#preferably in his head for being such an asshole to her

[empress-ghoul]

You’ve gotten good at getting a sense for these sorts of things. A feeling in your chest, a twist in your gut, a sixth sense, if you will. You think you’d prefer your sixth sense to be seeing ghosts, rather than sensing when creepy men are going to approach you.

You just wanted a drink. It had been a long fucking day at work and you just wanted a drink without worrying about actually talking to people. That was why you sat at the end of the bar.

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home. Your sixth sense had told you that going into the bar was a bad idea. At least then this guy wouldn’t be talking to you.

He was attractive at least, but you couldn’t be in less of a mood and he was practically sitting on top of you.

“Rough day?” he asked.

Your eye nearly twitched. “Something like that.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I can tell.”

And he was rude. Cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a glare, your lip curling slightly into a snarl. “Yeah,” you mimic. “You don’t look too hot either, asshole.”

Cash is handed to the bartender and you reach for your bag. He beats you to it, gripping the strap in an iron hold. Indignation rises. Part of you wants to wrestle it back, but the other part knows you’d just end up embarrassing yourself.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” he begins. “I’m Johnny—“

“I’m not interested. Bag. Now.”

You hold your hand out, but something tells you he’s not the type to listen.

That feeling is confirmed when he laughs. Yet another cherry on top.

“How about this; I buy you a drink and you get your bag back after?”

There’s a beat of silence where you nearly laugh. Was he serious? You’re about to ask him when he’s suddenly ordering for you and holding your bag in his lap.

You had to bargain with your tired mind, telling yourself that you were getting a free drink out of this. Frustrated, yet resigned, you sit back down.

He grins at you and your sixth sense prickles the back of your neck.

Johnny was good at talking and part of you almost felt bad. He seemed lonely. You were certain only a lonely, mildly insane person would steal a purse and buy the purse owner a drink just to have someone to talk to.

But you were lonely too. Only a lonely, mildly insane person would let him buy more drinks after getting their purse back.

You barely noticed the hand on your thigh. By the time you did, he was right in your face.

“Bonnie thing, aren’t you?” he purred.

That’s how you ended up getting tugged back to his apartment. He kept an arm around your waist and your bag in his hand the entire walk. Right outside the door, when his hand was on the doorknob, you realized how bad of an idea this was.

One night stands weren’t exactly your thing, especially not on a weeknight. You had a little bit of dignity, after all.

Plus, your sixth sense practically vibrated in your chest to tell you to turn and run. But suddenly the door was open and he was pushing you inside.

The door shut and locked behind you both, and suddenly you were standing in front of a wall of a man. Your throat tightened when you felt Johnny’s arms around your waist, trapping you in place.

“What’d you think, LT?” Johnny asked, squeezing you tighter.

He sounded so eager, so hopefully.

You stared up at the man in front of you. He looked…bored? Almost uninterested. Similar to a wolf who caught a meal too easily.

Despite being tipsy on the walk from the bar to here, you were suddenly stone cold sober and frozen in place.

A massive hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head up. A calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to scream. Only tremble as Johnny rubbed a stubbly cheek against your soft one.

“This the one you told me ‘bout?” the enormous man asked.

Something hard pressed against the fat of your ass as Johnny smiled. “Yeah, the one from the train,” he preened, clearly proud of himself. “Can we keep her?”

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home.

[tovibeornottovibe]

Club Rats

Azriel x Fem!OC

Azriel and Merrin have been meeting in clubs for months now. Sometimes, they ditch Rita's for dinner, and most of the time, they end up sleeping together. It's better than relying on the skills of strangers, and they like each other, probably more than either of them would admit. This time, they drink far, far too much, make some regrettable decisions that get them thrown out, and share a moment more intimate than they ever have before. [2.7k words]

warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of spiking and Azriel not taking that as seriously as you should!, self-destructive behaviour, mentions of sex (no smut tho), Azriel being the rude, snarky, imperfect male that he is (not towards the OC, to everyone else)

Prefer to read on Ao3? [this is a series there! let me know if you want me to post those fics on here too (:]

“Azriel.”

He looks up. The sound of the sea washes over him as he sits there, legs hanging off the edge of the dock, with his thigh brushing hers. His wings feel like deadweight, like his muscles aren’t even connected to his body. She’s settled in the crook of the right one, and every time she breathes, her shoulder nudges him where he wants her to put her tongue.

It’s maybe four-in-the-morning. He doesn’t know. They got kicked out of Rita’s not more than an hour ago. Merrin bashed in some male’s teeth. Azriel bashed in his jaw. His shadows won’t tell him why she did it, and he doesn’t know why he helped. 

For the briefest moment, he remembers that they might have banned them for it. He huffs out a laugh.

Both he and Merrin are very, very drunk. He’s not entirely convinced they didn’t get spiked. It should concern him, but they’re both suffering, and that’s a comfort. 

They’ve been trying  to convince each other that they were just in this for the sex for the past few minutes. They like each other, but it’s just release, you know?

Head heavy from the alcohol, he cranes his neck forward to look at her face. He distinctly thinks she is the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and guiltily goes through why she’s prettier than Elain. It’s totally unfair and he knows thinking about it makes him an asshole. Merrin’s hair is a nicer colour and she lacks the etherealness of High Fae that unsettles him. She fits better in his arms; she’s tall enough that he can rest his chin on her head without bending down when they embrace, and when they’re in bed, he can tangle their legs together and she can settle into the curve of his body without issue. Of course, these things were fantasy with Elain.

He swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

She hesitates and something in his gut twists, like he can tell she’s about to say something serious. 

“Are we—are you happy?”

For some reason, that makes him laugh. It’s a horrible, bitter, broken kind of laughter. It’s utterly without warmth. He hates it, actually.

“No,” he says, and it’s true. “Are you?”

She offers him a smile. “Not at all,” she says. “What a fucking pair we make, eh?” Something inside him recoils at the thought of her putting herself at his level. Giggling, she presses her forehead into his shoulder and clutches his forearm where the scars on his skin meet the unmarred flesh. Then she sighs. “Gods,” she says like she’s just discovered the secret to life, “you’re actually an important person, and you’re miserable.”

“It’s not all cocktail parties and fountains of champagne,” he says.

“No,” she laughs. “You torture people for a living.”

Though he stiffens, not even that can knock him out of whatever it was they drank. Feeling him tense, she shifts so her chin is resting on his shoulder, and she laughs again when she sees the look on his face.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she says. “That’s kinda fucked, right?”

It’s stupid that it makes him feel good. It’s stupid that he likes hearing that. Some days, he doesn’t think it bothers him either. And yeah, that is kinda fucked. He kills people for his brother. A lot of the time, they probably don’t even deserve it. Yet, here he is, with the most gorgeous female in the world, drunk off his ass with her, and she doesn’t care that he tortures people for a living.

“It is,” he says. “Really fucked.”

Merrin grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, and he lets her because he wants her to touch him. All of the time. He thinks about her so often that one day it’ll probably get him killed, but if he goes out with her on his mind, he’ll consider it a pretty decent way to die. Cassian would throttle him for saying that. Rhys and Feyre too. Mor would look at him like he’d lost his mind and call him an idiot.

Merrin would make a joke and smile at him.

“I don’t think we’re fucking tonight, Azriel.”

He hums in agreement. “We’re not in a state to do that anyway,” he says, “but I would if we were.”

“I would too.” She goes back to resting her cheek against his shoulder and he can smell the shampoo she uses. Gently, she rubs circles with her thumb on the back of his palm. It’s probably more intimate than they have ever been in bed and the feeling runs up his arm and into his brain. He traces her reddened, bloodied knuckles. “Wanna just sleep?”

He raises a brow at her. “Together?”

“Literally. In the same bed. Just sleep.”

“...Okay.”

“Come on then,” she says softly, pulling herself up more gracefully than the amount of drink in her system should allow for, then she’s tugging him up too, despite the fact that he’s heavier. With the amount of force it takes, she almost loses her balance and tips backwards, but he catches her at the waist. “Back to mine?”

In response, his shadows languidly start to swirl at his shoulders. They’re objecting to the presence of her cat, but the chances are that it’ll be asleep, or otherwise outside, since it likes exploring the city in the early hours of the morning. 

Raskal meows at the bedroom door at inconvenient times: sometimes when they’re asleep; sometimes when they’re in the middle of something else. It’s so achingly domestic that Azriel can’t even be annoyed. Merrin always comes back after letting Raskal out and buries her face into the crook of his neck, clings to his torso like he might disappear if she didn’t. She blames it on the cold, but she’s from the Winter Court and never gets chilly. If he’s awake enough, he pulls her on top of him and cards his hands through her hair, usually in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

Hand-in-hand, they stumble back through the city to her apartment. Merrin makes him crouch down so she can pet a stray cat for what seems like half an hour, but it’s really only for a few minutes. Passersby stare at them and look away when he glares. No one will mention what they see, not to the rest of the Inner Circle; that’s asking for trouble, and the city has had enough. 

He has no idea why he’s letting her do this with him. They aren’t together. They’re club rats who keep finding themselves in each other’s company and more often than not, they end up sleeping together because they trust each other and it’s easier than gaining the attention of a stranger. 

Though, recently, they’ve been ditching Rita’s for dinner, and he’s glad because these days he’s eating less and less when he’s in the House of Wind. Merrin takes him to little bistros he knows only by name. He brings her to fancy restaurants and she always laughs because they look so out-of-place with her in slinky, little dresses and with his lipstick-stained cheeks that the High Fae actually turn up their noses. She once ate a whole meal with her fingers to really push it, and they couldn’t kick them out because he’s a member of the Inner Circle. Things like that are why he likes her company. She’s so unconcerned about what other people think of her in the way that the rest of his family pretend they are. 

She’s a smart person. She understands that people assume things about the nature of their relationship, about her, and about him, even though they know nothing. More than once, she’s been called a whore, and, more than once, he’s scared someone shitless for it. And she doesn’t care. Not that she should be ashamed, but Azriel isn’t certain that Merrin ever feels shame for anything she does. Regret, maybe, but not humiliation. 

People, the ones whose opinions are worth listening to, like Merrin. She’s compassionate and generous and she can make even him roar with laughter. She isn’t those things because she wants approval for them, she just is. It’s so rare that he meets someone who has no ulterior motive, who speaks their mind and says what they want with no caveats.

Azriel can’t tell if he’s in love with her or if they’re just friends who fuck sometimes. If they’re really friends at all. He doesn’t know which of those things he even wants. He knows that he likes holding her hand. Likes the sound of her voice and that his heart stutters sometimes when she laughs. He could sit and listen to her go on tangents about anything and everything for hours on end. 

Her choice of dress tonight is driving him insane: the black velvet hugs her curves and it barely reaches her mid-thigh. Open at the back, the expanse of her smooth skin that he has dragged his hands down countless times teases him. He wants to pull at the curls in her hair.

When they’re in bed, he’s almost insatiable. He’ll stay between her thighs and do pretty much anything she asks of him. Seeing her flawless form when she punched that male earlier sent twitching heat racketing through him. But so does waking up to her making tea, wearing his shirt, humming to herself. 

It’s a lie that he isn’t happy. Here, on this random street in Velaris, with his head pounding and his legs not quite working as they should, in Merrin’s blissful presence, he’s happier than ever.

Maybe he does love her.

Would she have invited him back to her apartment just to sleep if all she wanted from him was sex?

Would it feel so normal to be with her, to recognise the scent of her even in a crowd of writhing bodies in a club, if he didn’t feel something for her? 

Is it strange that he sleeps better in bed with her curled into his side than he ever has in the townhouse? That she can chase away his bad dreams just by tightening her grip on his waist? That he hasn’t had anyone else because the thought of sleeping with another makes him feel ill?

He can’t figure it out and maybe doesn’t want to right now.

He squeezes her hand and drags her away from the stray, leading her down alleyways so they can get to the townhouse where she owns the top-floor apartment. The stairwell is in no way designed for Illyrians, so his wings scrape against the walls. She's pushing him up in front of her so he goes quicker and doesn’t have to endure the discomfort for so long. They’re definitely stamping about and waking her neighbours.

But they’ve undoubtedly done that before. He’s reminded of the time he carried her upstairs and didn’t wait until they were at her door before he pulled her underwear down. Merrin shamelessly moaned his name particularly loudly halfway up and complained in the morning that the female who lives below her might not cat-sit for her on account of disturbed sleep. He’d snickered. She smacked him in the arm.

Not tonight, he reminds himself. Tonight, they’re sleeping off whatever was in their drinks.

When her front door clicks shut behind them, he almost pins her against it and kisses her. It’s only her ducking under his arm and taking him to her bedroom by grabbing his shirt which stops him. He can kiss her in bed, he thinks. Not with any expectations. He just wants to.

“I think I lied earlier,” she says, pulling at the ties of her dress before he takes over for her wordlessly, letting her continue. “I am happy sometimes. I just don’t think I’m content. They’re different, right?” She peers over her shoulder at him when his fingers still at the small of her back, the dress starting to slip off her as he nears the final tie. 

“They are,” he replies. “I don’t think I’m content either.” Then he undoes the final tie and the dress falls to the floor in a heap of black velvet. She steps out of her stupidly high heels and kicks them towards the door. 

He’s absolutely not focusing on the fact that she’s left wearing nothing but lacy, black panties. He’s not thinking about the fact she’s topless as she disappears into the bathroom to clean off her makeup. He does not care that when she comes back and he’s lying on her bed in his underwear that she picks up his shirt and drapes it around herself to sleep in.

Instead of going to her side, Merrin climbs on top of him, her knees in the space between his hips and his wings, and he instinctively curls his arm around her to pull her down to him. She’s practically pinning him down with her arms braced against the pillow below his head. Despite the Autumn chill, she’s warm.

He gets his kiss. It’s tender, slow, and without heat. Her lips are soft and he lets her push her tongue in his mouth lazily. They’re uncoordinated and a little messy, but it’s fine, he doesn’t care because it’s her. It feels like they’re the only two people in the world, like all things have led to right here, right now, and he thinks that everything that’s happened to him has been worth it. When they separate, she presses chaste, wet kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw and makes him smile. 

“What would make you content, Az?” she asks quietly.

He could say lots of things, most of them he shouldn’t admit to because they’re both still drunk and it’s a bad idea to make serious decisions when your head feels like lead. 

But…

“Just—stay there,” he says, shaking the vulnerability from his tone, sliding his hands under the shirt and settling them at her hips. He refrains from toying with the waistband of her underwear.

Merrin kisses the crest of his brow and his cheekbones. “What?” she asks, smiling when he starts to blush. “For the whole night?” He hums confirmation. She whispers against his lips, “That would make you content?”

“If I wake up with you on top of me too.” The distance between them is closed. He runs his fingers along the back of her thigh while his other hand creeps up the dip of her spine, pulling her impossibly closer until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel how her nipples have pebbled through her—his—shirt. Of her own accord, she shifts her hips a little lower until she’s sitting on his pelvis, giving him just a hint of friction. He tuts and pulls away. “What happened to just sleeping, Merrin?”

They need to rest. At the same time, he also needs to know how wet she’ll be if he sinks a finger into her tight heat. She’s always so… reactive. Learning all her sensitive spots has been a lesson he never wants to finish. She isn’t shy about showing him. 

She catches his hand before he can satisfy his curiosity.

“Just reminding you of what we would be doing if we hadn’t drunk that last bottle of liqueur,” she says, shimmying even lower so she can rest her head on his chest, slotting her legs between his thighs. 

He sighs a laugh, his eyelids suddenly heavy. “Like I needed reminding.” When he rests his free hand on the back of her head, dipping his fingers into the fine hair at the top of her neck, he feels her melt against him and fully relax. He tugs the covers and pulls them over the both of them. “What would make you content?” he asks softly, letting himself sync his breathing with the rise and fall of her shoulders, with the soft puffs of air he can feel on his pectoral where his tattoos mingle with her flaring curls. Somehow, the sight of them doesn’t make him wince as often as it used to, but he sees them more these days. Merrin likes to trace the lines of ink in the mornings.

“I don’t know,” she says, “‘suppose we’ll find out if I feel the same as you when we wake up.”

He blames the drinking, but he hopes that she does.

[beef-brisket]

Adam leaned into the kiss for only a moment before he quickly moved away, and jumped off the bed.

Adam: Y-You know, out of all the shit you've said to me- that's the worst- most c-cruel thing-! The fuck, Lucifer?! I'm not hot- so the fuck?! The ACTUAL fuck?!

Lucifer was a bit taken aback, but he's not surprised by Adam's outburst. He's pretty much a giant, glorified child at this point.

But, he did find it a bit strange that what Adam was made about was pretty much being called "hot".

Lucifer thought that was his whole thing, calling himself hot, and fuckable. So, what was happening?

Lucifer: I... okay, hold up. Let's take a step back. What's happening?

Adam: W-What do you mean, "what's happening"?! I- you- you said I let myself go-! And I have-! So, how the fuck am I hot one minute- and f-fucking disgusting the next?!

Lucifer: I... A-Adam-.

Adam: So what, have you teamed up with Bambi or something?! Is this the worst fucking joke, Lucifer-! I know I. Fucking gross, alright?! I've delt with the angels- amd Sera- fucking Sera, say I'm a fuckimg embarrassment- just- I-I can't fucking deal with this.

Lucifer: Adam! Wait!

Lucifer reached out and grabbed Adam's arm, stopping him from leaving. He could feel how much the first man was shaking under his grip, and by the way he turned his head away, he was crying.

