going to be the same. You couldn’t give him what he needed, craved, and you hated that. Theo deserved the world, but a world that you couldn’t offer him. The tears were rolling freely from your eyes now, staining your blushed stained cheeks. All semblances of the cold were lost on you, you felt nothing but numb, and remorseful, even a little bit angry. He had ruined something that was so utterly good, and thought you were angry at him for that, you couldn’t really blame him. You felt as though your heart had sunk like a bag of stones into your gut, weighing heavy as you fought the urge to keep your gaze on him. It was over, and you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to lash out on him, shove him back and tell him to say it was all a cruel joke, because maybe then you could forgive him, forget it, but you knew that no matter how much you wanted that, it wouldn’t be the truth. He had said his piece, and what was done was done.

“That's-that's not fair.” you cried, holding onto your composure with a literal thread. You pulled your hands from him, using your index finger to shove it into his hard chest. “That is not fucking fair! That's bullshit, Theo!” you couldn’t hold back the tears, the aggression, the ache in your chest, and you wanted him to know. He groaned, exhaling that single breath that he was clinging too, as you repeatedly jabbed your finger into his chest. 

“You don’t! You don’t get to ask that of me! You dont get to say that, not now, not fucking now! You- you don't-..” you argued through clenched teeth, but your voice trailed off. It was as if you were at a loss for the right words. Nothing that you were going to say would really express how you felt, how torn you were, nor were they going to repair any of it. He took a step towards you, ready to reach for you, and you shuffled back, nearly tripping over your own blasted feet. “No. no you’re mean, and you're selfish…” you blurted. tears rolling down your face, your breathing coming out in jagged spurts.  

Merlin, he would do anything to go back and hold onto what he had said, to pretend like he wasn’t being destroyed by his feelings for you. Back to pretending that whenever he heard the latest of your relationship with his best friend, it didn't wound him more than any physical ailment he could ever experience. Anything to see you smile, and drone on about this and that, rather than to have your cold, accusatory finger being shoved into his heart. Quite literally anything and he would do it, no matter the costs. That's when it hit him. Shoving his hand into the depths of his coat pocket, his fingers carefully wrapped around his wand, looking at you with such a shattering look of sorrow. He was sorry, so unbelievably sorry. Sorry he hurt you, sorry that it confused you, sorry that he ruined his relationship with you, and even more so, sorry that he had told you. 

“I’m so sorry..” was all he could offer in respite. 

You huffed, brushing him off as you staggered back, as he repeated soft ‘i’m sorry’s. You sighed, fighting ever urge to tell him to fuck off.

“Fuck you, Theo..” you sighed, turning your back to him for a brief moment, wiping the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, trying desperately to get them to stop.

“Obliviate,” he muttered, and you didn't even have the time to react, to turn around and deflect, before a soft haze set over you. He watched as the silver glow at the end of his wand faded, before slowly lowering it to his side. He wasn’t sure that he could do this again, to be your friend after what he had done. Being so close to you, but not being able to have you, or to tell you what you meant to him, because after all was said and done, you weren’t his, you never were, and he knew now, that you never would be.

[rory-cakes]

A Buck and A Canary

What was she doing here?

Why was she smiling at him like nothing happened?

He left their child alone!

He let her die!

He lied to her!

It has been one week since the battle at the Habin Hotel. They were starting to finish the reconstruction of the hotel when something strange happened. An angel appeared. 

“Hello! My name is Y/n Altruist, and the higher-ups of heaven have sent me to oversee the progress of the hotel!” 

“THEY CHANGED THEIR MINDS!?” Charlie was practically vibrating with joy. 

“Why?” Vaggie asked skeptically. 

“Well, unlike before, we have proof that your hotel works! A certain serpent has shown up in heaven!”

“Sir Penitouse is alive!” everyone was filled with overwhelming joy. 

“Also”

Y/n bowed in respect. 

“I deeply apologize for the exterminations. They were never supposed to happen. Sera and Adam were working alone in that sense.” 

Charlie grabbed her hand and helped her back up. 

“So really, no one knew? How is that possible?”

“The seven virtues are the only defense against evil on Earth so they have their hands full with that, I’m afraid. I was at the meeting and I brought up the issue as soon as I could!”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to us? No offense, we’re really grateful you did what you did! But why?”

“Well, I'm afraid my answer is a little selfish. My husband is down here. He wasn’t a good man but he was a good husband and he would have been a good father hadn’t he died.”

How did an angel like her end up with someone down here?

Wait-

An angel like her?

“Im sorry, but what is your husband’s na-”

“Birdy?”

“Alastor?”

Alastor sat uncomfortably on the plush couch in his room. Y/n sat equally as uncomfortable in a chair of a similar design. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Alastor avoided making eye contact with his wife. I mean she had to know who he truly was at this point. How could she not?

“Alastor.”

She breaks the silence. 

“I’ve missed you dearly, my darling.”

Why was she smiling?

“I know what you did, and while I can’t say I’m pleased, that doesn’t change the fact that you are my husband.”

What?

“You cherished and loved me for so many years. You took care of me and Eudora. You loved me with everything you had.”

This isn’t right.

“So, if you haven’t stopped loving me in the time we’ve been apart,”

No

“I’d like to be your wife still.”

Alastor finally looked at his ethereal wife. She was so good. She shouldn’t be corrupted by his darkness. 

“I left her alone.”

“So did I.”

Y/n smiled at the man in front of her. This was her Alastor. This was the man she fell in love with. Sure, there were blazing red flags and she should probably be running for the hills. However, she can’t deny the urge to be with him. 

“I’ve been watching over her.”

“You have? How is she?”

“She’s lived a long life. She’s been married to her wife for about 40 years now. She adopted three kids and has a bunch of grandkids. She had her own radio show, Al!”

“She did?”

“She did.”

Y/n moves to sit beside him and grabs his hand with both of hers. Alastor finally pulls her closer,

“You deserve so much more than I am. I cursed you in life I can’t let you get hurt again.”

“You are all that I want, and if I get cursed because of it, that will have been my decision.”

She places her hand on his face, and he leans into it. 

“My darling Alastor, there is nothing you can do for me to stop loving you.”

“Alright, Birdy, I’ll have you for as long as you wish to stay.”

And so the Buck was reunited with his Canary.  

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked the last part of Alastor's Birdy! If you have scenarios you would like me to write with this au, just send me an ask and ill get to it as soon as I can!

