#sorry it took me so long to write this

[whatwouldsylwrite]

reader pole dance practice with everyone watching + slightly jealous abby? 👀

Oh god pole dancers my beloveds

Abby always admired what your body could do: you always looked so graceful when you'd climb the pole and spin around like it was nothing, like it didn't require any effort or strength. It was fucking hot and she'd be at your practice at all times, drooling so much that at this point she'd be dehydrated. She didn't even mind when other people watched you as long as they stayed respectful.

Until this time.

There were a few additions to the hockey team, and of course they wanted to explore the activity centre. And of course someone mentioned, from the pure kindness of their fucking heart, the dance studio.

On the time and day when you were practicing.

At first Abby was fine - it wasn't like you danced pure pornography every time, and she wasn't insane to think she was the only one who was allowed to watch you dance. Besides, if someone could admire you for your skill and strength she'd only feel proud - fuck yeah it took a lot to learn how to pole dance.

But no.

You was doing one of the choreos that required heels, and Abby watched you spin and hold yourself up so you could spread your legs in a split, your booty shorts covering just enough to not get a fine for public indecency. Abby knew you had to wear short shorts so you wouldn't slip on the pole, but right now as she glanced at her side where boys were sitting, Abby wasn't okay with it at all.

Her new teammates were watching you go into a wide squat with hungry eyes and Abby furrowed in silent anger. She knew what they were thinking about because she was thinking the same: how hot and seductive you were, how your moves looked like an invitation to sex.

Abby wanted to tell them that you were hers, that the only person who this show was meant for was her, and they should pick up their jaws and stop fantasizing about you, because their fantasies would never become reality.

But Abby wasn't going to make a scene, no. She'd just imagine 1000 and 1 way to kill her new teammates.

"God I wish I was there instead of that pole." One of the boys said with a smirk and the other one nodded.

"She so hot." He said dreamingly.

"Watch your tongue." Abby heard herself say in dangerous tone. Her mouth opened faster before she had time to think. "She's mine."

Boys turned to Abby, clearly wanting to start an argument - Abby heard those arguments a million times before - but you emerged from the dance studio, panting and sweaty, and their heads turned back to you. One of the boys opened his mouth to start a conversation, but you ignored his entire existence.

"Hi." You smiled, looking only at Abby.

She stood up and hugged you, putting her hands on the small of your back.

"Hi baby."

And if Abby looked straight at her new teammates with dark satisfaction over your shoulder as she hugged you possessively, showing who you belonged to, well. You didn't have to know about that.

[dressycobra7]

Just another thought dump

this is out of order again cause I wrote it while rereading

Wow wasn’t expecting that year time skip I do still love the pacing though and you talking about how reader has gotten better at reading Marleyan and Eldian writing and the mention of Reader and Gabis strong friendship

ahhhh I loved how u wrote my man Reiner! The way you wrote him in felt very natural and I think you did a really good job accurately writing his character for that scene. My poor man is so depressed 😔

““No!” you exclaim, almost shooting out of your chair.”” AHCHXVXGC DUDE WHYD WE OVERREACT LIKE THAT!?!? now ok wait don’t get me wrong! I did love this part a lot but like 😭😭 why couldn’t we just have had a normal/chill reaction!? 😭 like I get it cause obviously Reader wants to go home and with Zeke questioning her I’m guessing she was scared that he wouldn’t send her to Paradis if she WAS having cold feet so like I get it but still.

awwwwww Gabi 😭😭😭 my poor girl! I love her relationship with Reader it’s so cute! I loved the little part with Reader “bullying” Gabi about her being short and then Gabi standing there all shocked after and saying Reader is too mean to her. Also ugh the ending got meeee!! The way Gabi reacted to Reader leaving soon had me so sad. I would’ve started crying so hard if I was in Readers shoes

like “Liberio could be your home–” she hiccups.

“Gabi–”

“Stay!” she finishes with a sob.” This scene broke my heart.

this chapter overall was so good. Can’t wait to see the next one 💜💜

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 6

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev   next–⊱

𝟎𝟔 | 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

chapter word count: 3.2 k

content warnings: blanket warnings

a/n: I lied. Inspiration struck and I got this done much sooner than I expected. Next one will probably take a while though so sorry for that in advance lol. This one comes out earlier in honor of my philosophy class discussing freedom in today's class.

Thanks for reading!

𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐘 in a flash, and life continues on as normal as it could be in Liberio. You don't take any more impromptu trips to the Warrior’s Headquarters, never going further than the entrance when waiting for Gabi to exit the building. The Warriors only appear sparingly as the months pass by, with some, such as Pieck, leaving for long periods of time to support the front lines in the developing war.

You continue with your studies, learning written Marleyan on your desk, and hiding your Eldian notes under loose floorboards in your room. You bury yourself in mastering both, thanking whatever deity made it so you automatically understood the spoken language. Maybe it had to do something about how in the series everyone spoke a common tongue, and yet had different writing systems.

You didn't think too hard about it though. Any more questioning about the laws and nature of this universe would have you up at ungodly hours. Again.

Your steps are lighter, the river of your consciousness less turbulent. It is still nowhere near calm, but the dam constructed with the reassurance of your soon to be made trip helps keep it at bay. The change in your attitude is apparent even to Gabi, with whom you've quickly grown close to.

“You seem… less tired, somehow,” she says when you're out on a stroll, HQ getting smaller and smaller in the distance as you walk away from it.

“Do I?” you hum, tilting your head to the side.

Gabi nods, swinging her arms around as she matches your stride.

“Colt has the same eyebags you had months ago. How come yours are gone and his are still there? Is that like,” –she skips over some rocks– “a teenager thing?”

You snort. It's more of a ‘forcibly ripped away from your home universe and stuck into one with masacre woven into its story’ for you, and a ‘pressured into becoming the successor of the Beast Titan to remove your family from the suspicious eye of Marley’ for Colt. Gabi doesn’t need to know that though.

“Sure. It's just a teenager thing.”

Gabi nods, satisfied with your answer.

You pass by the wall of the hospital, revealing its courtyard full of both patients and the nurses attending them, as well as blooming trees that sway with the gentle breeze. You wave at Dr Jaeger when he spots you and Gabi, his red armband marking him amongst the crowd.

A ball is chased by two children, their grandfather slowly following their trail as they run over the blades of grass. A nurse in a light blue blouse hands a clipboard to one of the doctors, signaling something with her pencil. A young blonde girl stands in a corner, clad in white.

Long, brown hair stands out in your peripheral vision, belonging to a figure hunched on a bench. The wall dividing the street from the patio had hid them from your vision, and your heartbeat speeds up without your permission.

You almost mutter his name, before remembering that it is far too early for his appearance in that very bench. Falco is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Eren and neither is the Rumbling. Everything will be okay. For a little while.

As if sensing your gaze, shining black irises meet yours from under the dark locks and you avert your eyes. The woman in baggy clothes you were looking at simply turns away, and your moment of brief panic dissolves with the cool wind.

“Have you thought about joining the Candidate Program?”

Gabi’s voice snaps you back to the conversation at hand, and you frown when you process her question.

