#not quite quite body horror but thinking of him tonight

[meringuejellyfish]

body horror in the new witch hat chapter? promise?

[on-leatheredwings]

Remedial Lesson (18+)

Yandere ! Dick Grayson x (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > request: non-con for dick grayson? maybe him abusing his power as the titans leader to be a little flirty/touchy with reader before tricking them into letting him inside of their bedroom under false pretenses? > tw/cw: explicit non-con, baby trapping, yandere behaviors, abusive power dynamic > a/n: i just love writing a manipulative dick! And i love writing a manipulative Dick! (ba dum tss) emphasis on non-con in tw's, its not dubcon! > word count: 2545

Stupid, stupid. 

At that thought, the logical, respectable half of your brain admonishes you.

You aren’t stupid. You just were unlucky, you correct softly. You’re plenty capable, and an asset to the team. It could’ve happened to anybody. 

Recently, you’ve been trying to stop your self-deprecation, in an attempt to bolster your self-esteem, solidify your confidence, and quell negative self-talk. 

… Therapist’s orders. 

Being the ever-so-capable superhero you are, today you got blasted by some hypnotizing ray. And then promptly went on a murderous rampage on your teammates. 

You don’t recall anything that happened, only waking up from what felt like a deep sleep to the outstretched hand of Nightwing. Koriand’r told you on the way back to the Tower that you almost killed him – making you stiffen in horror. You almost killed him, and apparently the only thing he had been worried about was you. At the thought, you feel heat swarm in your cheeks.

Despite not having any powers, Nightwing is plenty formidable. You were in complete awe of him today; the way he moves is so effortless, and he’s not even a metahuman. 

You clench your fist with determination. You aren’t a metahuman either, but you pale in comparison to him. You want to be just as formidable as he is. Be just as deserving of the title “Titan.”

On the subject of Nightwing, your mind wanders… He had been quite… hands-on with you today. Shaking you by the shoulders, hand on your cheeks lightly slapping you awake. Encouraging you back to your feet, hand brushing your waist. When the battle was over, you nearly collapsed to your knees, spent. But he caught you, appearing from out of nowhere. 

“Easy,” he had said into your ear, which made you shiver. 

You sigh. 

Okay. So maybe you had a crush. It wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. He’s your boss – the Titans’ illustrious captain. He was simply helping you along, watching out for a teammate. Mentoring a new hero. After all, you are the Titans’ newest recruit, a post that months later still feels unreal. 

You walk amongst them through the doors of the Tower, conversation and chatter flowing around you. You don’t join in, still ashamed from today’s blunder. How many of them had you tried to hurt? The team has just finished a mission, and it seems a pizza party is in order for tonight. You smile gingerly as Garfield announces vibrantly that you’re invited. (A no-brainer to anyone else since you literally live here, but to you, it means a lot.)

Your secret identity known to the team, you dismiss yourself to change out of your suit and into your civvies. “Hurry back soon,” they say, and the sentiment warms you. You indeed jog to your bedroom, eager to return to the festivities. You’re one of them. You’re really one of them.

You slip into your room, tossing the door back without a second glance. Your fingers pull on the bottom of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your suit, when you hear a shallow thud. That was not the sound your door makes once it's been closed. 

You whip around, and see–

“Nightwing?”

Your leader stands in the doorway, foot acting as an impromptu door stopper. You take him in. His hair cascades in gentle dark waves, curling by the ears. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his suit was painted on. Despite being lightly armored and fortified, it stretches across his body like plastic wrap. You could trace every muscle under his skin– okay, relax. Christ. 

Hey, you think back, mentally wagging a finger. No thought policing.

At the sound of your name being called, you realize you’ve been gawking like an idiot while he stands in your doorframe. You straighten.

“Oh! Y-yes!?”

“Can I come in?” he asks. You nod so fervently that your head is a blur of color.

Nightwing does so, the slightest amicable smile on his lips. Around friends and allies, it seems to be a default expression of his. Still, you’ve spent enough time around him to note that he looks quite… serious. Concerned.

“... Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask, eager to rectify whatever was upsetting him. You so want to impress him. Badly. 

He holds up his hands, as if saying, At ease. “All you can do for me is let me know that you’re alright.”  

You offer a pitiable smile, warmth swirling in your chest. “I am. Thanks for asking– and I’m so, so sorry about today–” 

Nightwing waves you off, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it could’ve–”

“--Happened to anyone,” you finish, nodding. You look down.

“... Although I admit…” 

Your head snaps to attention. “Yes?”

Nightwing then sighs. His gaze falls to the floor. He tuts and shakes his head as if troubled. You swallow drily. So focused on him, you don’t even notice the circles his thumb kneads into your shoulder.

“Your performance today.” Your throat clenches. Nightwing’s gaze returns to you, hard and critical behind his mask. “Well, frankly, it left much to be desired.”

Your heart plummets, hitting the pit of your stomach. You’re mortified. You haven’t been meeting his standards? Did everyone else think that? Were their hopes misplaced? You feel the thrum of anxiety jitter underneath your skin as you bow your head. Your gaze now captures the two feet keeping you upright.

There’s a stroke to your cheek, to which you flinch. 

“Hey.” Your head whips up. You look up at him, into white lenses that have the ghost of his eyes behind them. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.” 

His face is gentle and consoling. You exhale. He’s just being honest, you think. He’s just being honest. Nothing wrong with some constructive criticism. You let him sit you down on the edge of your bed.

“H-how can I improve?” you ask, voice croaking. “I know I fucked up today. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you or anybody else–”

“Hey,” he says again, soft and delicately. “Listen, it’s alright. I’m going to teach you some things. How to resist better.” 

You nod, slowly, anticipating some verbal advice. 

You watch him with anticipation, giving him your full attention– and then, he kneels before you. You instinctively feel alarm at the increased proximity, before you swat it down. His head is level with your lower abdomen, uncomfortably close to your lap. You don’t have to make it weird, you scoff at yourself.

“... Y-yes?” you say. 

“I’m going to take off your pants.”

You stare. 

Did you hear him right? Was he… joking? 

Clearly not. His hands land on your thighs, effectively drawing a sharp inhale from you. You both lock eyes. His face still holds the same vaguely amicable grin, but it’s now a leer. Your heart quickens. You don’t feel right. 

“... Nightwing?” you ask, feeling suddenly quite small. You don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on?

“You need to be able to withstand a lot more than you currently can,” he continues, talking as casually as if you’re speaking about the weather. You are shell shocked, frozen into submission at the touch of his hands pulling your pants off. His nails scrape along your skin when he has to use more force to jerk it free from under your ass, to which you still don’t react. 

What’s going on? your mind cycles on loop.

It’s when he pulls down your underwear you finally jolt, clumsily kicking at him. Which he catches of course. What a poor move, because your kick only enables him to spread your legs at his leisure. Heat rages to your cheeks. Though not entirely off, your panties do a pitiful job of concealing the tangle of hair nestled between your thighs. The mortification racing through your bloodstream makes you croak. It makes you keep throwing kicks and swats and punches until Nightwing is forced to sandwich your body against your bed. He pins your hands down to the bed, and you know by now it’s a lost cause.

“Help–” you begin, but Nightwing adeptly slips your wrists into one hand, and uses the other to silence you. He smiles bashfully, as if he hadn’t just stripped you without consent or fanfare.

“This is all for you–” At the furrow of your brow, he says, indignantly, “I’m serious! How easy was it for that guy to hypnotize you today?” The question throws a knife into your heart. “Or when last week you were apprehended? Or the week before that?” Each instance makes the burning building in your eyes more and more unbearable. He isn't wrong. Your tears build. He’s not wrong.

Nightwing slowly removes his hand off your mouth, anticipating another yell. You squirm, but don’t make a sound aside from shuddering breaths. 

His grin loses all its flirty qualities. It widens, self-satisfied and predatory. With his teeth he peels off his free hand’s glove, slides it down your torso to the apex between your thighs.

“No,” you whimper, to which he hushes you, lips by the shell of your ear for the second time today. His fingers explore without warning, tracing your labia and brushing against your clit. You gasp, but you don’t scream.

Nightwing tuts, shaking his head. “You’re already wet, I see.”

You tremble, filled with humiliation. “No, I’m not.” One digit delves deeper, experimentally. You grit your teeth.

“You want this,” he says, and you fill with dread at the condescension of his tone. Like this was expected. Like you had so much to learn.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You’re telling me you do.” His fingers – the pair that when gloved, there would’ve been two cobalt blue stripes – scissor inside you, and your breath hitches. “Your body’s telling me you do.”

“I-it’s a biological response.” At the feeling of his fingers swimming inside you, you whimper. This is insane. It can’t be happening. Yet you jerk and twitch with each of his motions. “P-please, I would… Please stop, now…” He doesn’t, pumping his sinful fingers into you. Teases you by dragging them out. 

You throw your head back, biting your lip. He’s panting into your ear – you’d think you were doing something to him, the way he sounds. Your overhead light beams into your gaze, dizzying. It burns, so you close your eyes, hoping this is some humiliating dream. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

“So you say– Hey.” He nips at your ear and you stir. “Look at me. Look at me.” You do so, and find him staring up at you. His mask is not enough of a barrier. Even if you can’t see them, you know his eyes are scraping over you, peeling your skin back, seeing you whole. Your embarrassment, your weakness, your shame.

“Please stop,” you whisper, eyes stinging. Your thighs tremble, to which he places his free hand on them to steady them. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. You’re teammates. He’s your captain. 

Nightwing sighs, looking disappointed. Oh no, your mind spirals. He’s disappointed in you. Despite you being desperately uncomfortable– violated– he’s at fault– he’s the one doing something wrong– 

Despite your logical brain asserting itself, you are flooded with a tidal wave of anxiety.

“That’s not good, you know,” he says, and he looks mournful. “Whining is just what they want to hear.” His fingers disappear from your body, and their absence leaves you in shock. Wanting.

Wanting? Do I want this? you think.

Nightwing is reaching behind his neck, tugging and pulling. Before you know it, he’s bare-chested. You don’t marvel at his body, like you would have just an hour before.

“Bad guys aren’t going to listen to you just because you beg.” A tear slips down your face. You swipe at it, but not quick enough for him to miss it. “And they won’t care if you cry… Maybe you don’t need to learn how to resist. You’re not cut out for it, I think,” he tsks. “Maybe, you need to learn how to endure.”

You feel something blunt and wet prod at your entrance, and that’s when the last remains of your primal fight-or-flight instincts kick in. You start to squirm, back arching off the bed. “Please, please, please– no– stop– I don’t want this–” His hand clamps down on your mouth once more, and hard. You push him with all your might, but it’s not enough. You aren’t strong enough.

“Just the tip,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. Just the tip. You can handle at least that. Just the tip.

He repeats it for himself, not you. This you realize as he enters anyway, despite your teary complaints. It is not just the tip; he bottoms out. “You can handle this. I know you can.” 

You’re so confused. You’re so, so confused. You merely clench your eyes shut, nodding at his encouragement. You don’t know what else to do. 

“I know, I know,” he comforts. “Don’t worry, you’re taking it really well. You take it perfect.” You cling onto his words of reassurance, no matter how twisted it feels. It’s the only anchor you’ve got. Each thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids, bed rocking. The ding of your bed frame hitting the wall is enough to make you finally quiet. The last thing you want is for the others to hear. To walk in and see you utterly helpless. Powerless. Incapable. 

You swallow your sobs, but let the tears stream freely.

“It’d be better if I just got you pregnant right now.”

You feel a cold knife of fear pierce your chest. He can’t. He can’t. You wouldn’t be able to be a hero anymore. 

“You’d be better suited for it,” he hums. You can tell he’s near, his hips snapping more frenetically, his words cut off with his own moans. You’re ashamed to admit moans of your own may have slipped out. You don’t even bother resisting at this point, hoping that if not your strength, then your body can satisfy him. Hoping at least that your body will meet his standards.

“Fuck,” you hear, and not a moment later you feel him shoot ropes of cum into your cunt. You can feel both his cock that throbs with each spray and the warmth spreading into you. You don’t know why you’re shocked at the sensation – it wasn’t as if he seemed keen on using a condom. Nightwing’s hands release you, having gripped you so hard you’re sure you’ve bruised.

He dots sweet kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. It should be all very sweet, but you can't ignore the poison of the circumstance. “You did so good, you did perfect,” are amongst the accolades he whispers into your clammy skin. You nod weakly, letting him kiss your tears away.

Nightwing dives in for a kiss, desperate to take even more than you’ve already given him. You return it, heart palpitating. You bat away the negative thoughts that threaten to swarm your mind whole. No more negative self-talk, after all. No self-deprecation. It’s okay. You took it well. You endured, like he said.

You did perfect.

[kbwrites]

Please Me!

synopsis: choso had fought battles and witnessed many horrors—yet nothing quite compared to the way his heart would race when you were near.

⚝ content: virgin!choso x f!reader, nsfw, oral (giving and receiving), praise kink, MOMMY KINK

⚝ a/n: never wrote for choso, hopefully this hits

⚝ wc: 1.8k

There’s only so much that advice can really help. Only so much that late-night tv channels can really prepare you. And that’s what Choso soon found out as he laid stiff as a board on the bed of his dorm. You, his darling girlfriend, were completely absorbed in the TV show you were watching. And completely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

Choso was new to a lot of things—being alive, streaming platforms, that weird feeling when you wave back at someone who wasn’t waving at you. He had fought battles, witnessed many horrors—yet nothing quite compared to the way his heart would race when you were near.

His honey-colored eyes steal glances, captivated by the way your lips part slightly as you focus on the TV. The soft glow from the screen highlights the curves of your supple skin exposed by your tank top and shorts. He can't help but notice the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest with each steady breath. Forget whatever’s on the screen; YOU were more entertaining than any show could ever be.

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling the blood rush from his brain. He was grateful for his blood manipulation more than anything right now—redirecting the flow elsewhere.

In the time before he met you, Choso had jerked off maybe three times. Once as curiosity got the better of him and then another time when he accidentally found the magazines his younger brother kept under his bed. The third time was right after a pool party, when he saw you for the first time in a bikini. He began touching himself almost daily after that, whining out sweet cries of your name as thick spurts cum leaked out of him.

And now that you were his girlfriend? It was even worse. He felt bad of course, unsure of how to approach you with these new emotions. Would you push him away? Think he was a pervert?

So he resorted to cumming to just the thought of you.

“Hello? Did you wanna order some food Cho?” He’s snapped out of his thoughts, heart thumping in his chest. Had you been talking to him the whole time? He took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure before nodding.

