#literally one of the first things I did after watching the show

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

A Little Time

(Steve Harrington x Reader)

Steve was always soft.

He was soft and gentle and kind.

Well, he was with you anyway.

It had always been that way since Middle School. When he first saw you again after summer break and you smiled at him with a quick wave across the park lot, Steve just knew you were good.

Too good.

He wasn’t as gracious in High School, he got popular and a little mean but you kept your distance, ran in different crowds. It was just how things were. But when he was paired with you in Bio or when he borrowed your notes there was a calmness that took over him.

A peacefulness he doesn’t experience often.

But now, after the hell you were all thrusted into at Star Court and everything that had happened since then Steve had hardened.

Exteriorly he had anyway.

The soft spot he’s had for you since Middle School was now goo, he was protective and worried and no matter how many times you reached out and touched his arm, gently telling him ‘it’s okay Steve, I’m tougher than I look’ it didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was that you were safe and always within reaching distance.

And it’s not even that he didn’t know that, of course he knew how strong you were. He had witnessed it on more than one occasion. It was more like he knew that if he ever let anything happen to you he would lose his mind.

It would break him.

He almost felt as though he’d been looking after you since Middle School, making sure Tommy and his goon squad didn’t bother you, checking in during mid terms and finals, and even down to walking you to your car after shifts at Star Court.

And then more recently, dragging you out of the Upside Down and patching up whatever scratches or cuts you’d managed to get down there.

His touch always soft, always leaving you wanting and needing more. Despite his frantic and panicked over reacting, both of you always made it out alive.

Together.

And that was enough for now as you tried to adjust back into reality, real life taking over quickly and your early twenties flying by even quicker.

“Hey, you’re spacing out.” Robin snapped clicking her fingers in front of your face.

“Sorry.” You told her with a soft laugh, your attention spanning back to her.

“So are you coming?” She asked impatiently and making you nod not really knowing what she was referring to.

“Of course.” You replied to her just as Steve and Eddie rejoined you, a tray of fries and milkshakes placed on the table in front of you.

Steve sliding in easily beside you in the booth, his arm behind your shoulders resting on the seat, his back to the aisle so you were safely blocked between the window and anyone even passing through the diner.

His movements were casual but calculated.

He was comfortable when you were safe, and felt safe.

That’s all that ever matters to him.

“What are you gossiping about?” Eddie asked throwing a handful of fries into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously, your nose scrunching in disgust.

“Gross Eddie!” You scolded moving closer into Steve without even realising. His heart elating with joy as you did, his warmth showering you.

Robin watched with a small knowing smile as Steve passed you your milkshake, not even caring about his own until you were set.

“We were talking about your show later. When does it start?” She asked him also shoving fries in her mouth.

And you were listening to Eddie, you really were but Steve’s fingers brushed the side of your neck as you reached forward for some fries. And the electricity the small touch sent down your spine was deafening.

Literally.

You couldn’t hear Eddie talking about the itinerary. Just his mouth movement and animated hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t even hear Steve no doubt joking about bringing ear plugs.

It frightened you sometimes how he made you feel.

Because he was just Steve, your Steve. But just Steve nonetheless.

Gulping you blinked back into the room, a deep breath and focusing back on Steve’s voice.

“So we can get there at eleven? And you start around midnight? I’ll pick you girls up at ten thirty.” He confirmed looking down at you with an easy grin.

“Great! Sounds perfect.”

___

Later that night you were clutching onto Steve’s arm as if your life depended on it, Robin’s fingers hooked around your wrist as you all pushed through the crowds in the Hideout.

Steve, worried about losing you in the crowd wriggled his arm out of your hold and laced his fingers through yours instead. A grip you couldn’t escape from even if you wanted to.

Which you definitely didn’t.

Once you found a good spot you thought he’d let go, even when Robin passed him a beer you thought that must be it, he’ll want his hand back and you feel cold but he didn’t.

He tugged you closer beside him when the music started and eventually when bodies were moving and the crowd pushing forward he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hand letting go of yours but running down your rib cage and then finding home on your hip.

With you in one hand and his beer in his other he started to relax and enjoy the music. Nothing he wanted more in this moment. Having you in his arms in this moment was enough to make him happy for the rest of his life.

And then Corroded Coffin strayed from their usual set list and played some familiar chords.

The drums making you chuckle, Eddie’s cheesy line to ‘all the lovers out there tonight, let’s slow it down.’

Steve leaning down to your ear and you could feel his grin.

“I love this song!” He told you and you couldn’t stop the grin taking over your features as you turned to face up at him.

“I know Steve! You play this like a hundred times in the car!” You told him with a playful eye roll and he squeezed your hip in retaliation.

You giggled,

Giggled, like a pathetic little school girl.

But Steve managed to do that to you. Reducing you to a smitten girl with a huge crush.

Looking back at Eddie and his band you enjoyed the warmth of Steve surrounding you. His chest rumbling as he sang along.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me.

Joining in the singing you felt Steve’s thumb brush over the exposed skin on your hip, Robin swaying beside you both.

You weren’t sure what came over you but your eyes burned with tears and you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You were happy.

Relieved.

But so happy.

And it was Steve, it always came back to Steve.

By the time he was dropping back off at your place you didn’t want the night to end despite it now being almost 3am.

“Hey Steve?” You heard yourself before your brain even processed what you were doing.

You spun on the doorstep and he’d stopped in his tracks to face you, hopeful.

“Yeah?” He asked already inching back towards you.

You didn’t know this and he’d never tell you but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear the thud thud thud ringing through his ears. A million thoughts running through his brain.

“You wanna come in?” You asked so quickly as if to not allow yourself to change your mind.

Steve smiled, slowly at first, maybe a little shy as if unsure you were being serious but then definitely confident when he saw your chest heave with a brave breath.

Grinning he nodded and your bottom lip was captured by your teeth to stop your own grin.

“Yeah.” He breathed out jogging back up the path to you. “I definitely want to.” And before even giving you a chance to respond his hands were on your cheeks and he was kissing you so intently.

Still soft and still gentle like you always knew Steve to be.

But also determined and eager.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you.” He told you finally pulling away but still close enough that you could feel his lips against yours as he spoke.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to kiss me.” You joked back, leading him into shutting you up with another kiss, just a peck.

“Well I won’t keeping you waiting as long next time.” He offered standing up straight and letting you unlock the door.

“You promise?” You asked over your shoulder, a glint of something in your eyes that Steve hoped he got to see everyday.

“I promise.” He confirmed and following you inside, hands itching to find your skin again and heart still pounding in his chest.

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.1 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.2 wordcount: 1378

Flo's voice filled the room as she scrolled through her phone, her excitement palpable.

"I'm telling you, this is perfect for you," Flo said, thrusting her phone in your direction.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the email she was showing you. "A job at Quadrant? Flo, I’m studying fashion design, not... whatever that is."

Flo looked up, her brows furrowed as if you’d just said something ridiculous. "What do you mean? It can be. Look at Tommy Hilfiger. Or Lewis Hamilton—his fashion work, hosting the Met Gala, working with big brands. F1’s bigger than you think, and it’s not just about cars."

"Haha, Flo, what are you talking about?" you said, shaking your head at the idea. "F1 is not really the place I want to be for my fashion stuff."

You paused, realizing you hadn’t really thought about it like that before. You’d never paid much attention to Formula 1, aside from the occasional updates Flo gave you about Lando. It had been years since you'd spent any real time with him. As kids, you'd catch fleeting glimpses of each other whenever he wasn’t off karting or, later, racing. But you knew Lewis Hamilton. He had enormous influence. He’d collaborated with brands you admired and pushed boundaries in the fashion world.

"Maybe not," Flo said, leaning forward with a knowing grin. "But there could be great opportunities"

"And trust me, Quadrant desperately needs someone like you. You’ve seen their merch, right? It’s..." She continued.

"Basic?" you offered, arching an eyebrow, Flo had already showed you the designs before in an attempt for you to improve them.

"Exactly! They’re looking for someone to revamp their designs. You’re always talking about how things could be better.''

You sipped your coffee, considering her words. It wasn’t your dream job, but the thought of improving a brand and the opportunities that came with it was oddly tempting.

"Fine," you said, setting your mug down. "I’ll think about it."

Flo grinned like she'd won the lottery. "You’ll kill it. Trust me."

-

The buzz around Quadrant’s new merch started slowly but picked up pace when a few photos of Lando wearing your designs at the paddock made their way online. Suddenly, it wasn’t just fans buying hoodies and tees, people in the fashion and sports world were taking notice, and journalists started to make comparisons you weren’t sure anyone expected.

“Is Lando Norris the next Lewis Hamilton?” one article headline read.

Another went deeper: “From driver to brand icon: How Lando Norris and Quadrant are reshaping athlete influence.”

It had been surreal to watch the shift, you had worked hard. Max had been supportive from the start, seeing the vision. Keegan had actually become a reliable creative partner, having similar styles and taste. Lando had been the same as when you were kids, you had barely seen him, too busy racing, handling his CEO duties from afar.

And now, after months of hard work, it was all leading to something bigger.

-

The first time at the paddock was overwhelming. The heat, the constant movement, the blur of media, mechanics, and drivers navigating their way through the chaos—it was a world you still didn’t quite belong to. Even though it did bid a uncanny resemblance to the chaos of the fashion world, which intrigued you.

You watched as the photographers snapped pictures of Lando and the team in their latest Quadrant pieces. The collection had taken months to finalize, and the response had been overwhelming—more press than usual, more attention, more recognition.

“You’re the one behind all this, aren’t you?”

You turned at the voice, surprised to find yourself face to face with Lewis Hamilton. He was dressed effortlessly, a silk LV shirt under an unbuttoned suit vest, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You blinked. “I—uh. Sorry?”

Lewis smiled knowingly. “The Quadrant collection. It’s you.”

You hesitated. “I mean… it’s a team effort.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “But I know talent when I see it.”

Her stomach flipped. Compliments were one thing, but this—coming from him—felt different.

“I’ve been following your work,” Lewis continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’ve got a fresh perspective. Louis Vuitton is partnering with F1. They want to bring in new talent, I tipped you.” Your breath caught. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You stared at him, waiting for the catch, but there wasn’t one. He was just… offering this. Just like that.

“I—” You glanced over at the Quadrant shoot, where Lando was laughing with the guys, completely unaware of the conversation happening across the paddock. “Thank you so much.”

Lewis smiled. “You’ll be hearing from them soon. Excited to work together.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the paddock like he hadn’t just cracked your entire world open in a two-minute conversation. Flo had turned to be right after all.

-

Louis Vuitton had officially announced their F1 partnership, and with it, their campaign featuring a select group of drivers. The second she saw Lando’s name on the list, you knew there was no avoiding it. You hadn’t expected it, even though it made sense after Quadrant’s succes and having already worked together. Still, you hadn’t expected to be working with him again, especially not like this. He hadn't shown too much emotion when you left Quadrant, but you knew he wasn't happy about it.

Now, standing in the Louis Vuitton studio, flipping through the fitting schedule, you could feel his glare when the door opened before looking up.

"From Quadrant to Louis V," Lando mused, his voice light but edged with something unreadable. "Look at us."

You finally glanced up. He walked around inspecting the room, sunglasses perched on his head, fingers brushing against the fabric of a tailored jacket. His expression was casual, like he wasn’t really thinking about what he’d just said. Like it was just an observation.

You gave a small shrug. "Who would've thought."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turned toward the fitting area. "Thought you could get rid of me, huh?"

“Alright, first look,” you said, flipping through your notes without looking up.

Lando sighed dramatically. “Do I really need to try all of these on?”

You shot him a look. “Unless you suddenly developed a sense of style overnight, yes.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, grabbing the set from the rack.

You turned you back as he changed, focusing on adjusting the pins on one of the outfits. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a fitting with Lando, but this was different. The Louis Vuitton studio was quieter than Quadrant HQ, the lighting softer, there was no Max, no Keegan, no distractions.

“Okay,” Lando said, stepping forward. “What do you think?”

You turned—and fuck.

The suit fit him unfairly well. The sharp tailoring, the way the fabric moved with him—it was annoyingly perfect. Which meant you had done a great job.

You forced yourself to be professional, stepping closer to fix his collar. “Hold still.”

Lando stayed quiet as you smoothed the lapels, fingers brushing against his chest. The silence felt thick, aware of how close you were.

“Looks good,” you said, voice even. “But the pants need adjusting.”

You knelt down, reaching for the hem.

You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted the fabric, fingers skimming his ankle, making sure the length was right. You refused to look up, but you could hear him breathe in, then exhale slowly.

“Comfortable down there?” he asked, voice casual, but you could hear his smirk.

You rolled your eyes, unable for him to see. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, but when you did glance up—just for a second—his jaw was tight. Like he was the one struggling.

You stood, smoothing out the jacket. “Alright,” you said, stepping back, regaining distance. “I think we’re done here.”

Lando tilted his head. “You sure? Thought you liked bossing me around now.”

You smirked. “If I really wanted to boss you around, Lando, you’d know it.”

He blinked, caught off guard for just a second.

Then he grinned. “Noted.”

WN: new storyyyy wooooop, literally already had this fashion job at quadrant in my drafts and then the LV partnership was announced i had to implement that and post it

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ]

Authors Note: My first Rio fic! Make sure to check the content warnings before reading further in case the content inside does not suit your taste! Otherwise please enjoy!