Lucifer: Adam, I swear, I'm not lying. I shouldn't have said those things to you, I was just... look, I was wrong, so wrong. You look amazing, really. You were made to be perfect, Adam-.

Adam: Lilith's perfect. I'm not... I'm a fucking dud. Even after everything, they still preferred her... n-no matter what I did, it wasn't enough... I-I'm not perfect, I never was... c-can you let go, please...?

Lucifer stared at Adam's back in shock, he's never heard him sound so quiet and weak. He didn't like it. He'd rather Adam yell and scream, instead of this.

Lucifer: No... I won't let go.

Standing, Lucifer went to move in front of Adam, but he turned away, covering his face.

Lucifer: I swear, I'm not lying, Adam. And you didn't deserve the shot you went through... I thought Heaven would have helped you or something. But that was just wishful thinking... they can't help but make things worse... and that goes for me, too. I hurt you, and I refuse to do it again.

Taking Adam's hands, Lucifer was finally able to see a part of Adam's face. He hasn't seen Adam cry since Eden. And it hurt to see as much now as it did then.

Lucifer: I... can't even imagine what Heaven has said or done to you. But you didn't deserve it, Adam.

Adam scoffed: ...You sound like her.

Lucifer: Who?

Adam: ...Charlie... how did you two assholes have such a sweet kid...?

Lucifer laughed: No idea... can I tell you a secret?

Adam: ...I guess. If you want.

Lucifer looked down at Adam's hands, smiling at the chipped black nail polish. He remembered laughing at the different ways Adam tried to disguise his new demonic features. His claws included.

Lucifer: She reminded me of you... she still does.

Adam: ...I'm not like her. She's... hopeful. I'm not that...

Lucifer: ...When she smiled, I saw you. She was so curious and wanted to see and touch everything. She sees the best in everything... it takes a lot to bring her down... and... I don't want her to get hurt and... end up-.

Adam: Like me?

Lucifer: What-?! I... y-yeah- but not for the reasons you think! I meant... I don't want her hurt. For people to use her- to take her for all she's worth, then to throw her away like she's nothing... I don't want her to end up closed off and ridiculed. And, when I see you... I hate that I was the cause of your pain. I couldn't get out of my own shit to see how I was affecting you or other people. When I see you, I feel shame. You're the only thing I regret about my actions. it is how I hurt you. You're... you're so important to me, and I just...

Adam: killed me...?

Lucifer: ...K-Killed you... and... I regret that so much.

Adam nods, looking away: It wasn't all your fault... I wasn't... you know, important enough, ans that was my fault- I should have tried harder-.

Lucifer: Hey, no. That's- that's not it, Adam, I swear.

Adam tilted his head: I wasn't... smart enough?

Lucifer: No-.

Adam: ...I'm not blonde?

Lucifer: What-?! No! Of course not!

Adam: Okay... can't give birth?

Lucifer: Uh-.

Adam: Ambitious? I didn't know... what else.

Lucifer: ...Is this what you've thought...? For all these years...?

Adam shrugged: I couldn't figure out what I did. Or what I didn't do... I just figured out it was me. I did everything wrong, nothing right, so why try? And... then you kiss me. Why now? I'm broken- why didn't you do this when I was perfect, when I was something important? Why now...? I was nothing when I was an angel, but I'm something when I'm a monster?

Lucifer: Adam. Stop. That's not it.

Adam laughed: Then what is it? How can you feel something for me when I'm at my lowest...? You don't even know me.

Lucifer: Of course, I know you, I've known you since the beginning.

Adam: I'm not the same person... I died. More than twice. I'm not the same. I'm worse. You can't like me, why would you like me? No one likes me- you of all people can't like me- you're lying to me.

Lucifer: Adam- enough. Breathe, okay. I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... it... it wasn't your fault. In the garden.

Adam: Yes, it was. You told me to leave, remember? Said I was sick, wrong, a failed prototype-.

Lucifer was definitely panicking now. He forgot he said any of those things. Everything flooded back to him, hitting him like a brick to the face.

Lucifer: Please, Adam- I... shit, I don't know what to say... I can blame you for the exterminations all I want, but at the end of the day, it's my fault. All of it. I've made so many mistakes, Adam... and hurting you was the biggest. None of it was your fault, what I did... what Lilith did was wrong. We were so stuck I'm our ideals and our plan that we didn't see the bigger picture. I... I didn't want to hurt you... I really thought we were helping. I wanted to help both of you... but Lilith was focused on herself. Then Eve.

Lucifer ran his thumb over Adam's hands. He smiled at how long his fingers were, even though they looked so different, they were so perfect.

Lucifer: So much has changed since Eden, and... while not all for the best, there have been some good things- I think. I've had a lot of time to thing- a LOT. And I want to make it up to you. I really, really do. And I meant what I said before. You're fucking hot, Adam. Gorgeous. I know you think you're a monster- but I think you're stunning. And fuck Bambi, I don't talk to him, Adam, I'm nit working with him in some scheme, and I hate you think that. That you think everyone is against you, thinking those about you. I want to convince you that you deserve to be loved, that you're still perfect. Please, Adam. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please let me try and earn your trust again.

Adam stared down at Lucifer. Everything is screaming at him to run and run far.

What if he leaves? Of course, he'll leave. It'll only be a matter of time. But, staring into Lucifer's eyes, he can't help but see his angel, even though he's so different.

Does he want his angel back or proof that he could be loved?

Adam glanced at the two photos on the bed. Did Lucifer mean what he said? That he looked hot?

Adam: ...O-Okay...

Lucifer smiled widely and kissed Adam's hands: Thank you, Adam. Thank you so much, Adam!

Adam smiled awkwardly as Lucifer beamed up at him. He was like a weird, little ball of sunshine. Or hellfire.

Lucifer: So~... can I keep your photo~?

Adam: W-What?!

Lucifer: You can keep mine!

Adam: ...F-Fine, just... don't show it to anyone, okay?

Lucifer: Oh, darling, I would destroy anyone who dares to try and lay eyes on it~.

Pin Me (To Your Bed)

@beef-brisket

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone! 💖

-

Charlie was so excited to help Angel set up his idea, it was a great way to help people with their body image and self confidence.

Adam was leaning against the wall as he watched the photo shoot area be set up. Angel wanted everyone to do a pin up photo shoot for Valentine's Day to help their self-esteem and feel sexy.

Angel: Hey mister pouty pants, come help me with the outfits.

Adam sighed and made his way over, the clothing rack held many linguire outfits, short shorts, and leather pieces of clothing.

Adam: Angel, I've seen tissues bigger than this thing.

He held up what looked like a G string and Angel laughed.

Angel: Oh relax! And it's all in fun big guy, besides if you wore something sexy who's to say short, pale, and hunky won't be all over you.~

Adam flushed, he knew it was a bad idea to tell Angel about his feelings for Lucifer. But as long as the short King doesn't hear he guessed it was fine.

Adam: Shut up.

Speaking of Lucifer, he was just done hanging the lights when he floated down smiling at the pair.

Lucifer: Those are umm.... Interesting outfits Angel.

Angel: Aren't they?~ You're dressing up too aren't ya short King?

Lucifer coughed into his fist: W-Well, maybe. I have an image to maintain I can't wear anything too scandalous. You understand.

Adam tried and failed to not picture Lucifer only wearing that G string that would barely cover his dick.

Angel smirked: Oh yeah of course.~ I'll make it all very tasteful for everyone, all within a comfort zone they like. But how about you show a little skin? Like right here.~

He pointed to his stomach area and Lucifer felt warm, he looked at Adam who was looking at him maybe zoned out. Would he like that?

Lucifer: Y-yeah I guess that's fine.

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

[leona-hawthorne]

LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S FICMAS

december 1st. mattheo riddle.

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary ; being an animagus has its pros… and its cons words ; 1.8k warnings ; fluff, bunny animagus!reader, brother’s best friend!mattheo, illness

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“Damn it. They’re out of stock,” Mattheo muttered, a scowl darkening his sharp features as his gaze swept over the empty display in front of him. The faint hum of activity in Honeydukes buzzed around him, but it was all background noise to his singular mission: finding your favorite treat.

The rich scent of melted caramel and powdered sugar clung to the warm air, but it did nothing to soothe his disappointment. He’d ventured out with Theo, braving the frost-bitten path to Hogsmeade, bundled against the chill of the late December wind, determined to bring a spark of joy to you after a week spent curled up under blankets, your feverish state stealing the light from your eyes.

“She’ll survive, Mattheo,” Theo drawled, arms crossed lazily as he leaned against a wall beside a towering stack of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

Mattheo’s fingers raked through the unruly mess of dark curls that framed his face, eyes narrowing in frustration as he muttered, “She loves Cauldron Cakes too, doesn’t she? Maybe I could grab one of those…” But even as the words left his mouth, doubt clouded his expression. “No, those give her stomach aches.”

“Careful,” Theo’s smirk broke through his stoic demeanor, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “One wrong bite, and she might turn into a rabbit for a week.”

Mattheo’s lips quirked, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that managed to soften the sharp edges of his expression. The image of you sitting on a pillow, fur fluffy as clouds, with wide, quivering eyes and twitching ears, filled his mind. It was a sight he’d seen a lot more than once, and the thought warmed him more than the heavy wool of his coat. “That would be adorable,” he murmured, more to himself than to Theo.

His gaze drifted back to the shelves, fingers brushing past jars of fizzing whizbees and licorice wands, seeking any trace of the sweets you loved. He knew every preference, every quirk—the way your nose crinkled when you were trying not to laugh, how you always saved the last bite of chocolate for him, even if he pretended not to notice.

Theo’s playful scoff drew him back to the present, breaking the spell. “Right, lover boy, grab what you can so we can move on. The Weasley twins’ shop won’t raid itself.”

Mattheo’s smirk deepened as he reached for a small box tucked at the back of the shelf, its golden wrapping gleaming under the enchanted lights. If he couldn’t find the chocolate frogs, he’d settle for something close enough, something to make your eyes light up when he returned.

The sharp knock at the front door broke through the haze of your lethargy, and you groaned, rolling your eyes at the interruption. Each subsequent rap grew louder and more insistent, a persistent reminder of your brother’s tendency to forget his keys.

With a reluctant sigh, you dragged your aching body off the couch and trudged to the door, your irritation simmering just beneath the surface. When you swung the door open, your expression was a mix of annoyance and fatigue, only to be met by the amused snort of Mattheo, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I was resting, you asshole,” you snapped, the heat of annoyance still lingering in your voice as you shot a glare at your brother.

“Be grateful I got you to walk around a bit,” he replied, a playful grin spreading across his face as he ruffled your hair affectionately. “Your legs are gonna freeze in place if you lay around any longer.”

You didn’t bother to respond, instead heading back to the couch and flopping down onto your stomach, your focus returning to the flickering images on the screen. The warmth of the blankets cocooned you, a small comfort in your weakened state.

“I got you something, but I’ll only give it to you if you promise to stop being so grumpy,” Mattheo teased, settling beside you, his presence radiating warmth.

Your heart quickened at the thought that he had been thinking of you while out with Theo. Maybe your crush-blinded mind was reading into it too much, but the notion sent a thrill through you. You’d always harbored a secret crush on him, and while you were sure he cared for you, it was a different kind of love—one that you longed to bridge.

“Depends on what it is, Matty,” you replied, attempting to mask the fluttering hope in your chest.

He leaned in slightly, his tone playful. “Well, I got you Fizzing Whizbees because they didn’t have any chocolate frogs, but I’m a little scared they’ll—”

“I’m not gonna change into a bunny,” you interrupted, your voice sharper than intended as you raised a hand in protest. The memory of yesterday flooded back—seven embarrassing transformations triggered by the slightest discomfort had left you feeling humiliated.

“But—”

“Just give it to me,” you cut him off again, rolling your eyes dramatically. Yet, as you snatched the colorful box from his hands, you paused, a genuine smile breaking through your irritation. “Thank you.”

The way you clutched the chocolates tightly in your hands made it clear you had no intention of sharing, and a chuckle escaped Mattheo’s lips. He leaned back, clearly pleased to see a hint of happiness in your tired demeanor.

But the second you popped the first piece into your mouth, a familiar pang of regret bloomed in your stomach, a sensation you had come to dread. It was an all-too-familiar feeling that washed over you with alarming speed.

In an instant, your body transformed, and where you had been, there now sat a tiny, fluffy rabbit, complete with floppy ears and wide, embarrassed eyes.

The boys burst into laughter, their mirth echoing in the cozy living room as you thumped a paw against the floor in frustration.

“I fucking told you! You’re an idiot, Y/N/N,” Mattheo teased, his laughter infectious.

Your tiny heart raced as you glared up at Mattheo, your expressive little eyes narrowing in annoyance. The warmth of the room felt overwhelming now, each laugh echoing like a distant thundering noise. The sensation of soft fabric beneath you—the couch cushions—was comforting, but the sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over you. Here you were, reduced to a fluffy little creature, while the two boys stood there, delighting in your misfortune.

You hopped over to Mattheo, your little teeth nipping at his ankle in a show of defiance.

Mattheo yelped as your teeth grazed his skin, the surprise of the nip sending a jolt through him. He glanced down at you, his smirk widening as he took in the fierce determination in your beady little eyes.

He knelt down, curiosity gleaming in his chocolate brown eyes as he reached out a hand. “Aw, don’t be mad, little bun,” he said, his voice dropping to a hushed, gentle tone that contrasted sharply with the raucous laughter. “You’re adorable like this. You’ve got the perfect little nose.”

He reached out, scooping you up gently in his large hands.

His fingers gently stroked along your soft fur, a soothing motion that seemed to calm your restless spirit. “Maybe we should keep you like this for a while,” he mused, his tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of sincerity. “Might be easier to handle.”

Your small body wriggled within Mattheo's grasp, the soft fur tickling his palms as you squirmed. The warmth of his touch was comforting, yet the confined space felt stifling. With a sudden burst of energy, you leapt from his hands, landing gracefully on the plush cushions of the couch.

The sensation of the cotton beneath your paws was a relief and you found yourself nestling deeper into the folds of the blanket, your small form disappearing into the sea of fabric.

Mattheo chuckled at the sight of you buried under the blankets, only your tiny twitching nose visible above the soft pile. "Huh, looks like someone wants to stay cozy," he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. “But seriously, are you planning on staying like this forever?"

A sudden sneeze shook your tiny frame, causing you to reflexively scrunch up your nose and shut your eyes tight. As the sneeze subsided, a strange sensation washed over you—a tingling, shifting feeling that spread throughout your body.

Your vision blurred for a moment, and then, just as quickly, cleared. When your eyes focused once more, you found yourself no longer a bunny, but rather your human self again, nestled among the blankets. You blinked slowly, taking in your surroundings anew.

Mattheo let out a teasing whistle as he took in the sight of you, now returned to your human form. His eyes roamed appreciatively over your features, lingering on the flushed cheeks and tousled hair. "Well, well," he murmured, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Looks like someone's feeling a bit warm."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You know, I think you might be even prettier like this." His fingers trailed lightly along your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks burned at Mattheo's words, and you felt a flutter in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin. But before you could respond, you caught yourself pushing his hand away, the action both instinctive and deliberate.

"I-I'm cold," you stammered, trying to hide the embarrassment that colored your voice.

Mattheo's chuckle was soft and indulgent as he pulled his hand back, a twinkle in his eye. "No more candy for you, bun," he teased gently, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Maybe some soup will do."

With that, he rose to his feet, towering over you as he made his way to the kitchen. You watched him go, your heart warming at the simple act of care. It wasn't every day that someone looked after you so tenderly, especially not someone as reckless as Mattheo.

As the sounds of pots clanging and liquid simmering drifted from the kitchen, you found yourself smiling, despite the lingering flush on your cheeks. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, if it meant having Mattheo fuss over you like this.

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[mariatesstruther]

thinking very angsty thoughts like

what if kevin’s father is somehow the reason for kevin’s death and maria can’t bring herself to forgive him, so she leaves him goes to rescue her father who doesn’t realize what’s happened until she gets there and cries herself to sleep like he hasn’t seen since she was little. maria buries the hurt/rage/betrayal/heartbreak/loss so deep that it sublimates into productivity that lasts her twenty years

and then that man shows up at her fucking gates

these fires are stressing me out so bad i might start writing again

[sturnioz]

about the one where fratboy!chris doesn't let shy!reader meet his family I THOUGHT ABT SOMETHING

sooo imagine chris's mom otp while he's with reader then reader gets her hopes up thinking chris would somehow mention who he's with right now but he doesn't and it ends up into reader with hurt feelings and chris just being an asshole like it's no big deal

i lowkey wanna be hurt rn GIMME ANGST

you're staring wide eyed at chris, completely captivated at the voice he uses to talk to marylou on the phone — his tone soft and gentle, almost childlike, and he grins at the words she speaks, his eyes twinkling with warmth, causing a smile to creep across your lips.

it's a side of him you've never seen before, and you can't help but feel a flutter of admiration in your chest.

as he walks around his room, his phone cradled in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other, you're stuck watching how tenderly he engages with his mother. his expression constantly shifts between playful to genuine care and adoration.

"yeah, ma. everythin' is good," chris hums softly, placing his phone on the desk and pressing the speaker icon, allowing his mother's voice to fill the room. "classes are good too."

"and how is nick? has he been over recently?"

"y'know nick would rather die than come into the frat house—"

"oh, chris, you know i don't like you saying things like that to me. don't say that."

"sorry, ma," chris apologises sincerely, and you're taken aback by the softness in his tone. it's a complete contrast to the condescending way he usually speaks to you, often laced with sarcasm and mockery. the apology feels so genuine that it makes your heart flutter once more. "he doesn't like it here. prefers to meet up some place else."