Taglist: @crazed-flower, @nanamunath, @preferably-fictional, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @leximus98, @cupidsgift, @mag-chan, @stygianoir, @thereeallink, @yelloeukulele, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, blurpleuni-squid, @galaxywing-has-adhd, @just-here-reading, @deez-nuts0, @strawberry-gothic, @purplerose291,@1-800-mocha, @trashbin-nie, @queenmizuki, @nkirukaj @bennythebitch @otherthoughtsofbu, @fantasycantasy, @hunnybee11626, @notally-tormal, @valerie-36, @lovingyeet, @holographicage, @har-har-harvey, @i-love-jafar, @cupidsgift, @meow-meowo, @theblueslytherin, @deadt3tinside, @lyralibra, @the-unhinged-raccoon, @avitute, @alastorswifeee, @stygianoir, @sideshow-b0b, @deadlymouse123, @mysingularitybts, @emotionalfangirl2002, @t0xic1vi, @goodlittlepup, @starsatmyhome, @wendds, @reader3, @redfoxgotlost, @hurthermore, @frostychurro @isa-dragon

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: situationship!rafe cameron x afab nerd!reader

cw: angst undertones w/ a hopeful ending, black cat!coded reader x whatever rafe would be, suggestive action in the shower & mentions of off screen nsfw (cum and thigh fucking but the latter is a bit more graphic lol) , class differences, rafe is pathetic and weird, implied drug use, rafe beats a man but you can decide if he killed him, reader has implied mental health issues and low self esteem, ambiguous feelings on rafe’s part (he said ily but he could be lying), dark content themes, rafe calls reader kitty in both a mean way and a pet name way, if the thing with reader’s first crush sounds too real that’s cause it is 🤫, started my period while i was formatting this (i just thought y’all should know)

wc: 1.9k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

consider commissioning me 🫀

“Hey, babe, would you be a good kitty and let me in?” Is what you’re greeted with when you swing open your screen door. Rafe Cameron looks pleased as punch, all things considered, soaking wet due to the pouring rain and no doubt high as a kite.

The slurred speech doesn’t alarm you as much as the river of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck?” You try to sound harsh but the fuck is noticably softer than your other words and Rafe smiles, more blood drips down his chin.

You look over his shoulder to see his bike on its side in the dirt, it’s raining and you just know he’ll be pissed to see the mus clinging to it tomorrow. But for right now, you have an injured situationship to patch up.

He stumbles as you struggle to yank him aside, and he sways but collapses on your couch. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to lose your shit immediately. The audacity of this man to waltz in on you barely alive and expect some twisted kind of comfort, after everything.

“I was studying you know, textbooks are expensive so don’t start getting your blood on them.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know.”

Rafe grunts but keeps his body away from your books. That’s the least he can do, the bare minimum. You sigh and walk over him, kneeling in front of the couch. His eyes are dazed and unfocused as you brush the hair away from his forehead, but his fingers twitch.

“Why did you come here, Rafe? To me?” You whisper, tired and unamused.

You’re startled by his harsh cough, his fingers twitch in your direction again, “ ‘Was nowhere else, wanted you.”

Isn’t that good enough?

You blink dumbly at that, but you have no answer for his crazed ramblings so you slap your knees and make your way to the bathroom. You procure a wet washcloth and some measly bandages, he would just have to deal with it. Rafe’s eyes drag towards you when you kneel back in front of him and bring the cloth to his mouth.

You avoid his stare as you sop up the copious amounts of blood, praying that this wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital. In some ways, you’ve seen too much blood since Rafe Cameron decided to make a mockery of your existence. The gaggle of rich girls he used to have on each arm disappeared but he excused it by detailing his plans to lead you on in front of his friends, checking to see if you were in ear shot.

There’s nothing you did, in your mind. You stuck to yourself and somehow invited the attention of some psycho. That’s the hardest part of the situation, you can’t pinpoint a true beginning. You can only remember being in this murky middle, devoid of an ending. Rafe does have a pretty face though, unfortunately, the water from cloth making his skin glisten. You’ll throw the rag out after this, there’s no point trying to get the stain of blood out of anything.

Eventually, you’re done with the first part and have an excuse to turn away from him. You get back on your feet to reach for the bandages but a groan coming from behind stops you. You turn around and freeze when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts. He hisses through his teeth in pain as he pushes your shirt up with his bloodied knuckles.

“Rafe Cameron, what the hell are you-“

“ ‘Smells good as fuck, love you.”

You refuse to admit that you love him too, you can’t give him that. Okay, now shit’s really getting out of hand. He dips his head to get closer to your pussy but the second you see the tip of his tongue touch your shorts, you direct his face back to your stomach. You’ve never gone further than ‘will they-won’t they’ type touches with Rafe, but you just can’t give in no matter how much you lie awake at night thinking about it.

“All this is because of you, you know that? You fucked me up and made pummel the crap outta that guy.” The vibrations his clumsy words send through you gives you a serious case of the shivers, so you distract yourself by running your fingers through his matted hair. Because of course there’s blood on his head too. You’d usually chalk what he’s saying up to drugs and insanity, but with Rafe you just never know.

“What?”

“He said maybe I should lay off you so he could have a piece instead, and I just…. lost it. Why should some chump get a part of what’s all mine?” He says with a startling amount of clarity, voice flat and low.

You don’t designate him with a response, and truth be told he doesn’t want you too. You stretch for what in actuality is a $3 dollar package of hello kitty bandaids and rip the white coverings off a few of them. He makes god awful sounds as you apply them to his mouth, head, and hands. The mess in his hair probably isn't his but your conscience won't let you leave it alone. Something foreign to your head and your heart won’t let you leave him alone.

You decide to put the knife in your back all on your own and look up into his eyes. They’re too half lidded to get a clear reading on them but you’re afraid to rely on the emotions underneath the surface. You used to be scared that he couldn’t feel anything. Now, the idea of Rafe Cameron believing he’s in love is far more terrifying.

He’s a bit ridiculous with My Melody, Kuromi, and Keroppi all over himself, you can’t help the small smile that comes over you. You quickly flatten it before he can get too pleased with himself but the fingers curled against your tummy spasm as they spread out to caress your skin. Rafe has an unreadable look on his face as he smears blood over your womb, but you think if you step away he’ll lunge at you.

“I can help you wash the blood off in the shower.” Saying that is in no way a promise of commitment or change, but it might be the closest you ever get.

You’re used to scraps, scraps are fine.

And well, for much you pride yourself on being perfectly fine being alone, it’s achingly human to crave being loved more than anything else. You wander aimlessly because you won’t go where you’re not wanted, and for the longest you’ve been wanted nowhere. But here you are, obsessed over by someone who everyone wants.

Maybe you’re sick of trying to make all the right decisions if this is where it gets you, cold and alone. Is it so bad to not care anymore? It couldn’t be worse than when your first crush told you he loved you and then had a baby with your bully, you reason. Or when he dated one of your friends and she would “joke” about marrying you when you were alone.

The short trip to the shower is awkwardly silent, you have to lead Rafe and make sure he doesn’t trip. You stare more than any Twilight character as you help each other strip. You try to avoid the bruises on Rafe’s torso, but he chuckles about how “You should see the other guy, kitty.”

So you don’t back away when he slows the trajectory of your calloused hands and drags them up his body. Your nails are bitten unevenly, some leave scratches on his abs and some don’t. It’s exhilarating to see Rafe Caneron’s thread come undone, to watch as he tilts his head back and sighs. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss the hollow of his throat before you can stop yourself.

You won’t mention the squeak he tries to stifle with the back of his balled up fist.