Some quick fun facts that literally none of you asked for but I added a lot of plot to a darksmutfic:

• I’m a former history major so some of this is based off of knowledge of what I know about time periods I studied and found special interest in

• Johnnie Ray was a popular artist in the fifties so I slipped him in for story ambience

• Only by 1955 did Americans, in half of their homes, have television sets. Up until then it was considered a bit of luxury with limited channels and times you could watch. You’d get static otherwise. Most homes had radios as their everyday media consumption.

• John Daly and the News was an actual television show broadcasted between 1953 — 1960 and is now what we know today as ABC World News Tonight

• Reader hinting that she and Rio shouldn’t talk so openly against how things are handled after the war is me referencing how the Second Red Scare [ Mcarthyism ] began to take an effect on the United States and how people ran their lives. Some actors, for example, would get blacklisted for the rest of their lives if they were accused of communism / socialism and found guilty even with denied claims from said actor.

Masterlist

PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!reader

Summary: Rio Vidal broke the rules of her own nature only two times in her long existence — once when she allowed her and Agatha’s son to live long enough to love his mother and the second and last by finding you and taking a life for every year she allowed you to live. Centuries later this still held true . . . Only now Agatha was dead and she was angry. It was time you stop running from her.

Content Warnings: Dark — be warned in advance and take care of yourselves! This has flashbacks that occurs between 1943-1953 but details about World War II itself are very vague. Some mild period-typical gender norms in terms of roles and clothing during flashbacks. Mentions of abuse / abusive marriages, angst, death, manipulation, threats of violence, stalking, choking, misuse of magic ( Rio ), housewife R ( and encouraged by Rio 😭 ), kidnapping, somnophilia, non-con, cunnilngus ( r!receiving ), face grinding ( Rio!receiving )

Word Count: TBA

Rio rarely found it in her to feel anything other than passive nonchalance when she came for them. A hand held out expectantly, a knowing expression that made no room for desperate pleas, and she took another soul away from this plane she stalked for her souls.

Children were the worst to come for and made that choice even more difficult for Rio. Death did not care who it struck or why — she was only able to ensure the balance of the universe stayed intact by orders greater than her.

She loved Agatha and Nicholas though . . . Enough that she stayed away from her lover for the amount of time she had promised their son could adventure the Earth as short as it may be.

She loved Agatha enough to take him while she slept with him curled tight in her arms where he was the absolute safest he could be. Nicholas was all Agatha with his curly hair and serious eyes, but Rio liked to believe there was part of her in him as she took his hand and took him to her home.

Agatha evaded her incredibly well after Nicky’s death, doing her best to leave no traces and not stay in one place for too long.

Rio decided that Agatha wouldn’t be able to forgive her — if not forever then at least for now. So she stopped trying and allowed Agatha to grieve and slowly move on in her own impossible way.

Rio met you in 1945 during a high stress time for the world. It was wonderfully busy in that she was everywhere more than usual. A war just ended and wars made Rio’s life both miserable and fulfilled with the amount of workload she took on.

You were an unfortunate case and barely hanging onto your single thread of life. She could see it glowing from your chest, flickering in and out . . . As if it would be snuffed at any second should the wind blow right.

Her instincts told her it was your time but everything about the surroundings were telling her that nobody else agreed.

But why? She’s seen it millions of times in different cultures and centuries. A life had a time limit and she knew when that time ended even if they didn’t — or didn’t agree with it.

Rio’s entire instinct told her to take this soul and move onto the next so she could keep the balance moving and not disrupt the will of the universe that held them all together.

But she didn’t. She waited unseen in a corner and watched you as nurses came in to check on you, refilling your untouched water pitcher and cleaning you up. You still barely hung on, her eyes keeping locked onto the thrumming flow of life that beckoned her.

She finally stepped forward to get a closer look at you, tilting her chin down through her hood and taking note of every small detail that put you in her ledger for collection.

You were a battered woman more than anything, and she let her fingers drift over you to get a feel of your energy.

Her hand ripped back to her side at what she felt within you. You remained nearly lifeless and unconscious in the bed but your soul was very, very angry. It was a black pool of oily rage and despair that Rio was usually able to cleanse once she took them but . . .

She took your lifeline in her palm, feeling the warmth seep into her cold skin as it stuttered more as she grasped it.

She pressed a thumb into it as though it were something physical and willed a demand — live. I shall not take you today.

For a moment she wasn’t sure how her magic would treat your soul once they interacted. But more stuttering was soon filtered out like a street lamp, giving way to a soft and steady glow.

Rio smiled and released your lifeline, allowing it to lazily float back toward you where it retook its place reaching for her out of your chest.

Rio might be Death and she may hesitate to break rules on most days — but you were the exception she was going to see through and hope she didn’t regret later.

1943-1952

Rio left you soon after. She had to take a soul in your place and had others that needed her attention besides.

But she frequently returned to you with a pull she could not ignore. Your recovery was slow and painful, and she watched invisibly as you cried to your mother and father about your husband — the man you claimed was the one who caused your near death.

It filled her with something raw and visceral when she followed you back home to him. A drunk man who had no boundaries and no respect for the life he was given — nor yours.

She decided to wait a couple of years for the world to cool down from the anguish that it was trying to recover from. But she watched as you suffered with him and tried to keep your distance in order to avoid pain.

In 1952 Rio decides to play dress up. She comes to your beautifully decorated home and sickeningly pretty flowered garden in an outfit that women are scolded for daring to try on.

Slacks and a blouse with her hair styled for the time even if it wasn’t in her taste. She was going to play a partial role — but she had a plan and will see it through.

Rio knocked on your door so that there would be no question of a visitor, hands sliding into her pockets not long after as she waited.

She was not kept long.

The door opened and there you were pretty and smiling — even if Rio knew what the depths of your soul actually contained.

“Oh,” you said by greeting, hand going to your chest. “Hello there. Hi.”

“Hello,” Rio greeted back politely. “I moved in a few houses down and have gone about introducing myself to the neighbors. I want to build a community around me.”

You pursed your lips in surprise. “I didn’t know we had a house for sale,” you mused aloud, but waved your hand, “Oh, but who cares? Welcome to Westview.”

“My name is Rio, Rio Vidal,” Death greeted, sliding a hand out for you to take. If you were caught off guard by the invitation, you did not show it. You grasped her hand and shook it and relayed your name back even though she knew it well.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you said, still smiling. You gestured and stepped aside in your entry way, showing Rio the bright yellow walls and decorated room behind you, “Would you like to come in? I’ve been trying a hand at making a cake and I’m unfortunately not doing so good.”

Rio took the invitation and entered your home, laughing breathily at your statement. “A woman who can’t bake? Not a sight I see often.”

You shut the door behind you both and grew shy under the observation. “I was never great at it,” you admit as you started through the entry way and leading her through the living room. It was quiet.

“No husband?” she questioned aloud, noting the empty recliner diagonal to the newest television set that money could buy. Expensive taste for even a well earning home.

“One,” you called back when you reappeared from the entrance to the kitchen. “He works all day at the plant in Eastview. He just got promoted.”

“Eastview,” Rio murmured. “Isn’t that a bit of a drive?”

You smiled weakly. “Sure, but it’s good income. He works hard and keeps us fed. Come, I’ll prepare lemonade.”

Rio allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen that smelled like a bakery. Black and white checkered floors, green cabinets and brand new red chairs and a table set. If not good at baking you at least had good style.

You were pulling out a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and she wandered close to you. “It smells good.”

You glanced up at her from your pouring, “You came right as I was putting my third attempt in the oven. Hopefully it doesn’t burn this time. I admittedly bought store-made icing.”

Rio grinned, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled as you pushed her a glass of lemonade and took your own in two hands, clutching it close. “So . . . You have no husband of your own?”

Rio leaned against the mint-colored counter and twirled her glass. “Afraid not. Lost him to the war in ‘43.”

You frowned as an expression of sympathy started to cross your features, “Two years before that deadly disaster ended, too. I’m truly sorry he didn’t make it home.”

Trap set and bait laying with prey lured, Rio continued with a faux tremble in her hands, “They don’t tell you what to prepare for if they don’t come home. Don’t give you much in return for the price they pay for the country. How fair is that?”

Your lips thinned slightly. “No, I’d rather say the bets we place are never worth it.” A pause, full of hesitance. “But we shouldn’t talk so queerly about such things.”

Rio curled her fingers inward toward herself despite her grip on her glass. She was probing for information mostly — where she could poke holes and find weakness. The end of the war left a fear of things they didn’t understand . . . And politics became a large aspect of society as soon as the world began picking itself back up.

Rio reveled in the chaos and enjoyed — with no shame to be found — watching humans try and control their societies in endless cycles of vitriol and greed masked by different ideologies they claimed were better than the last.

It kept her in a job.

“Of course,” she finally said with a hint of emotion. “My apologies. I’m afraid my heart has been hardened by experience.”

You softened slightly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. I can’t imagine the suffering you’ve endured — I just — I’m sure the country is thankful.”

Rio bit down a response that would get a rise out of you. She wanted to see that anger she felt in your soul when she initially came for you that day.

She couldn’t feel it just from standing here and pretending to be a sad widower of a war. It was difficult to get a feel on you in general right now — unless she pushed her magic and coerced them out of you.

A brief quiet fell over the two that mostly consisted of sipping lemonades and listening to Johnnie Raye’s alluring voice sing through the radio that was situated near the entryway of the kitchen on the counter.

“So,” Rio drew out and set down her glass. Hardly touched — just enough to make you believe she dare partake in such things, “Little ones?”

You smiled again but a sad gleam overtook the look this time. “No, no children.”

You didn’t go into detail and Rio decided that this topic was one she could let go until later either by finding out through her own means or getting to know you in this fashion.

“Well it looks like we could both use a friend at least,” the brunette said as her gaze turned to stare out the window for a brief moment. “The world can be entirely too lonely for women these days and I’m inclined to find ways to fight it.”

You perked up slightly at her veiled offer and bit your lip. “I’d love to be your friend.”

2024

Your neck was aching in a way that it hasn’t for a very long time. A subtle throb just below your hairline that felt deep inside of your muscles.

You told yourself it was just an ache — the magic she had worked on you was disintegrated and nothing more than a reminder of a past long dead.

But the ache did not relent when you woke up the next morning, or the next after that.

You began to wonder if the witch you paid to remove all the magic in your body was a fraud a week after the ache started.

You simply ignored it and went about your daily life even as it throbbed dully beneath your skin like a timer set to go off at any given point.

It started giving you headaches and then the nausea set in after that.

Pointedly, you continued to do absolutely nothing for it. Anxiety was shoved into a small lockbox and the key was dropped into the dark depths of your brain to be forgotten as you sealed the blinds for the night and went about prepping dinner.

Onions splayed out on a cutting board next to other ingredients ready to be prepped. A dinner for one but a pleasant distraction to keep your hands busy. You propped your phone up against the wall to listen to a podcast while you began peeling the onions.

Flowers for your parents graves and a visit to your nieces’ retirement home, you reminded yourself through the busy chatter of the podcast and stripping of the outer layer of the onion.

A shattered vase?

You stopped peeling and stopped breathing. You listened, drowning out the sound of your phone and focusing on background noise that may come next.

You quietly set down the onion and curl your fingers around the hilt of the knife you had set aside. You tucked it close to your side as you stepped silently to the entry way of your kitchen to look out into your living room.

Indeed your vase was shattered off of the display case where it had previously been sitting. An antique but not one you were invested in, really. The carpet was wet from the water that kept the flowers fed and the flowers themselves were scattered in the shards.

As you approached the mess and kneeled down to set about starting to clean it up, you tossed the knife to the side for now and got the shards out of the way first.

You ignored the alarms in your head. The warning signs that were so large and so close that they were nearly impossible to ignore.

You released a shaky breath and threw away the shards in the kitchen. You gathered yourself momentarily and repeated your mantra, “She isn’t coming back, you’ve gotten away,” enough to almost believe it.

You return to the living room to take care of the ruined flowers and clean up any leftover petals and leaves.

Even when you gathered the crumbled flowers and found a perfectly intact green rose aligned in the middle of them.

The thorn cut your thumb open and left a wound that bleed for two days.

Five more days continued on after that slower than the thick molasses that your grandmother used to make when you would visit her home as a child.

You visit your parents in Westview once you’re sure activity of magic has disappeared. You knew the Scarlet Witch had contained the once lovely and beautiful town and used it to create something for herself she was believed she had the right to.

It’s been months — hell a year even. The news claimed that Maximoff had disappeared without a trace and left no one worse for wear after defeating an unknown threat.

The graveyard was not maintained in the hostage situation. Overgrown and some older stones beginning to degrade from age and lack of care, dead and wilted flowers not cleared or replaced with new ones by thoughtful visitors.

You trudged through it all and for once you could not ignore the agony in your neck. It was allowing the pain of the physical or the pain of your heart — and you didn’t think you had it in you to feel anything but the inclosed walls you built for yourself.

You kneel onto your knees once you reach the matching headstones. Moss was starting to grow on the edges and inside the grooves — but you let it stay. You started pulling out the decayed flowers from the in-ground flower holder, tossing them aside and dusting off the area.

“Still so attached to the past,” a husky voice mused in no one direction. Your head jerked up and you began to look around, palm resting on your father’s headstone for support. A cheerless — but darkly amused — laugh. “You tend to it like a garden or a herd of sheep. Maintaining its needs and working on it like it’s keeping you afloat.”

You used your free hand to rub your forehead. You couldn’t see anything — the voice was clear as day and that is what had you spinning.

“Angel with stone wings, angel with no reach,” the sultry lilt continued. Your eyes locked onto the damp statue of an angel feet away, eyes echoing endless depths of nothingness.