"as long as you're seeing each other, that's all that matters," marylou says softly. "'cos your dad and i were worried that you wouldn't spend much time with him with your new living arrangements and all."

"no, no. we're good, we see each other a lot," chris reassures her as he pulls his jeans up his legs, threading his belt through the loops. "you don't need to worry, ma. i promise. we're actually goin' to get dinner tonight. nate's comin' along too."

you knew about the dinner tonight — though you weren't invited of course, you were all too aware of the plans.

"oh, nate," marylou coos softly at the mention of him. "and how is—"

her words are cut off when the book resting in your lap slips from your grasp and falls to the ground with a loud thud, causing chris' head to snap in your direction, momentarily pausing mid-motion.

he then grabs his plain white t-shirt, glaring at you as your lips form a tight-lipped, apologetic smile as you reach down to retrieve the book, your neck and cheeks burning with embarrassment. chris shakes his head at you with a quiet scoff, clearly unimpressed.

"is anyone there with you?" marylou asks curiously, her tone riddled with warmth and inviting.

your heart races as your head shoots up, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside you. you take a deep breath, ready to introduce yourself properly, hoping to make a good first impression.

"no. just some dumb frat kid next door makin' noise." chris immediately shuts it down, his tone dismissive, and your smile immediately drops from your face, a wave of discomfort twisting in your stomach and chest.

the disappointment stings more than you expected, and you can't help but feel small under his words. you tune out chris and marylou's conversation now, the warmth you felt just moments ago fading into an ache deep within you. mindlessly, you flip through the pages of you book, the words blurring together as your interest in that simmers too.

you don't even realise chris is saying goodbye to his mom, using a sweet tone that would have definitely made you swoon if you were paying attention. you completely miss the heartfelt 'i miss yous' and 'i love yous' shared between them too.

it's only when you feel the bed dip that your attention snaps back to reality, and you raise your gaze to see chris sitting on the edge, pulling on a pair of white socks before reaching for his black converse.

"m'gonna get matt to take you back to your place," chris announces nonchalantly, as if his earlier words hadn't left an impact. "gotta go that way t'get nick anyways."

"'kay." you reply, trying to keep your tone light.

chris twists his head to peer over his shoulder at you, his fingers busy tying his laces. his brows furrow in confusion as he stares at you. "what?"

you murmur back, "what?"

"whats the matter with you?" he asks, annoyance creeping into his voice. "actin' all weird on me. quieter than usual—"

"why didn't you tell your mom i was with you?" the question slips out before you can even think to stop it, a mix of hurt and vulnerability lacing your words.

chris gives you a look that makes you feel foolish, as if you've just asked the most ridiculous question. "why would i?"

his bluntness stings again, and you feel a flush of embarrassment wash over you. it's not just the question that bothers you; it's the slow realisation that he doesn't see how much you wish to be acknowledged, to be part of his world in a way that feels meaningful — more than a casual hook-up, maybe even as a friend.

you swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "i just thought... maybe it would be nice, is all."

chris shrugs, turning back to his shoes. "s'not a big deal, kid."

"it is to me." the words slip out before you can hold them back again, a somewhat desperate plea for an understanding.

"why?" he asks immediately, looking back at you once more. "it shouldn't mean shit to you."

"you know my mom," you state. "you... you've spoken to my mom before, and—"

"'cos that was your choice, kid. yeah? 'n this is my choice," he points to his chest to emphasis his words, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race. "y'want me to tell my mom that i've got some girl in my room? have her question shit? nah... i keep my family life separate to what i do here."

his words hit hard. you understand his need for boundaries, but it hurts to feel so easily dismissed, and the ache in your chest deepens. you want to argue back, to make him see your side, but the words catch in your throat and you fall silent,

[stevie-petey]

moron

I own you.  The words practically drip from your rose coated lips, meant only for Steve, and he knows he’s lost.  “Yeah, whatever.” And it’s agreed. Come this Saturday, you and Steve will be working together. No one else, just the two of you, for eight long, maddening hours. 

Summary: steve really hates his coworker, but you know who he hates even more ? your shitty ex boyfriend (who he just so happens to share jacket preferences with)

Rating: general, violence, lots of swearing

Warnings: allusions to abuse, use of bitch as derogatory language towards women, shitty ex boyfriend, violence, enemies to lovers (more friends), fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 3.9k

Before you swing in: hey gang !! long time no stevie blurb, so here yall go <3 please, read the warnings for this one. theres a really shitty character in this and he may be triggering, so please be safe.

-

Steve doesn’t consider himself a bad guy.

Sure, he had the whole “King Steve” stint back in high school where he was an asshole to everyone, but he chooses to ignore those four years of his life. They were a brief lapse of judgment. 

A very long, brief lapse of judgment. But whatever.

The point is that Steve opens the door for strangers. He greets everyone with a smile and a polite nod of his head. When Robin forgets her lunch at work, Steve always gives her his. He walks his neighbor’s dog, he offers to carry groceries for the elderly. Hell, he even waves at babies. 

By all accounts, Steve would consider himself a goddamn saint. 

Except when it comes to you. 

Steve isn’t holding open any fucking doors for you and if you ever asked him to walk your dog, he’d laugh in your face. The moment you stepped foot in Family Video for your first shift, you made Steve’s life a living hell. He doesn’t know why or how you manage to dig so deep under his skin, but he’s convinced you do it on purpose. 

The movies you stack on the shelf always somehow manage to land on Steve’s head. The jokes you make with Robin are always at his expense. You never clock in on time, extending his shift by one more minute every goddamn time. The way you laugh pierces Steve’s skull, the sound rings in his ears and blinds his senses long enough to feel nauseous. 

Steve likes everyone, he isn’t a hard guy to please, but he truly, deeply, hates you. 

“Y/N wanted me to ask if you’d cover her shift this weekend,” Robin scans a beat up copy of Grease, trying to feign indifference as she brings the topic up. She absolutely doesn’t want to be doing this, she knows that any mention of you to Steve makes his eye twitch, but you called her crying and Robin is far too sympathetic for her own good. 

Predictably, Steve’s eye twitches and he snatches the movie from his coworker. “What, did she fall and hit her head this morning?” He scoffs, he can’t believe you even thought he’d consider the idea. “She knows I’d rather her show up with a broken arm and matching black eye to work before ever covering her shift.”

“Okay, that’s psychotically cruel. You know that, right?” Robin scans another movie and shakes her head. Steve hates you, she gets that, and while she doesn’t understand why, she also doesn’t like how much of an asshole he is about it. You’re her friend, too. Robin really likes you. 

“Good, I meant for it to be.”

“Steve, she’s going through a hard time right now–”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it, alright? I don’t care if her grandma died and left her an orphan,” the sound of the bell above Family Video’s front door rings, but Steve is too lost in his rant to hear it. “There’s no way in hell I’m ever, ever helping that demonic witch of a human being.”

Robin’s eyes widen and she tries to cover the teen’s mouth, hissing his name, but Steve bats her hand away and keeps going. “Y/N is a fucking moron for thinking otherwise, and that’s her problem. I mean, I know she’s your friend, which I still don’t know how she even managed to do that, but–”

“Steve!” Again Robin tries to get her friend to stop talking, but Steve is on a roll now. He’s fired up, tired of biting his tongue for the last six months. 

“She makes me want to physically tear my skin off and shove it down my throat every time she opens her mouth. And I’m being nice right now. I mean, I will gladly say this all to her tiny, annoying face–”

“Oh, you would?”

Immediately Steve’s voice dies and his words fall down upon his shoulders. He doesn’t dare turn around. He’s frozen. He’s convinced himself that if he doesn’t move then he can linger in the remaining few seconds where he hasn’t just said all those horrendous things with you standing right behind him. 

Robin drops her head onto the counter and groans. “You’re an idiot, Harrington.”

“Well, are you going to turn around?” Your breath almost fans Steve’s neck, you’ve walked up to him. He can practically envision the curl in your eyebrows whenever you get angry. An expression Steve has become familiar with. 

He gulps, still refusing to turn around. “You know, I really don’t think I can turn around.” His legs shake. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever fucked up this horribly before, and he’s fucked up a lot in his life. 

“Robin,” you turn your attention to her, the edge in your voice is the only indication of your anger. “Please inform our coworker that it’s inappropriate to use that language in a workplace, and please also inform him that I will no longer be needing him to cover my shift.”

“You… Don’t?” Robin looks between you and Steve. He still hasn’t looked at you yet, his face stares straight as if he’s trying to somehow disintegrate. You, however, face her with a steely look in your eyes, which surprises her. She thought there’d be more heartbreak in them. “I-I mean, are you sure? All things considered…”

“I’m fine.” The way you say it leaves no room for arguments. It’s already been decided, and Robin knows not to try and reason with you. She deflates, and you’re pleased with this. Even though her sympathy is unneeded, you can use it to your advantage. You’re going to make Steve pay. “In fact, I think you should inform our coworker that he’s covering your shift this weekend.”

Robin chokes on her spit, startled, while Steve finally turns to face you. “I’m sorry?”

“Aw, it’s okay, Harrington.” You pat his chest, albeit with more force than probably necessary, which he huffs at. “But I think the apology will work even better after spending some quality time together.”

You’re going to spend the entire eight hour shift making Steve’s life hell on earth. And he knows it.

“But–” 

“Say, Robin. What’s the company policy on harassment of employees?” You tap your finger against your chin with a menacing smile on your face. You’re enjoying this, and Steve hates you even more for that. “Doesn’t it say something about verbal insults?”

Steve sends the girl a pleading glance, begging her not to respond, but she can only shake her head at him. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. Sighing, Robin nods. “Yeah, it does.”

“I thought it did! Thanks, Buckley.” You wink at her before facing Steve again. He almost flinches at the coldness in your eyes. He’s so, so fucked. “Harrington, I’m sure you simply forgot, and I’m sure I can let bygones be bygones after you cover our dear friend’s shift. Yeah?”

I own you. 

The words practically drip from your rose coated lips, meant only for Steve, and he knows he’s lost. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

And it’s agreed. Come this Saturday, you and Steve will be working together. No one else, just the two of you, for eight long, maddening hours. 

–

When Steve arrives at work Saturday, you’ve already clocked in. 

He finds you sitting at the cash register, looking over the shipment for tomorrow. Sundays are the restock days, and the lists of orders are a pain in the ass to get through. It can take hours, sometimes even days, to comb through. When you see Steve walk in, you give him an icy smile. “Oh, perfect timing!” 

“We’re supposed to get here at eight.”

“And being early never hurt anyone.” Although you’re never early, you’re always late, and both of you know this. You scratch something off from the list, eyes never leaving Steve, and he can’t help but feel that the rough scratch of the pen is meant to symbolize his face. 

“What do you want?” Steve is too tired to play your games. He recognizes that he was a grade A asshole to you a few days ago, but this is going too far. 

You flick your hair behind your shoulder and straighten your posture. The gesture casts a cloud of a sickly sweet pomegranate scent over to Steve, causing him to sneeze violently. He’s always hated the perfume you wear. Smiling at the desired effect, you finally shove the restock lists towards him. “I need you to start sorting through next week’s orders.”

Steve looks at the lists and nearly cries. There’s at least thirty pages in the stack, doubled sided, with five columns and fifty rows. This is the largest shipment order he’s ever seen since working at Family Video, he can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope!” You hop down from the counter and walk over to the cart of returned movies. “Now, I’d get started if I were you. You know how much Keith hates it when we don’t get Sunday’s orders in on time.”

Your figure disappears behind a shelf of movies and Steve pretends to strangle you with his bare hands. You planned this. He doesn’t know how, but you did. If he didn’t have a reason to hate you so much, now he does. 

Hours pass by, you don’t at all speak to Steve as he labors over the shipments. Family Video requires the employees to manually input all the orders into the computer to send to the supply chain. The process alone is impractical and takes longer than it should, but pair that with the shitty computers that Keith refuses to upgrade, it makes Steve contemplate running into the road. The browser crashes three separate times. At one point he loses track of which movie he’d been on and has to restart an entire row at number forty-three.

It’s the worst fucking five hours of Steve’s entire life.

Meanwhile, all you do those five hours is browse through some online catalog on the other computer and help a total of two customers who come in. 

By the time Steve has finally finished inputting everything, words float around his vision and he can feel the beginning stages of a headache forming. The pressure sits right behind his left eye, dull and throbbing. 

All because he couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut.

Steve should really learn to listen to Robin. 

“Are you all done?” You materialize next to Steve, startling him and he lets out an embarrassing shriek, which you snicker at. “Wow, Harrington. You’re really tense today.”

He rolls his eyes and steps away from you. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Yeah, who knows!” Steve glares at you and you smile right back at him. “Anyways, since you finished up so fast, why don’t you sort through the backorders next? It shouldn’t take you that long.”

The backorders. 

Steve wants to fucking scream.

The backorders are all the movies that the store can’t input into the system. They’re orders that get messed up, misplaced, and abandoned in Keith’s disgusting office. The pile of discarded movies has grown so large that it rivals Steve’s height and build. It’s its own entity at this point. A terrifying, breakdown inducing entity. 

You’re a fucking evil genius. 

But if Steve even looks at the backorders, he thinks he might actually murder you. 

“No,” he crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified and intimidating than he really feels. Awkwardly placing his weight on his left foot, he purposely ducks his head down to emphasize how much taller he is than you. “No way in hell am I going through the backorders.”

“I wonder what Keith would say when I tell him all the wonderful things you said about me on Wednesday,” you step forward, angling your head up to get a better look at Steve. You want him to see all the hatred you have for him in your eyes. 

What he said about you hurt. There’s no other way to put it. His words had been venom upon your skin, searing the flesh as it left a nasty scar. The wound has festered ever since, making your already shitty week even worse. 

Steve had called you “fucking moron”. Just like he had. 

“Oh, screw company policy and whatever that asshole Keith says!” Steve doesn’t care anymore if he has a job by the end of today. He’s had enough of your shitty mind games and power plays. He may have been a dick, but he doesn’t deserve any of this, either. The strenuous labor and migraines. “I’m done, alright? You’re being such a–”

“Bitch?” A gruff voice chuckles, interrupting. Steve, surprised to hear another male voice in the store, quickly turns around. 

The guy is tall, taller than Steve. That’s the first thing he notices. Then he notices the cold blue of his eyes and the way your entire body freezes in fear when you see him. Steve moves your body behind his, unconsciously putting you out of harm’s way, protecting you from whoever the hell this guy is in front of him. It’s instinctual, he doesn’t hesitate.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is, calling you a bitch?

“I would never call her that,” Steve squares his shoulders, putting ice into his words as he does so. He wouldn’t. He was going to call you a child. Steve would never call a woman a bitch, his mother raised him better than that and Robin would hit him if he ever did.

The guy laughs again. “You sure about that, buddy?”

“Jack,” Steve almost doesn’t hear you, you’re barely audible. He’s never heard your voice so soft before, so weak and scared; he decides he never, ever wants to be the cause of this voice. “You can’t be here.”

“Says who? I don’t see anybody kickin’ me out.” The guy, Jack, shrugs indifferently. He stuffs his hands into his jacket, it’s made of a nice, suede material that Steve is ashamed to admit he’d wear himself. “I wanted to see you, sweetheart.”

Jack tries to step closer to you, but Steve blocks him. “Funny, I thought she was a bitch?”

“Bitch, sweetheart, easy fuck, fucking moron.” Jack laughs, only this time it’s cruel. “It’s all the same when it comes to Y/N.”

Fucking moron.

Steve had said the same about you. A heavy weight of shame crushes his chest. He should’ve never called you such a cruel name. He knows that, now. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” Steve sneers, hand now coming around your arm as if terrified Jack will pull you away from him. “What the hell is your problem, man?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business? This is a conversation between me and the sweetheart over here.” Jack tries to reach for you again, but Steve shoves the guy away. He stumbles back, a wicked smile on his face. “Oh, the pretty boy can fight?”

“Steve,” You finally speak again, trying to shove yourself between the two men. The room grows hot and you don’t want anyone getting hurt. Not here, not with Steve. “Just leave it alone, walk away–”

Only Jack grabs your arm and viciously pulls, causing a pained yelp to escape you. A nerve pinches in your shoulder, he sends your body flying forward. His grip is harsh, it will leave bruises tomorrow, and you’re weak against him. Fear chokes you, he always does this.

“Don’t touch her.” Steve’s fist collides with Jack’s face, starbursts of pain explode in his wrist but he doesn’t care. All he sees is red now. Jack hurt you. He caused you to cry out in pain. Steve punches him again, the sound of pain you made rings in his ears, turns his blood cold and his anger boiling hot. 

Jack recovers from the punches quickly and he raises his fist, but you try to get him away from Steve. “Stop!” 

The fist comes down, you brace for impact, helpless against it, but the sound of skin hitting skin is all you’re met with. You open your eyes, Jack’s fist is in Steve’s palm. Stunned, Jack is too slow to pull away before Steve wraps his arm around his and twists it behind his back. The muscles strain, the ligament cries in pain as Jack’s arm is pulled dangerously far back. 

“Fuck!” Jack screams, contorting his body desperately to get out of the death lock he’s in. 

“You’re going to leave,” Steve hisses into his ear, “and you’re going to never, ever come back. If you even look at Y/N again I swear,” he mercilessly pulls even harder on Jack’s arm, the bone threatens to snap, but he doesn’t care. “I will break every bone in your fucking body.”