You step away from him to be vulnerable in return, his satisfaction is much more evident this time around. He rips your camisole in two and unhooks your bra too well, clearly having had practice. He cups your breasts in his hands with tenderness that you’d think is out of character for him. Rafe doesn’t even honk them in the dude bro way that you’d always assumed he would. No, he… massages the flesh in his palms between slow squeezes.

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion.

You notice that he doesn’t steal a glance at your pussy, almost like he’s scared of seeing it bare and puffy… and wet.

You like to feel like a boiling lobster in the shower, so you turn the dial the same direction as always. You’re worried that Rafe will hate the sting but when the water hits, he moans with an open mouth, eyes shut tight. Before your next breath, you’re pushed against the wall and now the blood’s in your mouth as you're taken into a french kiss right out the gate.

You go with it against your better judgment, until Rafe pulls away to pant against your collarbone. His next kiss is softer, shy like it’s an unknown thing to the two of you. His lips glide and mesh with yours as the water trails down in between your slick bodies. You feel like you’re going to pass out but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You open your eyes to see the water at the base of the shower run red, and you lose yourself in the swirling motion until the pop of your honey scented shampoo bottle lid snaps you out of it.

“Turn around kitty, ‘said I'd help you scrub down.”

He’d be embarrassed if you said it, but it’s obvious he’s never done this before. He’s like a bull in a china shop gathering you up in a loose bundle and sloppily spreading the soap throughout it. You stay silent, preferring to bask in the absurdity of it all.

Washing Rafe’s hair takes less time, but like he did when you were cleaning him up earlier, he chooses to stare at you the entire time. You scratch his head to really work the shampoo in there and get the dried blood out, he latches onto your wrists and lets his eyes drift shut. He makes it inconvenient to help him when he kisses your jawline, but you allow it.

“Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands.” Rafe whispers with a wry grin, pecking your mouth and dropping to his knees. Your pomegranate body wash in his uninjured hand. The amount he squirts onto the dollar store loofah on his other hand is a touch too generous.

You have to replace the hello kitty bandaids when the originals fall off after Rafe steps out of the shower minutes later, he insists on it. You make him lean against the bathroom counter and watch as you take a second shower to clean out the cum, he wears a petulant frown the whole time.

You’re bent over that same counter when you’re back in his orbit, teary eyes wide as he fucks your plush thighs.

The rain turns into a thunderstorm outside.

[websterss]

COMING BACK (1) — ETHAN LANDRY

REQUEST: I have a really good fic idea! would u mind taking mine? If you have watched the Netflix series “you” then this request might seem familiar. Basically Ethan is about to stab Y/n but she quickly says she is pregnant then you can do whatever you want to.

WARNING(S): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of pregnancy, 

WORD COUNT: 1,655

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it love! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

PART 2: HAPPY ENDING / SAD ENDING

Fear struck every part of your body as you ran for your life. The old shrine of Ghostface trinkets and souvenirs like knives and wardrobes mocked you as you ran by the mannequins and display cases. You wouldn’t have imagined you’d be right where you were on this unlucky day. What should have been a fresh start after being almost butchered by Amber and Sam’s boyfriend Richie, well you didn’t expect to fight for your life once again, especially while at college.

You wanted a new year, a chance to leave all that was, behind you and move forward with your head held high. You wanted to fall in love…which you had. Now even that was ruined as you ran from the one person you let in. Someone you let love and cherish you in any way possible. Let him put you back together only to break you in pieces all over again. It just didn’t seem fair.

You yell out, panicking as you felt him grab you. You squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, kicking your feet out in the air as he lifted you up slightly then slammed you harshly on the ground. You gasp for air as you grow winded from the impact your back endured. You shake your head as the man you once knew became a stranger to you in mere seconds. You were scared as he stares down at you with a crazed look.

“No!” You scream as you push against his chest. “Ethan no, please!” You rasp out. Tears blind sight you, causing your vision to be blurry.

He smirks lifting a knife above you. “Remember this?” He asks. “My dad got a hold of your file you know. I knew the second I read about you that I wanted to get to know you.” He reached down and brushed some stray hairs away from your hot and sweaty forehead. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were stabbed right here…” He lifts the hem of your shirt, tapping against the scar you received. “With a blade, three times might I add. God the picture they took looked nasty, but boy am I a sucker for recreations.” He chuckles darkly. “What’s three more times huh?” He goes to move the knife closer to your side.

You start to panic again as he moves his right arm to the side, getting ready to drive it past your first layer of skin. You cry holding your hands out, hoping that would be enough to stop him from hurting you physically. You were emotionally damaged by this point. “Ethan stop! Stop, stop! Stop!”

“This is for Richie, for your bitch of friend Sam for killing him! For ruining our lives!” He exclaims harshly at you. You wince, then immediately blurt out the one thing you have been excited to tell him, yet scared to do. Now it just made this whole situation worse.

“Ethan-“ You cry out.

“I should have killed you-“

“I’m pregnant!” You yell out. Your head thumping back against the hard floor. Your hands gravitate towards your stomach holding it protectively. Your face was scrunched with how hard you cried. It hurt, everything just hurt. Ethan's hands freeze in midair. Dumbfounded by your confession. “Stop, stop, stop. I-I’m pregnant!”

“You’re fucking lying!” He accuses you.

“I-I’m not…I’m not I promise!” You shake your head. “Please! Please I’m pregnant!” One hand remains on your stomach while your left hand tiredly falls limp to your side. You relax back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting to meet your end at the hands of the man you grew to love with your whole heart.

“Look at me,” Ethan instructs you to do. Your eyes open up slowly. The life drained from them as you stare up at him. The fight in you was gone. You didn’t wanna keep doing this anymore. “No, I–“ He shakes his head. He can’t wrap his head around it. His brows burrow in confusion. “Y-You’re lying!” He tears up.

“I promise you…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I promise. I wanted to tell you…but everything turned to shit. I didn’t think you’d be one of them…” You sniffle. “It was a little over two weeks before we attended the Halloween party. You took us to your dorm.” You watch his face relax as he remembers. “I-I didn’t get my period at the time of the party when I should have…so I took a test. Three actually. All positive….” You begin to whimper as you look at the knife he’s lost his grip on. “You can go ahead and kill me if that’s what you want, I won’t be mad at you.” You offer a sad smile. “But I would’ve really liked the idea of us raising a kid together. I wanted a future you with you. I still do surprisingly.” You nod sure of yourself. “I-I won’t be mad. I’m at peace with my thoughts of you Ethan.” Ethan watched as your right hand slid down to your side this time. “M-My life rests in your hands now…”

The faint scream of the rest of the party echoed throughout the theater. He lifts his head looks around then drags you up into a sitting position with him.

“I’m gonna hide you.” He says more to himself than you as he helps you to your feet. It doesn’t take him long until he’s dragging you past the display cases. Pushing past the large screen protector sheet. You stumble over your feet trying to keep up with his pace.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” You ask him. Your head falls past your shoulder to glance behind you. You look forward again and collide into his back, you huff then feel yourself being dragged into a dark supply closet.