You forced your eyes back to the graves. Your hands were shaking as you continued to clear them, hands aggressively tugging the weeds from around the stone.

“Oh sure, ignore me. That’s worked out for you just as much as burning your leash off has.”

“This is a figment,” you responded out loud.

Large, aged oak trees swayed angrily around you in turn and howling winds scraped against your skin. You needed to make sure of it — ground yourself before you lost yourself in the delusion.

Your knuckles slammed into hard stone, pressing until they turned white and stung from the impact. Your breathing was heavy and your ribcage felt like it was being grabbed from the top of your spine and pulled backwards.

“You really thought that your little magic trick could defy the sigil of Death, angel?” You could imagine her face. Mocking, smirking with full teeth and eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

She wasn’t here.

And then it felt like you had a rope thrown around your throat so tight that you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. The force of it sent you sailing onto your back, feet kicking, gasps sounding out into empty air.

Your hands flail upward in animalistic instinct, clawing at your neck.

Nothing was there. Nothing was there. You opened your mouth more, to breath, to scream, to —

The pressure left as quickly as it was there. You turned over and dug your fingernails into the damp ground, getting into your knees and breathing in as much air as your lungs would allow.

A billow of green and black took up your line of sight as your vision began to clear. It decreased its length toward you with lazy speed and only stopped when you were inches from the fabric.

The figure crouched and a cold hand took your jaw to tilt your head up. Your stomach became a pit of liquid when you saw exactly who it was above you — and she was no figment.

“Hello, angel. Thank you for walking into my trap. I didn’t want to have to hunt you down.”

1953

You slam on Rio’s front door despite the crudeness of it. It was cold and your tears were freezing over on your cheeks. You were numb and you needed . . . Comfort. Something. Anything.

The door opened almost immediately to your best friend. She had a lazy smile that quickly fell once she saw you.

“Angel,” she offered a soft crow, “what happened? It’s dark out and you should be at home right now."

Your throat bobbed and you manage to cup your mouth before a loud, ugly sob can escape and wake the entire neighborhood. "Oh, God, Rio."

Now her eyes flickered with alarm. Dark swirls of it as she stepped forward and immedately wrapped two arms around your shoulders and tucked you close. "Let’s get you inside. Come on.”

Her voice soothed you as she guided you into her home and you remained unaware of the malice that crossed her features as she glanced outside at the street for any sign of threat before closing the door.

She sat you on her couch in front of her television. She was watching John Daly discussing the news on the black and white set with his stoic professionalism.

“Do you want a glass of water? Ginger ale?” Rio questioned and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You glanced upward at her. Your fingers twisted into your dress and you crossed your ankles, pressing them into the couch as you sat up straight and stiff.

“Yes please, if it’s no trouble,” you murmured.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” You ignored the odd quip, having gotten used to Rio’s strange ways by now. Most of your neighbors wives’ — when you met for the monthly update while husbands drank and played cars — found her to be much to odd for comfort.

You didn’t mind. She wasn’t nosy like the other women were and didn’t have the tendency to berate you about how you iced your cookies or strung your laundry on the line when laundry day came. She took little interest in petty gossip and didn’t prod for details about why no children came to fruition within your marriage.

Perhaps that is what drew you to the long-haired widow while the others felt repelled by her.

Your brain was lost in this forest of thick fog and thoughtless wander so deep that you jumped when a cold glass was brushed against the back of your clenched hands.

Rio said nothing about it; she simply waited until she was satisfied that your water was safely in hand before sitting down in the chair next to the television. She reached over and twisted the dial until it flickered off.

“What happened?” she asked plainly, picking something off of her finely fitted pants. Waisted pants today that ended at her ankles, fitting her loosely. Some days she wore styles that mothers would roll in their graves over — a man’s wear.

Today she decided on a more fashionable approach in women’s attire, it seemed. The pants were dark blue in color with a cream long sleeved shirt tucked in.

You tried to focus on her question, but answering it meant you had to tell her in the first place. In doing that — in doing that you would be left in a situation where you could break down completely.

“Hey.”

She was next to you as if by magic. Her hand rested on your knee lightly. Her hand was cold. Anytime you were together she always seemed to be cold . . .

Your mind started melting into itself again but a finger directed your chin to meet Rio’s intense gaze. It was a gentle gesture, but also a command. One of her eyebrows was raised questioningly.

“Angel,” she says, a low noise in her throat, “I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your fingers curled as tight as the glass would allow, as tight as your grip could be. “My husband,” you started, a stuttering whisper fading after it. You couldn’t bear to finish.

Her features remained unchanged, but her head tilted. She let her finger brush away from your chin as she moved that hand over yours on the glass.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He’s — the factory owner called, you see. Told me I had to get to the hospital as quickly as I could.”

It was a terrible, bloody mess. They didn’t let you back into the room to see him because of the severity and instead had her wait until the doctor could come and speak with her privately.

You weren’t in tears at all — the nurses had commented. You were being very brave. You must be so scared.

You could only nod at them, smile shakily maybe.

You did cry when they asked you to sit down to tell you that he did not survive their attempt at surgery. It was a machine incident, they said. It broke down during use and your husband was the one on the line during the process.

You sobbed like a stricken wife, now widowed and left by herself. The nurses came to comfort you, offer tissues and take you somewhere quiet.

You weren’t devastated.

You were so relieved.

You felt like you would go home that night and not have to worry about if doing the dishes would be what set him off.

You could make a meal and not sit in a silence that you feared ended in another bruise to cover up for a few weeks.

Your husband was never good at cleaning up his messes. That’s what you were there for. That’s what his lack of complaints at the extra makeup in your grocery bags meant.

“He’s dead,” you choked out loud for the first time. “He had an accident . . . And . . .”

“Hm, I see.” Rio did something else and tucked you close into her side. She started stroking your hair and you took on the comfort even if you weren’t used to it. “It saddens me to see you so upset.”

Over him, she didn’t add. She didn’t need to with her tone.

“It’s just . . . Oh, you may find me very crass if I tell you what’s been heavy on my heart.”

Rio grasped your chin firmly and quickly, forcing you to meet her eyes. Her lips were thinned and she said with a steady, stern tone, “I could never think you crass. We are both outcasts in our own way in this world we’ve been born into. Whatever you tell me will change what I think of you — would you like me to swear it?” She paused. “On your God?”

You pulled back briefly, but her hand went with your tug. She had a tight grasp on your chin and wasn’t letting go, determined to keep your attention.

“My God?” you echoed, visible confusion coating your features.

She didn’t give you a response. Perhaps she felt as though she had been clear enough even if you felt entirely puzzled.

She tapped your cheek with her index finger. “Admit to me your heart’s truths, angel.”

The sick feeling in your stomach — the way you liked how she spoke to you, touched you . . .

Her touch suddenly felt like the hottest flames and you snapped out of the foggy daze. You were too close, she was too near. Everything about this broke the law of nature.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” Your mouth snapped shut and she allowed you to jerk away from her grasp to the other end of the couch. You hadn’t . . .

Why did you say that.

Rio’s lips were painted black today. An unusual color to decide on and very much not within the fashion of today. Your catalogues and magazines always pointed at which colors to lean into and which to avoid. Black lipstick was hard to find and it was often discouraged; it was seen as unappealing and unapproachable.

Rio wore it like she owned it and you hated that you seemed to tingle and grow hot in ways your husband was unable to do.

She tapped her chin with her nails, lips quirking into a small smirk. “Oh, my my. A wife who grieves not for the loss of her dear husband — her protector in life and guardian . . . But perhaps the comfortable lifestyle he provides?”

Your lips trembled. “How dare you,” you whispered, flushing from the neck up from the shame. She was right. She was right and you hated it. “That’s so mean to . . .”

“Stop with the act, angel.” Rio leaned back into the cushions, one leg crossing over the other. “Own how you feel for once. Take that relief and dig deep — see what else you’ll feel.”

The water glass had grown slippery in your palms. Either from how sweaty you got or from the melting ice. You were glad for the cold it provided, to keep you from floating away.

You sipped at it in quiet and refused to talk to her. Childish, perhaps. But what you couldn’t do right now was face what she was shoving in front of you: that you feared for your comforts as creaturely as they may be. You were raised to be a housewife and your parents didn’t know how to encourage much else.

You weren’t an educated woman — and didn’t have the money to become one.

“You’re depressing me,” Rio stated, slapping her hands on her knees. You jumped. Her head tilted low and she regarded you with something that should have sent you running, “I’ll keep you safe and pampered, angel. Sell your home, move into mine. I have three extra rooms. I could use a woman’s touch.”

“You’re a woman.”

A feline grin was your first reply. Then, “A working one.”

You supposed you could have realized that in the time she’s been around. No husband, widowed — how else would she have managed on her own without?

“It would . . . Isn’t it rather odd to have two women together? Especially one as a housewife?”

“We’re widowed, angel,” Rio reminded her as she removed the empty glass from your hand and set it on the coffee table. “Gossip will see a sad woman who need comfort from another woman who knows what it feels like. You will be truly devastated, simply unable to recover normally.”

You licked your lips and glanced around. It was darker in certain corners and the living room lacked color. “. . . Everything has a fine coat of dust,” you mumbled.

Rio laughed, standing and pulling you with her. She leaned forward and for a moment you held your breath, scared . . . Perhaps maybe filled with anticipation, as she did. Soft lips brushed your cheek.

“It’s a very good thing I just found myself a housewife to fix that.”

2024

The ache was gone — you could come to understand that as feeble awareness started to come to you in bloated masses.

Your body felt heavy and as though it had been pressed through your mother’s clothes wringer. Should you open your eyes? Would that even matter right now if all you could do was lay there and try not to vomit?

A sudden wave of pleasure that seemed to hurt coursed through you, and you let out a garbled moan as your body lifted and your hand frantically reached down to find the cause.

A soft, breathy chuckle greeted you against your wet pussy as your hand messily gripped hair and pushed the figure against you instead of pulling away.

“Mph.” Rio. It was Rio — she was — you ground your face down as her tongue delved deeper rather than pulling out of you to speak to you. You kept your eyes screwed shut — not wanting to see her but chasing that high she was making you seek out.

Her sharp nails gripped your bare ass and squeezed, nose rubbing purposefully into your clit as she used your body like an old instrument she pulled out of the closet.

It had been so fucking long and yet she knew you so goddamn well. Like it hasn’t been damn near seventy years and she hasn’t collared you with her magic and trapped you again.

With more force and anger driving you, you rode her face harder, knowing Death needn’t breath and how too entirely much she enjoyed the goddamn desperation she could soak up from you.

It flipped like a switch. One moment you’re angry and chasing something that you don’t want and the next you’re clawing at the brink of your orgasm like it was being veered over the edge of a cliff for years.

You cursed and kicked, but Rio saw the entire thing through. Only when your shivers eased and grip loosened did she come up for uneeded air, smug and eyes twinkling.

“Welcome home, angel.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you breathed, shoving her away with a shaky foot and sitting up on your thighs.

Then she was behind you, leaning over your shoulder with a weighted hand on the back of your neck. “I am going to enjoy seeing you try.”

Rio and reader will return in Part Two

PART TWO

[sugarverse]

𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨!

[ bnha headcanons ]

ft. izuku, tenya, & katsuki !

✩ I. midoriya

From the music echoing from the bathroom, he knew you weren't in the best mood. He'll slide his shoes off, creeping into the room to see you fighting to take your braids down. He offers to help, watching the tears in your eyes fall down your cheeks. You already were having a terrible week and now it felt like your fingers were gonna go numb. 

You literally just wanted to wash your hair and feel clean. But you also wanted it done and out of the way. It was hard to explain the frustration, but to Izuku, you didn't have to. It was his job to take whatever the weight may be off of your shoulders.

It took awhile, but he got the hang of taking them down after a time or two. There were times where your arms got so tired that you fell asleep while he was unbraiding them. He helps you wash it over the sink, asking what to use and watching your hair spring/curl right up.

He never got the hang of actual braiding, fingers too fat to cross it the right way. But he does learn that greasing your scalp feels really good. Feeling you melt into his touch as you sat between his legs in the living room. 

He could wash your hair and massage your scalp for hours. He loved seeing you relaxed. You did so much for him to feel calm when he's had a long day. He always tried to return the favor in ways that showed you he loved you and genuinely paid attention to things that pleased you. It was hard when both of your jobs got in the way so he wanted to do things that really mattered.

He tries to watch when you do your hair to see what product does what, never letting it get too low. When you're out of something? He buys the right brand for you. You also put him onto some hair products to help his hair become softer and smell really good which he was very appreciative of. 

The first time he sees your bonnet? Buying you all different colors. and occasionally wearing one when you'd do ‘spa day’ but wtvr. He just wanted to be helpful ! Even if you didn't need one for every set of pajamas you own. 

He wanted to get all the shit you wanted/needed. More often than not though, he comes home to your hair done and he just marvels at you. He also calls whoever you're going to and pays in advance. If you insist on paying certain bills, this was the least he could do.

★ i. tenya

Once he notices your hair changing length and color, he's going to look up some youtube videos. Not that he's uneducated! He was educated enough to not ask you about it. It would be rude, especially upon first meeting. 

The one time he asked what your hairstyle was called, You told him you had cornrows in. You knew he hadn’t been talking about your braids wrapped into two buns. He was looking for a more technical answer as he does with everything, so you gave it.

From that day, he studied things like ‘Why cornrows are called cornrows’. The boy had a lot of questions and didn't want to bombard you more than everyone else was. However, he thought it was absolutely gorgeous. 