“Yeah… Pizza?” His voice wavers, trying to sound casual. You nod in agreement and climb onto his lap, peering over his shoulder at the phone as he fumbles with the delivery website. As you settle against him, his entire body freezes, every muscle tensing at the unexpected closeness. Your warmth against him makes his breath hitch, he can barely focus on the screen. The softness of your body pressed so close, combined with the gentle scent of your shampoo, makes it nearly impossible for him to think straight.

He finally manages to place the order, setting his phone down with a sigh of relief. His shaky hands, almost involuntarily, come to rest on your thighs, fingers barely grazing the soft fabric of your shorts.

“I-it’s done..” He breathes, looking up at you. You respond with a warm smile of appreciation, leaning down to give him a soft, gentle peck. The unexpected touch sends a jolt through him, and he moans almost instantly, a wave of embarrassment washing over him as he hears the sound escape his lips.

Kissing was normal, one of Choso’s favorite things to do after cuddling you. But tonight, with the warmth of your body pressing against him and the softness of your lips lingering on his, he found himself yearning for something deeper.

“Baby…” His voice is low and laden with longing, the word barely escaping his lips as he gazes into your eyes. You look at him expectantly.

“Can I… touch you?” The question catches you off guard, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. His golden eyes are filled with a pleading intensity you haven’t seen before. His hands, though hesitant, move slowly under your shorts, fingers gently squeezing the plush of your inner thigh with a needy touch.

“You mean…”

“Yes.” He interrupts you, his voice anxious and earnest. “Is that okay?”

You nod looking down at him, his pupils fully dilated a faint blush dusted around his tattooed face. He pulls you closer to him, groaning as you brushed his clothed erection. His lips latch onto your neck, feverishly sucking and licking your skin.

“I’ll be so good… I promise. Make you feel so good.” He mumbles into your skin. Your hands find his broad shoulders, holding onto him for support. Choso feels a rush of excitement as his hands roam your body, trailing hot kisses down your neck to your collarbone. His large hands snake under your top, exploring the skin of your chest.

He looks up at you as his fingers caress your breasts, pinching and flicking experimentally to see your reaction. His gaze eager as he takes note of what makes you make those deliciously addicting noises. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing the music to his ears as you whimper under his touch. Pulling away, his breath comes out in ragged gasps.

“Is this okay?” his voice low and husky as his index and thumb rolled over your hardened bud.

“Yes.. keep going. Such a good boy~” You gasp raking your hands through his hair. Choso swears his heart stops when the words escape your plump lips. His cock straining against his pants at the praise. Hips buck up, grinding against your clothed cunt.

“F-fuck.. Yes, I’m a good boy…” He purrs lifting your shirt up over your head. Choso takes a moment to drink in the sight before delving into your chest. Licking and sucking, your boyfriend slobbers greedily on your tits making you moan and whimper. He growls lowly as he latches onto your nipple, tongue swirling around as he hungrily sucks.

Coming up for air he parts, a trail of spit dripping from his mouth.

“Please… need more. Can I have more?” His words come out in jumbled fragments, strained and desperate as his hands roam eagerly across your body. Your mind is hazy, skin on fire as you feel your back hit the cool fabric of the mattress. Your boyfriend climbs on top of you, looking down through half-lidded eyes.

“Cho… please..” You whine, squirming under him, your thighs squeeze together desperately trying to calm the heat pooling in your core.

“Please what baby? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” His hands moving down your body, resting at the waistband of your shorts. You nod approval as he tugs at the fabric pulling them down your legs. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes fixated on your cunt. Staring in awe… so much better than he had imagined. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he eyes your wet entrance hungrily.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes Cho—” before you can even finish your thought he laps greedily at your folds, slurping up all of your slick as he explores your cunt with his mouth. His technique is sloppy, but damn it's intoxicating as his tongue licks and swirls around your clit like a man starved. He looks up at you through hooded eyes, completely drunk off of your taste. His hands grip your thighs pulling your closer onto his face, his nose bumping against the bundle of nerves as his wet muscle teases your weeping hole. 

“So good… tastes soo fuckin’ good.” His eyes roll back as your body arches against the mattress. You feel your body get hot as he continues lapping at your cunt. You mewled praises to your boyfriend making him moan, vibrations against your skin.

“Chosooo” You whine as his slender finger is sucked into your walls. He pumps in and out slowly, gauging your reaction. “Oh my goddd.” You cry out, knuckles white from gripping the bed sheets.  His mouth leaves your clit watching curiously as his finger enters your hole. Completely captivated by the way your pussy sucks him in.

“Fuck.. princess are you close? Tell me you’re close…” He whines grinding his clothed cock into the bed. He moves his thumb to circle your swollen pearl.

You nod, whimpering under his touch. “Close Cho~” Is all you can muster.

“Yeah? Me too baby me too.” He groans bucking his hips into the mattress. 

The building pressure finally bursts as your walls clench around Choso’s finger. He watches in pure amazement as your body shivers and writhes underneath me, slowly removing his fingers and bringing them to his mouth. Cum painting the inside of his boxers as he licks them clean. 

He climbs on top of you, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you catch your breath. He presses his erection into you, your eyes travel to the wet spot forming in your boyfriend’s jeans.

“Choso… did you?” He follows your gaze to his jeans, a wave of embarrassment flushing across his face as he moves off of you.

“I.. yeah. I did...” His tone sheepish as his cheeks flushed darker. “I couldn’t help it, you’re just so beautiful.. and— and hot.” He looked away, heart racing. You smile at him, crawling between his legs. He lets out a soft whine as your hand palms his hard-on.

“W-what are you doing?” His voice mixed with surprise and arousal. He watched your hands, his breath coming in short gasps as you fumbled with the button and zipper the anticipation of your slow movements making his brain foggy. “Fuck.. please. Touch me mommy.” His hips lifting as you removed his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free from its confines.

And what a marvelous cock it was. Not too thick but long, flushed rosy tip that was still leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. You stared at his length hungrily. Choso feels himself get bashful under your gaze.

“Is something wrong?” He questions, you can only chuckle in return. How could he not be aware his dick was so pretty?

Your hand wraps around his throbbing length, pumping slowly as you watch him squirm. His back arches, gripping onto the sheets as he lets out pretty whimpers.

“Does that feel good baby?” You coo as he nods furiously, biting his bruised lip.

“Yesyes.. Fuck m-mommy feels.. Goddd sogoodsofuckinggood.” He cries out, cock overstimulated from already cumming. The intense pleasure rendering him unable to form coherent sentences. His body quivers feeling your soft hands stroke him, struggling to speak as his voice comes out as a shaky, gasped plea.

“Need to cum..” Choso whines as his face flushes. “Pleaseplease gonna—” He whimpers. Seed shooting out, hot spurts flowing down his shaft and your hand. Your tongue lolls out, tasting him as he throws his head back against the bedframe. His strong arms pull you onto him, pulling you into sloppy kiss as his tongue darts out to taste himself on you. You grin as you feel his cock twitch under you. He pulls back slightly, panting as his hands dig into the fat of your hips. Choso’s hips buck up into you as he grinds his growing erection into your cunt. You had created a monster, that much was certain.

“Need to feel you baby… ALL of you.”

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

I love your Husk pieces! He's my favorite =^.^= I wanna hug the shit out of him 😆

If you have time, could you do one where Charlie planned a movie night for "bonding" lol and the reader ends up falling asleep on Husk? Everyone ships them and encourages him to confess to her? So much fluff please! Thanks hon! ^.^

A/N: This is so adorable!! Love this! I hope you enjoy! XD

Pairing: Husk x fem!Reader

“Until I Smile at You” - Husk x Reader

After living at the Hazbin Hotel for a while, Charlie’s “trust exercises” had become less of an annoying nuisance and simply a part of daily life. Actually, they were kind of refreshing and - dare you say - fun! They ranged from trust falls and share circles to your personal favorite - movie night. Movie night happened once a week and every week the person who chose the movie rotated. This week was supposed to be Angel’s turn, but ever since he chose his movie to be the most graphic porn anybody had ever had the displeasure of seeing, he was banned from choosing the movies. Instead of Angel, the group decided to let Alastor choose. He was always a marvel, as his movies ranged from silent films to disgustingly gorey horror movies. Tonight, however, he picked a noir detective film that he enjoyed while he was still alive (not before endlessly complaining about how radio is the superior media form, though).

One thing that nobody could stand about Alastor’s movies was how much he talked during them. I guess it's because he's so used to working in radio that he cannot comprehend that maybe, just maybe, not everybody wants to hear his voice all the time. He would either explain every little detail about the leading actors or talk about a living memory that he associated with the specific scene.  This night, though, Alastor seemed so enamored by the movie that he was completely silent. You were sitting on the couch with Alastor, Angel, and Husk, and found your eyes getting slightly heavier with every passing minute. The combination of the dark room, boring movie, and precious silence was just what you needed to drift into a peaceful slumber. Slowly resting your head and body on the irresistibly soft and warm cat demon beside you, your consciousness fades in and out until your mind is finally met with sleep.

The second Husk felt your head meet his shoulder in a gentle embrace, he froze. He had only ever imagined this happening, and was nowhere near prepared for it to actually happen tonight. Despite his hard and tough facade, Husk craved nothing more than soft affection, and knowing that you trusted him enough to not disturb your slumber flattered him. He remained completely still (so as not to wake you) for more than an hour until the movie finished. Charlie, using the remote to find another movie, said, 

“Thank you guys for spending tonight with me! This was amazing! I think I’m going to put on another movie, if anybody wants to stay down here, but you’re welcome to go upstairs and go to slee-'' she is cut off when she turns around to see you asleep on Husk, practically beaming with joy. “AWWWWW-” she is cut off by Husk’s “Shh!”, partially because he is embarrassed but also because he doesn’t want you to wake up in embarrassment. This caused everybody’s attention to turn to the two of you, not quite as surprised as Charlie.

“I mean, are we shocked? He’s been fawning over Y/N ever since she moved in. Don’t shame the poor guy…” Angel says in a mocking tone.

Everyone’s eyes slightly divert, not wanting to completely show that Husk’s attraction to Y/N is anything short of obvious.

“Shut the fuck up, man” Husk replies. 

“I’m not saying that she’s told me that she likes you back… buuuuut you should definitely just tell her. Trust me.” Charlie says, literally gleaming with excitement. 

Hearing this, Husk’s insides flip, his internal monologue running wild.

‘Did she- does she- could Y/N actually like someone like me? She’s just so… perfect. I don’t deserve her. But - let’s just - don’t get your hopes up, man. This could just be Charlie being Charlie, saying shit to make people leave their comfort zones or something.’

“Alright idiots, let’s not wake her up.” he says, sighing and gently picking you up. 

“I hear a single word about this tomorrow, and I’ll kill ya.” he says, while quietly walking to your room. 

He rolls his eyes while listening to Angel making fun of him and Charlie trying earnestly to defend you guys, saying something along the lines of “But this is how Vaggie and I started to fall in love!”

Opening your door as quietly as possible, he gently places you down on your bed. Covering you with blankets, he turns to leave until he hears your soft voice call to him:

“Was all that stuff they said about you true?”

Shit. You heard? Should he deny it? Pretend he didn’t even hear you?

“What?”

Deny it is.

“The stuff that Charlie and Angel said… about you liking me. Is that true?” you ask.

“I don’t know what kind of dream you were having, but everyone was dead silent during the movie, because, yknow, bonding time or whatever.”

He was avoiding your gaze until now, hoping that you would just accept the lie and go back to sleep. Instead, when he looked at you, he was met with your disbelieving face staring right back at him. 

“Mhm.” you say sarcastically. 

Moments of awkward silence lead to Husk trying to make a quick escape, muttering goodnight and walking to your door. He’s halfway out of the doorway when he hears your voice again.

“It’s a shame, I was hoping that what they were saying was true.” you say teasingly, just loud enough for him to come back into the room.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing” you reply, smugly. 

“Don’t do that.” he says, clearly intrigued but trying to seem annoyed. 

“Do what?” you say, teasingly.

“Satan, just tell me what you said. I don’t like playing games.” he says.

“Oh, but, clearly you do, if you’ve been ‘fawning’ over me since the day I've walked in,  yet.. said nothing.”

He looks - embarrassed. Almost hurt. 

“Fine, yeah, I like you. No need to rub it in and be an asshole about it, I know you don’t like me.”

You look at his diverting eyes and immediately regret your teasing tone.

“Oh, Husk, I wasn’t making fun of you, I was just being stupid. Come here.” you say, patting the spot next to you on the bed. 

He sits next to you, looking confused.

“Here.” you say, while holding his hands in yours. 

“Listen. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I’m sorry if it came across that way. I mean, obviously I like you too. Was it not clear?” you giggle. 

Husk’s eyes widened in shock.

“What- I mea- You like me? Why?” he blurts out.

“Why? Come on, don’t be dumb. You’re the funniest person I know, you’re always willing to listen to me, and you’ve never once turned me away when I needed help. And, you're truly handsome, but that’s just a bonus. You’ve made being trapped in Hell actually enjoyable, which is something that you should be proud of. I wake up everyday excited to see you, to talk to you. I just wish you would've told me that you liked me sooner (and yourself)” you say.

Husk’s eyes are glued on you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see, like he has to memorize your every feature before he blinks. He has never been more enamored with anybody before. 

In lack of a better response, all he can blurt out is, “Thank you!?”

You giggle, a slight blush creeping up your face. 

“And you are clearly tired. How about you sleep in here tonight? We can cuddle, or talk, or just sit with each other.” you ask.

“That - That sounds great.” he says, truly letting his guard down for the first time in years. As he lays next to you, finally becoming truly comfortable, he swears that he can see a white, fuzzy hand holding a phone by the slightly-ajar door.

“Angel, if that’s you by that door right now, you’re gonna want to run.”

You can hear the spider’s screams of “I GOT IT GUYS! THE FULL VIDEO!! AHAHAHAHA!” as Husk reluctantly leaves the bed.

“Excuse me,” he says, “I’m gonna go take care of this. I’ll be back.”

As he leaves, you start to realize how you got from the couch to the bed in the first place. Smiling to yourself, you savor the fact that, though you were condemned to eternal damnation, these people that you have found could not have created a better heaven for you.

[stevebabey]

not if it’s you.

word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]

You’re bone-deep tired.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.

It’s been a hell of a night.

You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.

It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.

The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.

Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.

The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.

But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.

Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.

It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.

So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.

He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.

Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.

“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”

The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.

“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”

Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.

“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”

Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.

“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”

He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.

If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought. 

You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.

He lets you pull him to his feet.

One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.

They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.

Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.

Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.

It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”

I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.

“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.

There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.