“Hiding you!” Ethan shuts the door behind you. The two of you are enveloped by darkness. The only light coming from the bottom of the door. Your breath hitches as a shadow moves past the door. You remain still as Ethan slowly reaches out for you. You still have your fingers looking around his own as you shift closer to each other.

You swallow your salvia down nervously as his hands shift up your arms to hold the sides of your face. Your breath shudders feeling him caress your skin slowly with his thumbs. You close your eyes as you lean into his touch. You open them back up, seeing a very faint outline of his face but the room was too dark, and turning on the light would be too risky. You had to rely on your sense of touch for now.

“Stay…” You quietly plead. “Just stay. Don’t go back out there.” You slide your hands up his arms now.

“I can’t…My dad, Quinn, they’ll know somethings up.” Ethan shakes his head even though you can’t see him do so. He leans forward and presses his head against yours. “I need you to stay in here okay? Don’t come out no matter what.”

“No–“ You begin to reject the idea.

“You need to stay.”

“No, you need to stay. Just stay.” You do your best to muffle your cries. “I have this feeling. I just feel it, okay! Once you step out the door, you won’t come back. I need you! Don’t leave me!” You breathe out harshly. “Please…” You whimper as he presses his lips to yours. You instantly move yours against his. Wanting to savor the touch of him, the feel of his skin against your fingertips, the way his hands held you with such care. You wanted it all to last, but when did anything good in your life ever truly last? The harsh reality was that it didn’t. Everything was always too good to be true. “Ethan no…” You pull away, crying out quietly. You wrap your hands around his neck, bringing his head down to touch yours.

“I’ll be back.”

“No, you won’t.” You try to control your heavy breathing.

“I will. You wanna know how I know I will.” You nod an answer. “Cause you given me something to want to stay alive for.” You feel his hands slide over your stomach. “I’m gonna be right back.” He whispers sweetly to you.

“They’re gonna kill you.” You voice your thoughts.

“Not unless I help Sam kill my dad.”

“She’ll still kill you. You stabbed Chad.” You remind him.

“Not anywhere serious. I didn’t hit any arteries or veins. He’s gonna be fine.” He brushed the thought off.

“You– You knew where to stab him?” Your voice goes quiet but sounds incredulous.

“I knew how to make you unconscious at the apartment…S’not important.” He winces, regretting opening his mouth.

“What the fuck Ethan!” You slap him over his shoulder. Your heart weighed down heavily. “God Anika…She didn’t deserve-“ You choke up, cutting yourself off. “What the fuck Ethan.”

“Nothing will fix what I’ve done okay? But I can make things right by saving them. It’s the least I can do now.” He sighs. “Just stay here. Do not come out!” He says firmly.

“If you don’t come back I’m gonna kill you…” Your empty threat makes him chuckle solemnly.

“See you in a bit okay.”

“Ethan.” Your voice trembles.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” He leans in after feeling for your cheek again with his hands and leaves a kiss on your skin sweetly. He slowly opens the door. The faint light entered through, casting a yellow highlight on his face. You catch his warm eyes for a second. He drinks in all the little details and characteristics that make you who you are. That makes him love you wholeheartedly. “I love you.” He offers a sad smile then slips past the open gap. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like a gunshot to the chest. You just knew. You knew…he wouldn’t be coming back.

[writtensweethearts]

Sweet Nothings

Read part two here: Unspoken Confessions Pairing: Eddie munson x GN!reader Enemies to lovers ? word count: +1k CW: mentions of blood, death, lmk if i missed something A/N: this is my first time posting a blurb or a piece in general for the public, please be kind and i hope you enjoy!

“God, I swear if you die on me I’ll kill you.” he chokes out angrily, but it lacks any heat. You grin up at him, watching his chocolate eyes fill with tears. 

You suddenly wonder why you hadn’t seen him. 

The barely there freckles, mud splattered cheeks and wild curly hair, the different shades of brown in his glassy eyes. 

His harsh words a complete opposite of his gentle hold, you watch as his fingers push against the angry open wounds of your stomach, trying to keep the blood at bay. The crazed look of his eyes as he darts his head around, waiting for Henderson, another bat, anything. 

“Calm down pretty boy, least you can do is say some sweet nothings to a dying girl.” 

You watch in slight awe as his eyes find yours, tears finally spilling from his lash line, wondering if maybe this time you’ve pushed him too far.

“Don’t say that shit,” he hisses, “you’re not dying. Not on my watch sweetheart.”

You smile at that, the nickname lacking it’s usual mocking tone. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Munson. You know better than that.”

If he responded you can’t recall, eyes drooping, sleep evading you, the noise of the Upside Down drowning out.

You rouse from the gentle shake of your head, Eddie’s ringed fingers grasping your chin

“Come on, you’ve got to keep your eyes open.” Voice pleading.

“What do I get in return?” He scoffed at that but it comes out more like a breathy sigh of relief, taking your snarky response as a sign of hope. He realizes his response comes a second too late.

You stare at him, eyes a bit dazed and mouth pulled taut, a strange air lingers filling the empty space from a missed witty remark. He can’t help what he says next.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Now you’re the stunned one.

“What?” “I don’t need you saving me princess, look at where that got you.”

You frowned at that. Shit, Eddie thinks he’s struck a nerve. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, even if you were the girl he’s bickered with for over a year now, constantly exchanging snippy remarks. Maybe he would’ve been able to give you those sweet nothings you’d asked for earlier, had he felt confident enough to say them. But the humid air of the Upside down and the feel of your sticky, warm blood coating his hands has made him angry. Angry at Hawkins for dragging him into shit like this, angry at the Upside Down for existing and upturning his life, angry at himself for allowing you to be at the center of it all. 

It should’ve been him. He’d jumped off the boat, diving into a world unknown, fighting away demonic bats, and risking his life for the good of the world. He’d been ready to let it all go, but you’d come in, chest heaving, Steve’s bat swinging. The two of you on the same team, for once. And it wasn’t until the last bat was down, when he’d turn around yelling and celebrating victory, that he’d noticed. You were holding your stomach, arm dropping the bat you’d held so tightly seconds before. He watched, dumbfounded as you lightly pulled your shirt, revealing large, gaping gashes all across your abdomen. Eddie would never forget the haunted look in your eyes as you dragged your gaze up to his, your body wobbling as you forced yourself to stand still, as if you didn’t want him to see you weak. 

In that moment the world was a blur, he’d called your name hoarsley, afraid, afraid you’d respond with a small pain-filled voice rather the boisterous, mocking tone you used whenever you spoke to him. Afraid to see you, larger than life you, growing weaker and smaller and so unfamiliar.

And yet here you were, his knees digging into your back as he tried to hold your limp body up, looking at him with the same fire in your eyes. This, this is what he’d been wishing for, hadn’t he? But there was something unusual about your gaze, if he hadn’t known any better he’d have said you were hurt by his words.