If you mentioned something about wanting your natural hair longer? He already found a growth oil that should work for your hair texture. Wanna dye it? He knows the best brand and best conditioner to make sure your hair doesn't break off or feel too harsh. 

When you two had started dating and he found out how expensive hair was to get done, let alone buy? It's no longer in your hands to pay for it. Money to get your hair braided by whoever you wanted, wherever in Japan you wanted. He loved seeing you come back to him, smiling and showing your new hair off before asking him to take pictures. 

Gifts start being more centered towards you than what he just assumed you'd like (lip tint, lashes, nails) because he found so many other useful things. That super expensive shampoo you use in bulk, a new bonnet, silk laced hoodies and beanies. Small things he went out of his way to look up before you had the chance to ask. 

Of course, he still gave you the money when you would mention a time or two when you were out of something, but mostly he pays for your hair every month or so.

One day you came home with a star braided onto the side of your scalp and quickly turning to show him. “Look, Look!” He never looked more in love, seeing you smile like that. “It's amazing, How long did it take?” He asks, taking your bags from you so you could sit and rant on the couch about your appointment. 

⛦ k. bakugou

Not the most patient man by ANY means, but he does try to take time to learn your hair routine to help. He’s determined to learn how to braid your hair, no matter how frustrating it might be. He was good at.. Well, mostly everything. So it stumped him that he couldn’t learn how to do something so seemingly simple right away. 

His first few tries are hilariously messy. Uneven, bumpy, and hair coming out the sides of whatever he thought a braid was. He doesn’t let you help his stubborn ass until he finally gives up about 10 minutes later. He watched your hands work fast as hell to braid downward in awe.

He ends up taping three pieces of string to the table and trying to braid it for hours, wanting to impress you the next time he could braid your hair.. but you walked in on him when you were trying to ask for help with something and he was BRIGHT red. “The hell you doin’ bursting into my room!?” 

Of course, this was when the two of you first got together and were getting comfortable around one another. When he finally tries again with this intense concentration on his face that makes you crack up, He’s so excited he almost screams in victory. He stared back at you through the vanity, smirking and putting his hands on his hips in satisfaction.

He loves the pops of color you have in your hair. Whether it be braids, beads, or wigs, he’s always asking “Where’s the orange? Where’s the green?” It’s not like you went out of your way to avoid the colors, it’s just that you didn’t have many clothes to match. 

On one of your dates, you show up with bright orange and army green bows in your hair. You bought a pair of camo pants to go with the black shirt you wore, opening your front door to see him absolutely melt. He stutters for the first time in awhile, telling you how stunning you looked representing him and his colors. 

He goes out of the way to buy you clothes and different accessories to match. If your hair color is slightly off than most of your clothes, he’ll buy you new ones.

He was super confused at all your product though. “Why do you need oil in your hair?” The blonde will scrunch his nose, “Doesn’t that shit make your hair greasy?” The look you gave him was enough for him to sit on the bed and grumble until you were done. 

You explained you wanted to prevent feeling dry and itchy, especially in the winter months. You rub in the oil, glancing over at him as you spoke. He slowly got up, watching you rub oil into your freshly parted hair, helping you finish in the back of your scalp. He watched the way you leaned into it, smiling to himself.

From then on his questions weren’t as abrasive, but he still asked you because he wanted to hear it from you. He could easily look it up, but you explained it in a way he graped immediately. Detangler spray, heat protector spray, all of it sounded very easily explained but he couldn’t understand exactly why you needed that stuff. 

“Ya can’t just brush it out?” He’ll ask, watching the comb get stuck in your natural hair after asking such a question. He helps you apply whatever you need, helping you flat iron the kitchen of your hair very carefully.

[vacz]

"Who are you looking at?" Bad End Friends (Comic)

I've spent all day trying to finish this comic! AHHHHH

So I present you an idea of a ship... Hunter x Ice Finn

"Why?" Well, if we think in the fact that in Adventure time's multiverse all the versions of Finn always ends up having a romantic relationship with a version of Huntress Wizard, and we take Bad End Friends as a canon alternative timeline where Finn didn't destroy Ice Finn's crown and so he later joined Bipper, how would Farmworld!Finn ends up with his version of Huntress Wizard as Ice Finn? Well the answer is simple: He doesn't end up with directly another version of her but someone who is similar to her... And guess who is more similar to Huntress Wizard?

That's right! Hun- Beast Wirt. I personally think Beast Wirt has actually more similarities with her since they both are like spirits of the forest who almost have the same personality, HOWEVER, I think Hunter and Ice Finn would have more CHEMISTRY and let me explain why:

They both are insane, they MATCH THEIR FREAK.

Ice Finn wouldn't be weird out for Hunter's appearance at all, like he did with the Lich, so Ice Finn would judge him according to his action and god- he gets it, At first he would hate him because Hunter is literally chopping people! But after getting an explanation of why he does this, Ice Finn would sympathize with the feeling of "wanting to protect your family" and want to help Hunter with his brother. Ice Finn proposed to Wirt the chance to save lives without having to change that much, and Hunter couldn't resist it, he could finally do something good for humanity! Maybe he could even redeem himself!

IT'S A KING AND KNIGHT DYNAMIC WITH SOME TONES OF PANTHERS IN CRIME

Hunter would watch around for people, and if he finds them then he should bring them to Ice Finn so he could freeze them. However, most of the time he spent it around Ice Finn himself, sometimes helping him with spells or other stuff like cooking, and other times just hanging around together. Their relationship is more equal than it seems, Hunter is just as enthusiastic as Ice Finn in saving lifes the way they do, Ice Finn constant joy and quick reactions are like fresh air for Hunter, who misses some real emotion in life, while Ice Finn has someone who actually cares about his safety and it's not manipulating him for his own selfish desires. Hunter loves Ice Finn's madness because it is a constant of movement, life and joy! While Finn isn't weird out at all by Hunter's more creepier madness, and actually finds him pretty cool and charming. They both don't judge each other and they are openly crazy together

Hunter is normally submissive, and has a craving for love to the point that he could fall really HARD for someone who shows him affection, of course Hunter would be protective and very jealous if someone tries something with Ice Finn, he thinks Finn as one of his more precious properties so Hunter would not let go this guy. Ice Finn is not innocent either, he was the one who kidnapped Hunter in the first place, Ice Finn makes him sleep on a cage even, you can say he also sees Hunter as a pet, one he loves so much but a thing at least...

However, even if they have these things that for normal people would be very toxic, for them is living a romance, a strange and delusional romance, where both souls lost deep in madness find each other to be their own guide though the black ocean of insanity

So tell me your opinion, I hope you guys like it! ^^

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 7

Part 6

“He should be back in school, shouldn’t he?”, Tommy asked as he tied his tie in front of the bathroom mirror.

Steve looked up from what he was doing, marking his personal planner with Eddie’s visitation dates. “He will. He needs time to rest.”

“He was in that hospital bed for months. I want him back in school tomorrow.”

“Tom-”

“No buts!”, Tommy said from the bathroom, coming out of it soon after. “If he’s well enough to play games in his room and call his friends on the phone, he can go to school.”

Steve knew what this was about. The will. “He got a clean bill of health. It’s literally in writing. You don’t need to parade Dustin around just to get what you want.”

“I meet with your father’s lawyer in a month. That old cretin won’t be satisfied by a doctor’s note. Dustin needs to be cartwheeling in that office."

Steve sighed. “I’ll tell him to be ready tomorrow.” In truth, Dustin had seemed ready to continue his life since he got the operation done. It was Steve who was keeping him home. But Dustin could stay his baby forever.

Sensing his somber mood, Tommy came over and leaned over him slightly. “Hey, I care about the kid. I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I do. He needs some tough love sometimes and you kind of coddle him. Don’t argue”, Tommy said, cutting Steve off. “You know you do. Munson coming back has made you forget but I’m the one who has been here the past ten years. Dustin’s known no father other than me.”

Steve huffed. “And whose fault is that?”

“Watch what you say next…”

A lot of words were fenced behind Steve’s lips. How Eddie should have had a chance to raise Dustin. How Tommy was just like his father. The shirt he had found… Steve swallowed.

“Tommy…do you love me?”

Tommy balked at that, not expecting that kind of question. He swallowed, then cleared his throat, then adjusted his tie. “Steve, honey, of course I love you. I wanted you since you presented. The day you accepted my proposal was the best day of my life.” Suddenly, he was down on one knee again, just like that day, years ago.

Steve wondered if he called his secret partner ‘honey’. Or if they called Tommy pet names. He was still trying to figure out where he recognized that scent from. But he’d already sent that bunch of clothes to be washed, the evidence he found was already gone. Steve wouldn’t even know what to do with it. What did it matter that Tommy was cheating? It wasn’t like the two of them were having sex. 

“You’re gonna be late for work”, Steve said simply. He got up, planner in hand and walked out of the room to tell Dustin he’d be going back to school tomorrow.

As expected, he was very excited about it, ready to see his friends again and officially get back to normal. But that of course, left him free for today, so Steve decided to take Dustin with him to the club. Usually, Steve tried to keep his pup away from that part of their life, but he had to be there today.

“Why are you going to the club today?”, Dustin asked as they got into the car.

“Mrs. Carver asked a favor of me. And since she did a favor for me, I’m returning it”, Steve explained. She’d done a risky thing, giving him Eddie’s information. The least he could do was sponsor some new members. Especially when they were old classmates.

Once they arrived, Steve left the car with a valet and held Dustin’s hand as they walked in. Dustin spotted them first, running over to Nancy and shouting her name. She turned and caught him as he all but leapt at her.

“Dustin? My gosh, you’re so big!”

“I’m taller than Mike now”, he said proudly.

“It’s so good to see you guys again”, Steve said, smiling at both Nancy and Jonathan. 

Nancy looked as confident as ever, her hair cut short now. Jonathan looked as uncertain as ever. Some things never changed. They visited on occasion, which was when Dustin would see them as he visited the Wheelers. But those were always just one day engagements. Steve hadn’t seen them since graduation. 

“Chrissy’s been showing us around the place”, Jonathan said, looking out of place in the pastels, beiges, and whites with his black leather jacket. “Still not sure it’s worth all this trouble.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s something to do. And I bet Chrissy hasn’t even shown you all the best parts. Dustin, go on to the kids’ club.”

“He means the ~world class daycare center~”, Dustin said, putting on a thick British accent.

Steve showed him whose boss by scenting him before shooing him away. “Don’t know where he gets his dramatics from.”

“It’s a mystery”, Nancy smiled.

“You guys got any pups of your own yet?”, he asked. An innocent question. He might’ve heard if they did. But they were living in a whole other place and Steve wasn’t always plugged into the gossip mill. They could’ve had one and he just hadn’t heard yet. Their initial reaction, though quick and subtle, told him not everything but enough.

Jonathan’s eyes went to the floor for a half second and in that same moment, Nancy’s face and shoulders tightened before relaxing.

“No, we don’t”, Nancy replied.

“Oh, well, there’s plenty of other amenities for you to take advantage of”, Steve said, starting to lead them along. 

Steve spent about half an hour, showing them about different parts of the club before they sat down for some lunch. He smiled at them both from across the table.

“So, what do you think?”

“Like it’s a pretty swanky place to waste time”, Jonathan said, but he was half smiling too. “You come here often?”

“As much as I can”, Steve answered.

“Well, I’m impressed by all the activities. It looks hard to be bored around here”, Nancy said as drinks were served to them.

They were only able to take a sip before Carol descended. Steve just barely kept from rolling his eyes when he saw the smile plastered onto her face. Jonathan’s shoulders raised, on his guard, and Nancy responded to her omega’s distress, frowning at Carol. Their reactions reminded Steve of high school and how some things really did stay the same.

“Heeey, I hope you two don’t mind me borrowing Steve for a bit. It’s urgent.”

Steve raised a brow. “What could it possibly be?”

“It’s private”, Carol said before just barely leaning in and stage whispering, “Dustin had an incident at the daycare.”

Steve didn’t even think twice about standing. His pup was already accident prone on his own (something else he got from his sire) but this could be something serious. Was it the surgery? Steve quickly gave his apologies to the Wheeler couple before following Carol, confused when she took him into a bathroom instead.

She checked all of the stalls before giving the mirror her full attention. Steve stood there, hands on his hips.

“That was low, even for you. I thought my son was hurt!”

“He will be if you keep associating with Nancy and Jonathan. Honestly Steve, it’s like you’re the only one who doesn’t care about your reputation.” Carol wasn’t even looking at him as she redid her makeup.

“And what’s your problem with them?”, Steve crossed his arms. “Is it because they’re not miserable? Is it because they actually made it out of this town?”

“Well they ended up right back here. And they’re not as happy as they let on”, Carol grinned as she turned to face him at last.

Steve hated that he knew what was coming next. And he hated that he couldn’t just walk out and pretend to be above it. Because obviously Carol knew something about them and who knows who else she told. If rumors were spreading about them, Steve had to know so that he could warn them.

“You look like you’re about to burst. Just tell me.”

“I heard it straight from someone over at Hawkins General. They can’t have pups.” She made a little squeak like it was just juicy gossip and not something devastating. “Oh Steve, I don’t take any pleasure in it”, she said, reading his mind. “It’s just, this club, the people in our class, we have a status to uphold. Now Nancy is….fffine on her own. The Wheelers practically built this town with your family. But then she ran off with that mutt Byers? And after all that, they can’t have children?”

“They’re not the only childless people here”, Steve said.

“Andy and I are simply waiting for the right moment. There’s a market to these things, not that you’d know. You couldn’t wait to pop ‘em out. What happened to that big family you wanted?”