He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.

The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?

But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.

The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.

Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.

Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.

But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.

Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.

Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.

You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.

But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.

It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.

But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.

Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt. 

The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.

“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.

“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?” 

Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.

“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.

He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.

You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.

Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.

There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.

Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.

More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.

But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,

You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.

You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.  

It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.

But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.

He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.

It doesn’t stop him from loving you.

Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.

“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”

Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”

This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.

The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.

When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.

You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.

“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.

He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it. 

“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.

“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.

Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.

But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.

“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”

What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.

The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”

He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.

“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.

Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength. 

You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.

But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone. 

“Steve, you’re not okay.”

“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”

The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.

“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”

“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”

His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.

A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain. 

“Steve.”

“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.

“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”

You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.

Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.

“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.

How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly. 

“Can you just...let me take care of you?”

It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?

Silence stains the air.

“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”

Another beat of quiet.

“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.

Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.

It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.

As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.

Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.

When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.

If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.

Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.

You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.

Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.

“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”

It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.

It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.

For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.

He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.

The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.

You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.

Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.

Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.

Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.

A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.

He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side. 

He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.

But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.

The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.

You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.

“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.

You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.

Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.

You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?

Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”

He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”

“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.

“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.

“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.

“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.

“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”

He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves. 

Oh.

Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.

His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.

The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.

Steve Harrington is lonely.

When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.

His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.

“Why did this happen to me?”

It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.

“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“

“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”

“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show. 

“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”

Something twists painfully in your stomach.

“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.

The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“

You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.

Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.

It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.

“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.

“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.

Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.

“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”

His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.

“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.

You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.

Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.

Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”

You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies. 

“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.

He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.

Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.  

“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.

Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.

Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that. 

You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.

The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.

You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.

He does.

You stop moving.

His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.

You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.

Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.

“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.

His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.

Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.

You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.

You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”

There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.

His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.

The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.

You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.

“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”

You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.

“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.

Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.

That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.

Nancy had given him the thump of his head.

But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.

“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”

And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.

Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.

He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.

When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.

But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.

Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.

There are no nightmares that night.

—

tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie​ look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3

[alastwhorez]

A Soldiers Love

♡ Pairing: Soldier!Alastor x Nurse!Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor is injured during the war, and you're there to care for his wounds

♡ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, human alastor, oral, pet names, war, injuries, p in v, afab!reader, I think that's everything

♡An: I know Alastor wasn't alive in 1939, but for the sake of the story, let's pretend he was. Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

The year was 1939, and the world was engulfed in the flames of war. Alastor, once a charismatic radio host, now found himself in the uniform of a soldier. His sharp wit and charm were still intact, but the horrors of the battlefield had etched a new depth into his eyes.

You, a compassionate nurse, worked tirelessly in a field hospital, tending to the endless stream of wounded soldiers. Despite the chaos, your hands remained steady, your heart driven by a fierce determination to save lives.

One fateful day, Alastor was brought into the hospital, his body riddled with injuries, passed out from the pain. Your breath caught as you recognized the man who had once captivated the airwaves with his voice. Now, he lay before you, vulnerable and in need of care.

“Come on, stay with me,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the turmoil around you. You worked quickly, your hands moving with practiced precision to tend to Alastor’s wounds.

Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, the familiar spark of mischief returned. “Well, isn’t this a twist of fate?” he murmured, his voice weak but still carrying a hint of his old charm. Memories of Alastor saving you a few weeks prior from an enemy soldier flood your mind.

“Please, save your strength,” You replied, your focus remaining on tending to his wounds. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

As days turned into weeks, Alastor’s condition improved under yours and the other nurses' care. Despite the horrors of war surrounding you, a bond began to form. Alastor, once a voice that brought joy and laughter, found solace in your presence. You both shared stories, laughter, and moments of quiet reflection amidst the chaos.

One evening, as the sun set over the battlefield, Alastor and you sat side by side, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink. “You know,” Alastor began, his voice softer than usual, “I’ve seen many things in my time, but nothing quite like you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “And I’ve never met anyone like you, Mr. Hartfelt.”

As the night continued you and Alastor moved closer and closer towards one another. Alastor shared stories of his radio host days and wishing for nothing more than to get back to. He told you about his mom and how he missed her dearly. You told him about your life back home, about going to nursing school.

Ever since that night you and Alastor made it a tradition to meet every night. He would sneak away from his tent as night took over the skies and you once your duties for the evening were through.

The other nurses would tease you about Alastor, about how you two seemed to be glued to each other since the night you cared for his wounds.

Tonight was like any other night, finishing up work and getting ready to sneak away to the radio host turned soldier. All the other nurses on duty have called it a night and for once no patience In the medical tent. All you had left to do was finish cleaning up then off to see Alastor. What you weren't expecting was for someone to walk into the tent and hands to grip your waist.

You gasp turning around quickly only to come face to face with the man you've been craving to see all day. He was in his nightwear, pants and a t-shirt. His dog tags hanging around his neck.

Alastor looked down at you smiling as his grip on you tightened “did I scare you darlin’?” He said in a southern draw.

“Alastor” you say relieved “what are you doing here”

“wanted to see you, doll face” his smile growing. You took in his figure. Spotting a few cuts and bruises that weren't there the last time you saw the soldier.

“Why didn't you wait for me at our spot?

He laughs “I waited a half hour, you never showed so I came lookin’ for ya” your eyes widen realizing you were so busy finishing up work the time completely skipped your mind.

Alastor leaned down resting his head on your shoulder. “Got worried darlin'” his hands dip down to your hips “wanted to make sure you were alright” his voice deeper and the southern draw more prominent.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you first His shirt. He moves his head towards your neck placing a small kiss. “Been thinking about you all day, always thinking about you doll”

You feel your face Heat up at his confession. “Only thing that gets me through the day is thinkin’ ‘bout you and knowing I get to see you that evening”

Your hands find his hair and grip the strands “Al” you whisper.

“Want you so bad darlin’” his hold on your hips tightens, bunching up your uniform slightly causing it to lift higher up your legs. “Tell me you want me to, that You crave this just as much as I do” He places Another kiss to your neck this time right below your ear. “Have wanted you since I woke up here all those weeks ago. Couldn't keep my eyes off you”

You say his name again, more breathy this time as you tug on his hair.

“you have no idea how hard it is to share you with the other men. How much I have to hold back from killing them when they come back from here talking ‘bout the pretty little nurse who took care of them. My nurse, my darlin’” He nips you ear “you're mine right? My little sweet thing, my cute little nurse” He pulls your uniform up higher. “tell me you want this”

You nod “please Al”

He chuckles hearing you beg “use your words darlin’ gotta tell me what you want”

You whine against him when he pushes his hips flush against yours. “want you, have wanted you since you came here all beaten and bruised. So jealous of the other nurses who got to help you, got to touch you”

He smirks against your skin, letting out a breathy laugh. “aww is my sweet little nurse being possessive over her patient? Want to keep me all to yourself? Tell me love, what did you want to do to the other who helped me? Who helped me bathe, change my clothes, and the dressings for my wounds?”

You whine again. “wanted to kill em. Wanted to be the only one you needed”

Alastor smiles and starts walking you backwards towards one of the medical cots. “Wanted to take you since the moment I laid eyes on you sweetness”

“Oh Al, I want you too. Wanted it so bad. I would have let you.” the back of your legs hit the cot and you fall back onto your back Alastor hovering over you, his hands on either side of your head. He leans down his lips ghosting over yours “tell me you're mine”

“all yours Alastor” you whisper against his lips. He smiles before slamming his lips into yours in a heated kiss. Moaning at the taste of you.

You arch your back pressing Your chest Into his as you fist his shirt. Alastors hands move to your knees,sliding up towards your thighs, pushing your uniform up in the process. He parts your legs and lays in between them. His hips flush with yours.

You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, his cock twitching in his pants at the sound. You grind up against him and he starts to slowly rock his hips into you meeting you halfway. Alastor continues to hump Your clothed cunt.

He pulls away trailing kissing down your neck towards your chest. He starts unbuttoning Your uniform His lips following his hands down your body. Once he has your uniform removed he is face to face with your dripping cunt. He looks up at you with a silent question. You nod your head and he pulls your panties down as he trails kissing on your thigh. Biting and sucking the skin, leaving marks for Only your eyes to see.

Alastors breath fans over your cunt making you arch your back before he dives in. He starts off slow with kitten licks but you grind against his face trying to get more friction. He laughs and speeds up as he flattens his tongue against you giving you long licks.

your Moaning and whining as you fist his hair. Begging Him to keep going. You cum on his tongue soon after He inserts a finger, pumping slowly and curling it against the spot that Has you seeing stars.

Alastor Is grinding his leaky cock against the cot. Searching for any friction he can find, chasing his own release. He moans at the taste of you. You're the sweetest thing to ever grace his tongue.

He adds a second finger curling them when you scream out his name. He chuckles against you. Before long he has you finishing on his fingers as he licks up the juices. You pull him up To your face by his hair.

“Just fuck me already Al” you beg

He laughs “Such foul language for a lady”

You whine and wrap your legs around his waist grinding up into him. Feeling the outline of his cock “please, please need it so bad”

He laughs again “how could i say no when you beg so nicely hmm?”

You pull his shirt off of him tossing it somewhere in the ten as he pulls his pants down lining up at your entrance before slowly pushing in. You moan against each other's lips before he is claiming your lips again as he starts moving his hips. His dog tags rocking against you as they hang from his neck.

You scratch down his back leaving marks surely his fellow soldiers will see tomorrow. he groans at the feeling of your nails on his skin.

His hand moves down your body searching for your bundle of nerves. He starts rubbing as he picks up the speed of his thrusts. You cum for the nth time tonight, cunt squeezing his aching cock. You scream out his name in pleasure. He moans your name against your lips as he chases his own release, finishing soon after you, filling you up.

You two lay there In a comfortable silence as you both catch your breath. Alastor trails kissing over your face, and shoulders. Kissing the Marks he left behind as his hands massage your thighs.

“I love you Alastor” you whisper

“Love you too darlin'” he smiles down at you.

The next day you can't stop smiling, blushing everytime you see Alastor or someone mentions him.

The other nurses notice the bite marks and bruises on your neck and joke about Alastor giving them to you while the other soldiers see the scratch marks you left behind on Alastor's back.

His smile widens at their questions, and he smugly hints at the fact he claimed you as his the night before and hopefully every night to come after.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Won't go Home without You 🫂

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

RER2!Leon S. Kennedy x reader

♤

This.... this is very sad. I think. Maybe??

《Content》: Canon typical violence, Ex-boyfriend!Leon, neutral ending?? Idk it's tragic, but I don't know if I, personally, would classify it as a sad ending.

The order is here -> 🎂

Even after he'd broken your heart, you go after your ex-lover and unknowingly stumble right into your shared demise.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cursed frantically, running through the dark and messy halls of the Raccoon City Police Department, adrenaline pumping in your veins.

The fear that struck you right in the middle of your chest was enough to make your legs move like they've never moved before.

You thought the horrors outside in the streets were straight from a nightmare, but no one talks about how terrifying hordes of undead are when you're trapped with them with no way out.

The puddles of blood stemming from slaughtered police officers and other personnel almost made you slip more than once on the smooth floors. You had to push down the urge to empty the contents of your stomach so you wouldn't end up like the poor victims that lined the halls.

Rattling the handle of every door you came across you almost cried in relief when one finally opened.

You could hear the moans and groans of the moving dead as you barricaded yourself in the tiny office.

You locked the door, pulled down the blinds and pushed the heavy desk in front of it. There was a second door, one that would connect the room you were currently in to the one next to it.

Considering the other office's door was locked, you only used a sturdy chair to hopefully keep any unwanted visitors out.

With a heaving chest and the adrenaline buzzing in your blood you moved to the furthest corner and slowly sunk down the wall.

You managed to get in a couple of breaths, feeling how your lungs and ribcage expanded before the reality of it all clicked in your brain and the tears started flowing down your cheeks.

You wanted to wail and scream, maybe even hurl your guts out at how nauseating this whole situation was, but you could only manage quiet and pathetic whimpers with your hand firmly pressed against your mouth.

And to think you only got yourself into this whole mess because you were cursed with a heart too big for your body and you still cared about him. He was the entire reason you even stepped foot into this hellhole of a city.

At the thought of him you couldn't quite decipher what you wanted to feel first; did you want to scream at him and curse him to the high heavens for doing this to you or was the last thing you wanted from him to hold you, embrace you and never let go when you'd inevitably die tonight, as pathetic as it sounded.

You didn't know what you'd weep over first, your doom or the shattered pieces of your heart contained within your ribcage that cut into your insides.

Leon had broken your heart, maybe a week ago, just to leave you behind and follow his dream. The fact that you weren't in his dream was enough to sting like disinfectant on a paper cut. Everything the pair of you had built or were planning on building, or so you thought, was ruined by his stupid sense of justice that never really did him any justice at all.

The punch in the gut that you felt when you woke up one morning to all his things gone and his key to your apartment laying on your kitchen counter while he sipped his morning cup of coffee with not a care in the world, was enough to knock the air from your lungs and any words from your throat.

He'd tried to explain it to you; that it'd be better this way, for both of you, and that he was sorry. His reasons were shit, to say the least. It would've hurt less if he'd just said he couldn't stand to look at you anymore.

Leon said he couldn't do long distance, that he needed his partner there with him and that, as a rookie, he wouldn't have time to call you anyway.

But all attempts at bargaining, that you'd literally follow him to the end of the world, were shut down immediately. He left you, stepping on the broken pieces of your heart as he walked out the door.

And he had the nerve to pull you into one last hug and press a gentle kiss to your forehead as if that would, in any way, fix the gaping hole that he'd left in your chest.

The crying burned all of your energy, you couldn't even find it in yourself to flinch when the infected right outside your door were stumbling over each other and torn of limbs like a newborn foal. As your hysteria subsided, the depressing outcome of your fate set in.

You would die tonight. Alone, heartbroken, in a trashed police station that, coincidentally, was the whole reason your lover had broken up with you in the first place.

Never to be found and rotting away until you fell onto the menu of the undead.

Your limbs felt like lead, your head was pounding and any little spark of hope or perseverance was snuffed out. You stood no chance.

Because, unfortunately, the media and every zombie movie ever had lied to you and the undead, were, in fact, not slow and dumb.

They were bloodthirsty, brutal and they would go after what they wanted. You had nothing to defend yourself. There was no way you could outrun them forever.

"Why zombies... why did it have to be zombies?!" You shouted at the sky, cursing whoever sat up there and got a blast out of making your life miserable.

You tugged at your hair as the tears started spilling again. What else as there to do?