And with that, Steve finally releases Jack, who crashes pathetically to the ground. The moment he’s freed, he scrambles to his feet and cradles his sprained arm. He’s panting, no longer the confident and arrogant asshole he once was when he walked into Family Video ten minutes prior.

“Fuck you,” Jack spits out at Steve, but he’s already walking backwards towards the door to leave. “That bitch isn’t worth it, anyways.”

The door slams closed. 

Silence fills the void that the violence left behind. 

Steve shakes out his wrist, wringing out the pain from the punches. His knuckles are red, raw, bruising with every passing second. He brings the injured hand closer to inspect it, wincing at the inflamed skin. 

“You’re hurt.”

Your eyes linger on the blood that leaks from his knuckles. The skin has split, but the pain that the nerve endings scream over soothes Steve. He shakes his hand out again as he shakes his head at you. “I’m fine.”

But you don’t believe him.

Carefully, slowly, you bring your uninjured hand over Steve’s injured one. Your touch is gentle, hesitant. The pads of your fingers skim over the bruising that litters Steve’s skin. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no.” Steve pulls his hand away, he doesn’t like what the image of his injury is doing to you. He’s not used to your tenderness, the sympathy you blanket him with. Besides, he isn’t the only one who got hurt. Steve instead brings your hand up, holding your wrist delicately as he sucks in a breath seeing the bruises Jack left. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You don’t say anything. 

Steve kisses the damaged skin, he feels you shiver beneath his lips. He isn’t sure why he does it, he just knows that he wishes he could physically remove the burn of the bruises from your memory. 

Minutes pass, the silence is all that is spoken. 

Eventually the two of you get back to work. There’s still two more hours before either of you can leave, even if the thought of staying in the store suffocates you. No other customers come in. It’s just you and Steve, matching bruises to keep you guys company. 

When four in the afternoon comes along, Steve clocks both of you out and locks the store up. He doesn’t let you do a single thing. He insists on having you sit by the window as he finishes the last restock orders and closes the door. His hand softly guides you outside, lingering on your waist as he locks the store’s doors for the night. 

“Alright, well…” Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t know what else to say to you. “Guess I’ll just, you know, leave–”

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

His breath catches. You stare up at him, eyes wide with fear and vulnerability and despair. “I…”

“Please,” you can’t walk home alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that happened today. “I just…”

Without saying anything, Steve’s hand finds yours, and he walks you to his car. He opens the door for you, closes it softly behind you once you get in. He gets into his own seat, turns the radio on and fiddles with the stations until he finds the one he knows you like. Every time you have a shift together, you play the same station and sing along to all your favorite songs.

It used to drive Steve insane.

Now he’s relieved he can do this one thing for you.

The drive is quiet. The only conversation that is made is mumbled directions to your house. It isn’t a far drive, but Steve takes his time anyways. He doesn’t know if you have anyone to go home to, he knows you haven’t stopped shaking quite yet. 

“Turn here,” your voice is hoarse from lack of use.

Steve listens, turns into a neighborhood he’s unfamiliar with. He thinks he’s nearing your home and he isn’t ready to let you go just yet. He knows you have to talk about what happened today. The bruises on his knuckles will fade, but the memory of Jack’s cruel words won’t. 

“So,” He clears his throat. He’s doing the right thing, he knows he is. “Jack. He was…?”

You’re quiet for several moments and Steve is afraid he’s ruined everything, pushed you too far, but eventually you respond. “Ex boyfriend. Broke up a week ago. He didn’t take it well.”

“I hate him.”

Despite the fatigue that weighs upon you and the dread that Jack will come back, you can’t help but laugh at what Steve has said. “Yeah, I guess I do, too.”

Silence falls again. Steve pulls into your driveway, he turns the car off, the headlights die, but neither one of you move. 

“You’re not, you know.”

You finally face Steve, confused as to what he’s referencing. “What?”

“You’re not a ‘fucking moron’. And you’re definitely not a bitch.” He clarifies, eyes meeting yours. You’re almost breathless by how brightly they shine with remorse. You’ve never known a man who felt such an emotion. “Jack is a dick, and so was I.”

“Steve…”

He doesn’t let you pity him. He knows what he did was wrong, the words that fell from his mouth about you will haunt him forever. Steve may not have liked you, but he didn’t have any right to say those things about you. “I really am sorry, Y/N.” 

There’s nothing to forgive.

Steve isn’t Jack. You know that, now. 

“It’s okay. I think I made you go through enough today, anyways.” You nudge his shoulder with yours, risking physical affection just this once. “First the restock orders and then defending my honor? I think we’re even.”

“I was pretty heroic, wasn’t I?” Steve tries to laugh, play along, but it’s bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for how much he hurt you. 

Noticing his darkened expression, you poke Steve’s cheek. “Hey, you’re not allowed to brood. I’m the one whose crazy ex showed up at work today.” But it doesn’t work, he doesn’t laugh and you know he blames himself for everything. “Look at me, Steve.”

Night has fallen and the honey brown in Steve’s eyes resembles darkened ash. You place your hand on his, careful not to disturb his bruises. “I forgive you, but if you insist on being such an annoying jerk about it, then you can make it up to me by being my friend.”

“Your friend?” Steve doesn’t pull his hand away from yours, and it’s a start. 

“Yup, think you can handle that?” 

“‘Friends’,” he lets the word roll over his tongue. Tests it out, gets a feel for what it would be like to call you his friend. He thinks he likes the way it feels, the weight that accompanies it is one that settles his chest, soothes his wounds. “I guess I can be okay with that.”

He smiles at you, then, and you smile back.

You’re beautiful when you smile; warm, angelic.  

Steve doesn’t consider himself a bad guy, but by all accounts, he considers you a goddamn saint. 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

⌑ please feel free to like, reblog, and comment. i adore hearing from you guys :)

[mocchii-writes]

can you do a dae ho fic, with him being super protective and defending the reader, but she shows her own strength (maybe even saving him) and he is so star struck and falls in love immediately

She's the Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

Paring: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader Summary: Dae-ho felt the need to protect you, but didn't expect how starstruck he could be when you returned the favor. Words: 1k Warnings: death, guns, swearing, violence, normal squid game stuff lols A/n: I hope I didn't make this too Y/n lmao ♡ ~🍡🍡

It's definitely hard to trust people here, to say the least. You see it all, just about. The blood of hundreds stains your clothes, and the screams you’ll probably have in your nightmares feel like a fever dream. Your survival instinct can only get you so far, though, and you know it. You need to find a backup.

You expect some kind of weapon to fill the gap in your barrier. You could break a mirror in the bathrooms, maybe? It's an understatement to say the supplies are limited, and you just barely make it through the last game. You can tell you're a target. Maybe not a huge one, but everybody here has someone after them, and it's easy and difficult at the same time to be discreet here.

But it isn't a weapon you get for help--it's a man. He doesn't hesitate to help you out when you need it, and you know that he’s valuable in this setting. You call him Dae-ho. Probably because that's his name, but it still has some meaning to you. Hopefully to him, too. It feels right, rolling off of your tongue, but you digress.

He seems to care about you, at least compared to some of the heartless shells of people here. You've both found solace in each other, and he truly made you feel safe, even if you had only known each other for a few days. You talk to one another. He tells you about his life, his past. You tell him about your past, your life. It's a small feeling of comfort, at least to you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of lights out being announced by that cold voice that makes your skin shiver. You kick your legs, sitting on a bed as you look at Dae-ho across the room. He's discussing something with his little group. He'd previously invited you to join, but you said you'd rather keep your circle small. You swing your legs, looking at his face. It's very serious, but he's pretty far away. He says something, and then you feel his eyes on you. He nods briefly at someone else as he heads to you. Your face shows concern as his serious demeanor doesn't falter.

"You need to be near us tonight, preferably in our base." You think he's joking, but you don't laugh, just in case.

""Base"?" You ask, smiling. "Why?" He rolls his eyes a bit, but you can't say you blame him. "I can handle myself." He raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I'm not going to argue with you about that, but I could." You squint at him but chuckle. "Mr. Seong says people are going to fight tonight. He has a plan to keep us safe, and he said you can join."

"I thought we were gonna place bets." You smile. "My money is on that greasy guy who hangs out with the purple-haired asshole." He doesn't look amused, so you sigh. "How do you know he's not trying to get you killed?" You ask, dropping your egotistic demeanor.

"All he does is try to help us. Please." He says, pleading with you to have some common sense. You knew you would eventually accept, but you didn't like the thought.

"I'll think about it, alright?" He sighs and smiles a little. He knows he should take what he can get, but he hates the thought of someone hurting you.

Dae-ho isn't sure why he's taken the responsibility to protect you, but he has. He thinks of you like a flower sometimes. He can't make you take care of yourself if you don't want to, but he knows he's going to protect you anyway because everybody deserves a chance.

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

You were lost in your thoughts, breaking out when you hear the robotic voice again.

"Player 230, 401, 299, 331, and 268, eliminated."

What? How? Your eyes track the room and land on Dae-ho, who's staring at the guards, confused. You make eye contact briefly, before people emerge from the bathrooms.

They go on to accuse each other of attacking the opposing team, creating an edge in the room. You're not listening very closely, though. Maybe Dae-ho was on to something when he said you should hide tonight.

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

Update: He very much was right.

But you can't really think about that because there are far bigger issues at hand.

The lights are flickering so intensely you're afraid they might explode, and there's too much yelling and screaming to organize your thoughts. People are moving everywhere like scattering ants, and everything is a weapon for everyone. There's blood, a lot of it, all over the floor. You run, but it's like playing operation with corpses. You have scrapes from falling off your bed and defending yourself as you regret acting tough to Dae-ho.

Your ears are ringing, only because of a punch you just took. Everything is moving at the speed of light, and you don't have time to catch up. You kick back and stun the other person enough to run away. You feel a hand on your shoulder as you whip around, ready to fight.

To your brief luck, it's Dae-ho. He says something you can't hear and then pushes you behind him. You almost scoff if you weren't truly afraid for your life. He punches the person following you but quickly takes one himself. You try to move him, but he blocks your entrance again. You shout to him, telling him to let you help, but he probably can't hear you. You see someone holding a glass bottle sprinting to you, and your instinct finally kicks in. Literally.

You shift to the left and swiftly kick them, stunning them enough to drop their bottle as you punch them, their head ramming against a bed frame as they slide down, eyes closed. You force yourself to look away from the small pool of blood forming and push down the sick feeling in your stomach. You look for Dae-ho, to see him still fighting. He appears to be losing, though you can't hold it against him.

You don't hesitate to pull the guy off of him, grabbing his shirt from behind and throwing him down as best you could. He sits up, but you kick him hard in the face, knocking him out. You're better at this than you thought. You see another lady running to you, screaming. You quickly pick up the discarded glass bottle and shatter it against her skull. The lights turn on as guards rush in, appearing to stop the fighting.

You pant, wiping unknown blood from your face as you look to Dae-ho. You expect him to look horrified at least, but he's simply staring at you. You tilt your head at him.

"You... handled that." He says, grabbing your arm and bringing you to his "base".

"I said I could," you smirk, "You seem surprised."

"No, I'm impressed." He laughs dryly.

That stressful moment didn’t feel like it would ever end, but it did, and you found yourself still standing. Or at least, still breathing. Dae-ho was too, which was the only thing you cared about at the moment. You leaned against the wall, your body trembling from the adrenaline. He was sitting across from you, his eyes anywhere but you.

"You're full of surprises," he says, his body seemed to hint at something softer than what his voice did.

"You thought I wasn't?" you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"I never said that." He pauses, looking at his hands before looking at you. "I'm just happy you're okay."

His words linger in the air for a moment, and you’re unsure how to respond. You’d only met him a few days ago, but Dae-ho had become more than just an ally. He was someone you could trust in a place where trust was a gamble most people couldn’t afford to make.

"You didn't have to stick your neck out for me," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.

"I wanted to," he replies simply, as though the decision had been easy. He finally drags his eyes to look at you. "You make this mess... bearable."

You feel your cheeks flush despite the blood coating your skin. His honesty is unexpected, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Not anymore. You’d seen too much in such a short time to waste moments of purity.

"Dae-ho," you start, but his name on your tongue makes you falter. You take a breath and try again. "I don’t know how much longer either of us will make it here, but... you give me hope in this place, I guess."

His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes this time. He shifts closer, closing the space between you two. "Then we survive for each other. Okay?"

You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside of this moment feels small. The chaos, the blood, the fear—all of it fades away. In its place is Dae-ho, his presence holding your soul in an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

You're both specks of dust in a hurricane, and you both know it. But, for this moment, you know you'll have a place to rest in the heart of this chaos. You can't say you're in love, but as he gently rests his hand over yours, you can't say you couldn't be.

So, I kind of love this, lmk what you think ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[russellsppttemplates]

The “she’s busy” prank with lando cuz i reckon it would be funny😭

link to trend- https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGemP92BS/

Note: thank you for attaching a link, anon, you know me and my lack of knowledge of TikTok way too well 😭 I have seen a few posts too, so hopefully it's good enough!

Lando left the track he did his run of the day on, preferring to do it there instead of running in the city like usual. He was thinking you could have some takeout at home, getting his phone from his pocket to ask you what you were fancying.

Hey baby, just finished my run and I thought we could have some takeout! Is there anything tickling your fancy?

Lando sipped some of the water he brought with him as he waited for your reply.

Bro, she's busy

That was weird, who would have your phone? He didn't recall you mentioning someone visiting and he knew you were staying home.

What do you mean? Y/N, are you okay?

I just told you she's busy

That wasn't usual, and Lando was starting to worry

Who is this?

Put Y/N on the phone, please, give it to her

No can do, I told you we're busy

Doing what?

That sounds like none of your business, mate

Lando tried calling you but the call was instantly declined.

That's it, I'm coming home

Lando sent the text and started his car, driving home as he heard a few messages getting through but being wise enough to not text while driving. A call came through as he stopped at a red light, accepting it with the button on his steering wheel, "baby, Y/N, are you okay?", he spoke as he heard wheezing and laughs on the other side of the call, "is everything okay? I'll be home in about five minutes, okay?".

"I'm sorry, baby", you breathed out, "Max and P wanted me to try it! I'm sorry, my love", you explained as your boyfriend's bestfriend took your phone.

"Pietra saw it on TikTok on our way here to surprise you and she knew you'd fall for it", he explained as Lando groaned, "it was funny though!".

"I was worried sick, you asshole!", Lando yelled, "I left my girlfriend at home and changed my usual run routine and I thought someone had broken in!", he said.

"Usually people think they're being cheated on", Pietra chirped in. Lando shook his head and scoffed even though they couldn't see him, "Y/N wouldn't cheat on me", he said confidently. It had been the first thing you promised eachother and you both took it seriously.

"So you thought someone was kidnapping me? And you were coming to get me and save me?", you cooed, "of course I would, baby! I'm parking the car, I'll be up in a bit", he dialled off the call.

Opening the door for him, you jumped in his arms and his your face in his neck, "you'd come to save and protect me?", you cooed again, kissing his face everywhere in hopes he would forgive you, "of course I would, I knock the guy right out", he flexed his muscles.

Max laughed as Lando closed the door with his foot and walked to the living room to meet them, "first you come here unannounced, then proceed to prank e through my girlfriend and you're laughing about my fighting abilities? It sounds like you really want to be offered to sleep in the balcony", Lando tsked, "you wouldn't", Max groaned, "I wouldn't, but it would be good considering what happened", Lando reasoned before kissing your neck when you nuzzled your face in his neck, "also, someone needs to order the takeout now, so I think that's punishment enough".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[tovibeornottovibe]

Deny! Deny! Deny! - Part I

Azriel x Priestess!Fem!OC

Azriel knows Thea is just as attracted to him as he is to her. He's content to only think about her when he's in bed and he's happy to know that she's doing the same. They can spar and meet up in the training ring secretly when they can't sleep. They can talk about sex and revenge and whatever they're reading at the moment like they're things two friends just discuss at the same time. Unfortunately, an external problem forces them to be confined in the House of Wind together, with only a certain Eris Vanserra as temporary company. So, naturally, he ruins everything. [4.5k words]

warnings: explicit sexual content from the very start, masturbation, azriel being a horny mf, various sexual fantasies, swearing

Part II

Prefer to read on Ao3?

Azriel’s at his desk in the House of Wind, working, reading reports and writing little notes to himself in red ink along the margins. It’s taking him twice as long to sort through the useful parts because he keeps letting his mind wander to what it he imagines it’s like to come in Thea’s mouth. His shadows are thoroughly banished to the corners of his office, since they tend to whisper things like: when she touches herself, she whispers your name, she needs you, she’s dripping just for you, shadowsinger, wants your tongue and your hands and your… in his ear and they aren’t supposed to be eavesdropping on her. In fact, he’s ordered them not to. Explicitly. Who or what Thea thinks about in bed is not his business and he doesn’t want it to be, even if it’s him.

Because it isn’t really him, it’s just a fantasy of what she thinks he’ll be like. Same way that when he thinks of her, it isn’t her. He doesn’t know what her moans sound like or how intoxicating her skin tastes or what pretty colour her nipples are. He’s content never to find out too. His imagination is good enough.

By the time Rhys pulls that thread in the back of his mind to let him know he wants to talk, he’s this close to coming in his trousers and nowhere near hitting the very high work quota that he sets himself. 

Not a good time, Rhys, he says along the thread, and curses himself. He sounds breathy even in his head.

A dark chuckle comes back at him. Am I interrupting?