You blinked, head turning to the side and Eddie cursed. He didn’t know how to act with you, behind all the mean words and heated arguments, he wasn’t sure how to move forward. So here you were, blood soaking through your clothes, onto his, and he was spewing ungrateful words to the girl who’s losing her life from saving his. A girl he’s never been able to properly behave around, a girl who, behind her back, he’d watched fondly with honey coated eyes. 

“I.. I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, your eyes snapping back to his, “God I’m so so sorry.”

His voice wobbling as reality began to settle in, “It should’ve been me. It should’ve. I’m repeating senior year and not for the first time, I’m being hunted for murder, and you. You’ve got such a big life to live, a great one, and I just-” His rambling comes to an end as you’re fingers gingerly swipe a stray curl behind his ears.

“Hey.” You smile up at him, and God, if it didn’t make Eddie’s heart want to burst at the sight of it. “It’s okay.” You watch him, his eyes doubtful, his hands never leaving you as he keeps pressure on your wounds, “I mean come on, I had to, you’ve got to get back and show them you can make it through highschool. Thought you said this was ‘your year.’” 

He laughs but it’s all watery and choked, and it makes your chest hurt in an unfamiliar way. It’s getting harder and harder to fight the sleep taking over, the lofty sound of Eddie’s voice whispering the sweet nothings you’d playfully asked for, dreams of a better life, swearing on his heart that he’ll get you out of this hell hole, safe, alive. You send him a sleepy smile, knowing he’s making more promises he can’t keep, but his eyes are shining with tears so you return the gesture and whisper another, “It’s okay, Eds.” before you let his voice lull you to bed.

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Interrogation)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Anika rolled her eyes. “You’d think for someone who was attacked you wouldn’t wear headphones,” she said.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Your headphones rested on your head as you stared unblinking at your TV, your fingers moving automatically as you played your game. It was a little difficult and occasionally you winced at the pain in your hand from holding the controller but over the weeks you learned how to play your games without putting too much strain on your hand. It was incredibly difficult, and Tara had yelled at you the second you picked up the controller after being home for a day, but nothing was going to stand in the way of you and your games.

You had your sword out and just accidentally slashed a door instead of sliding it open, you sighed, you still always mixed up those two buttons. The next thing you knew your headphones were being ripped off your head, you instantly reached for the taser Sam had gifted you before turning to see who your assailant was.

“The fuck!” You screamed, lowering the taser slightly but your grip didn’t lessen. “Anika!”

Anika rolled her eyes. “You’d think for someone who was attacked you wouldn’t wear headphones,” she said.

“You’d think for someone who’s friend was just attacked you wouldn’t sneak up on them.” You finally sat the taser back down on the table next to you. “Or break into their house!”

“It’s not breaking in when I know the disarm code.”

“So, did Ghostface,” you mumbled, turning to go back to your game. You allowed your headphones to continue resting around your neck, but Anika didn’t deserve your full attention after almost giving you a heart attack.

You moved through the house, swinging your sword to slice through enemies when the TV went dark. The world froze, you couldn’t even hear yourself breathing. You slowly turned your head towards Anika, glaring at her as your grip on the controller tightened. Anika stood next to your gaming chair, arms crossed as she held the TV remote in one hand, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re lucky you only turned off the TV,” you said, through gritted teeth, letting out a strained chuckle. “I’d hate to be down a best friend because your actions made me lose progress.”

“Please, as if you’d ever stop being my friend.”

“Stop being your friend?” You furrowed your brow. “I was talking about murder.”

“Ugh, really? Threatening murder over The Last of Us, which you’ve played half a dozen times.”

“This was Ghost of Tsushima!”

“Same difference,” Anika waved the mistake off.

Your eyes widened in offense as you quickly shot to your feet. “One is about feudal Japan and Samurai while the other is post-apocalyptic and has infected. They’re completely different!”

Anika held up her hands. “Whatever.”

“What are you doing here?”

Anika shoved your shoulder. “Sit down.” You fell back into your gaming chair with a small groan, sudden movements were still not great for the ribs. Anika bent down, bracing herself on the armrests as she leaned into your space. You pressed yourself as far into the chair as you could, your face still being only inches from Anika’s. Anika leaned in even more. “Tell me about you and Tara.”

You couldn’t help but break out into a laugh. The laughter quickly died down though when you noticed Anika still staring at you with her serious expression. “You’re joking.”

“I told you; you aren’t getting out of this.” Anika pushed off the armrests and began pacing back and forth in front of you. “Now, I was reasonable. I didn’t bother you the last few weeks.”

“I was recovering,” you mumbled.

“I even let you have the meeting Sam dinner. I didn’t hound you once!” Anika went on, ignoring you. “And finally!” she spun around to face you, a crazed look in her eye. “Your time of secret keeping has come to an end.” She moved forward, leaning close to you again. “Don’t think about lying, Tara is with Mindy and Sam, she’s getting the same treatment.”

“Are you kidding?”

Anika shook her head. “I didn’t have to convince either of them. They were happy to ask Tara to hangout today, with the sole intention of interrogating her.”

“What happened to privacy? I mean this is our relationship, we’re allowed to keep it between us.”

“Privacy went out the window when you decided to lie to me. Your best friend! You lied to me. Me!” You rolled your eyes at her antics. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” You froze, looking up at Anika with wide eyes. “Look, you can either have this conversation with me or…” she smirked. Your eyes darted from her to anywhere around your room, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to know where she was going with this. “I can call your mom and tell her everything that happened.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her as you leaned forward in the chair.

“Try me,” Anika bent down, bringing your noses inches from each other again.

In your peripheral vision you saw her whip out her phone. You glanced at her hand, seeing her shake the phone as her thumb hovered over your mom’s name. “Okay, fine!” you conceded, slumping back into your chair. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you two meet?” Anika asked, smiling at her victory.

“In class.”

“This would be easier if you just answered honestly.”

“We did!” You threw your hands in the air. “We have Film History together.”

“You know what I’m looking for. Now, answer correctly.”

You let out a huff, rolling your eyes at Anika’s ridiculousness, you were seriously questioning whether having a best friend was worth it. “It was the first day, we had to break into pairs and do ice breakers.” You smiled, remembering your first ever conversation with Tara. “We had to tell each other our favorite movies.” When you looked up you saw Anika smiling softly as you told the story. “We’d work together here and there and make casual conversation occasionally but for the first month or, so she was distant.” Anika gave a nod in understanding; you remember her telling you how Mindy was when they first started dating. “Then one day after class she cornered me and asked me out.”

“Aww,” Anika held a hand to her heart. “First date! First date!”

You laughed at your best friend’s excitement. “It was just a movie date. Tara wanted to see a new horror movie.”

Anika’s eyes went wide. “And you agreed.” You nodded; you still couldn’t believe you had agreed to it. “How did that go?”

“Uhh,” you dragged out for a long time. “I tried. I really did,” you assure Anika. You could see Anika holding back a smile, you really wanted to slap it off of her. “I ended up walking out and sitting on the floor. Tara found me and we went to a pizza place a couple blocks away. She paid and we talked all night.”