You might as well write 'dinner' on your forehead and step out into the halls.

And then, from the corner of your blurred vision, you could see a light. A light that flitted around almost like... a flashlight? You wanted to hit yourself when you felt that faint feeling of hope bubbling up in your chest.

But, unless the infected had learned to use human devices (it wasn't too far off considering most of them were human themselves only a few hours ago), there was someone else out there.

The light was followed by gunshots and finally a door unlocking.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you scrambled off the floor, putting a good distance between you and the connecting door. The light was gone now, you figured its owner had done the same thing you did and barricaded themselves in the room.

But there was clear shuffling to be heard, and you could even make out a faint voice. Your whole body tensed in horror when the handle of the connecting door rattled.

You could've sworn you heard frustrated grumbling from the other side, but you didn't really give a shit when the whole door started shaking and the chair you'd lodged in front of it started to bend. With the limited vision you had, you quickly looked around for anything you could use to defend yourself.

You were about 93% sure that there was an actual person in the next room over but who knows what they're up to. Your gaze landed on a small potted plant.

Not ideal, but you figured a porcelain pot to the face could do a decent amount of damage. Maybe throw some soil in their eyes.

You raised the plant and kept your eyes trained on the door. The chair was cracking and the person seemed to throw their entire weight against the door, accompanied by laboured grunts.

The chair eventually gave out, as did the door, and the person stumbled in. You couldn't see anything, the flashlight that ignited your spark of hope just a few moments ago now burning away your retinas. You squinted, keeping a tight grip on the pot.

"Buttercup?"

Oh, fuck. You knew that voice. You knew that voice better than anything else in the world. This had to be a cruel joke.

"Leon?" You breathed, lowering the plant.

He quickly attached his flashlight to his belt and lowered his gun, making his way over to you in a few long strides.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Leon asked panicked, placing his hands on your arms.

You were frozen, not a single word left your mouth, the pot still in your hands.

You could only watch dumbly as his eyes searched for an answer within yours, a worried crease between his brows.

God, you'd missed him. You'd missed him so much. You could feel your heart, or what was left of it, twisting in your chest.

"I..." you forced out, eyes glistening with tears again. It was all you could muster.

"Why are you here?" He asked again, shaking you slightly. You could see the distress on his face.

".. You." You swallowed.

"Me? What do you mean?" His grip on you tightened, subconsciously you would assume. Your lower lip started trembling and you could feel another stream of hot tears spring from your lashline.

"I was worried.." You admitted with a shaking voice.

"I heard about the Outbreak, and I just wanted to know that you're okay." You cried, sobs racking through your chest.

"I didn't know there'd be fucking zombies!"

Leon was stunned and, suddenly, he regretted every decision he's ever made. He broke up with you, shattered your heart and you came here to check up on him? He could feel bile rising in his throat and his stomach churned.

He left you to keep you safe, to spare you any pain when he'd start his work on the force, and here you were, weeping your heart out, having doomed yourself for him.

"You... You came here because of.. me?" He asked, his own voice trembling.

You only managed to nod.

You must've been a sight. Crying over your ex after having stumbled into Armageddon with a fucking potted plant in your hands.

Leon swallowed thickly, his eyes watering as he took the porcelain pot out of your shaking hands and set it down on the desk you'd previously moved in front of the door.

"Buttercup..." the strained petname tugged uncomfortably on his vocal chords.

You looked up at him, met his eye, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

"Why did you leave me?" You wailed, wiping at your seemingly endless flood of tears.

Leon's jaw clenched and he took in a shuddering breath, trying to stop himself from breaking down.

"To keep you safe. All I wanted... was to keep you safe." He replied, the words getting stuck in his throat.

"This is the shit I wanted to keep from happening! You were supposed to be as far away as possible from all of this. I didn't exactly calculate for walking corpses, but I didn't want you to be in danger because of me. Why would come here?!" He hissed, frustrated.

He was so annoyed. Annoyed at you for being too sweet and kind to leave things as they are and annoyed at himself for not protecting you better.

You were taken aback by his response, wide eyed and speechless. But you could see the clear panic and fear in the ocean of tears in his blue eyes.

"Because I love you, you fucking idiot!" You snapped, your distress being replaced by a raging fire of anger.

The confession stopped him in his tracks and all he could do was stare at you.

"I thought I was gonna marry you! Move into a house with a white picket fence and a big yard. Maybe have a couple of kids along the way and some pets -at least one dog and a fluffy cat- and then you decided to walk out on me to keep me safe?! Do you even hear yourself?"

Everything bubbled over. All of the anger, the heartbreak, the sadness, the distress. And you let it. You didn't care anymore if he got burned.

"Doesn't even fucking matter anymore because I'm gonna die here anyway." You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

"Don't... don't say shit like that." He heaved, harshly pointing a finger your way before burying a hand in his hair and tugging at the sandy locks.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. To keep you away from all the bullshit that comes with being a cop..." he muttered, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.

"And for the record... leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And I regret every second of it. I love you more than life itself, and you weren't just in my future. You were my future. And I ruined it." He sounded hurt and vulnerable as he laid out his heart in front of you.

"Give me chance to make it right. Please." He croaked out, a pleading look in his glistening eyes.

"Leon.."

the tears you'd tried so hard to stop came back in a flood, staining your cheeks. You gently cupped his face, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone before pulling him into a tight hug.

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around you and holding you as if you could vanish any second.

"Don't leave me again.." you begged quietly.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much." He cried into your shoulder, mumbling apologies and 'I love you's into the fabric of your sweater.

You held each other in that embrace for a while, soaking in your lover while everything else started to fade away.

Leon pulled his face from your shoulder and took your cheeks in his hands, wiping at your tears.

"I'll marry you when all of this is over, I swear it." He sniffled, watching as a sad smile followed by a wet giggle spread across your face.

"I love you." You whispered, sighing when he connected your lips in a passionate kiss.

The desperation Leon poured into the kiss was unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you didn't want it to end.

"I love you more, Buttercup." He pressed his forehead to yours in an intimate manner.

For a minute, it felt like just the two of you in the entire world, ignoring how you managed to mend your relationship in a trashed police office whole outside the gates the world was ending.

"We need to get out of here." He said quietly.

A dreading feeling settled in your stomach, but before you had a chance to respond, the TV mounted in the corner of the room crackled to life.

The room lit up, and you turned your focus to the corner and watched as the broadcast ran over the screen. Your eyes widened as you took in the words.

"They're gonna nuke the city..." you breathed out, swallowing thickly.

"What?" Leon exclaimed, panicked. Without a second thought he tightly grasped your hand and dragged you towards the door.

"We need to go." He said quickly.

"No, Leon, wait." You stopped him from moving the desk out of the way with a hand on his arm.

"Are you insane? We'll get turned to dust if we don't leave now." He urged.

"I... there's no way I'll make it through the night. You need to go without me."

Leon looked at you as if you'd lost your mind, and maybe you had, but it was either just you that died or the both of you.

He still had a chance.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" He hissed, grabbing your arm.

"Listen to me. You still have a chance to get out. I'd just slow you down." You explained, hoping, praying he'd understand.

"No, absolutely not. It's not over tonight. I-I won't go home without you- there is no home without you."

You bit your lip in order to hold back tears.

"Please, Leon. You can still make it." He shook his head, whether to say no to you or the option of leaving you behind again, you didn't know.

"I said I won't leave you again." He stated firmly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you into the corner of the room.

He sunk down onto the floor and pulled you into his arms, intending to never let go. You pushed yourself away from his chest and looked at him.

"What are you doing?" You asked frantically.

"I'm staying." Was all he answered, gently guiding your head back into the crook of his neck.

"It's gonna be alright." He whispered against your temple.

A lie, both of you knew it, but what else could you do. You melted into his embrace and braced yourself for what was to come.

One minute, it was just you in Leon's arms, holding each other lovingly, and the next, there was nothing.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This was my first time writing for RE2!Leon specifically, so this might be a little ooc!

I give out free hugs and tissues if you need one 🫂🩷

《Leon taglist》: @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy @dmitriene @argreion @allysunny @leonslittlekennedy @angelstargel @entr4p3

Lmk if you wanna be added/removed 😚

More Leon and other works -> 💫

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[astarionfreak]

Right now, you're mine

Words have been difficult lately so here's a quickie before bed. I bring you some lyrics from Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage presented as a 1K word Astarion x Fem!Reader smut (oral sex, bondage, possessive Astarion, Tav's a good girl) Song lyrics are bolded:

“Are you still comfortable, darling?” Astarion says, walking around you to check his work.

You nod. You’re on your knees and completely naked, save for the ropes that Astarion elaborately bound you with. His fingers were quick, and gentle, sapping up your warmth as he worked.

This was your idea, but after a few days Astarion seemed even more excited about it than you. He’d even practiced with the ropes quite diligently. As it turns out, he was a quick study.

“Good. And you remember the safe words we agreed upon?” He bends down to your eye level. There’s something more than just lust in his crimson eyes, there’s excitement — and — gods, love. All this time and his love for you still has not faded. Nor has your love for him.

Your arms are bound behind your back, knees on the floor, legs spread. You nod again. “Red to stop. Yellow to slow down.”

“Good girl.” Astarion stands, towering over you. He’s been shirtless for some time, but his trousers have remained on. “And if your mouth is . . . occupied?”

“I’ll use my teeth,” you tease.

“You absolutely will not use your teeth.” Astarion balks at the idea, and stares down at you with just the slightest hint of horror on his face. 

“I let you use your teeth on me all the time, Astarion. How is this any different?” You are aware that this is very different.

“My . . . member is not something to bite. An agreed upon nibble perhaps, but certainly no biting.”

“If your cock is in my mouth and I want to stop, I will grunt three times in a row. You'll know.”

“Thank you. That is much better. Now, where were we? Oh, yes.” He smiles, it's that same roguish grin that you’d fall for a hundred times. “You look so good, down there on your knees.”

You bite down on your lower lip, heart slamming against your chest, as you stare up at him. You are his, for tonight — and for as long as he’ll keep you. Unable to move. “Use my mouth now, please, Astarion.” Your pleading comes out as barely a whisper.

“What was that, darling? I couldn’t quite hear you,” he teases.

You swallow thickly. “Use my mouth, please. I won’t bite, I swear.”

He laughs, flashing you his fangs. “Such a good girl, surely you know how to please.”

His palm meets your cheek and his thumb presses against your lips and into your mouth. His thumb is salty, calloused, and warm from your skin.

You stifle a moan as he pushes it down against your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut and you suck, diligently, a promise of what you can offer to more intimate places.

You graze his thumb with your teeth, still teasing. Always teasing. But he trusts you and you trust him. Completely.

Your eyes are still closed as you listen to him work his trousers down and free his cock. The thought of him claiming your mouth sends a spark of desire through your body. A moan rolls up your throat and is muffled by his thumb.

Just when you’re starting to feel impatient, Astarion speaks. His voice is rough and coated in lust, “Look at me, look me in the eyes, my love.” He removes his thumb from your mouth.

When you open your eyes you’re greeted with his cock, so close to your face. Your mouth is open, wide, and wanting. You follow the path of his hips, his abdomen, his chest, to finally meet his eyes.

“If you obey my next command, I just might give you a treat.” Astarion tangles his fingers in your hair, he holds his cock with his free hand. You pull against his grip, trying to move closer — always closer — you want him. You need him.

His soft cock slides into your mouth with no resistance. You open wide for him, taking him as best you can. Like the good girl you are.

"Gods, that mouth of yours," Astarion whimpers. "It could destroy a man."

It has, you think but can't say. You whimper around his width. His fingers in your hair help guide your head to slowly bob along his length. He tastes like him. Like home. A taste that’s as sweet as every sin you’ve ever claimed and every crime you’ll ever commit.

Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. The heat in your core, your desire for him, deepens. You know he can smell it, your arousal. This is something you’ve done countless times before. He knows your limits. He knows how much of him you can take before it’s too much.

He groans softly, hips thrusting as he pushes deeper into your mouth. Until his cock is hard, and wet from your saliva. Until you can taste pre-cum as he bumps against the back of your throat.

“Forget yourself,” he groans. “Surrender your mind. Right now, you’re mine. All mine.”

Drool drips from your mouth, slides down your chin. You’re a mess, for him. His mess. His. All his.

I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm yours.

A particularly rough thrust and you gag around him. But it’s good. Delicious. Your jaw aches, but you want this. You need to please him.

You breathe when he allows you to, gasping with wide, teary eyes whenever his cock isn’t filling your mouth.

He's close. You can hear it in his moans, that familiar softness, the need for you.

He’s so fucking close.

You moan wantonly around his cock the next time he thrusts into you. You pay attention to your tongue, licking when you can — swirling when you find that spot that elicits the most debouched of moans from him.

"That feels -- hells, you feel so good," he chokes out.

You know his body just as well as you know your own, perhaps even better. It’s not long before he’s lost. Cock twitching in your mouth, thrusts losing their rhythm as he spills across your tongue and down your throat.

"Such a good girl. Gods. I love you." Astarion watches you with a reverent expression.

He untangles his fingers from your hair and stumbles slightly, staring down at you — his crimson eyes dark and hazy in the afterglow of his orgasm. You swallow, drinking down every last drop. Like the good girl you are.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers.

[junosmindpalace]

something sweet and all over the place because i'm travelling and i miss happy suguru </3

suguru’s washing your hair tonight.

he ritually goes through each step, all of it done with the utmost attention and care, not one step rushed or missed. to him it was a sacred sort of routine, a kinder one than what his job demands of him, performed mostly when you were too tired to lift your own arms, but not being able to shake off the ick you feel after a long day. 

you were quite particular about your hair, and you didn’t trust just anyone to handle it. but time and practice has proven suguru more than capable from various washing and styling sessions.

and if it wasn’t evident in his own silky and shiny black hair, currently tied back in a loose bun reminiscent of the one he always wore as a teenager, then it certainly was in the experienced way he massaged shampoo into your scalp with just the right amount of pressure, gently raking sections of your hair away to scratch next to your ears, and in the delicate way he angled your head as he rinsed product from your hair and scalp with cold water. 

he’s always loved your hair just as much as you love his, color and texture perfectly complimenting your skin and features. and just as much as he loves your hair does he love tending to it. 

not a moment of hesitancy in his movements, suguru is a man of habit. it comes with his job, with his cursed technique, consuming cursed spirits and all their filth. though he believes this to be a much, much nicer routine than the many he has to put up with day to day, a cleanse for both of you. 

it's this kinder routine that saved him years ago, he thinks. when overwhelming loss turned his world upside down and made him second guess everything he believed in. he reminisced on the ugly practices in his life—in the exorcizing and consuming of cursed spirits day to day, in having to deal with the horrors that come with being a sorcerer—and felt just as sick thinking on them as he did living them out day to day. but then a tender something grounded him, showed him that a sweeter routine existed for him. the routine of being able to come home to someone he loved after a day of work, to sit and talk and bask in the comforting presence of his favorite person. let his worries ease and pop away, like the bubbles in the tub, even if it’s for an evening. 

a kinder something keeps him going. back then, it was enough. for now, it’s enough. 

suguru’s never thought too hard about domestic life. he’s heard every happily ever after-- the running away, the settling down, the simply doing laundry and taxes together--never really believing himself capable of such a thing with his profession and the nature of his technique. but now he finally understands, and he can’t believe his good fortune when he thinks this to be his happily ever after, sitting on the fluffy carpet in your shared bathroom with his sleeves rolled to his forearms, gently blowing suds from the shampoo in his hands into your face when he takes notice of you nodding off, eliciting giggles from you that bring a smile to his face. 