“I don’t…” you falter, not knowing how to explain your disdain for the program without offending her. “I’m not sure our values align.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'm just not too convinced I can achieve the level required,” you laugh nervously, waving her off. “Besides, I’m far too old to enter.”

Gabi nods. “Makes sense,” she says. “Not everyone can be on my level, after all.”

You sigh, already used to her antics. “Sure, squirt. I'd have to kneel to get on your level, after all.”

Gabi splutters, stopping abruptly. “Hey! That was uncalled for!”

“Was it?”

The girl goes on and on about how you're too mean to her, when she hasn’t done anything to deserve it. You nod at her complaints absentmindedly, too caught up on enjoying the mild breeze that runs through your hair. While Gabi flails around, a member of the Warriors approaches you from the courtyard.

“Reiner? What are you doing here?” you ask when you notice him walking in your direction.

Reiner raises up his hand in greeting, which you return after a moment.

“Y/n. Gabi. Didn't think I'd be seeing you guys here. Don't you have an exam tomorrow Gabi?”

You narrow your eyes at the girl. She had told you that she was free for the afternoon, and that all her activities had already been taken care of. The liar in question averts her eyes, and tiny beads of sweat appear on her temples.

“Well– I mean–” Gabi stammers. “It's not a difficult exam exactly…”

“Did you study for it, at least?”

“Of course I did! Who do you take me for?”

You sigh, shaking your head faintly as Reiner chuckles at the exchange. The times you two had met could be counted with both hands, and yet the both of you had bonded over looking after his cousin.

“Y/n’s kinda right on this, Gabi. I had to study hard to acquire the Armored.”

If it were up to you, Gabi would never inherit the Armored Titan. And yet, her being in the program, reaching for the privilege, was the very thing that put her in the right place to survive.

So for the time being you would voice your agreement with Reiner, reminding the girl to not slack off on her studies and training sessions, hoping that, even if things went to shit, she would have the closest thing to a happy ending this world had to offer.

“When I said I wanted you two to meet it wasn’t so you could antagonize me.”

You shrug as Gabi crosses her arms, pouting. Such is life, kid. Such is life. You turn your attention to Reiner next, whose answer hadn’t been delivered to your initial question yet.

“Were you meeting with Dr Jaeger then, Reiner?”

“Oh no, just… got some prescription,” he says, fishing a small cardboard box out of his coat.

That was a surprise, but you suppose that even Marley would care if one of their Titans wasn’t performing at their best. Modern therapy and medications would work better, but they aren’t accessible for a tiny reason:

They don’t exist. Fun!

That is also partly why your old headaches were coming back, and, while you hadn’t fainted since the day you had arrived, you still constantly had the nagging feeling in the back of your skull.

“That’s… nice,” you say. Even if you know more about Reiner’s trauma than probably anyone here, it still wasn’t your place to comment on it.

I’m glad you’re working towards healing your traumas before they catch up to you with suicidal ideation in like four years wouldn’t cut it.

“Are you sick or something?” Gabi asks like she normally does — without tact.

“Just feeling a little under the weather.”

Reiner waves off her concerts after answering, returning the small container to his pocket. You take a peek at the side of the box, noticing part of the font that reads Inhaler. Maybe it was just a cold then, and Marley actually didn’t care about the mental health of its soldiers. Shocking.

“I hope you feel better,” you offer.

You really do hope he does. The boy (because that is what he is, what they all are, a boy just a little older than you) that you had forged a tentative friendship with had earned a small corner of your heart, which was squeezed a little tighter with every droopy smile he sent your way.

The end of the world would come, and it was only by preventing it that he would be able to reach self forgiveness.

“Thank you,” he says. “I've definitely felt better before.”

Gabi lets out a disbelieving sound. “Where? With the devils?”

Yeah, probably, you think. But it would be a crime to voice such an opinion, so you refrain from commenting. Reiner doesn’t flinch, but something indecipherable passes through his eyes, akin to guilt.

“No, definitely not with them. They were, uh, barbaric.”

Gabi nods in agreement, and you stay quiet.

Reiner sighs, and surveys the courtyard one more time, before bidding you and Gabi goodbye, and heading off in the direction of Headquarters. He ruffles his cousin’s hair before leaving, and you both wave at his retreating figure, before falling into step in the opposite direction.

You are glad for the constantly growing distance between the hospital and yourself, your small spook earlier not forgotten.

“...He’s been getting sick a lot recently,” Gabi says.

“What makes you say that?”

Gabi looks back at the hospital, catching your gaze when she turns around. “I see him at the wards sometimes when I’m walking from headquarters.”

You mull over how to respond. You could lie and reassure the girl that her cousin probably caught a cold, or that the newfound pollen of the changing seasons was affecting him. Hell, you could even poke fun at Reiner and say that he’s got a hospital sweetheart he’s been visiting.

“He’ll be fine,” is what you end up saying.

And he will. Eventually.

Dinner is always a quiet affair in the house. There's only the clinking of the utensils against the plates and the occasional comment about the day’s activities. Eating is something that captures all of your attention, at least with Zeke. It was a ritual of sorts, a way to share space while still allowing for both people to recover from their day to day interactions.

When dinner is finished, however, conversation would start, and you would both stay at the table for a little while longer, working on whatever needed to be worked on for the evening, talking about whatever needed to be talked about during the time.

“How’s the… foreign language coming along?” Zeke asks, returning from the foyer with his briefcase. He unlocks it and retrieves a small stack of papers from its insides, laying them on the table.

“I like to think I’m almost fluent,” you answer, already with your own work in front of you. It wasn’t worksheets or learning material, but an old Eldianhistory book you had unearthed from the bookcase in your room. “The book’s been getting easier to read.”

“Quite a feat for someone who’s only had a year to learn it.”

You shrug. “It was significantly easier than Marleyan, that's for sure.”

“Are you still struggling with grammar?” Zeke looks up from the turning pages as he asks, reminding you of the endless tutoring you had to endure in order to even understand a lick of written Marleyan.

You huff, throwing your hands up in the air. “It's not my fault you guys use half the alphabet in a word and then decide to make the unused letters be written basically the same.”

He chuckles, penciling in something in his documents. “Well, that's an exaggeration.”

“My bad. I meant to say that you use half the alphabet in a word, and manage to mispronounce all of it.”

“The other has significantly more grammatical norms than Marleyan. How come you haven’t been struggling with those?

You shrug. “I don’t know. It's just easier.”

Zeke takes a minute to look away, letting out a noncommittal hum when he finally does. You raise an eyebrow at his behavior but decide not to comment on it, already used to Zeke’s oddities.

“That’s good,” he says after a beat. Another passes, and he continues. “The boat is leaving soon.”

The boat, of course, refers to the one Marley would send in a recognition mission to Paradis, in order to know what was going on in the island after the failure of the mission to retake the Founding Titan.

In other words, it was the one the Volunteers would hijack. The one you would be smuggled into, with the intention of making the journey across the sea.

“How soon is soon? Because I promised Gabi and Falco I would take them to the new candy store that is opening–” Zeke cuts you off.

“A week.”

Your mouth slips shut, your brain processing Zeke’s words. A week?

“So no candy shop?” you say weakly.

Zeke shakes his head. Silence falls in the room, not stifling, just firm. Unyielding.