Steve HAD wanted one. Just not with Tommy. Not in that stifling house. He watched as Carol turned back to the mirror to spritz herself with perfume. 

“Meeting up with Andy?”, he asked, remembering her date night ritual.

Most either went without perfumes to let their scent shine. The ones that did use perfume often used one close to their own scent. Carol used complementary perfumes instead. 

“I am”, she said. “And if he’s busy, well I can flirt with one of the other boys in the office to get his attention. I gave you that tip so you make the right decision, Steve. I know you and Chrissy are going to sponsor Nancy and Jonathan. For the good of your reputation, your pup’s and Tommy’s…don’t. Ta-ta~”, she said as she walked out.

Steve caught a noseful of her scent and in that instant he knew.

Carol smelled like strawberries. She often used a fruity perfume, to make an alpha’s mouth water, she had said. It was the same scent that had clung to Tommy’s shirt.

He returned to the others, ordering lunch and eating while he felt sick to his stomach. Steve assured them both that he planned on sponsoring them along with Chrissy. If this was what they wanted, then he would help. They were very kind not to mention his scent, which had no doubt turned unpleasant.

But of course his pup, as blunt as ever, mentioned it while they waited for the valet to bring the car around.

“Dad, why do you smell like that?”, Dustin asked, pressing his face to Steve’s side.

“I had some bad fish at lunch”, he lied. “I just need to lie down.”

When they got home, Dustin rushed off, disappearing somewhere. Steve did as he said he was going to do and lied down in bed. He was hurting. But worse than that, he didn’t know why he was hurting. It wasn’t like he loved Tommy or wanted anything from him. It was just….just…

“Dad! Phone for you!”, Dustin screamed.

Steve shot up. He hadn’t heard the phone ringing. Had he been that out of it? He picked up the receiver they had in the bedroom.

“Hello? Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

“Hey tiger”, Eddie’s voice sounded from the other end.

“Hey um, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Little tyke called and said you weren’t feeling well.”

“He said he ate rotten fish but I don’t think that’s it”, Dustin said, also on the line.

“Dustin! Hang up!”, Steve shouted.

“You sound pretty healthy now!”

“Young man! Two words! No. Radio.”

“What?!”

“Listen to your dad”, Eddie said.

“You’re my dad too! Don’t I get points from you that negate his groundings?”

“Who is this sly fox trying to pit us against each other? He gets that sneakiness from you”, Eddie accused.

“Unfortunately, I do have to take credit for that. Dustin. Last warning before I make your bedtime six pm.”

Dustin groaned before hanging up the phone. Steve waited until he could hear the tell-tale stomping back to his room before speaking again.

“I’m so sorry about him. I don’t even know how he got your number.”

“I gave it to him, of course. I hope that was okay?”

“Of course it’s okay”, Steve sat back against the headboard. “Like he said, you’re his dad too.”

“So was it actually some expired caviar that got you down, or something else?”

“....Something else”, Steve said, because he could never lie to Eddie.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“...No. Not until I know what I wanna do about it. Or what it all means.”

“Hm”, Eddie said. And Steve could imagine him nodding his head. “You still feel down?”

Steve smiled. “No. Not anymore.” It was crazy what a short talk with Eddie (Dustin too) could do. “But since I have you on the line, could we just talk? Tommy shouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.” Especially if Carol was keeping him busy.

“Baby, I’d listen to you read the phone book. We can always talk.”

Steve’s smile got bigger. This time, he didn’t correct Eddie’s use of a pet name.

Part 8

[stellamarielu]

show me

john mitchell x female reader

summary: bloodlust and sexual desire have become one in the same to mitchell making it increasingly difficult to have a normal relationship. so when you find yourself frustrated by the lack of physical intimacy, he figures out a way to solve the problem

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of death, a little bit of angst, a sprinkle of fluff, a shit ton of dirty talk, mutual masturbation [kinda], basically mitchell just wants to watch you get off, fingering, squirting? [lord forgive me]

authors note: first mitchell fic let’s go!! so, I wanted to start with something more tame for mitchell since it was my first time writing for his character, but i did no such thing. this is just full speed no brakes very smutty so if that’s not your jam just keep scrolling! there is some fluff and a little bit of angst but other than that it's just filth

-

It had been nearly a month since you learned the truth about Mitchell. What started as innocent interactions and flirtatious jokes turned into the two of you regularly going for drinks at the local pub. Before you knew it, your casual little dates led to you joining him and his roommates for movie nights at their home which always ended with you both cuddled up next to each other on the couch. 

Mitchell tried not to let you into his complicated life but failed miserably after the first time he felt that warm fuzzy sensation in his chest when he saw you. You had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one ever had, so much so that he started referring to you as his girlfriend, which of course made George and Annie annoyingly giddy. They absolutely adored you and thought you’d be good for Mitchell, someone to motivate him– to ground him. It all happened so quickly but you couldn’t help it, neither of you could. You were completely infatuated with one another; it was almost sickening. 

But of course, along with the fresh adoration of a new partner also came their baggage. It was something you expected. What you weren’t expecting however, were the skeletons in Mitchell’s closet to be so literal.

He had gone back and forth about telling you the truth and of course Annie had convinced him to be honest with you.

“If your feelings for her are real and you want a genuine relationship you have to tell her Mitchell.” 

He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the anxiety weighing on his chest at the thought of rejection. It was terrifying. The possibility that you would run screaming kept him putting it off day after day until one night the two of you were having dinner at your apartment and it just kind of stumbled out of his mouth. 

“A Vampire?” 

The words slipped from you in a giggle, your face full of amusement at his confession. You figured he must’ve been trying to make some kind of stupid joke until you noticed his dead serious demeanor.

When he refused to meet your tickled expression with a smile of his own, your brain started running laps around itself trying to piece together the last few weeks of your life. Confusion and fear filled your senses and for a split second it felt like you were sitting across from a complete stranger. Despite your inner dialogue telling you to run, you didn’t leave. You didn’t even get up from your seat. You just sat and waited for him to explain himself further. 

So he did. He told you everything.

It took hours of explanations from him and hesitant stares from you, but after a night of discussing his condition you were sure he was telling the truth, and you were also somehow open to it. 

Mitchell was surprised by how understanding you had been about the whole thing. After the initial shock, the two of you laid on your couch until the sun came up and you interrogated him about his supernatural lifestyle.

he answered every last question. 

You learned about the different cities he’d lived in, the people he had known throughout his long life, who he once was, who he still longed to become. You admired his desire to live differently than the others like him. 

Even after listening to the man next to you give hour’s worth of evidence proving he was a bloodthirsty killer, you still managed to fall asleep in his arms. At the end of the day, it was still Mitchell; Mitchell who mopped floors and made crude jokes, Mitchell who was always there to give you a comforting smile or lighthearted wink when you were having a rough day, Mitchell who you had fallen head over heels for, Mitchell who wanted to be human so badly that he was attempting sobriety from the very thing his body craved most. Nothing could change the way you felt for him and so you held it together when he told you a secret about himself that he was sure would have your relationship unraveling.  

Only he didn’t tell you everything. There was one little detail about his life that he left out that night. He told you about the countless people he killed– about the guilt that ate away at him as he remembered their faces. He even confessed to you that he had given in to his bloodlust not long before you met. All the grim details about his murderous tendencies were true, but he made sure to leave out the part about how he killed them. 

You knew that he drank away their lives, that he consumed their blood until there was nothing left of them. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you that it so often started by seducing a woman- getting her naked in bed, writhing and vulnerable underneath him. He hated that he’d weaponized sex for so long that he could no longer differentiate his longing for blood and his desire for sexual release– the two had become synonymous. It was so bad that anytime he found himself in a heated position with a woman he couldn’t tell if the passion he felt burning in his veins was actual yearning or just a desire to feed. This made his relationship with you extraordinarily difficult. 

You were so handsy. Of course you were. The two of you had been dating for nearly three months and the furthest you’d gone was a clothed second base. 

At first, Mitchell told you he wanted to take things slow, a little odd maybe, but you respected his boundaries and kept the physical touch to a minimum. But time went on, and the restraint you had both practiced began to falter. You started getting little tastes of what it would be like to have his hands on your body and his mouth on your skin it was driving you insane. Every time he kissed you, his lips lingered on yours and there was a certain hint of impatience that always peeked through. You could sense the hunger in the way he would crash his lips on you, his mouth molding to yours and his tongue tracing your bottom lip. Sometimes he would even let his hands find your hips gripping you tightly and pulling you into him as close as possible. Not to mention the little groans that would slip from him when you tugged on his hair. Those little grunts made you want to drop to your knees in front of him and see what other sounds you could pull from his mouth. 

You were constantly reminding yourself to take things slowly, but it was so hard when there was such a strong sexual tension tying the two of you together– or at least you thought there was; but based on the way Mitchell would break your kisses and take his hands off of your body like he just burned them on a stovetop, you were beginning to think maybe he wasn’t craving you in the same way.

Only there was no doubt in his mind that Mitchell wanted to fuck you. He was obsessed with you. He thought about what you looked like naked at least once a day and dreamed about hearing the little whimpers that you’d make when he was finally able to get between your legs. he wanted you, but he was terrified of possibly putting you in danger, so he tried to keep his hands to himself, Just for a little bit. 

At least that’s what he told himself at the beginning. He would work his way up to having sex with you. Like little practice runs, he would let himself give in to the temptation, a make out session here and there, maybe even some heavy petting- but he would always put an end to it before it went any further.

He had to pace himself with you. He needed to be able to control the blood driven part of him that had most of his hookups ending in red stained sheets. You deserved the best part of him. The part that he was convinced was still human. The part that could take his time and indulge in the intimacy of knowing another’s naked body. He knew that part of him still existed- he knew because you brought it out of him. With every touch of your hand to his cheek or the feeling of your sweet lips on his, he felt it. Hell, even when you had your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling at it while you attacked his neck with kisses, he could feel a deep appreciation for the way you loved him. It was an innocent kind of love. It was pure and gentle and all-consuming and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by pushing things too far. He wouldn’t ruin this- ruin you. 

But then you were straddling him on his bed. Your legs spread on either side of his hips as he grabbed onto you, guiding your movements as you slid your fully clothed center over his, your lips meshing in a messy kiss.

The house was empty other than the two of you who were now involved in a very heated make out session in his bedroom. His hands were splayed across your thighs, holding them hungrily and his mouth chasing yours. Neither of you were showing any intentions of holding back, so you took it upon yourself to take things a bit further. 

You let your hands fall to the button of his jeans–undiscovered territory that you were determined to explore at the feeling of his obvious arousal beneath you. Just as you were fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, Mitchell broke your kiss and took a hold of your wrist in an abrupt attempt to stop you. 

You looked down at him, trying your best to hide the defeat you felt from yet another rejection. His eyes looked almost remorseful before he averted his gaze downward to where your hands met, he was tracing little circles on your wrist. 

You were out of breath, chest heaving, and thoughts jumbled. You were trying not to read into it, but this whole situation was so confusing to you. Was there something you didn’t know? He seemed to be enjoying himself just moments ago; so why was he stopping? Did he ever intend to have sex with you? 

“Mitchell, are you attracted to me?” The words flew out of your mouth as you leaned back, still sitting on his lap. 

“What?” 

His expression was a mixture of confusion and amusement which only frustrated you further because what on earth did he have to be confused about? 

“Seriously. I get it if you want to take it slow, but It’s been weeks and I’m starting to get scared that you don’t actually want to have sex with me.” 

He was watching as you spoke, a small smile curling on his lips. He couldn’t help it; you were so cute and flustered sitting on top of him talking about how badly you wanted to have sex. How could he not be attracted to you? How could you think something so utterly insane? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You were questioning him and teasingly shoving at his chest so that his back sunk further into the mattress beneath him. The only response coming from the man laying under you was a low chuckle. 

“Mitchell, talk to me.” Your voice softened.

You were serious now; Mitchell could hear it in your worried tone and see it in the unsure gaze holding his own. 

He sat up with an audible sigh and you took that as a sign things were taking a more serious turn. 

You carefully moved off his lap, opting for a seat next to him and plopping down on the bed. You sat facing him with your legs folded underneath you and your hand gently resting on his thigh. 

Everything about you was inviting his awaiting admission; your body language, the gentle smile encouraging him to go on, the way your eyes fell on him in an already understanding gaze. You were too good for him– too kind. Here you were willing to accept every last part of him and he was getting ready to tell you he uses sex to aid his homicidal affinities. 

“I did want to take things slow- I do.” He started with his eyes glued on you.

”I just, I don’t want to hurt you.” He spoke slowly, still searching your eyes for any changes to your expression.

“And you’ll hurt me if we have sex?” You were trying to clarify and make sense of what Mitchell was saying.

“I used to-“ He began but stopped himself. 

He looked down at your hand on his leg. Your touch so sincere. 

“I used to use sex as a method of getting women alone and vulnerable so I could- you know...”

He was still staring down refusing to look at you as he spoke. He couldn’t stand to watch the inevitable look of fear on your face. 

“It was just so easy. The first time I had sex after I turned, it was such a rush. Everything was intensified; her heart rate, the blood rushing through her veins, how much control I had. I didn’t even realize what I was doing and then she was just...” 

His words were trailing off yet again, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. That he was a manipulative evil monster who prayed on women and got off on killing them.

 It wasn’t true though. That side of him was something else entirely. It was someone he didn’t even recognize when he was with you. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt your delicate hands cupping his face, bringing his eyes up to meet yours. Instead of a look of terror, your face held nothing but forgiveness and warmth. 