“not yet.” he mumbles gently as he resumes working near your temples. “soon, i promise.”

and when soon comes after a couple more minutes of scrubbing and rinsing and exchanging lighthearted quips and anecdotes from the day, he’s toweling off your hair and body, slowly helping you into your nightwear. an earlier promise of food graced your senses as you stepped out of the bathroom, perking up at the familiar fragrance of one of your favorite meals. suguru slips into the seat opposite of yours at the small dinner table beside your kitchen and watched your shoulders sink as you dug into your food, cheek pressed into his palm as he smiled at your eagerness.

another kinder something- being appreciated in those little ways. in your tense shoulders relaxing against his hold, in your sighs of relief, in your content smiles and grateful kisses against his skin. another kinder contrast to his demanding life outside of the little quaint one he's been blessed enough to build with you, the chaotic one that exists in jujutsu society, where the expectation is to go through any amount of suffering to get the job done with hardly a hand of support.

suguru's cursed technique is more often than not a reflection of his life. of consuming and being surrounded by filth; the filth of jujutsu society and the sickening reality of his job. being burdened with the crushing weight that comes with being a jujutsu sorcerer; the expectation that sorcerers die regretful, that they’re not heroes, that they can’t save everyone, that his friends will die, that parts of him will inevitably die. 

but hopefully not this. with every tiring, worn out routine, suguru hopes that he can continue to come home to carry out this one. he thinks that coming home to care for you, to be appreciated, to laugh with you and hold you is the real thing keeping him strong. 

for now, this would be enough. for forever, he hopes, it would be enough.

[mockerycrow]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well ❤️ i saw you were taking requests and i wondering if you’d write a buck fic where him and the reader are having a stay in date and he puts on a horror movie thinking they’ll get scared and cuddle up to him but he’s the one who gets scared and they’re completely unphased, maybe even laughing at it, so it’s him who needs comfort. if you don’t get to this, ofc no issue. i just hope you have a lovely day/evening 🥰

Amused (Buck x GN!Reader)

GIF BY @cinematicnomad - masterlist

A/N: thank you for the request anon <3 i hope this is up to your standards, friend! also i apologize for not naming the movie, i don’t really watch movies :’)

WARNINGS: fluff.

Buck opened the front door to your house and quickly used his body to open it completely, a few plastic grocery bags in each of his fists. “I’m home!”

You peak your head out from the kitchen and give him a soft smile. You love how he refers to your house as home, despite having his own apartment. “In here! Did’ya get the popcorn?”

Buck snorts and makes his way to the kitchen, grunting quietly as he places the bags on the nearby counter. He looks at you with a smirk. “Of course I did. Can’t have a movie night without popcorn, now can we?” He said with amusement in his tone, taking items out of the bag and placing them on to the empty counter space next to the bags.

“No, no we cannot.” You murmur as you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. You press the side of your face and your body against his back, humming quietly from Buck’s body heat. You feel him naturally lean against you as he sorts the items on the counter. “You’re warm,” You mutter, pushing your face harder against his shirt. Buck chuckles and grabs the boxes of popcorn bags, glancing over his shoulder in an attempt to look at you. “You always say that.”

“Well, it’s true!” You laugh as you let go, snatching the boxes from him. Buck isn’t phased in the slightest, you have quite good slight of hand. He bends down to a low cabinet and he takes out this very large orange bowl you usually use to hand out Halloween candy in. You look at him and raise your eyebrow as you open a popcorn box, taking a package out. Buck laughs at your expression, sliding the bowl on to the counter near the microwave; near you, of course. You sigh and open the microwave, popping the first package inside of it and you shut the door, setting the timer and hitting start. You glance at the bowl and look back at him with more amusement. “Are you sure we’ll finish such a big bowl?”

Buck playfully scoffs and faces you, a shit eating grin on his face. “I’m a growing boy, y’know!”

“You’re 30.”

“So?”

You blink and start to laugh, grabbing on to the counter. Buck’s lips curl up into a smile, watching you lose yourself in a fit of laughter. Your laughter dies into a soft giggle before you turn to the fridge, opening it and grabbing two beers. “Usually I would want soda to set the mood, but I think we deserve a couple of beers tonight.”

Buck hums in response as begins to put away the rest of everything he had bought for the next weeks meals. “You think so?”

You smile and open the microwave after it beeped, signaling it’s done. You grab the corner of the popcorn bag and tear it open, dumping the steaming and pre-buttered popcorn into the bowl. “Yeah, I do.”

After a few minutes of popping multiple bags of popcorn, Buck makes a loud groan as he falls back onto the couch next to you, bowl of popcorn in his arm, wrapping the other around you. He grins at you, pure excitement in his eyes as he makes eye contact with you. “Are you ready to watch the scariest movie of your life?” He teases, situating the bowl partially on his leg, partially on yours. You laughs and wrap an arm around his torso, leaning into his warm body. His hand squeezes your shoulder and Buck kisses your temple. “Sure, sure..” You tease, grabbing the remote.

You turn the TV on and select a horror movie, pressing play.

——————————

Buck truly thought you would be snuggling up to him, a trace of fear in your tone every time you spoke.

He could never so wrong.

“sHit!” He yells, his hand suddenly grabbing your shirt. The bowl of popcorn now in your lap as you shove handfuls in your mouth. You laugh and swallow some popcorn, glancing at him. “Wait- you’re scared?” You ask, your face and tone filled with amusement. “Fucking Evan Buckley, the man who literally walks through FIRES every week is scared of a little movie?”

Buck stutters, a nervous laugh leaving him. “What? I’m not sCar- wHAT IS THAT?!” He yells loudly, leaning into your body instead of the other way around. You throw your head back and let out a echoing laugh, one of your hands slapping the couch as you can’t contain yourself. “It’s not funny!” He screeches, scrambling for the remote to pause it. You let out a wheeze laugh and close your eyes, tears brimming at your lash lines due to laughing. “Okay!” You giggle, clearing your throat as you look at him. Your laughter begins to die down. “Okay, it’s not funny..!”

You make a blank expression for a split second and then you begin to crack up, your head reeling back so fast that the thought of whiplash vaguely comes to mind. Buck’s cheeks tint pink from semi-embarrassment and he grumbles, pushing you gently and playfully. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want..”

You keep giggling as you ignore him pushing you and you move the bowl from your lap, wrapping your arms around Buck and pulling him into your chest. “Sorry, I know, it’s just so fucking funny, babe,” You say with a smile on your lips. Buck childishly mocks your tone as he wraps his arms around you, immediately relaxing. You rub his back before trailing up to scratch his scalp. “It’s not real, Buck. It’s fine.”

He hums in appreciation, closing his eyes to completely enjoy the moment. You snort and murmur, “Let’s just hope you remember to keep the closet door shut.”

His eyes shoot open and look at you, narrowing, yet he’s letting out a laugh. “[Name]!”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Seven Days to Fall Again | Friday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary:Caught in the rain, trying to get to you. You tried to go out to clear your head but he wants to make sure you know he's always looking out for you. Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 4.3k (longest chapter so far lol) Warnings: Smut (too lazy to add specifics lol), Explicit language that's it lol a/n: Hey guys so uh...got a little carried away with this one but I said this a little while ago but Friday really didn't have much of a plot in the mv so I kinda just went with whatever felt right. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! p.s. barely edited and written in one sitting but I figured I might as well post it lol Start from the beginning

I'm going out tonight, nothing major or anything I just wanted to go out so I can get him off my mind even if it's only for a few hours.

Walking into the restaurant I'm greeted with a big group of my colleagues and I slide in next to one of the girls while I greet everyone. A couple of minutes later we all settle back into our own separate conversations with one of the many not so comfortable ones about to start. 

"You look like shit" Kayla whispers to me. She's my best friend so I'm used to her being this honest but it still comes as a surprise sometimes. "Thanks Kay" I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes at her before taking a sip of water. 

"No but for real what's wrong? You've been ignoring me for the past few days and then suddenly you're inviting everyone out like nothings happened?" she questions, knowing that something's up. "What's wrong with inviting people out? I'm sorry I haven't been answering you, I've have a busy couple of days" I say, not necessarily lying but knowing that I had the time to respond to her if I wanted to. 

I decided to just take what I had hoped for was a step back for a second to just do me but then I ended up dealing with Jungkook chasing me around instead so everything else just seemed like it was too much. "Whatever" Kayla says taking a sip of her beer, knowing I'm lying but deciding not to push it. If it were just the two of us I know she would shake me until I spit it out but she knows better than to do that in front of everyone. 

"So y/n, how are things going? We thought that Jungkook would've come with you" one of the girls at the other end of the table says with her boyfriend right next to her nodding in agreement. "Oh he had to work late" I say giving a simple excuse hoping they'll drop it and luckily they do. Before we're able to move on though my eyes widen in horror as I see the devil himself walking into the restaurant and look around until he spots me, giving me a soft smile with an unreadable expression. 

"Hey guys" Jungkook says awkwardly but comes up to sit next to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek to make things seem normal, being able to tell from my body language alone that I haven't told anyone about the breakup yet. 

"Hi Noona" he whispers in my ear making me shiver. I scold myself for letting my body betray me but I can't really do much to change it anymore. I pull away from him and take another drink of water trying to cover up things but I can tell from the slight smile on his face he know he's still got a hold on me. 

"Oh Jungkook! Y/n was just saying how you couldn't come because you were working late" the same girl asks, curious for an explanation. I know she means well but this girl just doesn't know when to quit. "Oh I wanted to surprise her" he says draping his arm around the back of my chair. It's luckily an answer that satisfies all of them and the conversation switches to another topic soon after. 

"What are you doing here?" I turn and whisper to him, making sure the people around us definitely won't hear. "I went by the apartment and I saw that you weren't there and I got worried. You still share your location with me so I wanted to come and make sure you were okay" he says placing his hand on my thigh as a way to show his sincerity and also play the part of still being a happy couple. 

"Well as you can see I'm fine so you can leave now" I say and pull back giving him a pointed look but before he can respond another person from the group speaks up. "What are you two love birds talking about over there?" one of the guys teases. "Wouldn't you like to know" Jungkook says with a smug smile taking the burden of having to come up with an excuse off of me.

"How have things been with you guys though? It's been a while since either of you have been out with us?" another girl asks. When did tonight become a ask y/n and Jungkook 20 questions? Why can't we just drink and eat and talk about anything but us, even though there's not really an 'us' right now. 

"Things have been good, yeah we're- oh look the food is here!" I start but I'm thankfully given an excuse to turn the topic to something else as the waiters place all of the various side dishes in front of us as well as the raw meat to grill with everyone's minds are now focused on getting everything ready to eat. 

Jungkook gets a piece of meat off the grill and adds it to his ssam and I go to do the same but as soon as I'm putting the finishing touches on mine Jungkook holds his out and offers it to me. "Open" he says, urging me to let him feed me and I give him a dead pan expression, annoyed that he would even go this far. 

I look around the table and see the others taking little glances at us and commenting on how cute we are and so I turn my eyes back over to him and open my mouth for him to put in and he does so happily, watching attentively and making sure I don't choke on anything. 

Once I've chewed a bit I continue filling the one I was working on and instead overfill it and hold it out for Jungkook to eat. He looks down at it, intimidated by the size but once I cock a brow at him he opens his mouth receiving it and the next second I shove it into his mouth, leaving him coughing and struggling to get it down. 

"Is he okay?" one of the guys asks me. "Oh yeah he's fine don't worry about it. Aren't you honey?" I say, daring him to say otherwise and he simply holds up an 'okay' sign with his hand as he coughs and tries his best to chew and swallow everything down which annoyingly he's able to do. 

"How did that taste love?" I whisper to him with a sickeningly sweet smile, payback for him showing up here even though he knew I wouldn't want him here. "Was that really necessary?" he questions after taking a few gulps of water. "Was you coming here really necessary? I told you to leave me alone" I whisper to him and at this point I sound like a broken record. 

"I want to talk to you though" he responds doing just the same. "And until you let me I'm just gonna keep showing up and bothering you until you give me a chance to do so" he says, finally admitting to his nonsense tactic to getting his way, clearly making his younger age show. I stand up abruptly, and decide that I have given up on keeping up appearances and make moves to leave. 

"Sorry guys I'm not feeling well so I think I'm gonna get going" I say and open my purse and hand Kayla twenty dollars to cover my part of the bill. "You okay?" she asks and I say yes but she can clearly see that I'm not. "I'll be fine guys don't worry I'm just gonna head home and get some rest" I say and when I start to walk away Jungkook follows after also following suit to give Kayla more than enough to cover for us. 

"You can stay here and have fun with them" I says sweetly, putting up an act for them but using it as a threat to him. "No it's okay Jungkook go help take care of her we'll see you guys next time" one of them says but before I'm able to disagree Jungkook jumps in. "Thanks for everything guys" he responds before ushering the both of us towards the exit. 

Before we step outside the door though we finally notice it's started to rain, and not just rain but a full on downpour. "When did it start raining?" I ask looking at the world outside as it looks a though it had been raining for ages already. "It looked kind of cloudy when I came in but it wasn't raining yet" he says, just as shocked by the sight. 

"Lemme call us a cab" he says and pulls out his phone to do so. "No I can get one myself" I say and take a deep breath before walking out, no rain jacket, no umbrella, nothing. I just need to get away from here and away from him as soon as possible. "Y/n where are you going?" he says and runs after me and before I'm even able to try and hail a cab I can clearly see that there are none in sight. 

"Just come back inside and we can wait for one and if you want we can even take separate cabs" he offers trying to meet me halfway. "No, I don't need your help" I say and blindly start walking away, hoping he will just go back inside and leave me alone "Noona wait it's too dangerous!" he calls after me but I don't even bother looking back. 