“What will…” you falter. “What will I– we– tell the others?”

Zeke rummages through the stack of papers, bringing out a file which he then places in front of you. You grab it, eyes flitting between it and Zeke, before reading its contents.

There is no picture on the identification papers, but you recognize a single name. It is not the one that belongs to the person it is describing, but one placed in the table depicting the kinfolk. The name of the dead soldier you had adopted as your dad when you arrived sits in the middle of it, with a small annotation to its right, which in turn reads 3rd cousin once removed.

“We’ll tell them we found a closer blood relative, near where you supposedly lived before.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Zeke confirms. “It was easier than expected, I must admit. Marley liked the excuse to take your red armband away.”

He smiles, but there is no amusement in his gesture. Thinking about it, it does make sense that Marley would want the least amount of Honorary Marleyans possible, given it was not only resources that, in their eyes, they wasted, but also a way of uplifting the morale of a community they thought below them.

“Okay.” You read quickly through the information, not noticing anything relevant. “Okay,” you repeat. “And is this person… real? Do they know?”

Zeke chuckles, extending a hand to grab the paper. You hand it to him after memorizing the name of your supposed cousin, returning to nervously fiddling with your book.

“Oh, it was a miracle that they were found at all. Nobody knew of any other relatives up until two days ago.” He winks. “Lucky, right?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Lucky.”

Your unenthusiasm bordering on indifference causes Zeke to frown, and he tilts his head slightly, questions swimming in his gray eyes.

“I thought you’d be happier. Wasn’t this what you asked for, all those months ago?”

A baseball. A conversation. A deal.

“I didn’t expect to get so… attached?” You shrug helplessly. “I don't know. It feels weird. What I’m about to do. Where I’m about to go.”

Zeke leans back on his chair, analyzing you. His gaze doesn’t make you feel like running anymore, but there is still an undercurrent of cold, calculating intention in the gray storm of his eyes.

“Are you getting cold feet?” he asks.

“No!” you exclaim, almost shooting out of your chair. Your feet are slightly separated beneath the table, ready for you to stand up. You force your muscles to relax and quickly arrange your posture to something more casual.

“No,” you attempt again. “I’m just nervous, is all.”

You are tempted to add an And I’m one hundred percent on board with the plan! Fuck the kids, am I right? – but that would be laying it on too thick, and it wouldn't take a genius to notice your too-eager grin, or the almost desperate look in your eyes.

Zeke accepts your answer, and you both go back to a (nearly) comfortable silence.

You break the news to the others on the following days, and you receive a multitude of different reactions. Reiner sends you off with a pat in the back, Colt with some heartfelt words and a hug. Falco gets a little emotional when you tell him, but nothing compares to Gabi’s response.

You thought that, while you had forged a strong friendship with the girl, her tenacious personality and pride would prevent her from taking it to heart.

The night before your departure, however, she shows up in a storm determined to make you stay.

You open the door at the frantic knocking, wondering who it could be at these hours. It is not midnight, per se, but the sun has already left its place in the sky, and so it is not a time where you could excuse it as a random visit from one of your friends.

You know you are wrong when you open the door and a small hand reaches for your skirt, the small figure of Gabi colliding with your torso. The sudden impact takes your breath away for a moment, before you understand the situation at hand, and your arms snake around Gabi, returning her bone crushing hug.

“Gabi?” you start. “What are you doing here so late?”

You feel as Gabi starts to move her head from one side to another, further hiding in the folds of your clothing.

“You can’t leave,” she says, her voice close to breaking. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Gabi...” you pause, taking a moment to find the right words. “I’m very sorry kid, but the arrangements have already been made.”

“But why do you have to go away?” Gabi stammers, her words tangled in tears, making your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“Squirt–” you sigh, bringing your hand to the top of her head. “Gabi. I'm very, very, sorry I have to leave, but I want to go home. I miss my home.”

Your voice comes out in a comforting whisper as you soothingly thread your fingers on Gabi’s hair, feeling the echoes of her cries against your body. She squeezes you tight, as though letting go for just a second might make you vanish. You can't help but think that there’s some truth to it.

“Liberio could be your home–” she hiccups.

“Gabi–”

“Stay!” she finishes with a sob.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. Who knew a year-long friendship could tug and rip your heartstrings like this?

“I’ll write you letters, okay? You’ll respond, and it’d be as if I never left, won't it, squirt?”

You try your best at comforting her, but her fists just seem to get tighter around the fabric of your clothes. Gabi almost slumps against you, before she inhales shakily and softly releases you from her hold. Her hands immediately come up to wipe her tears away, and she looks furiously at the floor.

You know the letters are just a temporary solution. One that, given her age and profession, she would slowly forget about. And then, little by little, the letters from you would stop too. Zeke would tell her you moved, lost contact. That is, if by that time he is alive to do so.

You embrace her again and let her cry until her tear ducts dry out, holding her close, because you know you won’t be able to do that for a long, long time. Or at all, if your plan succeeds.

So you stay for just a moment more, relishing in the feeling of being cared for so deeply that it spills tears.

a/n: Reiner jumpscared me ngl. I was writing, as one does, and he just appeared, demanding he be written. I hope I did him justice hsajshd I had a difficult time writing him. On a completely unrelated note, did ya'll know that Amphetamines, sold as Benzedrine Inhalers, were used medically in the 1930's to treat depression? Neat. Anyway, guess who makes his first appearance on the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

taglist: @dressycobra7 @xngelsau @bloodchapell @i-think-im-adorable13

ask or comment to be added!

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic — 3/3

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

wc: 3k | rating: T | cw: head trauma, brain injury talk | a special thank you to @dame-zoom-a-lot for betaing! <3

The days following Steve’s Houdini act are fuckin’ tense, to say the least.

Eddie had messed up. Royally.

He could’ve sworn that when Steve took off, he’d ducked into the Recovery Center, y’know, the place he was supposed to go! If Eddie had known Steve took a detour and missed the building entirely, Eddie would’ve ran a lot fucking faster than he had. Especially after…

Well, no point in shying away from it anymore; after Steve confessed his love for him.

And how did Eddie return the favor? By being a total bone head and losing Steve for the entire goddamn day! Not to mention a good chunk of the night. Jesus… It’s no wonder Robin’s still sore.

Now, in Eddie’s flimsy defense, Steve had thrown him for one hell of a loop. One that Eddie was still seeing double from. He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around what he’d heard; Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High, being into Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson, the drug-dealing ne’er do well hailing from the Forest Hills trailer park. Forgive him for finding the threads a little difficult to tie together! He’s not exactly Steve’s usual fare.

But it had happened.

Things have fundamentally, metaphysically, allegorically and subatomically shifted between the two of them—there’s no getting away from that, no matter how long they try and dance around this.

Steve said he loved Eddie. Love.

That isn’t something you just move on from. At least, it isn’t something Eddie can move on from. Especially when he didn’t even get to say his piece!

The trouble is that Robin’s in all-out guard dog mode with Steve, keeping Eddie at arm's length even after a whole goddamn week goes by. Sure, she’d accepted his apology (albeit begrudgingly), but she isn’t exactly keen on letting Steve out of the house without her by his side—much less with Eddie. It would be kind of heartwarming if it weren’t so goddamn annoying.