Technically, no, but Az is about to palm himself through his underwear until he spills with Thea’s name caught in his throat. When he does that, he’ll need time to clean himself up. He’s not walking into Rhys’ office smelling like he’s been in a pleasure hall in the middle of the day—though, it would get Rhys off his back about Elain finally, and then he half-considers the idea before he snaps himself out of it. So, he supposes, Rhys is interrupting, and Az isn’t available to him until he deals with his straining cock.

What do you want? he grits out, kind of like his teeth are stuck together. 

Rhys hedges, his tone annoying, Just a friendly little chit-chat between brothers, nothing hugely importan—

You’re an asshole, Az deadpans, I’m not in the mood. The heat curling in his stomach is starting to burn. Shifting in his seat makes him tense just from the friction of the fabric moving against his skin. He’s a fool, he thinks, for not just taking a break and rubbing one out earlier to get his concentration back, but there’s something delicious about clamping his jaw shut so no one hears him groaning if they pass by the door while he gets himself off in here. Maybe Cassian’s right to call him a freak in bed. Or out of bed, as the case may be.

Just finish who you’re doing and meet me in the river house once you’ve had a bath, Rhys says. We’ve had an interesting proposal.

…Damn his curiosity. 

From who? he asks.

For the moment his brother hesitates, Az thinks he’s going to fob him off and not tell him anything at all, but then, very carefully, Rhys says, That’ll definitely ruin your afternoon. And whoever it is you have with you. He lets out a huff of frustration that isn’t just because he’s been hard for twenty minutes now when Rhys retreats from the bond and leaves his head. Cryptic bullshit. Makes him anxious. Not great for maintaining a hard-on.

The irritation quickly disappears when he undoes the ties at his crotch and squeezes his cock the same way he thinks Thea will clench around him when she’s close. It’s languid and needy and he’s panting quietly at his fucking desk of all places while he smears the pre-cum thats leaking from his tip all over himself so it’s easier to tug just the way he likes it. He grips the edge of his desk when his wings start to twitch and tighten. His abs ache from the tension that keeps him from bucking up into his own hand; that’s just embarrassing. It’s probably a lewd sight, and the thought of Thea watching him whine is what gets him to come so hard on his stomach that he actually sees stars. 

Bliss, that’s what he calls it. Euphoria is reserved for the real thing.

Thea being the subject of what gets him off doesn’t factor into the post-climax guilt he feels. She knows he thinks about her like this; she asked him one time up in the training ring, he answered honestly, and she didn’t tell him not to. She laughed at him for it, coyly, and he thinks about the sound of that too. So it’s fine. 

What does get him to second-guess himself is the fact that both Rhys and Mor will skin him alive for thinking about a priestess like that, regardless of whether Thea likes it or not. They’re like that. Principles apply without context. That, and he’s made an utter mess of himself, and this particular shirt, pair of trousers, and boxers are now ruined. 

A few minutes having been taken to just be, recovering, his shadows aren’t picky about taking him from this room to his bedroom, where he strips, throws his clothes on the floor (where the House vanishes them. He’s not sure he wants to know where it puts things like that), washes, and redresses himself all in the space of five minutes. They fuss at his shoulders, but know better than to start talking again. He’d sooner fly to the river house alone than listen to them spoil Thea’s preferences. Though a comfort, they’re unnecessarily involved in trying to provide him with more company than they can give. Feminine temptation, they know as well as he does, is an effective way to make him crack.

But not when it comes to Thea.

He lands in the back gardens of the river house where the edge of the land runs off into the Sidra. Rhys and Feyre have a little pier down here where, he doesn’t know, they fish with Nyx or something. It’s all very domestic. Perfect for a kid. He’s happy for them. Really, really happy for them. Sure, the bitter, acidic envy roiling in his chest says otherwise, but he’s not listening to that right now. Or ever, if he can help it.

He strolls in through the backdoor with his shadows curling around his figure softly, barely visible in the natural Summer sunlight that streams through the windows of the house. It’s good lighting for painting, Feyre had been telling him. The stairs up to Rhys’ office are short work, he takes them two at a time, and he passes by the portraits on the walls that he’s seen a hundred times in the same way he always does, in awe. Such detail in the brush marks that the ones he can see have to be deliberate, dragging the paint for a specific effect. Az doesn’t know enough about art to know if what Feyre does is common, but he knows what he likes, and he likes what his High Lady paints.

He knocks, but Rhys calls him in before he’s finished and the metallic taste of High Fae magic hits his tongue as the door flicks open of its own accord. Soft, perfect laughter wafts through the threshold before he can take another step, and now he considers if the Mother has been conspiring against him today, because he knows that laugh.

“Ah, decided to finally grace us with your presence, Az?” It’s Mor who’s talking, a bit impatiently, but Azriel’s still snagging on who’s sitting opposite Rhys, eyeing him over her shoulder while she puts down her tea with a clink.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Thea leaves the library sometimes. Her idiosyncrasies stretch further than that, he would assume. It doesn’t surprise him that she’s wearing that wrap of blue fabric that hugs her thighs and around her ankles so that it’s more of a bodysuit than a dress, despite the flowing silk which is draped around her shoulders. The way the light bounces off her terra-cotta skin and makes the bronze in her dark curls shimmer doesn’t shock him either—he’s entirely aware of the fact that she can rival Helion for looking like the sun personified at times, and he knows that sounds romantic but it isn’t. It’s factual. Completely objective.

However, the gold foil, very intentionally flecked on the apples of her cheeks in little scraps which follow the curve of her eyes like stars, that gets him. And now he has a new way to imagine her gasping for him. Why in the world has she done that and how in the hell does it frame her face so well?

…Bad thoughts. He’s blocking them out.

Her being in Rhys’ office, that is what he needs to focus on.

“I…” he starts as he falters into the room, ripping his gaze off of Thea before it can get suspicious and onto Mor, who’s lounging by the window which looks out into the city, “...was busy.” Neither she nor Rhys give him the usual sly, snide comments at the insinuation of that. He directs his question at his brother, letting himself glance at Thea only to nod at her in greeting, like he hasn’t just had a mind-blowing orgasm at the idea of her tittering at him when he whimpers for her, before he sits down in the chair next to her. “What’s going to ruin my afternoon?”

“This is.” 

Rhys grimaces before Az turns to Thea. Between her index finger and her middle finger, she clasps a letter written on yellow-ish paper, its red seal already broken, and the page unfolded. She looks at him and tilts her head, a small smile quirking on her lips like she thinks this is funny, and he gently takes the letter from her hand. He ignores it when his fingers brush against hers.

When he sees what’s stamped on the seal, he feels his blood run cold: baying dogs amongst fire. The feeling doesn’t stop until he’s finished reading every single word that’s scrawled in that fucking handwriting on that fucking paper. 

“This is addressed to you, Thea. Directly addressed to you,” he says, raking his eyes over the word Hemithea at the top of the page. If Az's familiarity with her strikes Rhys or Mor as odd, they don’t mention it, and he’s too hyperfocused on the letter to notice if they make faces or if their breathing changes. He snaps his head up to her and makes sure she’s looking at him before he asks, “Why is Eris Vanserra addressing letters about…?” He searches for the term on the paper.

“Dissociative stimulants?” she offers, but the look he gives her makes her go quiet and he realises he’s angry. Furious, even. It’s not the cold anger that he only lets Rhys see, not the icy rage that comes over him when he needs to release it. And it’s not with her, never, but with the situation, and he’s not doing a good job at pushing that at anything but her. There’s no fear on her face, thankfully, she just seems taken aback by the strength of his feeling about it. So is he, if he’s honest, but having his friend offer advice to one of his mortal enemies wasn’t what he had on the cards for today. 

“Yes,” he bites out. “Those. Why is he asking you about those?”

“Azriel,” Rhys warns lowly. He slides his gaze over to his brother for a second, before it settles back on Thea and he waits.

“It’s fine,” she says to Rhys, waving him off, and then her sole attention is on him and Az can feel the wind get kicked out from under him as she fixes him still. “Eris—” hearing the prick’s name come out of her mouth puts him on edge, “—asked Rhys for information on a certain plant that his father has begun using, and Rhys directed him to me because that’s what I research—”

He cuts her off. “I know what you research, Thea.” Of course he does. He can sit and watch her smash training dummy after training dummy with her impeccable blade skills on those sleepless nights of theirs and happily listen to her talk about medicines and hallucinogens for hours on end. It’s not only useful for when he needs to apply a bit more pressure in the dungeons of the Hewn City, but it’s truly fascinating and the passion in her voice when she speaks is more soothing than any kind of tea Madja has ever given him for headaches. “Why are we providing Eris with access to our scholars?” Her face softens when he calls her that. Scholar. The sight relaxes him, but not enough.

“We aren’t,” Mor says firmly from behind him, still lounging and looking out of the window. 

“Mor—” Thea begins, but Rhys stops her softly.

He addresses both Mor and Az plainly. “I want to know what Beron is doing beyond what Az’s spies can tell us.” It’s not meant as an insult, but it hurts like one, and Rhys sends him an apologetic look. Not a reflection on you, brother. Even Az knows that there are limits to what someone paid to betray their home Court is willing, or able, to provide. “If he’s found a substitute for faebane now that we’re inoculated, we need to be prepared. Eris is giving us information about that whether he thinks he is or not.”

Realisation dawns on Azriel so quickly he’s certain the rest of the room can feel it. He has to shut his jaw before it hangs open for too long. “You’re tricking him.”

Thea, again smiling at him, nods. “In a way, yes.”

Is that pride blooming in his chest?

“I’ve been plying him for as much information as I can get. Obviously, he knows we’re gaining from what he’s telling us, but he thinks the details I’m asking for are just out of curiosity.”

Then… why is this an issue?

He hadn’t said a word, but Mor answers his question anyway. “If you let him into the city,” she snaps, “he wins. You do get that, don’t you?” In her voice is the wet rage of a person who cares too much. It’s righteous rage, after everything that happened to her.

Wait.

Double take.

“Let him into the city? ” he snarls at Rhys, who’s watching for his reaction with a kind of impassive, neutral face. 

Thea sighs beside him. “If we want to understand what it is this plant does,” she says coolly, “I need to see the physical effects of it on the body. Eris is capable of giving me that, and I’m not leaving Velaris to get it.”

The admission knocks him out of his anger so completely that his spiking shadows drop flat to the floor before they whirl up to his shoulders again. Gods, of course she won’t leave the city. Eris has to come to her. She’s a scholar, but a priestess too. The library is her sanctuary and he knows exactly what happened to her for it to have become that. Only he, Mor, and Rhys are aware of the story, Mor actively being the one to bring her to Velaris, and the other two don’t even know that Thea told him one night in the House of Wind. Leaving the library to come here is bravery enough; he’ll physically stop Mor pushing that boundary if he has to.

“Then get someone else to meet with him,” Mor says, and Az understands. Thea, knowing her, will too. It’s an unfair scenario, but he’s already shaking his head at the notion. No one else understands this substance like Thea does, and try as he might to comprehend all of the things she tells him, she’s the expert. The depth of her knowledge would take years to teach someone else so they could perform whatever study she needs to, and by then, Beron might be using this stimulant for something nefarious. They can’t have that.

“He’d stay in the House of Wind, Mor,” Rhys explains kindly. He too gets it, why she’s so irate about it. “He’s not getting anywhere close to the city.”

“Punt him off one of the balconies,” Thea says. “Let me strap him to a table and make him bleed for what he did to you, Mor.” The imagery of that, and Thea being the one to do it, pleases Az more than he cares to admit. “It doesn’t matter to me what happens to him, but only after I’ve wrung every last bit of information out of him. This—” she waves the letter in the air, “—scares me. If it does what I think it does, then we need to know how to combat it as fast as possible.”

Mor swallows, purses her lips, and returns to the window. Az can’t tell if that’s quiet acceptance of Eris’ presence, or angry acceptance of the fact that Rhys is going to let him into the city with or without her approval. Something about that sits uncomfortably in Azriel’s stomach. Willfully ignoring your second-in-command is a bold, if stupid, move.

“What do you think it does?” he asks, noting the real, shaking fear in the way Thea spoke. It’s not something he ever wants to hear again. Even Rhys sits back as he watches her take a breath.

“The classification of it: dissociative stimulant, tells you a lot,” she says. “It stimulates brain function. Makes you forget the limits your body puts your muscles under to stop you tearing yourself in half. Makes you more aggressive, heightens every basic instinct you have. And the dissociative part…”

“You’re out of your mind while it’s affecting you,” he finishes for her.

She makes a little hum of approval. Inappropriately, he stores the sound for a different context. “Hallucinations. Delusions. Totally abnormal emotional responses,” she continues. “Reading between the lines of what Eris says, it has a side effect of making a person more… malleable. Think being controlled by a daemati but you can give it to thousands and thousands of soldiers who won’t feel pain, don’t want to eat, and have no concept of their morals, all without breaking a sweat. Eris—he’s terrified of it.”

Sounds a lot like the Crown, he thinks absently.

Rhys must have caught the thought, because his voice rings in Az’s head. But far worse.

Does Feyre—?

A nod. Thea came here and explained everything to the two of us already. I thought she was going to break the front door off its hinges.

If this weren’t so serious, he’d laugh at the image. Thea went down the ten thousand steps and crossed the city for this, instead of trying to find him or Cassian and ask them to help her. Then again, if she had decided to get him, she’d have found him with his hand around his cock, probably sighing her name, so it’s for the best that she didn’t. Besides, it’s obvious to him that the exertion of the journey hasn’t affected her. She’s wide-eyed. Excited, even. It’s a strange thing to note.

He swallows thickly. Refocuses. He hates everything about this. He hates that Mor is the one who has to bear the brunt of it. He doesn’t want Eris within ten feet, no, ten miles of Thea, and Cassian… Logistically, it doesn’t seem possible. “Cassian will kill him before he even steps foot in the House of Wind. If Eris breathes near Nesta, it’s over before it begins,” he says.

Measured, detached, Rhys replies, “Neither of them will be in the House of Wind when he’s here.”

The plan, Azriel realises, has been set out before he’d even arrived, and he’s just walked Rhys and Thea through it the same way they probably formed it. Clever.

“And you want me to play chaperone,” he concludes, not bothering to ask it as a question. “Again.” Mor perks up at the word, but it’s for Rhys and him to know. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Rhys asks, almost splutters, like he was expecting more pushback.

But it is fine. It’s the only way any of this is fine. If he isn’t there, then Thea has no safety net, and no one would be around to keep Eris in his place. That fucker will try something, he feels it. He’s not about to give Eris unfettered access to her. That sounds like possessiveness, but it isn’t. While they might be training the priestesses in the House of Wind, and though Thea is the best of them, Eris has five-hundred-years of experience and the power of an heir to a Court. So, yeah, he nods, it’s fine. Not good, not okay. Fine. 

To Thea, he asks, “How long do you think you’ll need?”

She shrugs. “A few days, maybe more. I don’t know.” At that, Mor huffs and stands abruptly, walking out without a word, and Thea winces. “That doesn’t feel great,” she says.

“She’ll get over it,” Rhys says carefully as he stares after where she’d disappeared behind the door. Thea offers him a weak smile, like she knows that’s a lie. For Mor, this is an unforgivable situation—but the fact that Feyre agreed to it so readily is a marker of how important it is; it’s probably driven a wedge between them. Family dinners are going to go back to being awkward.

“I think I need to go clear my head.” Thea stands, pushes herself up delicately with her fingers pressing into the leather arms of the chair. “I’ll write to Eris once I’m back at the library,” she tells Rhys. 

“As soon as he—” Rhys starts, but Thea nods.

“I know the plan, Rhys,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.” And then she’s turning to Az and saying, “You still owe me from this morning.” Over the other side of the desk, Rhys’ eyebrows shoot up.

He owes her ten marks because he bet her that she couldn’t nick him in the neck when they sparred after general training was finished with earlier. Usually, when they practice swordplay, the goal for him isn’t to win, it’s to facilitate Thea practicing her skills and keep her reflexes honed. Her goal is, always, to land a hit that grazes his skin, because she’s the only priestess besides Gwyn who has the control to use a blade with a sharp edge. Training swords, he explained to her once, don’t hold the weight of the real thing. So, he ends every morning training session with another mark on himself, usually on his torso, or his arms, occasionally his thighs, but this time, he challenged her, and she rose to meet it. Illyrian healing has made the cut heal over already, but he and Thea know it’s there.

“Do it again tomorrow. Double or nothing,” he says, ignoring the look Rhys is giving him. 

In response, Thea scoffs a laugh. “Deal,” she says, shaking her head at him. “See you later, Az.” She passes by him and her hand twitches like she’s going to run her hands through his hair. She's in the habit of doing that to annoy him, but it doesn't annoy him; he practically keens every time. She restrains herself for Rhys’ benefit and he doesn’t watch her go. When she leaves the room, Az lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

The silence from his brother grates on him.

“Say whatever it is you want to say, Rhys,” he says calmly.

Rhys flicks his eyes between him and the door. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” Az glowers at him, and he sags back into his chair, the final bit of High Lord in him melting away. “I didn’t know you and Thea were…” He looks away, searching for the word. “...close,” is what he settles on—bitingly disapprovingly, but with some reluctance too. 

“She’s my friend,” Az states, because it’s true. His shadows darken around his forearms.

“She’s a priestess,” Rhys says, and it reminds Az of a parent. Now Rhys is a father, he has that stern, paternal tone to him when he’s scolding them like children. 

“So?”

He knows what Rhys is getting at, but, pettily, he wants him to say it. Wants him to admit that he thinks he’s incapable of keeping it in his pants. 