“So you’re scared you’re going to kill me if we sleep together?” Your words were point blank as you stared into his eyes. 

“No.” His response was instant, but then quickly followed by a correction, 

“Well maybe. I don’t know, it’s complicated.” 

He paused.

“I never want to hurt you. I know that much.” 

The look in his eyes was so gentle, begging for the forgiveness you’d already given.

“There’s just this part of me that I can’t control, and I’m so scared that I’ll get too caught up and won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Have you ever had sex without-“ 

You began to ask but Mitchell finished your question for you.

“Killing someone?”

He looked away again, unable to come to terms with his own sinful memories.  

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time.” He confessed.

You leaned back on the bed creating a bit more space between your bodies. You had a million thoughts running through your mind but the only one that mattered was the realization of how much Mitchell had come to mean to you in such a short time. Everything felt right with him. You were immersed so deeply in his world that this new piece of information just felt like a little blip on the radar of your lives. You would figure it out together. All of it. 

“Well okay then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing until you feel ready.”

As soon as the words left your mouth his eyes were back on yours. He was giving you the most hopeful smile, it nearly melted you. God- you’d do anything for him. 

“And if you never do, then I’ll just invest in a really good vibrator.”

You were joking to help lighten the mood. You didn’t want Mitchell to feel like you were judging him or disappointed in the new information regarding your sex life. 

Your comment had Mitchell cracking a smile for the first time in last five minutes and the sight of it warmed your heart. You were both just sat there looking at each other with silly little grins plastered on your faces, the dark tension in the room slowly dissipating. 

The silence between you lasted for a few seconds, Mitchell looked as if he was contemplating something before he finally spoke.

“Is that how you’ve been surviving this whole time?” There was a hint of laughter dancing in his words.

“My sweet girl gettin’ so frustrated she has to run home to relieve herself?”

His head was now cocked to the side as he probed you with a follow up question. He was smirking, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. If he couldn’t see the goosebumps on your skin, he sure as hell could hear your heart racing. 

“I’m sorry baby, you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that.” 

Mitchell’s voice was low, and he was moving his body closer to yours. He was hovering over you as your back rested against the warmth of his comforter. The sound of your heartbeat was amplified in his ears by the sudden closeness. 

This was new, you thought. 

Mitchell had never been this bold with his words. It was so filthy– so tempting.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

His eyes were heavy and his jaw tense as he awaited your response.

You thought about him every single time you touched yourself, which was more often than you’d like to admit given the current circumstances of your relationship. You had come up with one hundred different scenarios that involved you and Mitchell naked in his bed to aid you in your self-induced pleasure. 

But instead of divulging all of that to him, you just nodded your head in a simple reply to his question. 

“Show me.” His voice was dripping with desire, and you thought his eyes might burn a hole through you with how hard he was staring. 

“Mitchell…” 

You suddenly felt so shy. Just minutes ago, you were grinding down on his lap hungry to unbutton his jeans. Now he was asking to watch you touch yourself and your confidence was wavering. 

“C’mon baby. I wanna see how you get off.” His tone was so sultry, you were nearly slipping your pants off at sound of it.  

“Let me see baby.” He was intertwining his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for another messy kiss. 

“Fuck- I think about it all the time. What it would be like to watch you cum.” His hands were now trailing down your body, his touch was more rough than usual, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

“I touch myself thinkin’ about you too baby.” His gaze was scorching, as he watched you fumbling with your jeans in such hasty desperation to get them off. 

“Always so worked up from not being able to touch you the way I want to. It drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Now he was assisting you; pulling your jeans down your thighs, just as needy to see your body freed from them. 

Mitchell’s hands instantly found the exposed skin of your thighs as soon as your jeans came off. He was basking in the feeling of your warm skin, memorizing the way you felt in his hands as he gripped and kneaded the flesh of your upper leg all the way up to your hips. 

You were pulling him back down in a frenzied kiss when you felt his hands at your sides teasing the material of your underwear. His fingers were hooked in the waistband of your panties, and you found the kiss getting sloppier the closer you got to being half naked on Mitchell’s bed. Your lips were moving in a chaotic harmony when he pulled back to speak again. 

“Is this okay?” 

It was as if he was breaking character for just a second. The dirty words of primal desire were replaced with a tender whisper. The man who was just ripping your jeans from your body was now searching your face for approval before going any further. 

“Mhmm.” You were humming and nodding your head simultaneously placing your hands over his on your hips and helping him peel your underwear from your body. 

“Jesus- fuck.”

Mitchell couldn’t help the profanities that fell from his mouth as you looked up at him with such an innocently sensual gaze while you guided his hands down your legs. You looked so desperate for him.  

You were kicking your panties from your legs and instinctively closing your thighs, partially for the friction but mostly due to the nerves of your sudden vulnerability.

 Mitchell could sense your brief hesitation and wanted nothing more than to make you feel comfortable. To tell you how fucking hot this was- because it was. He hadn’t had sex in so long he thought he might just cum in his pants from the sight of you like this. 

He kissed you once more, deep and passionate while his hands found their place back on your thighs. He was running his fingers over your skin and grabbing each of your legs slowly pulling them apart as he situated himself between them. Then he broke the kiss and sat back on his knees to get a better view at your body all sprawled out on his sheets. 

“Fuck you’re so perfect.” His voice was close to a groan as he gazed down at your exposed center. He was in a hypnotic state at seeing you spread open all for him, so wet and ready; he was losing his mind.

“I wanna see you baby.” 

His fingertips were tracing your inner thighs, and you almost had to shut your legs again at the sensation; his touch causing you to let out a shaky breath. 

“wanna see how you play with yourself when you think about me.” 

You were closing your eyes and letting your hand trail down your stomach until it reached your core. If it weren’t for the fact that you were so pent up with sexual frustration from all the nights you had to leave Mitchell’s house after make-out sessions that led nowhere, you might have been more embarrassed by how quick you were to oblige with his directions. You were eager to finally get some sort of relief from him, even if it came in the form of his eyes on your body and his foul whispers in your ear. 

Your fingers were circling your clit and the sounds that came from the man above you were utterly carnal. 

“fuckkk.”

In a long, drawn-out groan Mitchell was releasing pent up frustrations of his own while watching your hand between your legs. 

He had envisioned you like this a million times but not one of those images even came close to what he was witnessing right now. He’d intended on trying to keep his composure but as soon as your fingers met your cunt, he couldn’t contain himself. 

“That’s it baby.”

Mitchell swooned, his body practically shaking as he watched you. All he wanted to do was replace your hand with is. He wanted to feel you. Needed to show you that the little scenarios of him you had conjured up in your head weren’t even comparable to the real thing. 

“So pretty for me.”

His words were only pushing you further into the lust filled abyss that threatened to swallow you whole. Your fingers were working faster in tight little circles and moans were forming in your throat and fighting to fall from your lips. 

“Look at me baby.”

You followed his command, looking up at him. He was going back and forth between looking into your eyes and watching the hand between your legs. He felt the familiar simmer of heat in his chest and the buzzing in his head– sensations that often came with his inability to stop himself from indulging in his deepest desires. He was teetering on the edge of losing all control when he found your eyes again, your tender stare bringing him back to reality. 

“Do you wish it was me touchin’ you like that.” He kept talking, hoping it would help tether him to his humanity. 

The low growl of his voice had you feeling brave enough to bring your hand lower, dipping a finger into yourself and whimpering out in pleasure at the thought of it being his touch instead. 

“Bet I could make you feel so good with my fingers- fuck.” 

The second he saw your hand venture lower he could feel his cock swelling in his pants. There was absolutely no way he would be able to keep his hands to himself now. Not while he watched you slipping your delicate little fingers into your cunt- something he had quite literally dreamed of doing for months now. 

“Oh sweet girl I need to touch you.”

You watched as he palmed himself through his jeans, the look on his face was so needy it made you bite down on your lip to muffle the obscene sound that fought its way to your mouth. 

“need to fuckin’ feel ya baby.”

And with that his lips were crashing into yours, your chests touching and moans mixing. You felt his hand on your inner thigh and nearly jumped when it skipped to your soaked core, his finger already pushing into you. 

“So wet for me huh?.” He was gathering your arousal and spreading it at your opening as he easily added a second finger along with the first. 

His head dipped down and his lips came in contact with the nape of your neck and you flinched. 

Your earlier conversation was still fresh in your mind, and you couldn’t help the involuntary recoil. Having Mitchell so worked up and putting his mouth on your neck startled you.  

He halted, every single one of his movements pausing as he drew his head back just enough to lock eyes with you. He had every intention of kissing down your neck, just wanting to envelop you in the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin. He wasn’t even thinking about sinking his teeth into the flesh there, but once he felt you shrinking away from his touch, he felt awful. Shit did he scare you.

“Hey.”

He was searching your eyes, his expression full of worry. 

“I won’t hurt you.” A flip had switched, and his voice was now soft and reserved. 

“You’re safe.” He was reassuring you and now you felt bad for overreacting. 

You pulled him back to you in an affectionate kiss. 

“I’ve got you, I promise.” With that he was slowly moving his fingers inside you again. His thrusts were gentle, and he kept his eyes on you. He was being so careful, it was endearing. 

He had never felt so in control. It was a strange feeling, to be physically intimate with someone and not have a single hunger driven thought. While he had plenty of unsavory thoughts about you running through his mind, not even one had to do with his thirst for blood. All of them centered around hearing the cute little sounds you were making and watching you cum all over his fingers. 

He could sense your body relaxing under his touch and he watched your eyes flutter closed as his fingers curled into you. He was taking advantage of your comfort and switching to a faster pace. 

You had to squeeze your eyes shut completely as his fingers worked faster and depper. You were doing your best to keep quiet, scared that maybe someone would come home and be able to hear you, but with the way Mitchell was touching you, you finally let go of your worries. A lengthy moan fell from your lips, and had him groaning in response. 

“That’s it baby, don’t hold back.” 

He was encouraging your noises of satisfaction as he brought his lips back to your neck. Only this time, instead of flinching from the sudden attention, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. You could feel him smirking against your skin. 

He was placing sweet kisses behind your ear while his fingers worked harder sliding in and out of you. His movements were perfectly executed, each thrust of his digits curling into you at the perfect spot and causing whispered profanities to form on your tongue. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it almost shocked you how close he had you to an orgasm already. 

“You feel that baby?” His voice was a mumble against the crook of your neck.

You were whining out a pathetic “yes” as he kept his pace, not holding back. You could feel your release building higher and higher, Mitchell’s fingers getting deeper alongside it. The exposition to your climax felt more intense than you’d ever experienced, and you were reaching for Mitchell’s forearm attempting to steady his movements, but all you were doing was pushing him on further.

“Let it out for me baby.” His voice was shaky, and it sounded as if he was holding back moans of his own.

Hearing him get so aroused by talking you through your pleasure only added to the pressure building in your core. 

“C’mon sweet girl I can feel you. So fuckin’ close.” 

You were writhing below his touch, whimpering and allowing yourself to give into the feeling of Mitchell’s fingers as he deliberately made sure each stroke hit the right spot. The sensation forming in your belly was almost too much to bear. 

Your relief was surging closer to release, like a wave it just kept building and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. And then, with Mitchell pushing into you, whispering little praises into your ear, you were coming undone. The floodgates were opened and your release was crashing over you, intense and all consuming. You were speechless as you felt yourself gushing over Mitchell’s fingers still deep inside you. He was coaxing you through your release, watching as you soaked his hand.

“Mmm look at that baby.” his voice was seeping with lust and he was looking between your bodies in a trance by the mess you were making beneath him. 

“Good girl.” He was growling and slowing the movements as he watched you come down from your high.

You were out of breath and in a state of pure bliss as you stared up at Mitchell. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” With him looking back at you, you could see the look of pride in his expression, a smug smile on his lips.

“God I’m never gonna be able to get enough of you.” He brought his mouth down to you, locking his lips with yours in a hungrily passionate embrace.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess on Mitchell’s sheets or the fact that you didn’t think you could form words at the moment. All you wanted was to keep going, to make Mitchell feel just as good as he had made you feel. 

You were pushing yourself onto your elbows and making every effort to find your way to the obvious erection in his jeans. 

As much as Mitchell wanted to spend the entire night fucking you in every way imaginable, he knew it was too risky. Hell, he had almost lost his control before he even laid a finger on you.

While he felt excited by his newfound ability to venture further into this territory with you, he still wanted to take it step by step. He wanted to make sure he could trust himself– that you could trust him. 

“next time.”

He was grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, sealing his promise with a kiss to your palm.

You were pouting, but also inwardly thankful for his guarantee of future sexual escapades. 

“Don’t wanna bite off more than we can chew, yeah?” 

He was grinning to himself and leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before hoping off his bed and searching for a towel. 

my masterlist

[mqriuss]

kpop idol au yuzuha x fem idol!reader (Part 2)

jesus christ there's not a lot of you but i expected like two people to read my rambling BUT IM GLAD THE FEW OF YOU THAT READ IT ACTUALLY LIKED THE KPOP IDOL YUZUHA so here's more !!

part 1

i can't keep calling the character's members of your group/your group member/yuzuha's group members, so we need to give them names!!!