Steve isn’t some damsel locked away in a tower, and Eddie wasn’t some knight in shining armor, planning to scale the side of a stone tower to avoid the sleeping, fire-breathing dragon…

But as Eddie stares up at the fire escape attached to the side of Steve and Robin’s brick apartment building… he'd be lying if he said he didn’t sort of feel a little shiny.

Part of Eddie can’t believe it’s really come to this, but… he just can’t stand the idea of wasting another goddamn night tossing and turning, going over and over Steve’s words in his mind. Thinking about the way Steve’s hand felt in his, the way his eyes went all soft when he told Eddie he—he loved him…

Jesus H. Christ, this is way beyond his skill set—he’s way out of fucking league here, but there’s nothing for it. Eddie needs to settle this, once and for all.

So, he takes his bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and presses the flat of it to his forehead while his hands make a tight knot in the back. He zips his leather jacket as high as it’ll go and gives his hands a shake to try and get the jitters out.

It’s not exactly a helmet and plates of armor, but it’ll have to do. Eddie takes a breath, steels himself, then climbs on top of a precariously stacked pile of milk crates that he’d crafted and leaps for the steel ladder. As soon as his feet leave the plastic tower, it collapses under him, clattering to the ground. Eddie knows he shouldn’t look back, but he sneaks a peak over his shoulder and… yep. He really shouldn’t’ve looked. He’s not that high up, but it’s enough that if he falls, he’d be feeling it tomorrow. Might even bust an ankle if he landed wrong.

He turns back to the task at hand; getting to Steve.

There’s a terrifying moment where he’s not sure if he can pull himself up, but somehow, he finds the strength to do just that. If only Coach D’Amour could see him now!

He grunts as he pulls himself up onto the platform, belly getting scratched against the grates as he goes. Eddie scrambles to get his legs underneath himself. Then, he stands, dusts himself off and takes the win, graceless as it was.

The fire escape is rickety and fucking loud as he takes the steps two at a time. It’s cold enough that even the quickest touch of the steel railings drains all the heat out of his fingers, so he just keeps them balled up, swinging at his sides. The wind is especially chilly up here too, something he hadn’t noticed on the ground, but now that he’s up a couple of floors there wasn’t anything for the wind to buff off except the side of the building and, well, Eddie.

By the time he reaches the third floor, his nose is running and no doubt red and irritated looking, and he’s woefully out of breath.

Kind of a pathetic knight, he thinks as he sniffs back the worst of it, wipes the underside of his nose on the sleeve of his jacket to get rid of what’s left.

The light in Steve’s room is on, reaching out to him through the lines of Steve’s shut blinds.

His hand is raised, wind-chapped knuckles knocking against the glass of his window before he can plan out what he’s going to say. He just wants to see Steve. Get eyes on him again. Work this out.

It’s a painful few seconds before Eddie can see movement from inside the window. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently waits for Steve to let him in. His breath fogs the window.

Then finally. Finally! The blinds are pulled up. He smiles and—

Oh Christ on a cross. That’s not Steve.

Eddie’s stomach damn near falls out of his ass as the woman on the other side of the glass screams, as shrill and high as if she were next to him.

And of course she’s in a fucking towel.

Eddie slaps one hand across his eyes and the other up in surrender, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Shit, Jesus, I—I’m not a pervert, I swear!”

Debatable, his brain supplies, entirely unhelpful in an emergency situation. But hey, what’s new?

“I was looking for my friend, not—Please stop screaming!” He screams.

“Eddie?” A familiar voice calls from below.

The hand on Eddie’s eyes lift and looks down through the metal grates under his boots. “Steve!”

Steve’s hanging half out his window, peering up at him with a bewildered expression on his face. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie holds his arms out like it should be obvious. “Seeing you!” He snaps.

Eddie’s attention is briefly yanked back to the scandalized looking woman in the window in front of him. “I’m—yeah, I’m gonna—” He backs away, and swings around the escape before thundering down the stairs, shouting another apology up in his shameful retreat.

Steve backs up in order to let Eddie in. He climbs in as gracelessly as ever, all knees and elbows, stiff from the cold. He slides the window shut behind him once he’s in, dropping the blinds for good measure.

He wonders if Hopper is getting a call about a long-haired, wild-eyed, deranged looking peeping Tom at this very moment.

“Smooth.” Steve says from behind him, an edge of playfulness.

When Eddie turns and finally gets a good look at Steve, who looks especially comfortable in his flannel sleep pants and worn sweater, hands on hips. “I was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve snorts softly, “third floor, remember?”

“I counted! Ground floor, first floor, second floor, third floor.” Eddie says, using his hand to indicate his pattern of thought, moving it up a tick with each floor.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. And even though Eddie knows Steve’s laughing at him, he can’t help that warm feeling that pours through him, filling him up. All his cracks and edges, sealed up with Steve’s effortless being.

“No.” Steve raises his own hand, mirroring Eddie’s. He begins notching as he explains, “ground floor, second floor, third floor. The ground is the first floor, dude.”

Eddie frowns. “What? Since when?”

Steve levels Eddie with a flat look. “Since like, the civil war, dude.”

Huh. Eddie frowns. Mulling over the new bit of information. That would’ve been nice to know.

“Why were you even doing out there in the first place? We have things called front doors. And, y’know, phones.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, losing a bit of steam as the words left him. Like he’s realized exactly what Eddie being here, in his rooms, meant.

“I had to see you.” Eddie says, like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world, “Face to face, just me and you.”

“Can’t we just—I don’t know, pretend all of… that never happened? Hell, it might drop out of my head one of these days anyway. Lots of shit does.” Steve’s says, sounding so fucking defeated that it sends a sharp pain through Eddie’s chest.

“Hey,” Eddie makes a face, gets in Steve’s space, “don’t be a jerk to yourself.”

He ducks his head in an attempt to meet Steve’s downturned gaze, which he reluctantly returns. He’s got these big, warm eyes, the color of dark honey—the kind that are hard to look away from, so Eddie rarely does. He’a got a staring problem, he knows, but… damn. Can you really blame a guy?

A nerve in Steve’s jaw jumps when he clenches his teeth together, and salt pools begin forming along the rim of those familiar eyes. When he speaks, it’s stiff. Barely above a whisper. “I’m embarrassed, alright?”

“You don’t gotta be embarrassed, man.” Without thought, Eddie’s hands go to Steve’s arms, fingers hovering around his elbows. Eddie tilts his head again to try and keep eye contact again but Steve seems determined to avoid it.

“Easy for you to say.” Steve huffs, and sits down on the edge of his bed, slipping out of Eddie’s hold, arms still crossed over his chest. “You didn’t totally humiliate yourself in front of your—friend.”

The word, one in which Eddie holds in a most sacred of views, sounds distinctly hollow when Steve says it.

“Steve, listen to me, just for a sec, alright?” Eddie gets down to the floor, one knee buried in the carpet while the others bent out in front of him. “This is my fault.” He confesses, voice full of remorse.

Finally, Steve looks at him. His brows twitch together as he makes a face. “Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true! I—I didn’t mean to, but I’m not exactly big on the whole impulse control thing, as you know, and, thinking back on things I probably… I probably let a few things slip.” Eddie explains, his rings clinking together lightly as he gestures with his hands.