“How did you keep this from everyone?” Anika asked in disbelief. “I’ll admit, keeping it from me is easier but Mindy? Chad? Sam? How? I’m surprised Sam doesn’t have a tracker on Tara by this point. I’m pretty sure Sam would be tracking Tara’s phone, but I don’t think she knows how to do it…”

You laughed at the idea of that. You were definitely glad Sam wasn’t tracking Tara’s phone, you were sure you’d have been beaten to a pulp a long time ago if she had. Tara also probably would have found a tracking app or device on her phone, there was one time you two were out and Sam almost saw you guys and Tara thought Sam had been tracking her. Sam was just there to pick up dinner for the night and went on her way, but you spent the rest of the night watching Tara tear apart her phone searching for a tracking device, scrolling and opening every app to try and find something that didn’t belong.

“Well, we took advantage of the situation,” you explained, smiling as you remembered all the times you and Tara snuck around. “We had one class together, you and I only had one together, and Mindy and Tara didn’t really overlap somehow. So, whenever you guys were in class and our free time overlapped, we hung out.”

“So, while Mindy and I were slaving away in class you and Tara were making out,” Anika said, shaking her head in disappointment.

“I mean,” you shrugged. “Sometime. We also studied a lot. I helped her with anything audio related, and she helped me with film stuff.”

“I know the campus is big but how did none of us ever see you two?” She shook her head in disbelief, not being able to wrap her head around how four of you, save for Chad, all had similar majors and shared classes but none of them ever caught onto you and Tara.

You refused to meet Anika’s eyes, choosing to look anywhere else in your room. You slowly started to use your tiptoes to turn your chair, trying to get away from Anika’s gaze.

“Wait,” she shouted, gripping the armrest of your chair, and spinning you back around. “How many times did we almost catch you?”

“A lot,” you whispered, looking up at her through your lashes. Anika stood before you, mouth agape and wide eyed. You couldn’t help but laugh at her surprise. “Ow!” Anika smacked the side of your arm. “Why the injured arm?” You used your good hand to rub the spot she had slapped.

She rolled her eyes. “Your hand was crushed not your arm, you’re fine.”

“You’re mean,” you mumbled.

“Shut up,” she slapped you again. “Tell me more about how you’ve been lying to me for months.”

You gave her an unamused glare but didn’t argue, you didn’t see it as lying to her for months, you were just being private, there was nothing wrong with keeping your relationship just between you and Tara. “Well, we met at the library a lot,” you decided to keep humoring her, considering it might mean getting slapped less anyway. “There were a few times I’d be shoved under a desk or into another aisle when you and Mindy suddenly made an appearance.”

Her eyes went wide again. “Okay, ignoring that deception for a second, what about outside of school? I mean Tara was hardly ever alone.”

You sighed, remembering how difficult it was sneaking around with Tara, but it was always worth it in the end. The adrenaline rush at almost being caught a few times was also a lot of fun. “Whenever Sam worked late or had therapy we’d sneak out. Sometimes it was a quick date if we knew we had enough time, a lot of times Tara snuck over to my place late and got back before Sam would notice.”

“Did you ever sneak into the apartment?” Anika asked with a raised eyebrow. You bit  your lip, dropping your eyes to the floor. Anika’s eyes went wide, and a large smile enveloped her entire face. “You have! How did you never get caught?”

“Well, Quinn was always occupied.” Anika nodded, remembering how even when she was home Quinn was almost always in her room with a guy. “With Sam it was difficult. I would sneak up the fire escape as soon as she left the building and hangout until we knew Sam would be home.”

“How often did she almost walk in on you?”

You let out a shaky breath, remembering the one-time Sam truly almost caught you, you had never been so scared, well you hadn’t been until you got attacked by Ghostface. “A few times,” you said, shaking your head. “Tara has shoved me in the closet.” Anika let out a giggle, clearing her throat when you glared at her. “She shoved me off the bed. There was one time I slipped out the window right before Sam opened the door.”

“You are so lucky to be alive.” Anika shook her head in disbelief. “One more question.” You groaned, flinging your head back against your chair. “It’s important!”

“What?”

“Have you and Tara,” she gave you a knowing nod, her eyebrows raised. “You know,” she wiggled her eyebrows.”

“Oh god!” you smacked her in the stomach. She flinched but broke out into a laugh. “That’s none of your business.”

“You have!” She smiled widely, clapping her hands as she bounced up and down on her feet. “Tell me everything!”

“No! That’s between me and Tara,” you said, making sure she knew you weren’t kidding.

“Fine,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “Sorry if I overstepped.”

“Thank you.”

Anika opened her mouth to say something else, but her phone vibrated, she pulled it out, shooting a quick text to whoever was on the other end. “Mindy said they finished their interrogation with Tara.”

“Good,” you said, spinning your chair to face the TV again. “You can go compare notes.” You turned on the TV and reached for your controller again.

“One more thing,” Anika said softly, her tone changing from the joking one she’d had since she showed up.

You groaned but turned your head to look up at her. “What?”

“Call your mom.” You looked down at the controller in your lap. Your body stiffened when you felt Anika rest her hand on your shoulder, but it didn’t take long for you to quickly relax. “She loves you. She won’t be mad.” You nodded but couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. “I think it will be good for you.” She gave you a comforting rub before pulling her hand away. “Goodbye.”

You turned your head enough to see Anika in the doorway but not enough that you’d be actually looking at her again. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Anytime.” With that Anika left.

You looked at the controller in your lap a bit longer, lifting your head to stare at the screen. You had died when Anika turned off the TV, but the checkpoint was at the house you had entered so you’d just have to do that again. You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the button to resume. With a sigh you sat the controller on the table again as you got up and moved to sitting at your desk.

You pulled out your phone and started a facetime with your mom. It only took a few rings and even though you knew she was slammed with work she answered. “Hi mom,” you said with a small smile. It looked like she was at a hospital based on the background. Your mom was a travel nurse and even though she had originally been on vacation she got called to a hospital in another country the day she was supposed to be back. You hoped she was on break or something and hadn’t interrupted anything important.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes searching your face. You smiled at her concern. She hadn’t seen you in a few months but just one look at you through a screen and she knew something wasn’t right.

“I didn’t interrupt anything right?” you asked. Your mom’s job was important and telling her about what happened wasn’t a priority. “I can call back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she waved you off, her eyes full of worry now. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you smiled again but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I am.” You nervously swallowed, preparing yourself to tell her everything that happened. “Now at least.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, even softer than before when you still hadn’t said anything.

“Just don’t be mad,” you whispered, tears already beginning to fill your eyes.

“I promise.”

You knew it was a stupid thing to ask. There was no way your mom would be mad at what happened, at least not mad at you. You weren’t sure why you were so afraid to tell her, you knew she would be worried, she wouldn’t care about the door, hell she wouldn’t have cared if you blew up the house, as long as you were alive, she’d be happy.