However, Rhys so rarely gives Az what he wants these days, and changes the subject. The warning has been understood regardless.

“Who were you with earlier?” he asks, smirking. “Do we know her?”

Azriel folds his hands in his lap and crosses his legs. He’s never answered that question before, not even if Mor asked him, and he’s not about to start now. “I don’t need you meddling in my sex life, Rhys,” he says, thinking bitterly to himself that he doesn’t actually have one currently, and he has no plans to change it. It’s not that he can’t get one. He could go to Rita’s tonight, be flooded with offers from males and females alike, and he could easily have two at a time; he’s not naïve of that. He’s just not going to, especially since Rita’s makes him nauseous when he’s there alone.

“Forgive me for being curious,” he says. “Cassian tells me you haven’t taken a lover for years.”

Of course Cassian tells you that. Brotherly love extends a long way and it's the reason Azriel doesn’t wring Cass’ neck for being a busybody. “I don’t need Cassian meddling either.”

Rhys runs his tongue along his teeth and relents, throwing his hands up in surrender. “For what it’s worth,” he says, a feline grin gracing his face, “when you do get another lover, it’ll be gratifying to keep him and Nesta up all night in revenge, no?”

That makes Az exhale a little laugh despite himself, and Rhys clearly takes it as a victory. “Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “I was in the middle of something.” He still has a lot of work to do, and now his previous problem is dealt with, he can get back to being efficient about it.

“Go on,” Rhys says, nodding to the door. “Make sure Thea gets back safe, will you?” he adds, but the warning is back in his tone, as if to say do that and don’t dare do anything else.

On the flight back to the House of Wind, he sends his shadows to find her. She’s in The Rainbow, shopping, chatting with vendors. She doesn’t get back for another couple of hours, and he leaves her be while he works.

let me know if you want to be added to a taglist :)

[ange1heavensent]

Walk You Home

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Pairing: college!Abby x fem!reader

Content Warning: vomiting

w/c: ≈ 1800

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The air was stuffy as you walked through the living room, which was now transformed into a dance floor. People were bumping into you, but it did not matter, all you needed was to pee, which was not surprising after the amount of drinks, shots and sips from other peoples beer you’ve consumed. It was your third, maybe fourth?, trip to the bathroom, but this time your friend did not accompany you, because of some conversation with a guy, who was speaking alarmingly close to her face. As you trudged to the sea of people, you found your light at the end of the tunnel, the bathroom door. Luckily or, unluckily, for you there was only one person standing in line in front of the bathroom door.  

-

Abby breathed out a sigh as she stood leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door, she had stood there for what felt like an eternity, for what was supposed to be a quick trip to the bathroom before leaving the house party. The fucker that was taking their sweet time on the toilet was going to get an earful, for making her stay in what she would call hell on earth for even a second longer. She wasn’t the biggest fan of house parties, the reason being the people, drunk frat guys and sorority girls slobbering on each other in every corner, people half passed out on the couch, way too early into the night and people not being able to behave in general. She much more preferred sitting with her friends around a table at a bar, rather than screaming in each other's ears over awful music.  

As she was leaning her head against the wall behind her, contemplating walking out, lose her last ounce of dignity and just pee behind the nearest bush. She felt someone grab on to her hands. She looked at you, a little bewildered, before you slurred out, “Hi, I'm so sorry, but can I please go to the toilet before you, please” You squeezed her hands to accentuate the urgency. Abby looked into your pleading eyes and released a sigh, she would be an asshole to say no to you, but she did herself also need to pee. You saw the reluctance on her face and added “I really really need to go to the toilet, I am going piss myself any second, please.” You said this with a chuckle, because of the absurdity of the situation, practically begging some stranger to let you cut in line to the toilet. Abby herself let out a chuckle and noticed that you hadn’t let go of her hands, she sighed out an “okay” you gave her hands another squeeze, smiled big and said a “thank you” in return. 

Abby didn’t know why she had said yes, however if she were to be honest, it was because you looked so goddamn beautiful, your eyes, your smile and especially how good you looked in that little black dress you were wearing. She was already missing your soft hands in hers, as you released your grip, turned around and walked, more like stumbled, to the bathroom door and knocking your fist on it. You yelled out a “Can you please hurry up!” before retreating to stand in front of the opposite wall facing Abby, with your arms crossed over your chest, mimicking Abby’s stance. 

You looked at her smiling and couldn’t help but to blush, Abby noticed and smiled back at you. If the situation wasn’t dire, you would have tried to flirt with her, start to compliment her outfit, then her hair, her eyes and of course her muscles. But now all you could do was focus on not peeing yourself in front of her. The flirting could wait. 

-

Abby saw your demeanour change from giving her flirty glances and smiles to a serious expression, eyebrows knitting together and heavy breathing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, you muttered “I think I’m gonna throw up.” Abby sprung into action, making her way across the small hallway, her fist knocking hard against the wood, from your perspective it looked like she was going to punch a hole through the door. She yelled “Hey, you better come out, someone needs to throw up” and continued her banging on the door. It only took seconds before the door unlocked and a couple clumsily walking out of it. You sprinted to the toilet, got down on your knees, and vomited into the toilet bowl. Abby was immediately behind you, after closing and locking the door, and grabbed your hair and held it. After a couple of minutes, you laid your head on your arm against the toilet seat. Abby stroked your back, which she had done through all of it, and asked softly “Are you okay?” with a weak “yeah” you answered her. Abby helped you to stand up, you walked to the sink to rinse your mouth as she flushed the toilet. 

“Is it alright if I pee?” Abby said, making sure that you're okay with her going first. “Yes, of course,” you said while trying to remove the mascara smudges under your eyes and Abby was a little surprised that you didn’t leave the bathroom. When Abby was finished, flushed the toilet and took a stand beside you to wash her hands, you yourself went to relieve your bladder. “Do you want me to get you an Uber or something?” Abby asked you when you were sitting on the toilet, she of course didn’t look in your direction. “No, I don’t want to risk throwing up in someone's car,” you answered. “Do you live far away from here?” Abby asked, “kinda” you answered, “How long of a walk?” “45 minutes maybe” you answered her. You were now by the sink washing your hands, with Abby standing beside you. “Let me walk you home then.” Abby said with a smile. “You don’t have to do that,” you told her, but she retaliated with “How will you get home then?” You just shrugged your shoulders, she continued with “I really don't mind, I promise. I just want to make sure you’re getting home safe.” “You sure you don't mind?” you questioned, “I am sure” Abby said with a smile. 

- 

The two of you now stood outside of the house, after retrieving your jackets from a small bedroom where they laid in a pile on the bed, and then having to elbow your way out of the house. You had just sent a text to your friend saying that you were going home and were now typing in your address into Abby’s phone. When you were done Abby looked at her phone and then started walking the route that her phone told her to go. You had your arm wrapped around her bicep for stability, no other reason. The two of you had made it a couple of metres before you looked at her and said “You're walking me home, but I don’t even know your name” Abby chuckled, when she realised that in all of the chaos of the night the two of you hadn’t mentioned your names. Abby put away her phone and reached out with her right hand inviting you to shake her hand, “I’m Abby, nice to meet you” she said with a smile, you giggled at her antics finding her very cute at the moment, before you released your grip on her bicep and shook her hand “It’s very nice to meet you Abby, I’m Y/n.” You mirrored the smile on her face, which you couldn’t get rid of even if you tried to. 

For the rest of your 45 minute walk you and Abby talked about anything that came up in your inebriated mind. First the basics, like what the two of you were studying, your respective future careers, hobbies and what not. Abby was just enabling your continued drunken thoughts and questions about her. She found you quite amusing in the way you rambled about different topics. She also found you charming in the way you manage to slip in some flirty remarks about her, while still slurring on your words. As the walk continued however, your words became more clear and you regained your balance and towards the end of it you started to feel fine, having sobered up in the cool air of the night. 

At the end of your route, the two of you stood outside the entrance to your dorm building. Either of you wanting the night to end. You went to hug Abby, which she reciprocated opening up her big arms which you then became enveloped in, while in the hug you asked her “How are you getting yourself home, Abby?” “I’ll just get an Uber,” she answered. You nodded at her as you stepped out of the hug, holding onto her hands, the two of you in the same position which you had started the night. “You could come up to my room, while waiting for it,” you suggested, while lightly swinging her hands and gleaming at her. She let out a chuckle, but her facial expression turned sincere, she softly said “I don't think that's a good idea.” You took a small step back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed you were-” you started, but she cut you off, “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t think we should, given the state you're in,” she said genuinely. 

You gave her a smile, and went in for a second hug, which she again reciprocated, you again spoke in the hug “Let me give you my number, so I can make sure you get home safe.” Abby looked at you and plastered on your face was a smirk. “Of course,” she answered, handing over her phone, she wasn’t going to let something like this just pass her by. When you were finished typing your phone number into her phone, you handed it back and said “I’ll see you around then.” Before walking off, you pressed a kiss onto Abby’s cheek and then all she saw was the back of you making your way to the door. She quickly saved your number as a contact, before turning back to look at you. You were now turned towards her at the entrance door and you gave her a little wave, she waved back and you stepped through the door and let it close behind you. Abby smiled to herself when she booked the Uber.

- 

When you woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a headache, you tapped the screen of your phone and saw a new text message.

+1 (564) 000-0000

Made it home safe :) Let’s grab a coffee sometime - Abby

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Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[kennahjune]

Steddie

I’m joining the s3 steddie train :D

…

Steve was late. He was so late and so dead. Robin was going to kill him— he’d never make it out of Scoops Ahoy alive.

This was his thought process after dropping Will Lucas and Max off at Mikes. This was also his thought process the entirety of the way to Scoops while he shoved his way through the mall.

The moment he entered the small shop Robins eyes locked on him in a glare. Steve barely gave her a second before he was going to the back room to get ready for his shift.

He heard the back room door open behind him.

“You’re—“

“24 minutes late I know,” he said as calmly as he could while trying to relax his breathing.

“Yeah and—“

“And you get an extra 25 minutes for your break, yes Robin I know!”

Steve finally closed his employee cubby and turned to look at Robin. “Look. Im sorry I was so late today but Will, Lucas and Max are assholes when they’re being petty and they needed a ride to Mikes cause all the others were busy! I’ll take closing shift today to if you’re really that mad.”

Robin stared at him angrily from the doorway. “Fine.” She uncrossed her arms. “And yes, you will be taking the closing shift tonight. I have a study date with a friend that I can’t miss.”

“It’s summer vacation?”

“Shut up!”

Steve shrugged when the door closed.

He closed the door to his employee locker with a little more force than necessary. He had a migraine building and the bright, florescent lights of the mall weren’t helping in the slightest.

He walked out and began his shift.

…

Eddie wanted to enjoy his day off. Preferably by himself. But Gareth and Jeff decided that his personal life was their personal life. So here they were.

He had wanted to spend the day away from the mall, considering that that was where everyone seemed to be nowadays. But the guys were insistent.

So they were walking around. It wasn’t too bad, considering Eddie had gotten himself a new record and tape with his newest paycheck. They were sitting at the fountain when Gareth shouted right in Eddie’s ear:

“HOLY SHIT!”

Eddie just about punched him with how hard he jumped. Jeff spit out his Pepsi all over Eddie.

While Eddie was worrying about getting the sticky drink off of his skin, Gareth continued with; “is that HARRINGTON in Scoops?”

Well. Now he has Eddie’s attention.

Sure enough, just in Eddie’s line of sight, was Steve Harrington in a sailors uniform and a dorky hat.

A dorky hat that was soon snatched up by his current customer, Billy Hargrove.

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and leaned over him to get a better view. “Is that Hargrove?”

“Yep.” Eddie popped the P.

“It looks like he’s messing with Harrington.”

“Yep.” Another pop on the P.

“And Harrington looks like he’s gonna fucking explode.”

Eddie agreed. Harrington was red in the face and not in the cute blushy-way he usually gets (don’t ask why Eddie knows that). He was talking back to Hargrove, probably something bitchy and sarcastic in typical Harrington-fashion based on the way Hargrove seemed to recoil for a moment before jumping back.

“Should we do something?” Gareth asked skeptically. Jeff shrugged where he was pressed against Eddie’s back.

“I’m going in.” Eddie stood and nearly knocked Jeff down in the process.

“Hang on—“

“Nope! Wish me luck, boys!” Eddie yelled over his shoulder while he dashed over. He heard them both get up and follow him.

…

Steve wanted to cry.

His head hurt so fucking bad and his back was killing him and he had ran into a shelf earlier and had a killer bruise on his arm and leg from it and everything was too fucking much.

Then, in all his asshole and dick glory, in came Billy Hargrove.

At this point, Steve would rather take another plate to the head then have to deal with his annoyingly aggravating voice. Hargrove came in, probably expecting Robin to be there, but got Steve instead. And honestly Steve would rather deal with him then leave Robin with him.

So he’s been enduring it, giving his own comments and comebacks but overall hating his life and just wanting to curl up and die.

Then his savior showed up. In all his black leather and chains, Eddie fucking Munson.

Hallelujah.

Hargrove seemed to back down the moment Munson showed up. Which wasn’t too strange considering that Munson supplied over half of Hawkins’ weed supply. Including Steve’s own for a while. He hasn’t bought in a while cause of the brat brigade.

But not the point.

Hargrove nodded to Munson. “Munson.”

Wow. Real cool, Billy. Steve held back a snicker.

“Heeyyy, Hargrove!” Munson cheerily greeted. But there was something about his smile that was off, to Steve. It seemed tighter than usual, his eyes not crinkling with the motion like normal. Don’t ask why Steve knows this.

Munson’s eyes seemed darker, too. Like he was angry. Maybe Hargrove didn’t pay him? Steve couldn’t bother to care with how bad his head started to pound.

He shouldn’t be at work with this migraine. He knows that. His doctor’s told him this multiple times. But he owes it to Robin for being late so much and he needs to prove to his dad that he can take care of himself.

“So what brings you here, Billy?” Munson asks casually, stepping farther into the shop. Steve seems to finally be forgotten about, and he places his head down on the counter. The cooled surface definitely helps with the spinning room.

He hears Hargrove say something back, but he isn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes are stating to go blurry and he really needs to sit down. But then Munson says something that catches his attention:

“Just leave Harrington alone, man. Last I checked he did nothing to you.”

What the hell? Steve wished he could lift his head and see what Munson was doing. What he looked like when he said that. If he looked as mean as he sounded.

Steve only lifts his head a few moments later when he feels a hand on his back. He shoots up quicker than he intends, and nearly falls back down if not for the hands still holding him up.

“Shit,” he grumbles quietly to himself, whining even quieter at the sudden rush of pain and the black dots in his vision.

“Easy there, your highness.” Munson.

Steve blinks slowly, letting Munson set him down in a booth. He doesn’t remember walking over but he’ll take it. He puts his head back down and intertwines his fingers behind his head. He groans quietly again, the pounding slowly receding.

“Hey man, is there something we could do? Do you need anything?” He heard Munson ask.

We? Steve wants to ask, but finds himself not caring. “Water, and my bag from the back please,” he rasps out. Talking makes the pounding worse.

He hears someone rush off to the back and a moment later a hands on his back again and is helping him sit up.

“Here ya go sweetheart.” Munson slides the glass of water and bag over to him.

Steve silently reaches into his bag and pulls out his small “to-go” med-kit. He carries it around mainly for the kids. Mike tends to be clumsier than he comes off as and Max is always trying out some new skateboarding tricks. From inside the kit he pulls out a pill bottle and swallows 2 with the water and goes for another 2 before a hand stops him.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take more than 2.” This voice is new but familiar. Steve squints past the blurriness and makes out someone he recognizes from school; Gareth Emerson.

“4,” Steve manages past the lump in his throat. Munson, Emerson, and someone else Steve doesn’t quite know look at him. Munson continues to hold Steve’s hand on the table, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. It weirdly intimate but the comfort is very welcome.

“4 what?” The other guy asks.

“4 pills. I usually take 4.”

Munson and Emerson both wince. The third guy looks at him like he’s insane. Steve finally recognizes him as Jeff,… something. He actually never got his last name.

“Dude— are you trying to overdose!?”

Steve winced at the sudden loudness, whining quietly. Munson shushed Jeff and Steve heard him rush out an apology.

The bell over the door dinged at that moment, and Steve found himself face to face with Max, Mike, Will, Lucas, and— for some reason— Jonathan.

“Uh— hi?” Steve attempted for a greeting.

“‘Hi!?’” Mike yelled. “Hi yourself man! We called your walkie at least 4 times!! What the hell?”

“Are you ok? Why didn’t you answer?” Will asked in a much quieter tone.

Lucas and Max wasted no time before slotting themselves in the booth with Steve. Munson remained across from Steve, and Emerson and Jeff now hovered farther away, but Lucas slid right in next to Munson and Max next to Steve.

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Max demanded. But she clung to his shirt tightly.

“Language, Mayfield,” he reprimanded quietly.

Mike paused where he stood. “Why are you talking so quietly? Shit— do you have a migraine?”

Suddenly 4 pairs of little eyes were gazing at him with unmasked concern. Holy shit was this overwhelming.

“Guys—“

“Why didn’t you say that, Steve?” Lucas asked.

“Are you ok? How long has it been going on for? Asked Will.

“Why are even here if you’re not able to function properly?” Mike reprimanded in his own caring-ness.

Max clutched to him tighter. “Why aren’t you at home? You could’ve called in sick or something!”

“Shhh!” Mike shushed her.

“Don’t shush me—“

“Shut up!” He whisper shouted. “You have to be quiet and try to control your temperature while resting in a dark, quiet room to try and help with migraines. Pain killers help to but no more than 3.”