Steve, however, doesn’t look any less confused. He blinks. “What?”

Eddie lets his head fall forward in a moment of defeat as he attempts to gather up his fleeting thoughts. It’s like chasing wet, feral cats up there!

Still, he picks himself back up. For Steve.

“What I’m trying to say is…” Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s knees. Feels the warmth under the soft, worn flannel. The hard muscle. Alive, whole. He tightens his grip. “Steve, I’ve been crazy about you since the first time I ever saw you. Don’t roll your eyes—I’m serious! You sat in front of me in math one year and you forgot your pencil. We were having a test that day, and you asked me if you could borrow one of mine, so I let you have the one I was using. You chewed up the end of it, squashed the eraser to all hell, but then when you gave it back to me, you smiled, thanked me and said, ‘I owe you one.’ It—okay, yeah, so it sounds, like, really small, and probably pretty pathetic, but… I was totally starstruck, man.”

At some point in his little spiel, Steve had uncrossed his arms. So Eddie takes the opportunity to clumsily take Steve’s hands, his insides feeling like a kicked hornets nest. Buzzing. He swallows. “I still am.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut, but there’s a knot in him that’s loosening, Eddie can tell. He’s just gotta keep tugging. He squeezes Steve’s fingers.

“The feeling was cranked up a few hundred clicks because of all the, y’know, near death experiences we went through together. But you get it now, right? You get how this is all my fault?”

“Eddie, you don’t have to—” Steve starts, hands stiffening in Eddie’s hold. Slipping away. But Eddie holds firm, decides to just fucking say it. If Steve could, Eddie could too.

“I’m in love with you too.” He blurts out, and now that he’s said it out loud, it’s like there’s a dam that gets busted inside of him; he can’t stop the rush of words that follows the confession. “That’s what you were seeing. That’s what you were noticing. I thought I was being slick, just keeping it friendly or whatever. Flirting, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d ever actually reciprocate. Because, honestly man, I’m not really used to people taking me all that seriously. ‘Zany, pot-head Eddie, can’t trust anything that comes out of his crooked mouth!’”

Eddie shakes his head, scoffing at his own blind spots, “But… you saw right through that shit—right through me. You didn’t make it up in your head, Steve—you felt it. You were right.”

Steve’s got a funny look on his face, but he nods. A lock of hair falls over his forehead, but he doesn’t remove his hands from Eddie’s to fix it. “You love me?”

That’s like asking if the sun would rise tomorrow morning. Of course. Of course.

Eddie pulls one of Steve’s hands and flattens it onto his chest, over the leather.

“Every time my heart beats, it's your name it calls out, man.” Eddie says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he sees the red creep up on the apples of Steve’s cheeks. “D’you feel it?”

Steve gives a breathless chuckle, hesitating for a split second before he nods, playing along.

Electricity hums under Eddie’s skin, the resulting static snaps in the air around them. Eddie presses Steve’s hand against the wall of his chest a little harder, so that he can feel the pounding a bit better. Then Eddie whispers in time with the rhythm of his lovesick heart, giving it a voice, “Ste-vie, Ste-vie, Ste-vie…”

He keeps chanting until Steve’s grinning, eyes glued to their joined hands. It’s a fleeting thing, though. Eddie watches as that hard-won smile drops and a pinched look takes its place. “Even now? Eddie, I’m not—I don’t think I’m the same person I was before.”

“Are you kidding me? Especially now. In sickness and in health, right?” Somewhere in his brain an alarm sounds, but he doesn’t pause long enough to acknowledge exactly why, lest he lose momentum, “look, Steve, even if you are a little different from the guy you were in high school, you’re still you.”

A beat passes. “What if I never get better?”

“Steve, you will, the doctors said—”

“But what if I don’t? Jesus, Eddie, what if I get worse?” Steve’s voice had gone progressively more hushed as he spoke, as if he were so afraid of its possibility that even voicing it felt risky. Made it real, even in that small way. It’s something Steve’s thought about, Eddie realizes. Agonized over, even.

“Then I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets to take care of you.” Eddie says, sure as shit. Truthfully, he can’t think of anything else he’d rather do, even if Steve hadn’t done a completely insane thing like falling in love with Eddie. His love isn’t conditional. “S’long as you’ll let me.” He tacks on.

It’s like a wall crumbling. Brick by brick, Eddie watches Steve’s resolve collapse. The rim of his eyes shine with unshed tears, his brow relaxes and his chin twitches. “You sure you want that?”

He scoffs, eyes wide. “It’s all I want.” He answers, quickly. A reflex. Who wouldn’t want to be with Steve Harrington? Eddie thought he was lucky just to be in the same fucking orbit as the guy, but now…

Now, as he watches a smile slowly spreads across Steve’s face—fucking Adonis incarnate—it feels like he won the goddamn lottery.

“Okay.” Steve utters, so softly that for a second Eddie thinks he’d imagined it.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, trying his damndest to keep from imploding. He’s fucking vibrating in his skin.

Instead of answering Eddie, Steve decides to clarify himself by leaning forward and pressing his mouth against Eddie’s.

Fireworks go off inside of Eddie, every inch of him. All lit up. Feels like he’s shining just as good as any knight.

One of Steve’s hands snake their way behind Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other remains held over Eddie’s jackrabbiting heart. Their lips part, and their kiss deepens. Eddie tries to keep up.

They eventually end up on Steve’s narrow twin bed laying side by side, legs entangled, kissing until their mouths go dry. Eddie swipes a calloused thumb over Steve’s cheek, savoring the feeling of the barely there stubble, the heat from the blush that never seems to subside.

They don’t speak for the rest of the night. Not even a ‘goodnight’ after Steve crawls over Eddie to flick off his bedside lamp, tugging the comforter up around their shoulders as he settles back into the safe harbor of Eddie’s arms. They don’t need words. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight, all they need to do is to rest.

Whatever comes after, they’ll deal with it together.

—

Tag List: (if you’d like to be added to a permanent tag list for all my Steddie fics, please comment/message me! ◡̈ thank you for reading, everyone!)

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[senseofnewness]

What do you think dating Stanford!art is like?

stanford!art being your college boyfriend [NSFW]

• you met during orientation week, despite having different majors, you and art were placed in the same group of fifteen people, all wearing matching blue 'stanford' t-shirts, everyone was quiet and shy at first, but with each building visited, the atmosphere grew more comfortable

• during the campus tour, you muttered a few sarcastic comments under your breath, causing him to chuckle more than once, amused by your wit, he gravitated towards you and introduced himself, walking by your side for the rest of the tour

• afterwards, each time you met him in the corridors, you would nod and greet each other with a playful "sup, blue" referencing your orientation group, he always responded with a huge grin, and it was then you began to notice just how cute he looked, you thought for a second that maybe he wasn’t like all of those stupid jocks, or maybe he was, you had barely exchanged two words but getting to know him could be worth it

• one day, during lunch, you found yourself standing behind him in line at the cafeteria and greeted him as you filled your tray with food, after a quick, casual chat about how school was going, he invited you to join him and his friends at his table, "sure" you answered with a shrug, thinking you were going to eat alone anyway, so why not join the hot boy from the tennis club?