... i sat here for like 5 minutes i can't think of group names SO let's just move on to member's names lmao (feel free to give me group name ideas!)

your group members:

you

eunjung

sunhee

miyoung

hyunjae

yuzuha's group members:

yuzuha

haeun

haejung

yunhee

kyungmi

ok now that that's out of the way

your fans love it when you and yuzuha's groups make a comeback at the same time cuz that means they get sooo much interactions during the promotion era.

like music shows are so fun. the fans and shippers are so well fed bc you and yuzuha are (suspiciously) close with each other, the amount of photos and videos you have together are endless. and i haven't watched these in a while but you know when idols like vlog themselves for their youtube channel? yeah, best believe yuzuha will always appear on your group's channel and vice versa.

"oh, and there's y/n," sunhee says, panning the camera over to you. you were eating a snack while getting your hair done before your performance. looking over to the camera sunhee held, you did a little wave. then someone else's head pops into view, "yuzuha is here too for some reason," sunhee snickers, knowing exactly why she's here.

"hey, guys! lemme borrow y/n for a sec, okay?" yuzuha grins, waving at the camera.

username01: sunhee sounds like she knows something we dont

→ username02 replied: it's like i can hear her smile from behind the camera lmao

also, don't forget the tiktok challenges! with every comeback, each of your group's fans are always always expecting the two of you to make tiktoks with each other's new songs.

username01: chat it's been days why haven't we gotten a single y/nzuha tiktok challenge

username02: if we don't get y/nzuha doing each others' tiktok chalenges i will seriously end it all

username03: my theory is that y/n and yuzuha fought over something so it's taking them long to make a tiktok

→ username04 replied: NO WAY they were interacting just fine on the recent show

→ username05: you may never know, idols are good at faking smiles

yet here you sat with yuzuha on the inkigayo stairs, laughing together when she showed you the comments your desperate fans were making.

"oh my god, you're right! they literally expect it from us now," you say in between laughs. it's no wonder this was how fans reacted—i mean, you two were always one of the first to post tiktok challenges. so you purposely tried to mess with the fans by giving them absolutely no content this time around to see if they'll notice.

and like, what were you expecting? of course they'll notice!

y/nzuha shippers are the worst because they genuinely feel like their ship is real. like gayer and realer than any other kpop ship out there, and you and yuzuha feed into it so much. even though you were rivals, this shipping thing is actually beneficial to both of your groups. almost all of your group's fans are also fans of yuzuha's group and vice versa bc of your ship. your duo with yuzuha is even more popular than the duos in your respective groups.

ok anyways, so you and yuzuha finally get up and decide to make some tiktoks together and you decided—after depriving your fans of y/nzuha content, you were going to release ALL the tiktoks you made that day. two of them were your group's respective tiktok challenges, then there was like one thirst trap, two of the tiktoks were like those couple trends—yes your fans went crazy and that is an understatement, and then another random tiktok dance challenge.

username01: they disappear for days AND THEY COME BACK WITH A FEAST

username02: y/nzuha nation, how does it feel to suffer from success?

username03: what the FUCK i was literally just talking about y/nzuha doing this chalenge AND THEY ACTUALLY DID IT... y/n or yuzuha has got to be my oomfs

→ username04 replied: y/n is more likely to be oomf methinks

username05: Y/NZUHA THIRST TRAPPING ON THE OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS SOMEBODY HOLD MY HAND

both you and yuzuha lurk on social media a lot and it's to see the fans reactions to basically anything, you're both hardworking idols—seeing what the fans like and absolutely milking it—in this case, y/nzuha. it's just a cute thing at first like "aw look, yuzuha and y/n used to be on that traumatizing survival show and they're still hanging out and really good friends."

and then it started getting serious like you weren't just a duo anymore, you're a ship. well, you have been since the survival show but with your debuts, you both started getting more fans and as a result, more shippers.

the both of you just look at each other, already plotting different ways to make fans go crazy. your managers had to stop you guys from posting a really really suggestive thirst trap one time, even your members have to give you guys warnings every now and then like you two better cool it!

you also have known for a while now that views aren't really authentic anymore in the kpop industry because of the streaming stuff. your rivalry with her doesn't really show when they announce winners at a music show. but your fans do get a bit of nostalgia when you guys post content together.

username01: this video of yuzuha and y/n is literally just them trying to outsing each other

→ username02 replied: if they ended up in a group together, we could've gotten another girls generation song where every vocalist outsings the other

→ username03 replied: ACTUALLY THO cant we just merge their groups? can they collab already?

or like you know how sometimes, you don't see idols putting in that much energy into each other's tiktok challenges? (no shade btw)

yeah, that could never be you and yuzuha. in every video, fans have noticed you guys have to glance at each other while dancing. giving looks that say "i'm doing your choreo better than you are."

oh your rivalry would also show in variety shows. there isn't really any room for rivalry in terms of music and popularity 'cause you can hardly control how fans view you and if anything, you both are always so supportive of each other's careers. so when you get a chance to go against yuzuha, you take the damn chance.

variety shows are definitely nostalgic for the fans 'cause you two refuse to team up with each other for games unless you were assigned to the same team. fans eat it up so much, there would be so many clips going around on tiktok, instagram and twitter.

while we're on the topic of rivalry, ISAC is a big day for y/nzuha nation.

when everyone finds out yuzuha was the head of the kyūdō club in high school, they're immediately expecting her to win in archery. but you practiced longg and hard to go against her.

now imagine the fans reactions when they find out yuzuha herself helped you train for ISAC lmfaooo

i think that's all the rambling i have for now but here's a bonus: new fans or non-fans of your groups mistake your ship name for y/n x kazuha of le sserafim instead of yuzuha and it's the funniest day on twitter ever. y/nzuha stans attacking them for not knowing it's yuzuha and all 💀

you share a selfie with kazuha after that day for funsies. let's just say, you kinda... sorta... maybe started a little fanwar. but y/n x yuzuha shippers aren't the only ones getting a little jealous. :)

[pinazee]

An Evening With Mr. Yang

In the infamous words of one Shane Madej:

Who doesn’t love this episode? Are you kidding me?!?!?! The tension is great, the acting is great, Mary Lightly is so much fun, ALLY SHEEDY! There are so many great things in this ep i got a bit overwhelmed haha

Mary Lightly is an amazing character! Jimmi Simpson is such a great actor that i started watching films/ tv shows because he was in them. Like, i watched Westworld just because he was in it (well, and also because james marsden was in it and i love him as well) and he did PHENOMENAL in the black mirror episode the USS Calister! With Cristin Milioti??? Its my favorite black mirror episode (cause I’m also a star trek nerd. That ep was tailored to me specifically)…i went on a bit of a tangent. Anyways, Mary Lightly is one of the top guest characters in all of Psych hands down.

Apparently Yang struck in 95, and we know shawn graduated in 96, so we know in 95 super cop Henry was still a detective. Which begs the question, why wasn’t he chosen by yang?? Im so curious what happened the first time that 6 people died. Was he originally supposed to have been chosen by yang but it was kept secret for some reason?? Ooooo or what if henry had been chosen originally but refused to play the game because he didn’t want yang to come after his family so yang had to go with another cop or simply killed ppl because he refused so henry holds some guilt for those deaths too and thats the real reason he quit??? Or maybe because his marriage was on the brink of collapse henry wasn’t at the top of his game when yang came around. Mmm grasping at straws i suppose, but really though, he should have been chosen (and ill discuss yang more as we get through the trilogy).

Maddy is the worst lol why is she so bad at communicating with her own child??? Shes a psychologist!

I have to call this out because it makes me cringe but bernsens line reading here was not great haha

James though, man he killed it in this! It was understated and heart breaking at the same time!

And Ally Sheedy was in what, like, less than 5 minutes of the whole episode, but goddamn she made an impression! I mean, what an amazing introduction to a character! I have endless praise for this whole scene with her and shawn! What a freaking get.

Lastly, juliets confession. What a great scene too! I like that she called out her sending mixed signals (i almost pointed that out earlier in the season) because uh, yeah, she was confused and thats okay. And like i mentioned before, if im in juliets position id be confused too. She doesn’t know hes a fake yet so all she sees is a highly effective goofball which can be fun, but yeah, maybe not the best if you need someone reliable- which she does considering who her dad is. But this really is terrible timing lol like, bro just saved his mom from being killed by a serial killer and having the most stressful 24 ish hours of his life and shes like, you know what he needs? Romance. (Btw she kind of framed it like, you deserve a treat, i.e me, which in my world means hanky panky lol)

I thought the kiss on the cheek was very sweet (though kind of messed up since hes literally on a date with someone else haha)

What more can i say? Its a near perfect episode and a great introduction to a great killer with a memorable side character and a solid mystery. Gus was actually solving quite a bit of it too so major kudos to him. All around fantastic episode! So uh, yeah 👍

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Can you, maybe possibly do more winx club/fairy! Reader with the chain drabs- 📍(idk if any anon has this emoji but I want it.. whatever they mean)

Yeah, you can have that emoji. Of the people who have asked to be certain anons, none of them have used that emoji. I haven't come in contact with these emoji anons that much, but from what I can gather, they're used to mark a recurring fan who prefers staying anonymous.

--

“I think I see your problem here.”

Now you were by no means an expert on teaching magic, but when Hyrule came to you asking for advice, how could you possibly say ‘no?’ In a way, you were the best person for him to ask. While all members of the Chain have come into contact with magic - and even used it themselves - it was through magic items or fairies (which you were a little horrified to learn they often caught in bottles). Hyrule was the only one to actually harness magic and cast spells.

The two of you were similar in many ways: both of you learned about your magical heritage much later in life than others like you, there was the fact that both of you could transform (even if, like all other fairies of his world, he was much smaller than you), and the fact that you both felt different from the people you grew up around due to your magic.

“You’re trying to force the magic out, but at the same time you’re stifling it.” You spoke as you came closer, letting Hyrule relax his hand. “That kind of polarising pressure doesn’t allow the magic to flow correctly, which could lead to your spell backfiring on you. Believe me, it’s not good for your ego.”

You laughed a little at a memory of some of your first spells going wrong. You have no idea how, but you somehow messed up a spell that would change the colour of your hair. It was literally the first - and easiest - spell they taught you at Alfea and you managed to turn your hair into a technicolour nightmare.

But it seemed like your impromptu magic lesson had to be put on hold.

"[Name], my grappling hook got stuck in a tree and I can't pull it loose." A whiny voice caught your attention. "Can you fly up and get it?"

You know, sometimes you wondered if it wasn't such a good idea to tell these boys about your powers.

"Can't Wild climb up there and get it for you?" You ask a little annoyed. "I'm a little busy right now."

"But I wanted to show Wild a cool trick with it. If I go asking for his help, it'll be embarrassing."

You couldn’t say ‘no’ to that pleading look. Wind’s expressive face had its funny moments, but his puppy dog eyes were like weaponized guilt. Shooting Hyrule a look that said “sorry,” you received a small “it’s fine” in return. You’ll continue your training later.

You let out a sigh, looking up at the tall tree Wind was pointing at, “alright. But if this happens again, you’re on your own.”

“Deal!”

In just a flash of light you had transformed into your fairy form, wings out and fluttering to lift you off the ground. Following the rope, you found the hook stuck high in the branches, not only caught by the tree, but also by the rope itself. The whole thing was a giant knot looping around itself, one that you found hard to see where it began and ended. “Geez, Wind, how did you even manage this?” You groaned as you began pulling the problem apart.

“I was practicing a trick, but it went south.” The boy shouted from below as both he and Hyrule watched you work.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

After what felt like half an hour, you finally managed to untie the thing. Letting out a sigh of relief, you grabbed the metal hook, looped the long rope over and around your shoulder and flew down onto the ground. “Here.” You handed the grappling hook over to a very enthusiastic looking Wind.

“Thanks!” Wind then immediately turned his head away, rushing off somewhere else. “Hey, Wild! I can show it to you now!”

“Kids, am I right?” You laughed to yourself.

“Yeah.” Hyrule chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets all that energy from.”

“Now, where was I-”

You hadn’t even had the chance to detransform before someone shouted your name again. This time it came from Four’s corner of camp, where he, Wars and Legend were busy at a makeshift forging station. “We need a stronger, more stable fire over here.”

“I was doing just fine.” Wars shot back at the small smith. “You asked for a stronger flame and I gave you one.”

“I said a “fire,” not a “blaze!” You nearly singed my eyebrows off!”

Guess Wars really wasn’t quite as good with his control with the Fire Rod as he thought. Whose brilliant idea was it to use a weapon meant for combat for forging, instead? But then again, who asks an Enchantix fairy, a fully fledged Guardian Fairy, to be a living furnace, as if that’s somehow better? Probably the same kind of person who asks that same fairy to get a rope unstuck from a tree.

And the smithing group had devolved into a petty argument while you weren’t paying attention. Maybe this could be your out, let you finally get back to Hyrule. But if you were a betting girl…

You turned your eyes to Time, Sky and Twilight who were sitting around a small fire, watching a kettle of water start to whistle. “Let me guess, you’ve got a request for me, too?”

The oldest thought for a moment before giving you a cheeky smile. “No, but I’m sure Wolfie would appreciate an eye-in-the-sky helping him during his patrol.”

Yeah, it was definitely a mistake to tell them about your powers.

--

[pedricos]

fluffy alphabet with marc bernal !!!

Marc Bernal – A to Z, Fluff alphabet .ᐟ

a.n: im deeply sorry for the delay! hope u like it <33

warnings: tooth rotting fluff!!

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

he loves everything about you, nothing more or nothing less. but he loves your confidence the most!

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

he loveeees to grab your waist! he's passing by? hands on your waist. you're cooking? he's hugging your waist. you two are literally joined by the hip!