Everyone stared at him. He went a little pink under the sudden attention.

“Nancy gets migraines a lot from reading in the dark.”

Jonathan came over right then. Steve was suddenly overwhelmed by all the people surrounding him.

“Uhm—“

“Hey,” Munson called. Steve forgot about him for a good moment. “This is cute and all, but maybe we should not surround him? Poor boy looks like he’s gonna cry.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Tears had— in fact— sprung to his eyes.

“Sorry!” All the kids rushed out quietly at the same time. Max climbed out of the booth and Munson and Jonathan both assisted with helping Steve to the break room. Jeff and Emerson stayed with the kids, but Mike came with them since he seemed to know what he was doing better than the 3 of them.

On their way back to the room though, Steve’s legs nearly gave out from under him. Shit. It’s one of those days. Munson just barely managed to catch him under the armpits while Jonathan got him by the waist.

“Woah there, sweetheart.” Munson grunted.

“Careful, Steve,” Jonathan said quietly.

“Sorry. Spinning.” Steve exhaled shakily.

Mike came rushing back after realized they weren’t with him. “Damn. Spinning? Are you able to walk? Or are they gonna have to carry you?”

Jonathan looked up at the mention of having to carry Steve. “Yeah— I’m not able to carry him. I am so not strong enough for that.” He had the decency to look apologetic.

Munson chuckled quietly and the sound reverberated through his chest where Steve’s head was. It was soothing.

“Don’t worry Big Byers. I’ve got him no problem.”

Steve was given no warning before he was being picked up in a bridal carry. He winced sharply and laid his head on Munson’s shoulder. Jonathan whistled lowly from somewhere beside them and Steve blindly kicked his leg in his direction, scoring in kicking him in the arm. Jonathan snickered.

…

When Munson chased off Hargrove he didn’t expect for Harrington to all but collapse in on himself and try to fucking overdose on like 5 pain killers. He also hadn’t expected to be bombarded by 4 kids and 1 Jonathan Byers. Least of all did he expect to be carrying Harrington bridal style to the break room of Scoops Ahoy.

Somewhere behind him, Gareth turned the sign on the door to closed. Eddie silently thanked him.

The kid— who he vaguely remembers as Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother— opens the door and startles a half asleep Robin Buckley.

“Hello,” Jonathan throws her way before pulling a chair out for Eddie to sit on.

“Uh— hi? What the hell—“

Eddie takes the seat with Harrington in his lap. Robin looks dumbfounded.

“Migraine,” Jonathan helpfully supplies.

“Really, really bad migraine. Vertigo included. Full package tonight, folks.” Mike adds.

“Ok— um, is he ok? He doesn’t look ok. If it was so bad why didn’t he just call in sick?”

“That’s a good question,” Mike retorts quietly while rooting around in a freezer.

“What are you looking for”, Robin asks.

“Ice pack. The dumbass has everything in that first aid kit of his except a damn ice pack.”

“Language,” Harrington reprimanded quietly from where his cheek was against Eddie’s chest. Eddie chuckled quietly when Mike retorted with a half-assed “sorry”.

Eddie couldn’t help but admire the now sleeping Harrington in his lap. He bent in half like a shrimp, his knees just about to his chest, and his hands gripping tightly onto Eddie’s still-Pepsi-soaked t-shirt. But he looked so at peace while asleep. Like he hadn’t just had the worst migraine Eddie’s ever seen and wasn’t just about to pass out on his feet. Eddie smiled.

Mike comes over silently, managing to sneak up on Eddie and make him jump slightly and causing Harrington to whine. He’d been whining a lot today. And under “different circumstances” Eddie would’ve found it hot as fuck.

“Sorry,” Mike whispered. He seemed to be able mellow out a lot when he actually tried. He seemed like such an asshole out at the booth but now he seems quieter. These kids really cared about Harrington, huh?

“Here.” Jonathan helped him out and gently picked up Harrington’s head. Eddie caught Harrington actually kind of leaning into his touch. A strange but endearing friendship. Mike placed the ice pack— now wrapped in a cloth— on Eddie’s chest where Harrington’s head lays.

Harrington lays back down and is out like a light soon enough.

Eddie zoned out until there’s a very, very soft knock on the door. When he looks up, Jonathan is letting the other 3 kids in while Jeff and Gareth stand in the doorway.

“Is he ok?” Asks Jonathan’s little brother.

Jonathan nods and pats his head. “He’s ok, Will.”

The redhead walks over and takes a silent seat next to Eddie so she’s next to Harrington. She takes Harrington’s hand in hers and proceeds to just sit there and hold it.

“He’s ok, Max. Just a migraine,” the third kid, Lucas he thinks, reassures with a hand on Max’s shoulder.

“That’s what he said before. And then he was in the hospital.”

Woah, what?

“Hm?” Lucas looks at him.

Oh. He said that aloud.

“Wait what?” Robin asked quietly.

Jonathan’s whistled lowly. It seems to be a bit of a tic for him. “Yeah uh— funny story. Hargrove broke a plate over Steve’s head last year and nobody realized how bad it actually was until he passed out after claiming it was only a migraine.”

“He ended up in the hospital for like 2 weeks,” added Lucas.

“He needed several stitches on the side of his head.” Max unhappily supplied. Lucas squeezed her shoulder.

“It was a stage 4 concussion,” muttered Will and Mike put his head on his shoulder.

Eddie caught Gareth and Jeff’s eyes across the break room. Huh.

The Will kid came up to Eddie suddenly. “Thank you. For uh— helping with Steve. It means a lot to us. He means a lot to us.”

Mike, Max, and Lucas all nodded.

“Hang on,” Lucas piped up. “Who are you?”

…

So uh— set myself up for a part 2 there :’D

Part 2

[vivwritesfics]

since it seems like we’re all in situationship, could i request a fic about being in one with Lando?

happy ending, preferably. since our real situations won’t nicely (being honest)

- 🇺🇸 (i’m in one too. your emoji nons are going through it)

i think there's, like, four or five of you going through it rn, love you guyyyys

"Wanna go and get food?"

It was a simple question. And the simple answer was 'yes'. But the girls in the room with her shook their heads furiously, telling her to say no. She held the phone away from her mouth, covering the microphone. "But I want to go and get food," she hissed to her friends, hoping he couldn't hear it.

"Doesn't matter, babe," one of her friends replied.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell him 'not until you make it official, bitch'," another one of them said.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, pick me up in ten?"

Her friends let out a series of groans as she ended the call and got ready. "When it happens, it happens. Stop trying to rush it," she said as they all got ready to leave the apartment.

But, the longer her sort of relationship with Lando went on, the more painful it got. She had hoped, maybe stupidly, that he would get bored and want to be with her. But Lando was perfectly happy with what they were.

The fucking, the getting food, the road trips. They were supposed to bloom into something more. But it hadn't. They had stagnated.

It was childish, the way that Lando was treating their sort of relationship. After a year of a 'situationship', she was desperate for more.

"Do you ever think about dating?" She asked as she laid back on Lando's bed, her hands resting on her stomach. It was her way of bringing up the subject in a casual manner, and a better way to get a response out of Lando. Ambushing him wouldn't work.

Lando shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes," he answered as he laid beside her, copying her pose.

She sucked in a breath. "Do you ever think about dating me?"

Immediately Lando let out a laugh. Her heart sank. Oh fuck, she had fucked everything, hadn't she? Why else would he be laughing?

"Who else would I think about dating?"

She sat up and smacked his shoulder. "Don't scare me like that, asshole." She laid back beside him, this time sitting a little closer. "So, do you wanna date me?"

He shrugged his shoulders, bumping it against her. "Well, obviously I wanna date you, or we wouldn't be here," he said. "But do you wanna date me?"

"Fucking hell, Lan. Of course I want to date you," she replied quickly.

"Yeah, but dating me means being in the spot light, being in the news, on camera and shit like that. Situationship means I get you to myself."

She shook her head and sat up. "I don't care about being in the spotlight, idiot," she said. "I just wanna be with you."

"Well, I wanna be with you too."

"Do it, then."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Kiss me then!"

"Fine!"

[secondsistershelby3]

Pairings : Silco x Jinx's sister!reader

Summary : You were Powder's twin sister or as Silco had started calling her, Jinx. You weren't as smart as her, you could fight well enough but nothing more and yet Silco took you along with her when Vander died. After 7 years you find yourself in the following situation

Warnings : !no series spoilers!, smut, 18+, semi-public sex, blowjob, let's pretend that Jinx is not a minor and that all this is legal and therefore EVERYTHING LEGAL, fluff with Silco (HE NEEDS IT)

Notes : It seemed longer, I hope it's good anyway

"Can't you delay the meeting?" You were lying on your back with your legs crossed. You asked the question in a bored tone to Silco.

"you know I can't" Silco looked at you leaning on his chair

You snorted like a little girl when she doesn't get candy. You may not have inherited the same talents as Jinx but you certainly inherited the character.

"how boring you are" you turned on your stomach, one hand under your chin and one dangling as you looked at him with an increasingly bored face

"who cares if you postpone the meeting, they'll talk bullshit whether you postpone it or not" you dangled your other arm and let your face hit the desk

Silco sighed and approached with the chair "it won't last long"

"You always say that" your voice was almost incomprehensible given your face against the desk

Silco reached out to caress your head, he hesitated almost before touching you but finally he put it down and began to slowly caress your hair.

After almost a minute of silence with Silco caressing you, you untied and placed your hand on top of Silco's as you lifted your head and leaned to one side

"you're such a dick sometimes" Silco laughed at your statement. You reached out to put your arms around his neck and slowly got on his lap. You rested your head on his shoulder

You started kissing his neck. Silco gently pushed you back "no, we all know how this will end" he said with a hint of severity but also sweetness

You huffed louder and angrily stood up from his lap. Silco called you sighing "have your fucking meeting" you walked out of his office slamming the door. Silco put his hands on his face. Any person would have already died if they even tried to talk to Silco like that but not you.

---

"Can you believe that asshole preferred to have that fucking meeting than being with me?!" You ate a piece of apple. You were sitting on the sofa, with Mylo's mannequin next to you

You put your legs on the table in front of you "for him talking to other assholes like Finn is more important than being with me. WHAT THE FUCK" You said angry with pieces of apples in your mouth

You sighed and let your head fall back against the couch, reaching for another piece of apple.

"I'll teach that asshole a lesson...." You threw the apple core on the floor and got up from the sofa

---

It hadn't been long since you had rushed out of Silco's office and gone to your corner, but the meeting Silco was supposed to attend was about to start.

You ran to Silco's office, Sevika was in front of the door "what are you going to do?" She asked sharply as usual. "uuuhhh do you always want to know where I am?" You grinned, stopping in front of her. She huffed and turned her head and you used that moment to walk in hearing Sevika whisper "brat"

Silco who at that moment was smoking his usual cigar, raised his head and saw you enter "is the teenage anger over?" he asked sarcastically

"What do you think?" You smiled with your hands behind your back. You slowly walked behind the desk where Silco was sitting. He watched you move carefully until you turned his chair towards you.

"You were very mean to me before" you whispered lowering your hand from the top of the chair to the arm

"we already talked about it-" Silco closed his eyes in despair but you interrupted him "ok, I accept it" you smiled going between his legs. Your hands went further and further down and in the meantime your knees also went down. "Don't try it, the meeting is about to-"

"boss, they're here!"

Silco tried to pull you up but you quickly ducked under the desk and forcefully pulled the chair Silco was sitting in towards the desk, At that moment they all came in: Finn, Renni, Smeech, Chross and Margot

Silco glanced at you as everyone walked in.

You didn't really focus on what they were saying because you only had one thing on your mind: to teach Silco a lesson.

You started groping above the crotch of Silco's pants, you felt him stiffen, but he continued to speak with ease. Licking your lips, you quickly moved on to pulling down the zipper of his pants without making too much noise, as you pulled it down you felt Silco's hand grab your wrist.

You looked up at him, smiled and moved closer to his hand that was grabbing your wrist, you kissed it slowly from knuckles to fingers, after a few seconds he gently let go of your wrist.

It didn't take you long to pull his underwear down enough to let his cock out, you started licking it, you heard Silco cough to cover his grunt

"What's the matter, do you have a cold?" Finn asked sarcastically "more or less" Silco said without amusement

You continued to tease him by licking his cock until you took the tip in your mouth, his hand suddenly grabbed your hair. By now you couldn't even hear his voice anymore, you could only taste of his cock, you took it more and more in your mouth, you didn't see that Silco was putting his hand on his forehead pretending to have a headache

"Are you at least listening to us Silco?" Smeech asked arrogantly

"I'm listening" Silco replied a little too aggressively

You started sucking Silco's cock mercilessly, his hand trying to guide you without attracting too much attention

It was so good, every time it felt like the first time. Jinx didn't know about all this, you don't know how she would react and right now you don't want to know

Silco's hand seemed to be going slightly faster, a sign that he was about to come, the plan was to let go without letting him reach the peak, so you tried to pull away, but his grip was so hard that you could barely take your mouth off his cock, he pushed you deeper and you almost let out a gargle that everyone would hear.

You felt his seed in your mouth, his hand suddenly left you and you leaned back. Silco put his hands on his face and sighed, he hadn't even noticed that two tufts had fallen out of his I got off on my face

You smirked as you closed your eyes and wiped some of his seed that had fallen onto your chin.

Time passed and you didn't even notice, you didn't hear everyone leave. Silco bent down to talk to you "now we have a score to settle-" as soon as he bent down he saw your sleeping figure. He shook his his head and smiled, zipped up his pants, and reached under the desk to pick you up.

He put you on his knees , your head automatically rested on his shoulder. He turned his chair towards the huge window, looked out and then at you. He pushed your face towards him slightly and moved a lock of your hair, he stared at you for almost a minute

"You're lucky I love you brat" he gently rested your head on his shoulder

You had the Eye of Zaun in your hands you didn't even know it

"How long have you been there?" Silco asked as he continued to stare out the enormous window.

"since everyone left" Jinx replied lying on the board on the ceiling

"Do you have anything to say?" Silco asked, stroking your hair.

"I'm a little angry that you didn't tell me anything, but as long as you don't leave, because I may be your daughter but she's my sister" she rolled over onto her stomach "and I'm still willing to do something to you"

Silco smirked "you don't have to worry about that" Jinx hadn't even realized she had called herself his daughter It was strange but also comfortable.

He looked down at you "you don't have to worry at all" he kissed your head gently and relaxed back into the chair"

It had been a tough day but it had ended well.

[satorusugurugurl]

Hi, hi, sweetie💗.

Can you make a JJK guys reaction to his friend/acquaintance being in love with his girlfriend?

Characters: Sukuna, Inumaki, Megumi, Nanami.

That’s a Lie

Summary: What happens when the boys discover their co-worker claims they're in love with their girlfriend?

Word Count: 4,302

Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, cursing, self-doubt, foul mouth, angry smut, smut at work, cream pie, angry sex, biting marking, claiming, mirror sex

A/N: Hi, Nonnie; thanks for your request. I don't write stories for minor characters! 🙂‍↕️ So please enjoy the two sexy men!! 💚💚💚

*MDNI*

Ryomen Sukuna:

The problem with being a tattoo artist and piercer was taking on apprentices. Sukuna always preferred to work alone, but when his boss, Geto, begged for him to take on some kid from another shop. He reluctantly agreed. Sukuna owed Suguru a favor for picking up Yuuji for a week when his schedule was booked, and you were working overtime. So, he might as well help him out.

But he was beginning to regret his decision.

“How’s your friend doing?” Geto asked smugly, causing Sukuna’s eyebrow to twitch.

“That shithead is not my fucking friend.”

Geto laughed, eyes ding down the hall towards the break room where said shithead was sitting. “Yeah, I don’t know if he would be a good fit here.”

Sukuna could’ve told him that. Mahito was dark and disturbed. The tattoos he sketched out were strange, humanoid creatures that he almost got off to. The sketches gave you the creeps, and Sukuna couldn’t stand the way he stared at you whenever you stopped by the shop. Mahito knew you were Sukuna's, but he always stared, licking his lips as the patchwork tattoos on his face shifted. He looked at you as though you were his next meal.

“Fire him then.”

“I mean, he’s not getting paid. He is shadowing you. It’s two more weeks. As soon as that’s up, he can go back to his other shop.”

“Can I ask why the fuck you decided to take him on?”

“I owed the owner a favor because he didn’t file a police report when Satoru smashed his window at the shop when he was drunk at the Christmas party a few months back.”

“Your stupid fucking boyfriend.”

“Oi, you should be thanking my fucking boyfriend. We wouldn’t have seen the competition firsthand if he didn't smash that window.”

Yeah, there was no competition between the two shops. Geto’s tattoo and piercing shop was the best in town. There was no way Uzumaki stood a chance against Curses and Dragons LLC. Kenjaku could suck it.

Sukuna glanced at the clock on the wall, “There’s no chance in hell I’m thinking that cocky asshole.” he shoved his hands into his pocket to the back to meet you outside for lunch. “I’m taking my lunch.”

“Yeah, he's the same guy who introduced you to your girlfriend, the one that Gojo insisted you go into the closet with to play seven minutes in heaven with.” Sukuna stuck his nose up, grimacing at his friend and boss. “So, if you don’t want to thank him for a chance to see the competition, at least thank him for introducing you two.”

“Respectfully fuck you and your logic.”

”Yeah, yeah, asshole, enjoy your lunch break.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, headed towards the break room, and glanced at his phone to see where you were. “I’m just saying I could treat her better than him. Mahito won a wince from Miguel, one of the shop's piercers.