• at the table, he introduced you as his friend, even though you would consider him barely an acquaintance, just a familiar face you were always pleased to see, you quickly got along with everyone, your talkative nature taking over, from time to time, you felt art's eyes on you, an amused smile lingering on his lips as he sat across from you

• he had mentioned having a match the following day and invited you to come along, you barely knew anything about tennis, but you thought this could be the perfect opportunity to learn more about him, as tennis seemed to be such an important part of his life, so you accepted his invitation and promised to be there to cheer him on

• the match took place at 2pm the next day and your neck was starting to ache from following the ball as it flew from one side of the court to the other, art returned every volley with precision, steadily gaining the upper hand over his opponent, you knew nothing about the rules of tennis, but the cheers from the audience were enough to assure you that art was winning the match

• art had humiliated his opponent, the score so one-sided it was almost absurd, you skipped down the bleachers to join him on the court, "well played, blue!" you called out, your voice carrying over the distance, he waved at you, a smug look on his face, "thanks" he said, "you should stick around, we’re having a little celebratory get-together”

• once at the party, it didn’t take long for the yapper in you to find a group of people to overshare with, but art remained by your side, filling your glass every time it came close to being empty, there was something truly endearing about the way he noticed when you were about to finish your drink, always making sure you never got thirsty, on the other hand, you couldn't help but wonder if it was wise to trust a stranger with your drink

• now it was just the two of you, you were tipsy and art was discussing the earlier match in detail, although you had no particular interest in talking about tennis at the moment, or ever, art made it captivating, you hung on every word, your eyes fixed on his lips, "what do you think?" he asked, pulling you out of your reverie, "what?" you blurted out, "seems like you're really into tennis" he teased, "what can I say? i love balls", both of you chuckled, "you kinda remind me of my friend patrick", what did that mean? his friend? you had no desire to be just his friend, you needed to make your intentions clear, "why? does he love your balls too?"

• "dance with me” you said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the dance floor, "i can't dance" he protested, though he followed you willingly, like a docile boy, "come on, it's not rocket science, just put your hands on me and move", his hands settled on your hips as you swayed your body against his to the music, the space between you diminished as he leaned in, his eyes locking with yours, you tilted your head slightly and he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, tentative kiss, first gentle, then more passionate as tongues met, tangling, you could taste the alcohol in his saliva

• the rest of the night passed in a blur, with you and art making out in every corner of the place, each time someone approached, you would shift to a new spot, not out of embarrassment but to avoid being interrupted by chatter, all you wanted was to keep your lips pressed against his, to feel the thrill of his touch, you just couldn’t keep your hands off him, there was something irresistibly addictive about the sensation of his soft blond curls slipping through your fingers, soon, it became harder to breathe, and you found yourself craving more of him with an intense, almost desperate hunger

• you were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around Art’s hips as he stood before you, the heat between your core and his growing more intense by the second, you felt an urgent need for him, “we should go to sleep” you suggested, lying in hopes that he would catch your hint, “i should walk you to your dorm” he murmured against your lips, reluctantly pulling away, “it’s dangerous out there for a pretty girl like you”

• the walk back to your place was a mix of light-hearted chatter and giggles, as you reached your door, you lingered there, biting your lower lip in anticipation while fiddling with your keys, “want to watch a movie?” you asked, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. “sure” he replied, his eyes bright with desire as he followed you inside after you unlocked the door

• the first movie played, then the next, and the one after that, but you barely registered what was on the screen, you were way too focused on him, comfortably wrapped in his embrace and between kisses and sharing stories about your lives, you learned about Art’s years at the tennis academy in Florida, his best friend Patrick, and his beloved grandmother, but you also became intimately familiar with his body, you weren’t sure who made the first move, perhaps it was you, but your hand now caressed his length, while his fingers teased your clit, both of you moaning softly, lost in the pleasure of each other’s touch

• after minutes of intense overstimulation, both of you were exhausted, breathing heavily, “shit, i should go” art muttered, quickly standing up, “the coach is going to get my ass if i'm late to morning practice”, you pouted in disappointment as he adjusted his semi-hard cock back into his pants while you wiped his cum off your hand onto your shirt, “give me your phone” you said, extending your now-cleaned hand, he passed it over and you began typing in your number, “text me when you’re back at your dorm” you instructed, “it’s dangerous out there for a pretty boy like you”, his smile widened at your teasing remark echoing his earlier words

• you had fallen asleep after his departure and the first thing you noticed when you woke up was his ‘morning, blue’ text, the fact that he had thought about you first thing after training brought a smile to your face, throughout the day, you exchanged texts about nothing and everything all at once, later that day, you joined him after classes, eager to see him in person, nothing was better than being face-to-face and lips-to-lips

• in the days that followed, sneaking into each other’s dorms after authorized hours became a thrilling game, dodging the resident assistants’ watchful eyes, you’d slip into each other’s beds, where you mostly got off by dry humping, though you were ready for more but art wanted to take things slow, wanting to show you it was more than just sex, and while you thought his intentions were sweet, you secretly wished he would stop respecting you so much and just stretch you out with his pretty cock

• it took just a few more days before art was balls deep inside you, his resolve crumbled when you sat on top of him and rubbed yourself against his bulge, in a swift motion, he flipped you over and undressed you, rolling on a condom before thrusting himself inside, he fucked you like no one ever had, releasing all the built-up tension, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his asscheeks, and your moans were muffled by his mouth on yours, he had made you come more than once that night

• art was also the first guy to venture his tongue between your legs, apart from a boyfriend or two, you weren't that experienced, and no one had ever shown interest in pleasuring you that way, so when art ate you out for the first time, it was a revelation, you doubted you could ever go back to anything else but oral sex, while art was certainly a good fuck, his dick was far less skilled than his tongue, he attentively sucked on your swollen clit, turning you into a moaning mess, and all you had to do was lie there and watch him work, his face glistening with your juices, you loved being helpless under his care

• you only realized how much you cared about him when you saw him interacting with another girl in the cafeteria, tashi duncan, you recognized her from the posters, she was leaning over the table, chatting with him, and he was smiling back at her, the sight ignited a wave of jealousy in you and you moved closer to the table as she walked away, “who was she?” you asked, sitting down beside him, he looked at you before responding that she was a friend of his, “she’s cute” you added, a hint of bitterness lacing your voice, “didn’t notice” he replied, though you could tell he was lying, “sure” you said, rolling your eyes, only an idiot would miss tashi’s charms, but it’s not like you could act possessive and call him out on his bullshit, after all, you didn’t own him, you weren’t his girlfriend

• you were studying in his room, lying on your stomach on his bed, when he finally spoke the words you had been waiting to hear, “you know i like you a lot” he confessed, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that revealed his nervousness, you could see his hands trembling slightly, betraying his emotions, “i do too” you replied, meeting his gaze with a smile, then, with a hopeful tone, he asked, “do you want to be my girlfriend?” you grinned, your heart swelling with happiness, “wait, i wasn’t already?” you teased, pretending to be shocked, “shit, i need to cancel the wedding!” with a laugh, you nodded your head and cupped his face in your hands, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips

• making it official had made everything more concrete, taking things to a more intense level, sure, you were already spending every night fucking each other’s brains out, but now condoms were a thing of the past, fucking you raw had made a monster out of art, he reveled in every opportunity to fill you with his cum, enjoying the sight of his warm load dripping out of you down your thighs, in the past, he had come covered your body with his semen, ass, face, tits, multiple times, but now that seemed wasteful, only your tight little cunt was worthy of welcoming him, and he made sure to take full advantage of it

• you became his biggest cheerleader, attending every match, proudly wearing t-shirts with his face and name on, the whole campus knew you as art donaldson’s girlfriend, and while you liked the attention, you couldn’t ignore the whispers, you secretly wished people would acknowledge you for your own accomplishments, rather than just being the tennis prodigy’s ‘pathetic little puppy who follows him around’

• while he had mostly called you ‘blue’ in the past, you now held the cherished title of ‘baby’ and being his baby came with certain privileges : his wardrobe had become yours, you had lost count of how many times you had stolen one of his shirts or caps, also he now walked you to your classes every day, hand in hand, always insisting on carrying your backpack, sometimes, you shared such long kisses in front of the classroom door that he ended up being late to his own class, everyone passing by shooting you side-eye glances, but you both are too wrapped up in each other to even care

• kissing wasn’t the only thing you did in public, you took great pleasure in giving art random boners, turning it into a game, a game that boosted your self-esteem like no other, you loved watching him struggle and blush as he tried to discreetly adjust his growing length in his pants, all it took was sitting on his lap and subtly rubbing your ass against him, pressing your breasts against his chest during hugs, playing with his hair, wearing shirts with no bra on, or simply licking your lip, okay, you had to admit, art was also the type of boy who got horny at the mere sight of you breathing

• a few weeks later, you finally met patrick, along with his girlfriend, tashi duncan, you had never approached her before, she was too intimidating for that, patrick, on the other hand, was as friendly as can be, filling every moment with questions and jokes, never allowing a second of silence to settle between you, you could see why art thought you were similar, both unable to shut up, with patrick around, you discovered a new side of art, a playful, childlike side, so while the two of them got caught up in their reckless antics, you found yourself stuck with tashi, gradually getting to know her and even ending up befriending her

• sometimes, after a long practice, art is too tired to join you in your room for the night, on those days, you make sure to convince him that you’re worth the exhaustion, like that time you sent him a picture of yourself wearing nothing but the blue shirt from orientation week, your nipples pressed hard against the fabric and your lacy panties sheer enough to reveal your hairless cunt, he was at your door in five minutes, his sore muscles an afterthought

• you two are like animals, fucking in every room and every position possible, gone was the shy, respectful art from orientation week who touched you with such a gentle care, he now grabbed you by the hair as he aggressively shoved his throbbing cock in you any time he felt like it, calling you like ‘his little whore’ while painting your walls with his thick cum, your sessions had become a contest of who could outmoan the other, often interrupted by banging on the walls and people yelling from the other side of the door

• it had only been two months of dating when he finally said "i love you", you were acting silly, making him laugh, when he blurted it out, taken aback, you felt a rush of emotions, you had wanted to say it for days but had not dared, when you had discussed it with your friends, they all agreed it was way too early for that, “i love you too” you eagerly whispered, pulling him into a deep kiss

• for your birthday, he had given you a silver necklace adorned with your birthstone, it was so beautiful, and you couldn’t believe he had chosen such a thoughtful gift, you only had been dating for a few months after all, you wore it every day, never taking it off except for showers, you loved how it hung perfectly between your breasts and how it bounced against your hard nipples while you rode art's hard cock

• “i want three kids” he said after fucking you, his hands wandering over your stomach, stroking it gently, “three?” you gasped in shock, “come on, let’s have one and then we’ll see” you tried to reason with him, but that only sparked new ideas in his head, “should we?” he asked, his eyes bright with excitement, you knew he wanted children, it was obvious from all that dirty talk about filling you up and making him a daddy but you didn’t think he was that serious about it, “art, we’re 19” you reminded him and he shrugged nonchalantly in response, “so, am I just destined to be your little tennis wife? popping your babies out one after the other while you become a superstar?” you teased, though a part of you was serious, you had plans for your future, and while children were part of it, there were still so many things you wanted to experience and accomplish first, sure, you loved him, but you weren’t ready to be overshadowed by a man or to become just an extension of him

• for christmas, art visited his grandmother at her nursing home, and you insisted on coming along, bringing a batch of home-baked treats for her, when you finally met her, it was clear where art had inherited his sweet nature, watching him shower her with care and affection made you imagine a near future where you could give him the children he desired so much, ultimately your mother would forgive you for being a teen mom once she would hold your first child, right?

• his grandmother had come to adore you, and soon it was you insisting on visiting her, one day, she proudly showed you her ring, a cherished gift from her late husband, and promised that one day it would be on your finger, thoughts of weddings began to swirl in your mind and you found yourself wondering if being just an athlete’s wife might not be such a terrible fate after all

[reidsbabyhoney]

night out | hozier

the one where he gets drunk and falls in love with you all over again.

pairing: hozier x wife!reader category: fluff cw: drinking, being at a bar wc: 1.7k a/n: I'm so so sorry this took so long to write, I just had midterms for all of my classes and had absolutely no free time, but I'm finally on break so Im hoping to get more stories out these next couple of weeks! this was a request, so i hope you love it. reader is a book store owner and that is very self indulgent of my dreams of one day maybe owing a book store if nothing else works out for me. (outfit described can be found here, but as always imagine it however you like

masterlist hozier masterlist

This was the first time in what felt like years that you and Andrew were finally taking up an offer to go out.

Since the tour began, the band had invited you both out multiple times, but neither of you accepted, claiming to be too tired after the shows.

Since this was the first time that you had been able to join Andrew on tour, you were taking up as much quality time as you could get from him when he wasn't busy running around during sound check and doing interviews.

That was another reason you both declined going out multiple times deciding to spend...quality time with each other behind the doors of hotel rooms.

But tonight, you both agreed to go out when Alex asked if you would be joining the rest of the band, saying they were going to a bar just down the street from the hotel you were staying at.

Walking down the sidewalk to the bar, you’re hand in hand with Andrew who’s softly humming to himself.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, taking in your outfit.

It was nothing extravagant, though you did want to look a bit nicer. Just a simple satin slip dress with some red boots for a pop of color and your usual purse.

“Mm thank you, you look handsome tonight too, I say we just go back to the hotel room,” you respond with a mischievous smile.

He’s simply wearing a jumper with a white t-shirt underneath and a pair of jeans, but the way his sleeves are rolled up makes you want to drag him back to the hotel room and stay there for days.

At your remark, he playfully pinches your hip and shakes his head, “No, you minx. We’re going out because you wanted to, let’s keep that in mind.”

You let out a huff as he opens the door to the bar, which looks to be busy as you eye the tables are full of people.

Surveying the bar, you quickly spot Melissa and both make your way towards the table they’ve claimed.

After greeting them all, everyone goes their own way. Alex decides to drag Andrew to the corner of the bar where the pool tables are stationed.