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

he doesn't mind being the little spoon, but he prefers when you are! he loves to snuggle in your neck and feel your perfume.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

he's not a fan of fancy restaurants, so just a picnic in the park, with a lots of snacks and laughs sound just like heaven to him!

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

he's very open about his feelings! if he's inscure, he'll tell you, if he's sad for some reason, he'll let it out to out. this man is a open book!

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

he thinks you two are too young to start a family now, but in the future, he seem himself being a girl's dad! and he hopes they come out looking just like you.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

its his love language! he doesn't let you spend a coin on him tho.. but he likes when you make him little handmade gifts and tries to make them too now and then

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

his hands are pretty sweaty by nature, he prefers when you two walk around with you holding his arm rather than holding hands.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

he takes care of you the most. if its a flu, he'll ask his mother to bring you soup, if it's an physical injury he's not letting you move a finger to do anything!

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

in your opinion, he's the funniest alive! he always have some joke to make about everything! the only pranks he'll pull on you are tiktok trends.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

loves, and i mean, loves to take it slow! he's a romantic kisser! he doesn't like to take it too fast, but sure enjoy the moment a lot.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

gift giving! he saw a cute bunny with a bow? he bought it! he saw a cat phone case? you already have five, all different colors!

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

the first time you slept together. it didn't happened anything, just two teenagers watching movies all night and eating take outs.. but the moment he saw you sleeping so soundly on his chest, he realized it.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

you leaving him for another player. he knows that there are lots of good players around there, that have more play time, that have better salaries.. he just can't bear the thought of it!

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

he's always coming up with a new nickname and never, ever, repeats the same one! and it's always the silliest things!

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

every pet name! cariña, guapa, gatita..

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

he'll spend time with you by teaching how to play video games! you always win, even if you just learned, but he proclaims he let's you win.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

kali uchis' songs were made for him and he also dedicates them to you.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

alongside with gossiping his friend's secrets, he's very open hearted about his own. you have all his trust in all subjects possible.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

you new eachother for a loong period of time, being childhood best friend's it was hard to tell if was just a strong bond or a crush, but after realizing it, maybe a year.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

he's sooo pouty! arms crossed, pouty lips and let the drama starts.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

he cannot shut up about you! his teammates know every step you take just by being 5 minutes with him.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you?)

he's not the strongest boy, so he would adventure throwing punches, but he's very protective over you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

he always know. he knows everything! he realizes when you're sad, the exact time you got hungry.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

it was your birthday, you both sat with your feet in the warm pool by the sunset. the day was great, all of your friends were there and he was too. you two were being casual by now, but he was the one to take a step further that day.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

when you caresses his hair! he's on cloud nine when your fingers run throughout his locks.

im always scared of writing to him and it be too out of character.. but i hope im picturing right!

requests are openn again!! bye bye, hope u like it 💋

[renn-aissance]

Mom Plays BG3: Ep.5 - “Okay, Baron Afanas.”

First things first: She knows how to use waypoints now and got all the way from Dammon to the Blighted Village by herself 😌 To AND fro.

RUNDOWN:

It’s happening. She feels bad for being mean to Gale! Sort of lol. He needed an item and she talked to him. She told him “it’s more useful to me if unconsumed.”

Gale: “Ah, ever the pragmatist. But I assure you it is important I use this item.”

Mom: *Hands him the hat that restores bardic inspiration.*

Gale: *Eats a whole hat.* “The Magic wasn’t enough to satisfy it, but nevertheless thank you… it wasn’t easy for you to part with, nor easy to obtain. Truly, I thank you.”

Mom: *GUILT.*

Thinks Karlach is cool.

Had not encountered traps yet.

Encountered one.

She’s been clicking on chests when she sees one and waits for the character to get there themselves.

Mom: “Oh, a chest!”

Mom: *Clicks on it. Explodes. Soul leaves body.*

Astarion: “Oh look, someone’s left a trap out for us.”

She met Withers and loved that whole scene where the skeletons came to life. "It's so The Walking Dead!"

Her face exactly:

AAHH I'm just super excited because I can tell she's legitimately starting to get more into the game, not just because I wanted her to play. Like it's a different vibe. I usually set a timer for an hour and that's all we'll play, but the timer's been going off and she wants to play a little longer.

She's a gamer now, my dudes. She literally told me “Let’s play right now and you can finish up your homework after.” She didn’t even want to watch New Girl.

She feels like Withers is going to be important. I’m just thinking like “bestie, he’s gonna live with you literally rent free.

Withers: “We will meet again when the time is right.”

Mom: “… Okay, Baron Afanas… Because he looks like The Baron-“

Me: “Yeah.”

She threw dung at the goblins 😌

She’s been getting one-shots like CRAAAZY. Weirdest fucking luck.

She met her dream guardian. Has mixed feelings. How before she’s been using her illithid powers like crazy, after meeting the dream guardian she’s iffy about it now. Astarion called her an utter drip. She pouted.

She talked to Withers in the morning.

Withers: “There is little else to explain.”

Mom: “Can you elaborate?”

Withers: “No.”

Mom: “… okay…”

Astarion has still NOT told her he is a vampire 😀 But she’s been sitting on some pretty consistent neutral approval with him. She has had two dreams with the Emperor and has mixed feelings. She also said the dream visitor was ugly 😭

Me: “You literally MADE him!”

Mom: “I must have been in a rush.”

She picked up on the fact that Gale called his dream visitor a she and my mom’s is male. Which tbh I didn’t pick up on it because both of my dream guardians were she’s. 😗

SHE DID THE LOVIATAR THING LOL

Her face the whole time:

It was the morbid curiosity part of her that went through with it. But also because Karlach was like “I HAVE TO SEE THIS.”

She went down into the dungeons and freed the bear, but when the fight was over she talked to Halsin. She talked to him about The Grove and the tadpoles and everything. I was expecting her to be like “😏 who’s this guy?”

Mom: “… wait… was he the bear? Who is this guy??”

She thought he was just some guy who showed up out of nowhere lol

“Well… thank you for helping me, Mr. Bear. I guess… okay.”

Looked around the prison and looted some barrels. Literally so pumped finding the barrels full of pork meat and the pig head.

Mom: “You said the gears mean I can use it, right? Why is there an x on this one?”

Me: “You can sit on that bench or interact with it, but it’s out of reach. That table is blocking it.”

Mom: “The one with the mystery meat on it? I don’t wanna sit on that… ewwww.”

She freed Volo but didn’t tell him where the camp was.

He showed up later anyway and she was just like “Where did he even come from?!”

Shooed the goblins from hurting Liam.

Mom: “Alright, homeboy, what’s up. What’s going on.” *clicks to talk to him.*

Liam: *literally being tortured* “Please let me out of here.”

I forgot what she needed to do a check for, but she had to roll a 16 and had a +7 advantage.

Mom: *Rolls a 3.*

Mom: *Turns to me and goes 😏*

Me: “You failed.”

Mom: “My math isn’t great.”

She killed Minthy! But tbh I did, too, during my first play through because I didn’t know about the whole knocking her out thing. To be fair, she did not make the best first impression.

Minthara: “Another child of the Absolute in such a grotesque form.”

Mom: “Hey… take it easy.”

Yeah this whole session was just straight up confusion. She did reload because she started a fight after attacking Glut. She is currently still exploring the whole place. I might have her come back after going to Auntie Ethel’s to meet the Gur hunter just because I’m wondering why it’s taking so long for Astarion to tell her about the vampire thing.

Oh shit also Gale told her about his orb. She was not pleased. SHE ALMOST TOLD HIM TO LEAVE!! But she kept him. She also clicks on the companions to hear what they have to say.

Shadowheart: “I would have liked to have known the circumstances of the company I would keep before signing onto this journey.”

Mom: “Girl, you’re one to talk.”

So now she’s a little mad at Gale for a different reason. At least she knows he’s not lying 😀

When she finds an enchanted item she makes a show of it to send it to anyone BESIDES Gale to hold onto until he needs it because she thinks he’s going to use it right away lol

Bro and she’s gonna be pissed when Astarion confesses lol because he’s all “why would you guys keep secrets!”

She let Volo stab her eye, but chickened out in the end.

Sorry this is kind of a long post, this is an amalgamation of about a few days. Also it was her birthday on Wednesday :D

[neallo]

snippet saturday: camcorder (working title)

ship: Mello x Near x Matt category: F/F/F words: 915 rating: explicit (minors, do not interact!)

calling this one a snippet is a huge fucking stretch, because it's about 900 words, but it's also not complete enough to post on AO3 and won't be for a hot minute (<- really trying to work on something else rn) so. in honor of matt's birthday... :-)

mildest of warnings for degrading language, and disclaimer that this has not been edited almost at all. xoxo, enjoy!

---

“No, no, Matt, you have to really watch. Listen.”

Matt was really watching and really listening the first time, and she caught it on tape besides, but she doesn’t bother protesting. It’d be a dumb hill to die on, especially since she’s got 70% charge, a backup battery, and fuck-all else to do this afternoon— plus, it’s not like she’d mind a repeat performance. Silently nodding, she sits back on her heels and zooms out, angling the camcorder so the frame captures both Mello and Near in full again.

Her eyes flicker between the screen and the scene in front of her, taking it all in and patting herself on the back for— well, everything. This is only happening thanks to her hard work and utter genius, after all. If they’d waited for Mello to come around to the idea on her own, Near would’ve been a virgin for another ten years, and they all might’ve almost died of sexual frustration in the meantime. Neither of them would’ve thought to record it all, either. Sure, Mello’s sentimental enough (though she’d definitely deny that), but not nearly enough of a pervert. That’s what she has Matt for, though.

“Ready when you are,” she tells Mello once Matt realizes she’s waiting.

Mello grins. She’s propped up against the headboard with Near sitting between her legs, leaning back against Mello’s chest. The younger girl is glassy-eyed, panting, and— most importantly— in nothing but panties. They’ve been fooling around with Near for a few weeks, now, but it’s always been through clothes— neither of them have actually seen her whole body until today. She’s even cuter than Matt bargained for, which is impressive, because she did think Near was pretty cute already.

Of course, some of the present appeal is in more than just Near’s perky tits and pretty, spindly limbs; it’s in watching Mello toy with her. Each one of them is hot on their own, but together? Jesus. For today, Matt’s not getting involved directly, because Mello wants Near’s first time all to herself, which Matt really doesn’t mind; being the cameraman and director is fun enough on its own, and a higher calling besides. Sure, she’s already pretty horny, but her vibrator will take care of that when she’s finished becoming the patron saint of homemade lesbian porn.

Mello looks right into the camera, eyes smoldering as she puts her hands back on Near’s breasts and slowly, deliberately gropes her, smiling wider when Near’s head tips back and her mouth falls open again. It’s literally exactly the same thing that happened the last time Mello told her to watch.

“O-oh,” Near gasps, “Mello, I— mm—”

And, okay, it is still really hot the second time around.

“Cute,” Matt says. It’s an understatement, kind of, but she can’t figure out a way to express her actual feelings without sounding like a total creep, and she thinks Mello will get what she means, anyway.

“I swear, she gets more sensitive every time.” Mello’s fingers find the little pink peaks of Near’s nipples, and she thumbs at them. Near jerks in her grasp, crying out in some mixture of ecstasy and agony.

“God damn,” Matt murmurs. “She really likes that. Keep going, I— wanna make sure I got a good shot of that part.”

Shifting to pull Near upright again— she slipped a little while squirming— Mello tucks her chin into the crook of Near’s shoulder, putting their faces at the same level. She lowers her eyes to Near’s chest and pushes her little tits together, showing Near off for the camera before turning her attention to her nipples again. At the very first brush of Mello’s fingers, Near whimpers.

“It’s like she was made for it,” Matt mutters, absent-minded, half to herself.

Mello, of course, hears perfectly. “You hear that, Near? Matty thinks you’re good at this.”

“O-oh,” Near says. “Thank you?”

A mean little smile blooms on Mello’s pretty face. “You know how much porn Matt watches? A ton.” She flicks one of Near’s nipples. “She’s not easy to impress, angel.”

“Angel,” Matt echoes, a bit sardonically.

Mello gives her a sharp look. “Something funny?”

“It’s an ironic choice right now,” she says. “That’s all.”

“Why? ‘Cause she looks like a desperate little slut?”

Near whines. Writhes. Gets pinched for her trouble, and whimpers helplessly over it.

“Yeah,” Matt says faintly. “Something like that.”

“We don’t even know how wet she is,” Mello points out. “Near. Open your legs. Show Matty how much you like me.”

It’s a testament to how far gone Near is that she just obeys. An hour ago, when they first took out the camera, she was a little shy, but all the hesitation has evidently been teased out of her by Mello’s touch.

“Holy fuck,” Matt says, staring at Near’s newly-exposed cunt. The white, wiry hairs between her thighs are plastered to her pink skin by slick arousal. As Matt’s looking, she visibly drips.

Mello’s hands migrate from Near’s chest to the backs of her knees. She lifts Near’s legs from the bed and places them on either side of her own, holding Near’s thighs wide-open. Putting her on display.

“Good girl,” Mello coos. “So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”

Near’s legs twitch toward each other, but the strategic positioning keeps them spread. Mello’s right hand slowly creeps up the inside of Near’s thigh as her left palms one of Near’s tits again.

“Should I be rougher with her, you think?”

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

just learned that people are like legitimately pissed that mackenyu buffed up for season 2 ???

[donovankinard]

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[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Going to therapy is great because you can rant to your therapist about the untapped potential of Star Wars Sequel Characters for ten minutes and they are a captive audience forced to hear your very reasonable valid points and you can do this instead of talking about your issues hope this helps <3