“You better not let Sukuna hear you say that.”

“Oh, like I give a shit.” Sukuna felt a vein pulse in his neck as he stood outside the kitchen, gritting his teeth. “I like her. She likes me. I might as well go as far as to say I’m falling in love with her.”

“Sukuna is going to murder you if he hears you say that.”

He might end up doing just that, bless, as he clenched his fist, eyes blurring with unfiltered rage. You usually get along with everyone at the shop but couldn’t stand Mahito. He had been a little too friendly with lingering touches on your arm, his eyes wandering over your body. Sukuna had to offer to tell him to fuck off, but you assured him that you were okay. Now was different, though; knowing that little freak thought you liked him back pissed Sukuna off beyond all words.

The pink-haired man stepped closer to the break room, ready to explode with rage. “I don’t even know what she sees him.” That statement spoke nothing but the truth. With his thoughts swirling, Sukuna was getting ready to call you when the familiar scent of your perfume flew by. With his eyes snapping from his phone, Sukuna watched as you entered the kitchen.

“Oh my sweet Dol—” SMACK!! “Ow, what the—?!” another smack, followed by another, echoed off the walls.

Sukuna ran in, gripping the door frame as he stared at your back as you huffed and heaved with anger. “You listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch! Sukuna is my boyfriend. I love him and his family.” You took a closer towering over the trembling form. Mahito was gripping his cheek, which was turning red. “ I could never love a conniving piece of shit like you.”

You went in for another smack only to be yanked back. Sukuna’s arms were around your waist as you kicked and screamed, fighting to get back to the cowering man, pushing himself as far away from you as possible. Seeing you losing your absolute shit in your cute Animal scrubs had Sukuna’s cock twitching in his jeans as he locked his arms around you. Realizing there was no escape, the fight in you slowly faded as your boyfriend placed gentle kisses over your cheek.

“Easy girl, easy.” Sukuna presses his lips against your neck. “Miguel, get him the fuck out of here.”

“Good idea, we don’t want her beating him to a bloody pulp.”

A pink eyebrowbc ocked as Sukuna narrowed his gaze. “Eh? Her? No, no, I don’t want his heart to be broken when I fuck the woman he claims to be in love with against the fridge.” Miguel was about to ask if he was serious just before your boyfriend slammed your chest against the fridge before you. “Better get the fuck moving, Miguel.” cheek pressed firmly against the cool middle of the refrigerator as you helped Sukuna tag your pants down just an inch.

“Alright! All right, fuck, hold on!

Both sets of hands halted as you glanced at the retreating Miguel as he pulled Mahito out before slamming the door to the break room shut. Crimson eyes watched the door momentarily before your boyfriend hissed through his teeth as you backed up, rubbing against his erection, drawing his back down at you.

“Hurry,” you begged, “make me yours.”

Sukuna just stared at you in shock and amazement. He was kidding about fucking you there at work against the fudge, but when you looked at him like that, all his resolve went out the window. He yanked your scrubs down this time, pulling them around your thighs as he unbuckled his black stud belt.

There was something about seeing you so fired up over him that had his heart racing. Sukuna spit into his hand, rubbing it all over his shaft before he began grinding it against you from how wet you were; Sukuna assumed you felt the same way he did. The tip of his shaft slid into your tight heat, causing your back to dip at the stretch. Your nails scratched against the surface of the fridge as he continued to slide inside of you inch by inch slowly; the drag of his frenum piercing sent shivers down your spine. All while his hands gripped to your waist, hissing as he growled in pleasure.

“That’s let me inside of you. Take me deeper, kitten, deeper and deeper.” as Sukuna’s nails dig into your skin. “Fuuuck~”

“Ahh—Kuna, you're so t-thick! Feels so good, so fucking good.”

Being inside of you, buried so deep, did feel good. It felt so fucking good that Kuna had to get a hold of himself from demolishing you and your insides. But the words you had said before he was even inside you echoed inside Sukuna’s mind. ‘Hurry up, make me yours.’ you were as desperate for him as he was for you. So why should he hold back? Perhaps him holding back is what made Mahito feel as though he had a fucking chance with you.

“Fuck it.” Sukuna pulled all the way out before snapping his hips forward, slamming his cock head firmly against your cervix. The sudden roughness had your eyes bugging out as your knee buckled. He repeated the same movements, pulling out until the tight ring of muscles snagged on his tip before he was filling you again.

“K-Kuna! Oooh fuck, yes! Yes! Fuuck!”

“That’s right,” he snarled, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Say my name screams it. I want all these motherfuckers to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Sukuna!” Tears falling from your eyes.

“Louder.”

“Sukuna!”

His teeth nipped and sucked at your skin, marking you as he lost himself in primal undying need. “Louder, scream it.” his cock slides in and out of you faster and rougher. His piercing, rubbing sinfully over your g-spot, making you cry out loud, eyes rolling back.

“Sukuna! Sukuna! Kuna!” his name flows out of your mouth like tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s like a prayer, a sin for lust-ridden prayer as your boyfriend fucks you. His teeth continue digging into your skin as your legs tremble. The squelching sounds of him fucking you deeper were almost as loud as your sharp cries, his grunts, and the slapping of skin against skin.

“K-Kitten~” Sukuna’s eyebrows for joy slack as his eyes squeezed tight. “I love you fuck, I love you!”

“I-I fuck—ah! I love you—t-too! I love you, Kuna!”

Hearing you say that had his eyes going wide as he throbs inside of you; it felt too good being inside of you and hearing that you loved him. It was too good. He didn’t have a chance to pull out. His cum spurts inside of you as he growls against your soft skin. Having Sukuna cum inside of you for the first time in your relationship and your life has your eyes shut tight as you lose yourself in the sensation. It felt warm, and it felt so good that it had your head falling forward as your orgasm wrecked through you.

Your spasming contractions around his cock, had your boyfriend slowly pushing all this cum further inside your cunt. Sukuna only stops when you try pulling away as the oversensitivity causes a slight pain to settle your stomach. It was then, and then he gently pulled out of you, watching as the thick droplets of your combined cum ran down your inner thigh. Sukuna moved, grabbing a napkin off the table and gently cleaning it off you.

“I meant it.”

Blinking as he tossed the napkin in the trash, Sukuna blinked. “What?” He wasn’t sure what you were talking about because he had just cummed his brains out. “Meant what, kitten?” his hands move gently over your body, pulling your pants back up before helping you sit in a chair.

“That I love you and your family.” The timidness of your voice makes you all the cuter, making him fall even harder.

“I love you too.” His hands reach out, thumbs brushing over your flushed tear, tear-stained cheeks. “Thank you for loving me.”

“Kuna,” You reach up, caressing his hand gently, “it would have been impossible not to fall in love with you.” as you both sat in the silence, caressing one another lovingly, Sukuna thought about what Geto had said earlier. He did need to thank Gojo for throwing the two of you in a closet together. You were the best thing to have ever graced his messy and complicated life because you were the love of his life.

Nanami Kento:

“Hey Nanami,” looking up from the newspaper, Naomi I’d Gojo was lying on the couch across from him. “Do you think I have a chance with your little assistant?”

“Ino—? I honestly think he’s a bit too young for you.” Plus, Nanami wasn’t even sure if he had a partner.

“No, no, please.” Gojo cackles, sitting up. “No, I meant to your other assistant.” realizing he was talking about you, Nanami put his paper down, taking his glasses off his face to focus all his attention on the annoying jackass in front of him.

“Why?”

Left left to right as if searching for anyone else before leaning his back against the couch. “Uhm, because I wanna ask her out on a date.”

A date? This idiot wanted to ask you out on a date.

The idea of that in itself made Nanami want to laugh. He knew you weren’t single because you had been dating since last year. Not a lot of people knew about your relationship. You agree it would be best to keep it down low. To avoid the reprimanding lectures from the higher-ups and the teasing that would ensue if Gojo ever found out.

Nanami opened his mouth to let his coworker know you were taken and happy just as you walked into the room. You were carrying a stack of blank talisman papers, heading towards the coffee table where Gojo and Nanami sat. On top of the stack of paper was a bottle of ink and your calligraphy pen.

You had your bottom lip between your teeth as you focused on not dropping any items you carried in your arms. Your loving boyfriend started to stand to run to your assistance. But a certain blindfolded freak beat him to it. Gojo ran so fast, snatching the ink bottle off the top of the stack you were carrying.

“That looks really heavy. Let me carry it for you.”

“Oh!” you have had a sigh as Gojo takes the stack of heavy paper from you. “Thanks, Toru! My back was killing me there.”

The white tops of Gojo’s hair sway with each step he takes towards the table, placing your items on its surface. “Oh, why does your back hurt from carrying all those good looks and personality?” Your eyes dart towards Nanami, whose leg bounces as he anxiously watches you both.

“Oh no, I hurt it while working out the other day.”

“Oooh yeah? Next time you go to the gym, you should invite me. I could show you how to lift weights properly. That way, you don’t get hurt.”

Nanami knew for a fact that you had hurt your back when you both had sex in his car a couple of days ago. From how you’re biting your bottom lip as you glance toward Gojo, you were thinking about that night, too. The way he had you bent, legs to your chest, head was thrown back as he pounded into you. Windows fogged up as you screamed into his mouth. He knew you would hurt your back doing it last time, but he was fighting the urge to take you out to his car right now and have his way with you again.

“Oh, that's so sweet, Toru, thank you! But I—”

“We could make it a date.”

“Eh?” Your eyes widen as you glance between him and Nanami.

Gojo lifts one of the sides of his blindfold, revealing a bright blue eye. “Yeah, we can make it a date. We can go work out, and I’ll take you for a protein smoothie or something afterward. Or, if you want, we could skip the gym and go to dinner.”

“O-Oh!”

“Because if I’m being completely honest with you, I think I’m falling head over heels in love with you.”

Nanami stood up, strutting towards you, the light from the afternoon sun glinting off his green glasses. “Excuse me,” you peer at your boyfriend, unaware of why he was saying excuse me, before he gripped your chin, slamming his lips against yours. You moan, eyes going wide as he kisses you deeply. As quickly as his lips meet yours, they pull away so he can look in the face of the shocked man watching you both. “I forgot my girlfriend, and I have a meeting.” Nanami’s hand intertwines with yours as he pulls you away, leaving a jaw-dropped Gojo watching you both disappear down the hall.

You don’t make it far before he pulls you into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind him before he turns you around, pushing you against it. His lips, sweet and tender, kiss your neck, nipping and sucking on your earlobe. You're moaning, shivering against him, arching your back off the door before Nanami pulls you, bending you over the sink, his hands pushing your pants down, as his other hand tangles in your hair.

“Ah~ K-Kento!” You mewl as he yanks on your hair, forcing your head up to look in the mirror.

“He said he’s falling head over heels in love with you.” Nanami’s voice is low and scratchy as he breathes hot air on your ear, his eyes focused solely on you in the mirror. “While that infuriates me beyond all words, I can’t blame him.” He presses his body firmly against yours, his free hand reaching between your bodies, unfastening his belt before tugging his zipper down. “You are utterly beautiful, smart, and strong.”

His praises make your heart race faster, your hands gripping the sink. “My fuckin’ fuck—“The whine that sounds in your throat is broken off as Nanami’s thick hard cock rubs up and down your ass. Pre-cum that was beading at the tip smears against your skin.

“I, however, cannot overlook that I did not care for him declaring his love for you.” Gripping the base of his cock Nanami eased it down, sliding the velvety shaft up and down over your slick folds. “H-Haaah~ hearing the idiot say that made me insanely jealous. I couldn't stop myself from kissing you before him, but I regret to inform you that kissing you wasn't enough to prove how much I care about you. I need to take it further. I want Gojo to know that you are my girlfriend.”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you could see the fiery hunger in your boyfriend’s eyes. A hunger that could only be satisfied by you and you alone. Without saying a word, you rocked your hips back, rubbing yourself over his shaft, coating the soft, warm skin of his cock in your slick. That sensation alone made Nanami falter. His hands grabbed onto your waist, trying to hold you in place to cease your movements, only to fail in the process. You were so incredibly wet and hot; feeling you rub against him made his cock twitch in anticipation.

“T-Then make him know, show him I’m your girlfriend.”

Nanami wasn't one to mark toys up in places other people could see. But hearing Gojo say that he was falling for you and having him blatantly confess that to you in front of his face made him want to act differently. He growled into your ear, rutting his hips against your dripping sex, as he sealed his lips against the skin behind your ear, sucking in it.

You gasped, gripping the counter harder as your cunt throbbed against his twitching cock. Feeling you squirm as he marked you left, Nanami snarled, his hands sliding up your hips over your chest, groping both your breasts. He squeezed them as his hips moved racers, the tip rubbing against your clit. Having him touch you in several different places had your eyes rolling back. His lips against your neck, leaving a hickey for everyone to see, his hands massaging your chest, as his cock sliding over you was driving you insane.

“K-Kento, please, please, baby,” he grunted against your neck, his hips stalling at your words. “Please fuck me. I need you.”

The desperation in your voice was enough to have him pulling back. “Anything for you, my love.” His hand squeezed your breasts as the fat tip of his cock slid inside of you. The stretch alone had you gasping, eyes shutting, eyebrows pickled together. “Nu-huh,” Nanami bit down on your earlobe. “Do not shut your eyes; I want you to look at yourself when I fuck you love.” It took another sharp nip to your skin to have your eyes lazily open.

When you looked into the mirror, you found those beautiful honey-brown eyes burning holes into your soul. As he watched your face screw up with pleasure, he slid in further, making your head fall forward as you inhaled sharply. He continued sliding until his hips were pressed flush against yours. It was then that he released his grip on your breasts, one hand gripping your hip while the other tangled in your hair, tugging the strands and lifting your head for the second time.

“How will you look at yourself with your head falling forward like that?”

“Holy shit Kento—“

“I suppose I’ll just need to help you, won’t I?”

Your eyes focused on yourself as Nanami kept a firm grip on your hair as he pulled out before sliding back into your wet heat. “Nnngh!” You cried out, mouth falling agape as Nanami groaned against your flushed skin. “Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” You cried out with each deep thrust.

“You feel so good~ god, it’s like heaven being inside of you. So wet and tight for me and me alone.”

“K-Kenn~!”

Nanami rasped out a deep moan against your ear, his breath hot and desperate. “Yes~ say my name~ I want that blindfolded freak to not only see my mark on you but also to hear you.” Digging his fingers into your hip harder, Nanami set a rough and needy pace.

Your eyes rolled slightly back as he fucked you. He was usually so loving and sweet in the bedroom. Of course, you’d have your nights where you both had hot, angry sex, but this time was different, and you liked it a lot. Seeing his face so focused in the mirror, how his eyes lingered on the back of your head before darting towards the mirror, here you both made eye contact, was so erotic. The man whom you had given your heart to was fucking you so good you would never leave him.

“Haaah~ haah~! Kento~ oh my fucking god!” Your whimpering sobs, and tear-filled eyes locked on his, staring into his soul as his thrusts picked up in speed, slamming into you, making the fat of your ass ripple with each deep thrust. “Kento! Kento!”

“Fuck~ you sound so pretty when you cry out my name like that. Scream it for me~ scream it and cum all over my cock, love.” His hand on your hip slides down, rubbing circles over your clit, leaving you a shaking, desperate mess around him. “Cum for me~ I know you’re close, I can feel you clamping down.”

You were close; you were so close your toes were curling inside of your shoes as your mouth fell open into an ‘O’ as Nanami’s thrusts became harder, deeper, and more desperate. Your legs shook as you felt your orgasm building, tightening in your lower abdomen. The rubbing of your clit had you on the edge as your eyes narrowed, looking at your boyfriend in the mirror.

“I-I’m cumming~ I’m cumming Kento!” A pure, unfiltered scream ripped through your body as your legs shook uncontrollably, knees buckling as Nanami pressed you against the counter to hold you up. “Ahhh! Ah! Fuck!” A stream of clear liquid squirted out of you, making Kento seize up as his halls clenched.

“Cumming~ cumming baby~ fuck your such a good girl!” Nanami’s head fell back as he absconded his girl on your hair, griping your ass instead as his hips slammed harder and harder against your ass as his ropes of cum filled you up. “Looove~! Love fuck!”

Both of you were panting heavily as you weakly held the counter, pressing your warm cheek against the cool counter with a satisfied groan as Nanami pressed kisses against your back. His cock began softening inside of you, but neither of you dared to move as you basked in the afterglow of your intense orgasms.

“Mmmhm,” you hummed slowly, lifting your head as Nanami pulled out of you. He made quick work grabbing some paper towels to try to clean you up. “Kento love, I don’t think any amount of paper towels is going to clean up this mess.”

Your boyfriend chuckled nervously behind you, still trying to clean you up. “I may have gotten a little carried away.” You scoff, turning to look back at Nanami, who is tossing the dirty towels in the trash. “Play, I got extremely carried away. I couldn't stand the thought of Gojo flirting with you.”

“Yeah~? Well, if you kissing me didn't clue him in, I’m sure the hickeys and the moans will.”

“Yes.” he pulled your pants back up, freezing. “Oh, uhm, darling.”

You already know your pants are wet from your squirting. “I know; we'll have to go home early.” Nanami huffs over dramatically.

“I suppose you're right; I'm going to have to

Take you home and lick you clean.”

“Oh my god, I guess you will!” you huff out dramatically, grinning as he pulls you into his arm, snuggling you tight. It was going to be a fantastic day, especially if you had him by your side.

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