"You know you're going the wrong way right?" he yells, hoping to get me to turn around and let him help me. "I don't care" I yell back and start walking faster. "Where are you going?" he yells, making sure to still stay close. "Away from you" I say and keep going on my journey to no where. 

"Just let me help you get home okay, please" he begs but I don't budge, I'm gonna keep walking until he gets tired and finally leaves me alone. "You know I'm not letting you walk these streets all by yourself right? As long as you're out here I'm staying with you" he say, seeing right through me but I keep walking anyway.

~~~~~~ 

I keep walking and walking until we've come to that same bookshop I had been in just yesterday, finally taking notice of just how far I've walked. I finally stop and catch my breath for a second, trying to figure out what the hell kind of point I'm trying to prove here but I can't come up with one that is big enough to do something ridiculous like this. 

He catches up to me a few seconds later and just stands beside me, not trying to get closer and not bothering to say anything since he knows it would probably just make me even more angry. 

We stand there for a second and I look up at the sky, taking a deep breath before looking back over at him where he's just standing there and looking at the wet ground around me, not making eye contact with me either, just making sure that I know that he's going to be right here standing next to me no matter what I say. 

I take another deep breath and swallow my pride before holding my hand out for him to take. He shifts his weight away from me and just stares at it for a second, trying to figure out what caused a change in heart that I would not only stop but ask for him to grab my hand. 

"So you gonna take it or not?" I ask getting irritated that he's taking too long to make up his mind and at that he reaches his hand out quickly and places it in mine before looking back up at me with a questioning gaze. Instead of responding I just tug on his hand and turn us both around to walk back the way we just came and start heading back home.

~~~~ 

Once we get to the door I immediately grab my keys and open up, letting the both of us inside. "Fuck I'm freezing" I say taking off my shoes and stripping off my sweater, forgetting the tiny tank top I'm wearing without a bra and I don't even notice until I turn back around and see that he's staring at my chest, nipples cold and hard and when he he notices I'm staring at him he looks up at me with an intensity I haven't seen in a while. 

I look at him, drinking in his figure as well seeing how soaked his white t-shirt is and how his pants are clinging to his thighs. I gulp and look back up at his face where his eyes have gotten even darker from observing how I was checking him out as well. 

He takes a few steps towards me and I stumble back against a wall and am forced to watch as he takes a few steps closer until he's looking right down at me. He takes his hand and reaches for the one he had been holding before and then brings it up to his lips giving it a kiss. 

"Why did you let me in?" he questions, his voice deeper and a bit strained from breathing in the cold air from the journey here. "I-i don't know" I whisper and my eyes flick down to his lips unconsciously and he takes that as a sign to keep going. 

He places his other hand on my cheek and I flinch a bit at how cold it is but lean into it a few seconds later, welcoming the fluttering feeling it stirs my my stomach. He leans down and rests his forehead against mine causing me to close my eyes, feeling like I'm burning under his intense gaze. 

"What are you doing to me?" he whispers and all I can do is try not to whimper in response. He tilts my chin up and brings his face closer and rubs his nose up against mine making me feel breathless at the slightest sign of intimacy no matter how small and I find myself unconsciously wrapping my arms around his neck. He in turn leans in and closes the distance between us, kissing me softly but still coaxing a whimper out of me, missing the feeling off being wanted by him. 

He moulds his lips against mine and brushes his tongue along my bottom lip and I open my mouth at the feeling, letting him use his tongue to explore my mouth, making butterflies fly in my stomach and leaving me moaning softly as I welcome him in. 

I take my hands off of his shoulders and feel for his jacket and start to push it off of him which he obliges and I reach for his shirt and push it up to help him take it off and he parts from my lips only for a second to slip it over his head. I touch his bare skin and even though we were so wet and cold his skin has already started to heat up leaving me not being able to take my hands off of him.

My hands travel up and down his abs and pecks that have both gotten more defined since the last I had seen them and before I'm able to think about it any more he trails his hands down my hips and  continues to trail them down and grabs the inside of my thighs before he breaks apart our lips again telling me to jump and I do immediately, kissing him as he walks us both back to the bedroom. 

Once we get there he helps me out of my tank top and traces his hands along my bare back while pressing me closer into him our chest now flush against each other while it almost feels like he's trying to hold me even closer, not letting go and devouring my mouth until he trails his hands along my curves and fiddles with the button of my pants and waits for me to say something before actually taking them off. 

Still kissing me I part for a second and utter a hurried 'yes' before he's unzipping them and taking everything off leaving me completely bare and I help him get out of the rest of his clothes right after. 

We both fall onto the bed together and never stop kissing and I part my legs for him to lay between. He runs a finger along my slit making me whimper against his lips as he teases my clit and then circles it around my entrance and then slowly slips a finger in making me let out a restrained moan, being sensitive from not having been touched by him for so long. 

"Shit" he says feeling how tight I am just from putting in one finger and working it in and out of me, coaxing me to stretch out for him. "Jungkook" I whimper when he adds another digit and he swears again at how much I'm clenching around them. "Relax baby" he whispers rubbing his thumb against my clit in circles to help me calm down and open up enough so he can slip another finger in. 

"I haven't fucked you properly in a while huh?" he says between kisses, curling his fingers up inside of me making a breathy moan spill past my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut. "I don't know if this tiny cunt can even take me anymore. Do you think it can?" he asks rubbing his nose up against mine while he curls his fingers inside me again.

I nod my head but he's not satisfied, "Words Noona. Do you think this pretty little cunt can take me again?" he pushes and rubs his thumb around my clit again while thrusting his fingers inside of me. "Yes" I moan out and he luckily decides not to tease any longer. 

"That's a good girl" he says before taking his fingers out of me and placing them in his mouth, savoring my taste before he leans down and kisses me again "Almost forgot how sweet you taste" he says and before I'm able to even think about responding he pushes the tip inside making me let out a breathy moan. 

"Fuck I missed this" he says pushing in a bit more, giving me time to adjust before going in further. "Jungkook" I whimper, not being able to focus on anything but the sensation of feeling him bare and going deeper and deeper. "I know baby, I know" he says pushing in more while placing a kiss on my temple before bottoming out. 

"Looks like this pretty cunt is greedy isn't she?" he says while rubbing my clit, helping me get used to him. He rests his forehead against mine and lets labored breaths in and out, relishing in the feeling of my walls clenching around him. I nod my head and he takes it as a sign to move and he pulls out half way before pushing all the way in, setting a more gentle, sensual pace that leaves my brain fogging up with thoughts of only him. 

He pulls out all the way and presses back into me inch by inch, savoring how my walls are sucking him in. "Please, faster" I say, throwing my head back on the pillow, dying from the slow building feeling of my orgasm, wanting to be granted release sooner. "Patience Noona" he taunts and he presses back in but pulls out and gives me a shallow hard thrust leaving my back arching up into him. 

He quickens his pace and starts kissing on my neck, leaving marks in his wake and soon thrusting into me harder while I let out restrained moans. "No Noona let me hear you, I wanna hear you scream my name" he growls and starts thrusting into me at an animalistic pace. "Fuck Jungkook" I moan, starting to get closer to my release.

"What is it pretty?" he says slowing down the pace, leaving me whining at the feeling of my high coming down again. "No" I say throwing my head back into the pillows, hating that he robbed me of it. "No what? I just gave you a chance to tell me what you wanted, I couldn't hear you over all of your moaning" and he punctuates his sentence with a sharp thrust earning him a choked moan coming out of me and feeling me squeeze around him. 

"Does Noona wanna cum?" he taunts, giving me another sharp thrust. "Jungkook please" I beg, pulling him closer to kiss him but he stops before our lips touch. "I don't know what you want me to do unless you tell me" he says, lips brushing against mine but not close enough to kiss. 

"I wanna cum, please" I breathe out and at that I see a mischievous glint flash in his eyes before he kisses me and pounds into me harder than he had before and swallowing all of my moans of pleasure. 

"You close?" he questions after a while, already being able to feel the answer but making me say it nonetheless. "Shit y-yes so close k-keep going" I stutter, about to tip over the edge and seconds later it all comes crashing down, leaving me arching into him and dragging my nails along his back and he groans at the feeling and cums seconds after that, fucking us both through our highs. 

Once he's emptied out he keeps on thrusting until I whine from over stimulation and kisses me while he pulls out, me hating the feeling of being empty again. He lays down on top of me for a second as we both catch our breaths but soon rolls off and lays next to me while we both take a second to slow down our breathing. 

Without a word he sits up and walks over to my side and scoops me up in his arms. "What are you doing?" I ask throwing my arms around his neck. "You need to go to the bathroom and then we need to clean up he says, making decisions for what I need to do before giving me an option like always but I decide not to mention it this time, staying silent and waiting for him to put me down. 

He sets me down on my feet and turns around to turn on the shower and walks out into the hallway to get us both towels, giving me a bit of privacy to do my business before coming back in. When he comes back he opens the shower door for me and lets me walk in, holding on to make sure I don't fall before coming in after me.                         

We both stand there in the shower getting warm under the water as the doors and mirrors get fogged up in turn. 

Neither of us talks for a while until he puts some body wash in his hands and lathers it up before rubbing it onto my back and shoulders, talking his time to wash me from head to toe, cleaning and massaging all of me to make sure to loosen me up so I won't get sore. 

He's does this every time we have sex, or had sex since it's been a while and I welcome it, hating and loving the feeling. Feeling guilty about letting him take care of me like this when all I've done is push him away. 

As he finishes up he takes my shampoo and conditioner and washes my hair as well before rinsing everything off of me and switching places with me gently so he's in the direct stream of water so he can wash himself as well.

While he has his arms up and is scrubbing his scalp I wrap my arms around him from behind and rest my cheek against his back. "This was a mistake" I mumble and at that he freezes before hurrying to rinse the shampoo out of his hair so it doesn't get in either of our eyes. 

"Is that how you truly feel?" he asks, sounding disheartened but knowing that something like this was going to happen if I still wanted to push him away. "Yeah. Well, I don't know" I say, being honest with honestly not knowing how I feel. 

He turns around to face me and looks down while cupping my face in both of his hands. "Do you want me to leave?" he asks, his eyes going back and forth between mine searching my face for answers and finding the one that says I want him to leave and he utters an silent okay before I even have a chance to say anything.

He opens the shower door and closes it behind him, taking one of the towels and drying off his hair quickly before wrapping it around his waist and walking out of the bathroom. I let out a pained sigh and feel a rush of emotions flood my system with senses of doubt in all of my dealings with this.

'Do I want him to go? Do I want him to stay? Do I want to be with him? Do I want to break up?' those as well as many more are the questions that go round and round in my head without answers. 

The thing that breaks me out of that circular train of thought though is the sound of the front door closing behind him as he walks out and the next is the sound of my sobs as I hit the floor, finally let my heart break.  

Thursday / Saturday Series Masterlist

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[oceanblvdst13]

"SLUT!"

mentor finnick odair x victor fem!reader

summary : capitol's darling has gotten quite the reputation after snow's menaces, finnick comforts her through her frequent crisis.

warnings : FLUFF , mentions of finnick' trauma and whatever comes with it

"in a world of boys , he's a gentleman"

. ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Beautiful is what your surroundings called you. Not hot or sexy, but breathtaking. Spending sunrises and afternoons on the beach with your friends shaped your days. They all spoke about their experiences but you were far too ignorant to try anything with anyone. Too sweet, too innocent.

Until the reaping, where you met Finnick. He had tried his best to help you win the games and was now beating himself up for it every night . Deep down , the second he met you , Finnick knew that your death was imminent. Either physically in that arena , or either mentally where you would have your body and soul stolen in the bed of Panem's elite at your return.

To his great disgust and to Snow's pleasure, you had won the games and became their jewel. Not only were you extremely desired one to one, but Panem loved your overly sexualized exhibits. The people were loving it and the traction was stronger than ever. New skimpy outfits every week, dirty jokes anytime you were interviewed, your soft soul had been muttered into a so said slut while your heart was shattering, not being able to let go fully of its innocence.

Finnick blamed himself. He wished you stayed eighteen forever, that you didn't celebrate your nineteenth birthday in a strangers bed, that you didn't have to spend your life the way he did, which is why he came to you every few nights. To hold you to sleep and attempt to wipe the horrors he's also lived a few years prior out of your head atleast for the time you slept. To seek comfort in your presence and kindness that still stayed nonetheless. But he didn't allow himself to think so selfishly. No, it was only for you.

That evening, routine catched up. Reminiscing about the days before all of it , and tears falling slowly on your cheeks in the dark, until you heard the familiar knock.

"How are you doing tonight love?"

"Okay." You responded, your tone of voice completely betraying your awnser.

Finnick knew. Words are hard and no one liked voicing their pain out loud. With him there was no talking about it, besides the sweet nothings he whispered into your ears.

His hands ran along your hips, lightly pressing on your shoulders, only to finish softly rubbing your back to sleep. Occasionally, he'd bring a hand up to your cheek to wipe a tear out of the way.

"I know baby, I know."

"You're not a slut, this isn't your fault."

"Give it time , time will heal everything."

Often , he'd kiss your forehead, in a protective mentor way and other times he'd kiss your neck in a much more personal way. Those times were the days you could actually get some rest. You didn't have an idea of love , since you never got to experience it before your dignity was stolen from you, but you'd imagined this is how it felt like. Dreaming of a world where you would be Finnick Odair's girl and not Panem's sex symbol.

Finnick did not have to imagine, he knew he was far inlove with you, the attraction he felt for you on the first days had sealed into total obsession after the dark bond you too shared. By saving you , he was also saving himself in a way. Finnick did not stay dreaming though , and actively worked against Snow for a day you could safely and slowly fall for him. He'd wait years , for you to learn love all over again and know the shivers and butterflies. For you to get to live , to leave him if you felt the need too. He would've given anything to see his girl happy.

And eventually, he did. Capitol had left its scars all over you and moved to the next one but Finnick was more then happy to heal each and every single one of them when he found out about the perfect thing, you fell just as hard as he did <3.

[vinyldreamsfuckup]

Heyyoo^^ I love the story you wrote about my last request and now I’m hooked^^ :) - if you can or have time - also this might be a bit weird but if you’re comfortable with it - I was thinking more of a smutty/fluff plot?

Slash and the reader are dating but haven’t really had sex yet nor talked about it - slash knew that the reader was shy about that stuff and didn’t push any further to make her comfortable. - it wasn’t until one day when slash walked through the door from rehearsals. He was putting his stuff away in their shared apartment when he heard something from their bedroom.