With a shaky breath you started telling her everything that happened. You watched as your moms’ eyes slowly filled with tears as well. She didn’t interrupt you, allowing you to tell her everything. She wouldn’t have had a chance to interrupt anyway, the second you started talking you couldn’t stop, you weren’t sure your rambling was even coherent at times.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped out when you finally finished, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m on my way,” your mom said instantly. “I’ll be on the next flight out.” You nodded. Through blurry eyes you could see her shuffling around and getting up from her seat. “I love you,” she said as she held the phone up to her face, she was standing, getting ready to leave the room she was in.

“I love you too,” I said.

Not long after you hung up with your mom you were still seated at your desk. The tears had stopped falling and you were staring blankly at the phone on your desk. You felt arms wrap around you from behind. Unlike with Anika you didn’t flinch, you just instantly relaxed against the chair, knowing Tara’s touch better than anyone else’s.

“I called my mom,” you said, leaning your head back so you could look up at her. “She’s on her way home.”

“Good,” she whispered. She spun your chair around, so you were facing each other. “Come on,” she reached down, tugging on your good hand. “Let’s cuddle.” She rested her hand on your cheek as she looked into your eyes. “You look exhausted.”

Your eyes drifted down. Even though some nights were better than others, especially when Tara was sleeping next to you, you hadn’t got a good night’s sleep since the attack. There were days you slept for five to eight hours, never consistently, you always woke up a few times but those were the times Tara was next to you. Any other night and it was less than five hours, you usually only got to sleep because you literally couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“It’s easier to sleep during the day,” Tara whispered. Your eyes snapped back up to her, while her eyes darted around the room as if she was letting you in on a secret. “The nightmares aren’t as bad.”

You sighed, giving her a small nod. She gently dragged you to your bed, getting under the covers first with you following after. You instantly cuddled into her side, resting your head on her chest as she ran her fingers up and down your arm. It only took a few seconds for you to drift off to sleep, the last thing you remembered was Tara placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @youralphawolf72

[pfhwrittes]

housemate!kyle x gender neutral reader let's goooooo.

rating: PG-13 (for now) pairing: eventual kyle "gaz" garrick x gender neutral reader word count: 1.5k TW: bit of swearing, fluff, mentions of original characters AN: i fully plan on writing more of this, but i wanted to get the first part out before i start the next part. as always, barely edited so funky grammar and typos are still likely. this is completely self indulgent. please send love to @391780 for cheerleading me with this one!

–

your housemate sucks since meeting her new boyfriend. 

your normally sociable, polite and reasonable housemate has turned into some kind of lust-crazed succubus since meeting dale, spending hours upon hours of her time shut in her bedroom with him. and if she doesn’t shut the fuck up in the next five minutes you’re going to kick her door in. or castrate him. or possibly burst into sleep deprived tears.

“oh! oh god! fuck! dale, baby, oh my god!”

jesus fucking christ. it’s 4.30am and ruby is wailing like a cat in heat at the top of her fucking voice. she’s so loud you could swear she and her soon to be castrated boyfriend were fucking in your bedroom instead of the room next to yours. briefly you debate yelling at the top of your lungs but you don’t want to disturb the neighbours any further, so with a muttered curse you snatch your pillow and duvet off your bed and stomp downstairs to the living room so you can sleep on the sofa. 

you get settled onto the sofa and glare at the ceiling in the living room, the sound of rhythmic thumping and moaning still audible even with the increased distance between you and the nymphomaniac formerly known as ruby. you mutter and grumble to yourself as you shut your eyes trying to get at least a little bit of sleep before needing to get up for your job interview in the morning. 

–

at midday you kick the front door shut behind you and shrug your coat off your shoulders as you step further into the hallway. 

“hey i’m home!” you call up the stairs, “my job interview was an utter shit show so i’m thinking we get a chinese and a bottle of wine to commiserate, yeah?” you pause waiting to hear ruby’s usual reply reminding you not to order from the golden palace but silence greets you instead. 

“huh. weird.” you mutter to yourself as you pass through the living room, dropping your bag and coat on the sofa as you beeline towards the kitchen. ruby’s probably making something for lunch while listening to one of her creepy true crime podcasts. 

“hey ruby - oh.” you cut yourself off as you walk into the kitchen, no sign of ruby except for the used butter knife leaving a greasy smear on the counter and a pink post-it note stuck on the front of the fridge. you step forward to pluck the note off the fridge and squint at ruby’s loopy handwriting.

gone 2 stay w/ dale 4 a few days! look after widget for me - r xxxx

you huff a breath out of your nose and crumple the note into a ball so you can pop it in the kitchen bin with the crumbs you sweep off the side into your palm. ugh. it’s such a little thing but you feel frustrated tears well up in your eyes in response to having to clean up after ruby once again on minimal sleep. 

a tiny high pitched mrr! interrupts your internal grumbling and you turn around to face the little tabby that is waiting patiently by an empty food bowl. 

“hiya widge, have you been a good girl while i’ve been out?” you ask softly as you crouch so widget can bonk her head onto your outstretched hand. typically widget doesn’t answer but she chirps again before padding back to her bowl, politely requesting that you get with the programme and make with the biscuits before cleaning up the rest of the kitchen. 

you sigh and push yourself up from the floor, just another half finished job left for you. great. 

–

a week later, with no sign of ruby and your texts unanswered, your laptop chimes on the coffee table with a new email. you hope briefly that it’s one of the companies you’ve applied to responding to your application with an offer for a job interview, but your heart sinks as you realise it's an email from your landlord, john. 

you skim over the email and you feel your eyes sting as select phrases leap out at you. “i’m sorry to inform you that ruby has decided to end the tenancy agreement at 141 hereford way early” ... “you can choose to remain in the property as a sole tenant after an additional credit check to ensure your affordability” … “alternatively, please let me know when ruby has collected her belongings so i can advertise the room to other prospective tenants”. 

fuck. that utter bitch. she’s left you unemployed and now potentially living with a total stranger. fuck. 

your hands shake slightly as you reach for your laptop so you can start composing your reply to john. 

“hi john, thanks for letting me know. i haven’t heard from ruby in a week now, so i’m unsure when she’ll be able to collect her belongings but i think it’s probably for the best if you look at advertising her room as available to rent. i’ll start bagging up her belongings today. kind regards….” 

it’s official. your soon to be ex-housemate really fucking sucks. 

–

several days pass with a flurry of emails to john and even more unanswered texts to ruby, when a solid jaunty knock startles you out of the doze you’d dropped into on the sofa. you hiss as widget launches herself off your stomach using her claws for purchase so she can bolt up the stairs away from the noise. you swear under your breath as you kick one of the six black bin bags that line the hallway filled with ruby’s crap as you edge your way to the front door. the silhouette you can see through the frosted glass in the door knocks again just as you reach for the handle and pull the door open. 

“yeah yeah i’m here -” you cut yourself off with an embarrassed sound as you get a good look at the man standing at the threshold.  oh no, he’s fit as fuck is your first thought and you’re not wrong. 

the first thing you notice, as you flick your eyes over him quickly, is that he’s in incredible shape. the stranger has broad shoulders and a muscular chest that tapers off into a narrow waist. the second thing you notice when you raise your gaze back up to his face is that he has a jaw dropping smile when he flashes you a friendly grin. 