He walked down the hallway and saw that the reader was masturbating in their bedroom. He was surprised as she didn’t seem like the one to do such a thing. He was amused by the sight that he couldn’t help but watch.

He finally decided to walk in and surprise her as she sat there embarrassed and shy hiding away her body from him. He walked over to her and sat down beside her wondering what made her so horny? He finally asked and she admitted that when slash had walked out of the bathroom with a towel low on his waist she couldn’t help but stare at his happy trail and that she found it kinda hot.

The rest is up to you :) - thank you for writing my requests and of course for coming up with good stories :3

A: omg no I love this. Thank you for all the requests I really love doing them. I hope I did this okay! Send more if you want tbh 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Warnings: praise, cussing, fluff, masturbation, smut, unprotected p in v, choking

You and Slash had been dating for a few months now and sex had not really been a huge topic of conversation. Surprisingly. Slash was constantly horny and the band was quite…open about their sexual conquests. But when you and Slash were alone you never talked about sex, you never had sex, and that didn’t seem to bother either of you all that much. You enjoyed each others company and being able to cuddle, watch horror movies, and make out.

Slash would usually spend the night and you’d fall asleep to the sound of him playing guitar or cuddled up watching some movie he was really into. But up until this point you had never seen him naked. Besides when he’d go on stage shirtless or sleep in his boxers. Which you’d always go home and get off to on your own time. However, things were changing. Slash was moving in. You were excited to help him get all this guitars set up and help move all his stuff in.

After you got most of the boxes upstairs Slash decided to take a shower. You sat on the couch carefully fiddling with a string on the edge of your shirt imagining what it would be like to shower with him. What it would be like to kiss down his body. To wrap your hands around his-

“Oh god, what am I doing?” You shot up and walked into the kitchen trying to busy yourself with something useless. Washing dishes or something? Until Slash walked out of the bathroom. It pretty much took everything in you not to take him right there. Your gazed roamed down his chest which was still slightly glistening with water and down to his happy trail which made heat pool in your abdomen. And finally settled on his v-line, the towel very loosely hanging from his hips.

“I have band rehearsals tonight,” Slash said not even realizing you were staring. Your gaze shot back to his face.

“Okay,” You said breathlessly. You turned around and started putting dishes away.

“You okay?” Slash asked, worry slightly lacing his voice.

“Mhm…a lot of boxes,” you tried to cover. Slash hummed out in agreement.

“I know. I promise I’ll help you unpack when I get back from rehearsal okay?” Slash said with a small smiled. You could give a fuck about the boxes, but you just nodded in agreement.

Slash left and you tried to distract yourself with dinner and unpacking boxes but the image of him walking out of the bathroom kept replaying in your head. His happy trail, the v-line, and oh my god how the towel hung on his hips. The heat in your abdomen pooled more. He wouldn’t be home for hours right? You totally had time.

You walked into your bedroom and slowly stripped. Your mind was fixated on the image of Slash as you carefully laid down on the bed used your fingers to trace circles around your clit. You were already so wet. You kept thinking about what it would be like if the towel fell. What he would look like. Would you have fucked him right there? Would he have bent you over the kitchen counter. A moan fell from your lips and you started to finger yourself.

Slash came home sooner than he normally would. He finished up early so he could help you unpack. He walked in and set his keys down and looked around. He saw your food that you left on the coffee table and a few unpacked boxes. He walked into the living room and started to unpack his guitar when he heard something from the bedroom. It was unmistakable. A small smirk formed as he carefully walked toward the room. Your breaths fell and the unmistakable sound of skin slapping fell from the room.

He walked up to the door and looked through the crack watching you as you moaned and pleasured yourself. He carefully pushed the door open and your head snapped over to him. You quickly pulled your hand back and grabbed the blanket.

“Slash…I…Um-,” you started.

“Well don’t stop,” Slash said with a smirk, “it was just getting good.”

A deep blush ran across your face and you covered your body. Slash carefully walked over to you and sat on the bed next to you, “no.”

You looked at him confused as he said no.

“You’re way too beautiful to be hiding your body,” he whispered and grabbed the blanket and crate fully removed it from your body. He grabbed your hand and gently sucked the juices from your fingers. Well fuck. You were done for, “not that I’m complaining baby, but what made you do this?”

“Well…um…you know…” you tried to say. He smiled and leaned forward kissing you. You could taste yourself on his lips.

“Tell me,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“Seeing you in the towel earlier,” you whispered out, “and your hips and your-“

Slash pulled back and pulled his shirt off revealing his bare chest and the happy trail you couldn’t stop thinking about, “my what?”

You reached out hand out and ran your hand down his chest and gently down his happy trail. A groan left his lips, “you like that?”

You nodded and he quickly grabbed your hips pulling you closer, “I don’t know I can wait any longer.”

“I don’t want you to,” you responded breathlessly. He crashed your lips together in a feverish kiss. Your hands went to his belt and quickly undid it and pulled his pants down. He was already hard. What a day to love the fact that your boyfriend never wears underwear.

You grabbed him and started pumping. A long moan fell from his mouth. He pushed you down onto the bed and kissed your neck. A soft moan left your mouth and he groaned in response.

“God you sound beautiful. I need to hear more,” Slash mumbled against your collarbone. He grabbed your boob and gently massaged. You reached down and grabbed him, lining him up with your entrance. He pushed into you in one thrust. A gasp left your lips as you stretched.

“Oh fuck…” Slash breathed out, “you’re so wet.”

His hips started to move after a moment and loud moans left both of your mouths. You moaned out and grabbed his arm. He smiled and moved against you.

“That’s it baby. So beautiful. So wet. You’re perfect,” Slash breathed out as he moved harder and faster earning loud moans to escape your mouth. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your neck. He smirked and gently wrapped his hand around your neck. Not to restrict air just to lightly restrain you. His other hand tightly gripped your hip and moved you against him causing him to take you deeper. He hit every spot causing your back to arch.

“Slash….oh my god…” you moaned out. He smiled and kept this pace hitting your sensitive spot over and over. You felt that knot form in your abdomen. His grip on you tightened. He moved his hand from your neck between your legs and rubbed against your clit.

“Cum for me baby,” Slash whispered. It sent you straight over the edge. You clenched around him as you orgasmed. Your hands scrapped down his back. You could feel his twitch inside of you. Slash’s movements became urgent and sloppy as he pounded into you. A long groan left his mouth and he released into you, his cum coating your walls. You both laid there breathless. He pulled away from you and laid down next to you.

“Why did we wait to do that?” You breathed out. Slash chuckled breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” Slash responded. He turned onto his side and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Let’s not make anymore dumb decisions like that,” you giggled and looked over at him.

“Agreed,” He chuckled and kissed your cheek.

[cupids-scream-queen]

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 4 // 1.7k words

-> Part 1 // -> Part 2 // -> Part 3

Warnings: stalking! Tame chapter, I know.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Over the next two days, you got closer with the gang. You still couldn’t shake the feeling of Billy and Stu being somehow related to your strange phone calls, but until you had concrete proof, you weren’t going to say anything. Even if they were related to it, you wanted to make sure of it, and twist their minds around themselves just as they’ve done to you.

Out of the two of them, Stu was the one to get the closest to you. Despite his girlfriend being Right There, Stu would still make flirtatious comments towards you, and you’d try your best to deflect them as best you could. You didn’t want to risk Tatum or Sidney throwing you out of the group just because of a horny teenage boy named Stuart of all things.

Randy was also making comments, but you were more open to flirting back, even though you could see it visibly annoyed Stu and quite possibly even Billy. You didn’t care though, since they had girlfriends—it was their fault they weren’t single, after all. After a lot of pleading from the gang, you eventually traded phone numbers with them all—and you quickly found your time being invaded increasingly by Stu.

“Are you fond of Psycho for being bloody or for being a Hitchcock film?” He asked one night, and you had to suppress yourself from asking if the only thing that made a film ‘horror’ in his opinion was blood. Because you knew the answer was a yes.

“Hitchcock, if I’m being honest,” You answered, scribbling down your algebra homework. It didn’t have to be perfect, you reminded yourself. It just had to be good enough. “I don’t mind bloody films, but I just think most of the tropes are over-used.”

“Naw, they’re over-used in unique ways every time,” Stu asserted, and you laughed at him.

“They’re not! Every slasher has the same plot. Evil man in mask, gutted teenager, girl with tits, some other unrelated teenage girl that stops the evil man. Same thing, fifty-five gallons of fake blood per kill, unrealistic,” You ranted, and Stu giggled at your anger.

“And how many gallons of blood makes it realistic?” He questioned, and you could feel your face heat up. There was no way he’d know if you gave him the right answer.

“Technically one and a half gallons, since that’s all a human body can hold,” You said quietly. Stu was silent, before asking the million-dollar question.

“Why the fuck would a girl like you know a fact like that?”

“Why would you know that it’s a true statement, hmm?” You shot back playfully, before finally asking. “And how come you seem to know why I’d know that fact?”

“A lucky guess, pussycat,” He said quietly. You figured it was a clue. You had to defeat Ghostface, and Stu just moved up on the suspect list. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Right,” You slowly said, and moved a few papers around on your desk. “Well, I’ve got to do algebra work, so…”

“You want me to leave you alone?” Stu finished, and you smiled.

“Yes. Good-bye, Stuart Little,” You said, and you finished your homework. An hour later, the phone rang. This time, you knew it wasn’t Stu.

“Hello Mystery Man,” You greeted, and the voice on the phone was exactly who you’d thought it would be.

“Hello, you alone tonight or is your mother there?”

“If you were properly stalking me, you’d know she’s passed out on the living room couch,” You joked, and Ghostface laughed.

“Have you any guesses as to who I am?”

“I have guesses on what two people you might be,” You slyly walked by your windows, smirking. “But you know, I won’t share them with you until I’m solid on them.”

“Two people? You’re a really strange detective. What makes you think there’s two of us?”

“The fact that I can hear two people breathing right now,” You deadpanned, and you could hear shuffling on the other end of the phone. “And the fact that every time you call me, it’s like you forgot what we talked about last time.”

“You’re a lot sharper than you let on, Y/N,” Ghostface purred, and you smiled at the praise. “It’d be a shame if you don’t defeat me.”

“Defeat you how? Do I just guess who you are and if it’s right, BINGO, I live, or do I have to kill you?” You finally asked the question that’s been weighing down on you. If Ghostface was who you suspected it to be, you knew you couldn’t kill them—it would hurt the friend group too much.

“Guess it right, and you live. It’s an easy game. If you don’t guess it right, SLASH, you’re dead and gutted like a fucking pig,” Gutted. You smiled to yourself, realizing you just got another clue. “You have only a few more days left, you know. I’d start working on my theories a little more seriously than hanging out with Sidney or Tatum.”

“But not Billy or Stu, right?” You shot back, before hanging up the phone. Got ‘em.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Billy and Stu looked at each other, right after you hung up.

“She knows, man,” Stu’s eyes were wide. “She knows.”

“She’s messing with us, there’s no way in hell she knows. She’s probably just saying random ass names to try and scare us,” Billy rationalized, but a tiny part of him was worried. Did you find out? It wasn’t like he talked to you much at all, but then he had a lightbulb moment. “Do you call her outside of trying to scare her?”

“A bit, yeah,” Stu admitted. “Just to try and find out more about her, y’know? She’s not gonna give every piece of information about herself to a psychopath on the phone threatening to kill her.”

“You’re a fucking moron, Stu,” Billy pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s figured out the speech patterns.”

“There’s no way, the voice changer—”

“Only changes voices, not speech patterns!” Billy shouted, and Stu tried to make himself look smaller. “You can’t just talk to her like you normally would, asswipe! She figured it out because of slang!”

“No way she’s that observant,” Stu tried, but Billy cut him off. “She is, you dickrag! She’s a fucking murderer, she’s hella observant!” Billy was shaking with rage, and Stu put an arm around him, but Billy shook it off. “Don’t fucking touch me, not until we figure out how to deal with her. If she gets it right, what are we gonna do? We were banking on her not knowing.”

“I don’t think she’s going to care, Billy,” Stu pointed out, and he was right. You wouldn’t care, not really. You’d be amused at their attempt on you, sure, but you wouldn’t report them. You had too many of your own crimes to care about the crimes of two self-diagnosed psychopathic teenagers with a phone line. “If anything, she’d join in.”

“And three is the magic number?” Billy snorted. “This isn’t schoolhouse rock. Two, Stu, two! That’s all we need, and that’s all there ever will be. Two! We can’t have three Ghostfaces running around, slashing people left and right. Three is how people get caught. Three is how people start talking. Three is when people get left behind.”

“Are you two always in my bushes?” They looked up, to find you standing in front of their hiding spot. “I found out a while ago, dumbasses.”

“I told you she wouldn’t care,” Stu murmured, and you looked at him pointedly.

“I never said I didn’t care, but you’re not wrong. It’s a bit pathetic finding you two in my bushes in front of my house, that’s all,” You played with your familiar bowie knife. “Now, what am I going to do to defeat the magical and mystical Ghostface?”

“Not kill us?” Stu tried, and Billy hit him upside the head.

“No, not kill you,” You agreed, and you pointed the blade at Billy. “Tell me your plans. All of them. I’m going to join you two. You are smart, I’ll give you that. But not smart enough to properly kill without getting caught.”

“Hey, for your information, we killed—”

“Casey? I know. And her boyfriend, I can’t remember his name right now,” You twiddled with the blade. “And Sidney’s mother, right?”

“How—”

“I’m good with my head,” You smiled sweetly, and the two boys looked at you, awestruck. “No complaints with it yet.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Billy asked, and you nodded.

“I’m serious. Why, watching me kill wasn’t a good enough show for you? I knew someone was watching me, I’m not stupid. Your lack of faith is disturbing,” You grinned as the boys shuddered, and you knew you were hitting their confidence, hard.

“Fine. Fine! Come to Stu’s at midnight tomorrow night, we’ll explain,” Billy finally cracked, and you grinned.

“I’m not stupid. If you try to kill me—”

“You’ll kill us,” They answered simultaneously. “We heard you the first time.”

“Good! Well, goodnight boys! And I’d wash your jeans, that’s where my neighbor’s dog pisses,” You blew them a kiss, and skipped your way back into your house, where they could see you in the window of your bedroom. You flipped them off again, before closing your curtains with the familiar claw clip.

“What should we do?” Stu asked, and Billy looked at him.

“Use her as an asset, what else would we do?”

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

You were proud of yourself, that was for sure. Though you didn’t entirely trust the two, you were fairly confident that they wouldn’t kill you. You knew too much, and you knew that they’d try to use you for whatever skills you had. It didn’t offend you as much as it annoyed you that you’re getting involved with crimes more elaborate than your own. You weren’t sure if it was wise of you, but you knew you wanted to get involved. To see what, exactly, the two idiots were planning. And how you could be of assistance.

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-> Part 5

[ozzgin]

I also had a Yandere Eyeless Jack meets Y/N as an entity/spirit is very similar to Sadako the ring girl. However, more playful and dangerous. Y/N is different from Sadako or Samara. Y/N wants to play a dreadful games with EJ.

So I did start writing this with Sadako in mind, although I ended up with a more generic kind of reader whose background isn’t very clear. I found the lack of details to be more interesting, since it’s up to you to decide what kind of devilish entity this reader is. It’s also heavily focused on their encounter rather than overall headcanons.

Yandere! Eyeless Jack x Haunting! Reader

Featuring Eyeless Jack and a ghoulish reader that just found a new favorite target. Warning: mentions of violence and death

[Horror Masterlist]

Well, this is awkward. The hooded creature stands before the bed, scalpel in hand, unsure how to proceed. After a moment of consideration he nonchalantly stuffs the blade back into his pocket, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Judging by the stagnant blood that has pooled into the lower half of the body, he’d say the man has been dead for several days. A waste of his evening. Who could’ve gotten here before him? Burglars? He quickly scans the surroundings for clues, but nothing seems amiss.

Just as he ponders on the possible scenarios, a faint knock can be heard from the window. He crawls over and abruptly pulls the curtains, hoping to surprise whoever is on the other side. Pitch black. Now that he thinks about it, isn’t this an attic bedroom? Who could even casually jump over three floors? Besides him, obviously. Jack opens the window and peeks down, but no ladder can be discerned through the murk.

“Wrong guess.” He snaps back and hovers a hand over his pocket, ready to draw his weapon. He can’t quite place the whisper he just heard. A jagged, interrupted voice, like a broken record, echoing in the distance and yet as clear as if it blew right upon his ears. He stares into the darkness before sneaking out of the room. Detective work wasn’t on his list tonight, but alas, he might as well find his new source of fresh organs. Whoever is playing these games better enjoy it while it lasts.

You can sense his frustration and smile to yourself. The previous one was so quick to go. You hoped you could drag it on for longer, but humans have frail hearts. You glance at the decaying carcass and muse over the sunken face with its features distorted in terror. Was it too much? No matter, this one is different. He seems more of a creature than a mortal. Will it make a difference? Oh, you can’t wait to test it yourself. As you stalk his figure in the hallway, you stretch out your fingers and sink your claws into the wallpaper.

Without looking back, Jack plunges his scalpel in the same spot. Your hand remains in place, merely visible fog surrounding the shining piece of metal. For the first time, the creature can see you. You gaze into his endless, cloudy sockets and nod, attempting a greeting gesture. You then switch your focus to your hand and he follows. “That’s…not very useful, is it?” You state plainly. An invisible frown darkens his expression and he pulls out the blade. Statistically speaking, encountering a ghost was the least likely situation. His reaction was by all definitions rational and he does not appreciate your mockery.

Yet tangled up in his anger lies something else. Throbbing, twisting and turning, the vague beginnings of intrigue gnaw at his chest in anticipation. He’s found a rival, or maybe a playmate. Curiosity binds him in place. If it’s amusement you want, he might just provide you with it. Although he won’t make it easy for you. And if he wins, he expects a prize in return. You’ve caught his interest and he will not be leaving empty handed. Can you tell?

A shiver runs down your spine. The smile occupying your face has now widened into a full, harrowing grin. “It’s a deal”, you murmur. The hunter and the hunted. Except no one can tell who plays the roles.

[peachyjinx]

On the Edge- Ch 1- Pent Up

Word count: 2300

Summary: You're having trouble bringing yourself to orgasm, and and being around Loki isn't helping...

Day 7

You huffed in annoyance, the sheen of sweat dripping down your forehead onto the pillow. You had been trying to orgasm for over an hour now, but it was elusive. You've never had problems with this before, and especially not recently. 

For the last couple of months, all it took was 15 minutes thinking about Loki while you pleasured yourself and you were tumbling into ecstasy. Tonight you had thought about a joke he had made at Tony’s expense. The way he said it with a wry smile and a wink he shot you in front of everyone made your cheeks burn. He always lit you on fire, either when you were around him or in the privacy of your own bed. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn't come. 

Your mind continued to dwell on Loki as you gave up on your missing orgasm and walked to your bathroom, running the shower, and thinking about your unsated lust. He had been with the Avengers over a year longer than you, but he still didn’t quite fit in. His sharp wit with his backhanded compliments to the others made you blush. His devious eyes would flash to yours, and sometimes you felt like he was showing off just for you. Recently, you found that you couldn’t contain yourself around him and began to flirt back.

But then you reminded yourself that Loki flirted with everyone. You'd even seen him jokingly make a pass at Steve, much to Steve’s horror. Steve immediately turned beet red and left the room, with Loki left cackling behind him while you tried to contain your own laughter in front of the others. 

Your mind drifts more as you wash yourself absentmindedly. Not just to his mischievous nature, but to his body…that tall, strong build with a swagger that was unmatched by any human you knew and made you weak in the knees. Those intense blue eyes that always seem to be hiding his true thoughts. That sharp jawline that made you want to walk up to him and bite it while you twisted your fingers in his hair…

Okay, that's enough. No more thinking about Loki tonight. 

You finish your shower and climb back into bed, with fresh soft pajamas cooling your skin. 

Maybe I'm just tired. I just got home from a mission, and my body just isn't ready. 

Your mind wanders to the last time you masturbated. When did you come last? A week ago.

It’ll be fine, I’m just tired, you assure yourself. 

You roll over and turn on your tv in your bedroom as you drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~

You slowly followed Nat into the conference room for the post mission meeting, the members of your team grumbling at the audacity of Steve’s 6 am assembly. 

Your eyes casually glanced around the room and landed on Loki. He looked as bored as he always does in these meetings. He thinks they are a waste of time, and makes no attempt to hide his disdain. 

What was it he said that one time? 

“The trials of battle are meant to be discussed over a feast and surrounded by loose companions, not in a hideous board room with poor quality breakfast foods!,” Loki spat at Steve at one particularly boring recap meeting as he dramatically left the room. 

You grin to yourself as you doodle in your notes, trying not to look up at the other attendees sitting down- Nat, Clint, and Loki. 

It was extra hard to avoid looking at Loki this morning, he had his hair in a loose bun, with little wisps of black tendrils framing his face. He dressed in his casual Earth clothes, which still managed to make you feel underdressed around him. His clothes were always the best that money can buy, and perfectly tailored to his form. Even though he's supposed to “blend in” on Earth, he still looked every bit the rich Prince from another world that he is. 

You zoned out as you watched Steve talk in the front of the room, not thinking about anything in particular. 

“...we obtained the data we needed, so kudos to everyone on the team,” Steve congratulated his exhausted audience with a professional smile. 

“But it’s important that even though we came out unscathed, our mission wasn’t without its flaws. I’m of course speaking about the incident at the bar,” Steve continued in a casual, but firm tone. 

All eyes look to Loki, who's staring at the ceiling. Sensing the room’s focus on him, he lowers his jaw down and his blue eyes scan the faces of those around the table with a sly grin.

“Just say what’s on your mind, Captain”, Loki feigns annoyance, though you could tell he was enjoying the attention. 

“We almost didn’t get the information we needed because you were obviously distracted. Do I need to read all of my notes?,” Steve shot back, trying to maintain his casual demeanor. 

“Did we get the information or not?” Loki nonchalantly replied to Steve, looking around the table to discern what his teammates thought.

“If it weren’t for Nat and Clint’s quick thinking, you could’ve compromised everything!”, Steve raised his voice, gesturing with the file in his hand. 

“It was just a bit of fun,” Loki smiled to himself, raising his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Loki, you started hitting on some random woman in the bar! If Nat and I hadn’t intervened, we could’ve gotten the attention of the Hydra agents in there! Hell, she could’ve been one!”, Clint glared at Loki from across the table. He never hid his dislike for the God, but it didn’t bother Loki. 

“Well I think your missions- and your team- are incredibly dull. You need to liven things up,” Loki mocked, sitting straighter in his chair now, his devious grin looking for someone to challenge him.

You didn’t speak up. It had been hard enough watching Loki woo a gorgeous woman at the bar, his hands trailing her back while she giggled and played with her cocktail straw. He had laid it on thick, you vividly remembered the way he leaned in close to her while whispering in her ear… 

Your attention snapped back to the meeting and watching your teammates argue. When these guys fought, it was best to just stay out of it. 

“Loki, you nearly started a bar fight when her boyfriend came back!”, Nat was now raising her voice, glaring at him with Clint. 

“You asked the God of Chaos to join your team- what did you expect?! It’s in my nature!,” he smiled and his attention turned to you. 

“And what do you think?”, Loki shifted, leaning forward to look at you with his hands clasped on the desk. You felt heat on your cheeks as he inquisitively looked at you. It felt like his beautiful eyes pierced into your soul, his complete focus on you feeling like too much and not enough at the same time. You looked up at Steve, hoping to stay neutral even though you weren’t.  

“Well, I think it was a dick move by Loki. But he's right, what do you guys expect? And we got the facility location and completed the reconnaissance successfully. So what does it matter that he almost started shit? He probably would have fixed it with his magic anyways…”, you trailed off, looking between Steve and Loki. 

A smug smile spreads across Loki’s face as he raised his hands expressively.

“See?? I was merely playing and at no time was the mission in threat of failing!,” he proudly declared as if your comment cleared the matter up. 

“Loki. I need you to reign it in. I know you’re bored, and this is nothing like your Asgard missions, but you’re here with us now. You need to tone it down- lives could’ve been endangered,” Steve warned, not budging.

Loki stood up, showing he was once again done with another mission recap meeting (or with Steve telling him what to do). 

“Ah yes, but of course, Captain. I will make sure to take your commands into consideration in the future. Thank you for the support, Darling,” he shot you a devilish smile and a wink before stepping out of the room. Your body flushed with heat as you tried not to look at your teammates. 

He had you good.

~~~~~~

Day 10

You screamed out in frustration at another failed attempt, slamming your fists on the bed next to you. You panted heavily, concern seeping into your mind. 

What the hell is wrong with me? Is it mental? Is it physical? 

You sat up and looked around at the toys scattered across the bed. Clit stimulators, vibrators, your favorite dildo- you had tried it all, and nothing. You took a deep breath and reassured yourself. 

No, it’s never been a problem before. I just need to wait it out some more. 

You opened up the calendar on your phone, thinking back to the last time you came. You had been thinking about Loki railing you, of course. You marked the last day you had an orgasm and sighed. Hopefully this is over soon.  

You looked out the window to see the daylight shining in, and decided the best way to move past your problem is to pretend it wasn’t a problem. And since you had no Avengers things going on, you could actually relax and take in some sights of the city and explore as you wanted.

You threw on a t- shirt and jeans and ventured out into the bustling city. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, you felt better. You decided to treat yourself with your favorite coffee shop, getting a flavored coffee and a couple chocolate croissants. 

The spring air swirled around you as you entered Central Park with your snack, the faint smell of flowers blooming improving your mood already. This is just what you needed- some nature to ground you. You wouldn’t be surprised if this would be over after today. 

You found the perfect bench across from Belvedere castle and sat down, taking in a deep breath and sighing as you appreciated your view. Everything else was going great, you really needed this moment to think about all that you do have, not what you don’t. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Shit. You know that voice. 

You looked up from your pastry to see Loki taking a seat next to you. Wearing a dark green fitted sweater with his tight black dress slacks, he looked as polished as ever. As he sat, his legs sprawled out a bit, to where your knees were almost touching. You told yourself to remain calm and not think about how sexy he looks. 

“Not at all,” you shrugged, trying to remain as casual as possible. 

“It’s quite lovely in this spot, I must say,” Loki stretched his arms along the back of the bench, and you felt your heart flutter at his closeness. 

“Yea it’s not all bad here on “Midgard”,” you joked, making him smirk. It made your stomach flip.

The two of you sat in silence, and if you had been in a relationship, this would be incredibly romantic. The cherry blossoms were blooming and there were flower petals in the air- it was just perfect. You tried to think of something to talk to him about that wasn’t work- you were rarely alone with him outside of the tower or on a mission. Loki shifted and his knee touched yours, and you stifled a moan and felt your body go tense. 

 “Does the castle remind you of home?,” you asked with a friendly tone, trying to keep things light and prevent your mind from obsessing about the fact that the two of you were casually touching one another. You’re not going to let him get to you. 

“A bit. If it were nicer, perhaps,” he grinned down at you and you took another bite, while acting engrossed in a family that was strolling by. 

“What’s that you’re eating?,” he asked, his tone still relaxed, as if it was normal for him to sit so close to you, alone, in a romantic setting. Your conversation was friendly and innocent enough, but you could feel the heat rising in you, and you fought to ignore it as you chewed. 

“A chocolate croissant from Lulu’s. They get the lamination perfect, they’re so buttery and they use the best chocolate- would you like a bite?,” you excitedly offered him.  

“I’ve been around for more than a thousand years, I have eaten foods and drank spirits so divine that you couldn’t imagine. I doubt it could compare,” Loki looked down at you play mockingly, with a sparkle of mischief in his eye. 

You rolled your eyes at him, “Alright, fine, your loss.” You took another bite, thankful you had another croissant to stress eat when you got back to the tower. 

You could feel Loki’s eyes still on you, when he reached his hand out and cupped your chin to look up at him. Loki slowly brought his thumb up to your cheek, gently wiping a stray crumb at the corner of your mouth. His eyes studied you now, intensely. 

“…though there are some things on Earth that still surprise me,” Loki smiled affectionately at you. 

You swallowed your bite and looked into his eyes, dazzling a blue as bright as the sky, sucking you into his world. You wanted to stare into those eyes for eternity. You felt your face get hot and your core ached, reminding you of what you needed so desperately. You resisted the urge to clench your thighs, afraid he would notice. 

“Alright, let me have a bite,” he unceremoniously demanded as if you weren’t just having a moment. 

You moved your hand towards his mouth and he took a bite from the croissant, a thoughtful look on his face as he savored it. You watched him slowly chew and you tried not to be in awe of the God, and the fact that he wanted you to share something with him. 

“Not bad, ” he raised his eyebrows and smiled at you, setting his large hand gently on your knee.  

You will never recover from this.

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Chapter 2: Stormy Weather

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On the Edge Chapter List

Peachyjinx Master List