“hey, i’m kyle. your new housemate.” he says confidently, “john should’ve mentioned me.” 

you shake yourself out of the slight daze you’ve found yourself in - seriously no man should have skin that perfect - and you offer your own tentative smile back. 

“uh, yeah. sure. sorry i was -” you glance back into the hallway and cringe at the sight of the black bin bags “- um. in the middle of something.” you finish weakly, hoping you don’t look too obviously like you’ve been napping in the middle of the day. 

your housemate - kyle - rumbles out a slightly bashful chuckle. 

“no, no it’s fine. i would’ve been here earlier but i had to give a witness statement for the accident on the high street.” kyle reaches up and tugs at the brim of the scuffed blue baseball cap on his head awkwardly. 

“oh shit, really? what happened?” you query him eagerly, your love of gossip overriding your mild embarrassment in a flash. kyle’s eyes crinkle happily at your tone and he leans in conspiratorially, letting his hand drop away from his face. 

“some guy walked into an open manhole cover.” he says with a completely straight face. 

you burst out a startled laugh. “no fucking way!” 

kyle nods, his lips twitching in a poorly concealed grin. “yeah, stuck like winnie the pooh, i swear to god.” 

you have to hold onto the edge of the open door to stop yourself from collapsing into fits of laughter. “how -” another gleeful cackle escapes you before you can compose yourself, “how the fuck did he manage to do that?”

kyle shrugs. “he just walked straight through the barrier, surprised the lanky fucker missed it really.” 

you collapse into laughter again, feeling your cheeks ache from the width of your grin. holy shit, that’s the best thing you’ve heard all day. eventually your slightly hysterical laughter peeters out and you wipe at your eyes as you look at kyle who is grinning back at you. 

“so, fancy letting me in then?” he nudges at the frankly massive khaki rucksack at his feet after a moment of silence as if to remind you that he isn’t just here to charm you with silly stories and his offensively handsome good looks. your embarrassment flares once again as you realise you’ve just been looking at him instead of asking him to come inside like a normal person. 

“sorry, yeah of course.” you step back from the door and turn around so he can’t see the way your cheeks are now flushed from embarrassment instead of laughter. “sorry about the mess.” you say apologetically over your shoulder as kyle follows you into the hallway.

“oh i dunno, it doesn’t look too bad to me.”

you hear kyle kick the door shut behind him and you laugh again to cover up the way your stomach flutters at his tone. if you didn’t know better you’d say he was flirting with you, but you discount that as wishful thinking on your part as you lead him towards the stairs. 

it is wishful thinking, right?

[starlightkun]

⏯ teaser word count: 839 | full fic: 9.5k ⏯ genre: fluff, established relationship, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, sequel to filler episodes, reader isn’t completely boring anymore! yay!, she’s still figuring it out a little bit but it’s not a full-fledged quarter life crisis anymore, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ warnings: the usual cursing, and reader gets creeped on briefly in a scene but gets out of there very quickly, and that’s really it! if i missed any please let me know ⏯ extra info: this is the sequel to filler episodes, it cannot be read as a standalone! ⏯ estimated release: saturday, august 3, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

At the end of the show, you were sat at the band’s merch table. In addition to being the de facto tour manager and photographer/videographer, you also usually managed the merch table for Roses for Eyes. The headliner had plenty of crew to spare to work it, but you wanted to help however you could, and this was honestly one of your favorite parts. Various members usually came to hang out by the merch table and meet and talk with the concert goers, and you loved hearing all the praise that was showered on the guys. Almost nobody had heard of them before coming to the concerts, but it made your chest puff up with pride at how many people stayed just to tell the guys how much they loved their set.

Roses for Eyes didn’t have a lot of merch. In fact, they had exactly one kind of t-shirt, and CDs of their one and only semi-professionally recorded EP for sale. Which made your job easier, you just had to either hand them a CD, or ask their size in shirt.

“Oh my god, you’re here too!” Your next customers were the women who you had spent almost the whole concert with, their eyes sparkling with recognition and delight at you.

“Yes, I am!” You laughed as one reached out to fix your hair. “I’m everywhere, I swear. What can I get you guys?”

They each got a shirt, and a couple got CDs too. As you ran their cards and accepted their cash, they raved to you about the show.

“You know, I’d never heard of them before this, but they were so good!”

“That’s what everyone says,” you replied with a grin.

“I loved the first song they played, that was like—” She started mimicking the melody, and you recognized it immediately.

“Ah, ‘Lonely as Mars’!” You perked up. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“What’s your favorite song then?”

“Oh, I can’t say.” You grinned. “It’s not released yet…”

They all laughed and giggled at this. One peeked at the track list of the CD she had just bought from you again before looking up at you. “Guess we’ll have to wait until it’s released then, huh?”

“Yes, yes, please keep an eye out!” You couldn’t help it, you were proud of your boyfriend and the rest of your friends.

“Alright, beautiful, we’ll stop holding up your line.” One of them chuckled, giving your cheek a final tweak before the four of them moved over to the short line to chat with the band.

You couldn’t pause on that moment for too long, as more patrons came up to your table.

Once people had finally started trickling out of the venue, and you had no line left in front of either your merch table or to meet the band, you were unsurprised when Sungchan pulled up an extra folding chair next to you.

“You know,” he let out a sigh, scooting right up next to you until your legs were pressed together. “I think we need to completely deck you out in Roses for Eyes merch from head to toe.”

“One, you guys don’t even have that much merch. Two, I think all that would accomplish would be making me looking like a crazed fan.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am your biggest fan,” you acquiesced with a giggle at how serious he looked, squeezing his leg. “But we need security to let me in, you know.”

“What about a shirt with my face on it?”

“I think that’d be even worse.”

“It can say ‘CREW’ on the back or something.”

You laughed again. “I did tell that guy I was working, you know. Which did nothing.”

“I know, baby, I’m not mad at you.” Sungchan put an arm around the back of your chair, leaning in closer to inform you, “I was up on stage wishing I could’ve been kicking his face instead of the bass drum.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t hop off stage just to beat up somebody in the crowd.” You whispered back. “Even if it would’ve been deserved.”

“God, I don’t know if I can take another month of hearing you get hit on from right next to me.” He was presumably referencing times like now, with you at the merch table and him nearby talking to patrons.

“You think I like hearing people compliment your tattoos as an excuse to feel up your arms?”

“I don’t let them!” He protested. “And sometimes they do actually like my tattoos!”

“I know, Sungchan,” you snickered. “It’s hard being the hottest couple ever, isn’t it?”

“God truly gives his toughest battles to his sexiest soldiers,” Sungchan joked back, letting his arm drop down to your waist.

“Hey, on the bright side, tomorrow is the Venue:Hell show,” you reminded him. “I’ll have Jeno and Jaemin and my other two much less sturdy friends there. Not to mention Anton, Sohee, and Seunghan.”

He didn’t seem much happier about this, letting out a little grumble, “Mmm, alright.”

⤷ masterlist