Over hearing his plans on getting your husband absolutely hammered tonight, you simply shake your head with a small laugh and send him off with a kiss.

An hour passes and you've had a few drinks, deciding to stay near the table and observe everyone in the cramped space.

Realizing you haven't seen Andrew in a while, you get up from your spot at the table, asking Joy if she’d seen him anywhere.

“Oh yeah, last I saw he and Alex were by the bar, I think Melissa might be over there too,” she says, pointing to where Andrew’s tall body stood at the end of the bar.

“Thank you.”

You walk over to where the three of them are standing, deciding to talk to Melissa first since Alex seems to have your husband deep in thought.

“Please tell me he hasn’t had more than 4 drinks,” you say to Melissa as she just lets out a laugh.

“I’m afraid he might be well past that y/n/n.”

Turning towards Andrew you see him looking at you as if he was met with the most divine creature in the world.

“Go on, talk to the pretty girl Andy,” says Alex, trying his hardest to hold back a laugh.

Your eyebrows basically reach your hairline as he says that, no way he’s so hammered he’s forgotten you’re married.

“Hi, em, hi, m’names Andrew, or Andy’s fine too,” he says looking a bit shy.

You just look towards Alex instead of answering, "Alex, when you said you planned on getting him hammered, I didn't think you meant it was going to be this bad!"

All he does is laugh and shrug his shoulders, finding this situation amusing.

Sighing, you know there’s no way that he’ll believe you’re truly married if you try explaining it to him now, so you decide to play into it a bit.

Smiling you shake your head and respond “ I’m y/n, it’s great to meet you Andy.”

Both Melissa and Alex just laugh, deciding to leave you both in the empty corner of the bar.

“I hope I’m not being too forward y/n, but you’re truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You grow a bit shy at his words, your cheeks covered in a faint blush. The conversation is reminding you of when you first met years ago, his words almost the exact same.

“No baby, not too forward at all."

“I just, well not to sound creepy, but you caught my eye while you were sitting down over there and I'm afraid to admit I was nervous to go over and introduce myself first," he says looking down at his hands as if he's embarrassed by his confession.

Your smile brightens at his words. You're truly about to swoon over this man all over again.

"Well then, I'm glad I came over here first. How about we go sit down with our friends over there yeah?” you say, pointing to where the rest of the band is.

Andrew responds by quickly nodding his head and grabbing your hand to guide you through the still very packed bar.

“Here come the lovebirds.”

Of course it’s Alex that says this, still finding extreme delight in your husband's current state.

Looking at the rest of the table, it seems like he’s caught everyone up on what’s happened because they all look at you with small smiles on their faces.

Taking your seat at the booth, sitting between Joy and Andrew the conversation starts back up again.

Your husband turns towards you and begins asking you questions.

"So, y/n, where are y'from," he asks. He's looking at you as if trying to memorize your every feature.

You shy under his intense stare, and it takes you a second to respond.

"Well, I live in Ireland."

His eyes basically pop out of his skull at your answer, surprised as if there aren't millions of people living in the country.

"Seriously, me too," his eyes bright with excitement realizing that this could possibly go somewhere, little does he [currently] know, it already has.

"Yeah I live in County Wicklow with my husband."

His face brightens then immediately falls once you finish your sentence.

"Husband?"

"Baby, look at your left hand for me, yeah?"

Doing as you say, Andrew looks at his hand that's rested on the table, finally noticing the wedding ring on his finger.

"Now take it off and look inside," you say, taking off your ring to show him the matching engraving details on the inside of both your rings.

"Andrew & y/n. April 23, 2022," he says reading the date of your wedding.

It takes him a second to realize what it means, but once it clicks, he's looking up at you, wide eyed.

"We're married! Alex, why didn't you say I was married to her," he says turning to his friend, who seems all too pleased that this conversation is happening.

Alex simply takes a swig of his beer and chuckles, "Y'never asked."

Andrew then turns towards you with embarrassment washing over his features, "Gods, I'm mortified love, and you're never going to let me live this down are you?"

You just shake your head and laugh, planting a kiss on his cheek, "Nope."

Laughing at his reaction, you decide that it may be time to leave, realizing it's nearing one in the morning.

"C'mon, let's go back to the hotel so you have enough rest to actually be embarrassed about this tomorrow."

With that, you get out of the booth and say your goodbyes to everyone.

Walking out of the bar, there's a slight chill in the air, causing Andrew to take off his sweater and hand it to you.

Taking it, you pull it over your dress and walk hand in hand back to the hotel.

Reaching your room, you pull out the key card to your shared room, opening the door wide enough for both of you to walk in.

"I can't believe I'm so far gone I didn't even remember we were married," Andrew says as he sits down on the bed to take off his shoes.

"I know, me either, I mean how could you forget you were married to me," you say jokingly, dragging your hands down your body to emphasize what he was forgetting.

Andrew just laughs and shakes his head.

He notices you going to the bathroom and turns towards you, "Aren't you coming to bed?"

"In a bit, I just need to take off my makeup," you reply.

Andrew patiently waits for you in the bed in his pajamas which consist of a pair of pajama pants that are far too old to still be worn, and a beat up shirt he'll eventually take off, claiming to be too hot. (Even though he'll later wrap his arms around you dragging you as close as he possibly could, and wake up in the morning complaining that you "radiate too much body heat", even if he's the one that starts the cuddling.)

Shortly after, you make your way out of the bathroom, fresh faced and in your own pajamas.

Getting under the covers you turn on the lamp on your nightstand and expectantly wait for Andrew to do the same.

When he doesn't, you look towards the end of the bed where he's sat.

"Andy, aren't you coming to bed?"

"I, I know we're married but, it feels odd sleeping with you, I feel like I should take you out to dinner first," he says sheepishly, finally turning to face you.

"Don't worry, you've wined and dined me many times, so I'm not worried about that, now let's go to sleep," you say.

Finally Andrew gets on his side of the bed, turning on his side so that he's facing you.

Letting out an exasperated sigh he just shakes his head and one final time asks, "I'm never forgetting about this am I?"

Letting out a fake snore, you pretend you're asleep instead of answering him though he already knows the answer.

Andrew just chuckles, knowing that whatever comes tomorrow would be worth it, cause he got to relive what it felt like to fall in love with you again.

divider: @fairytopea

tags: @man-i-love-folklore @the-song-of-flowers @songbirds-sweet @cowboycatreign @harnans @celery-grace @genevievetaylorsversion22 @alexis-34 @inejghafawifesblog @colddarkearth23 @hauntedworld @sleepy-time-dreamy @lemon9de @midsummervixen

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

heeyyy gaaanggg

the pose and the background of the album version (left) are based on oingo boingos only a lad album art. not cause i think he has anything to do with it but just cause ive been wantin to draw that pose for like. weeks and i didnt know who to put there. so why not my latest bug man.

[cowboah-baby]

new siren au chapter is up!

[bloodibambiidoll]

just read your new rafe x weird!reader and oml im obsessed with them 🫠

can we maybe see rafe finally proposing to her ?!

Thank you sm!! Ofc!! Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been plotting this moment for a minute… Mostly fluff 18+MNDI

“Rafeee” You whine, shuffling in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s truck, the blindfold on your eyes obstructing your view entirely. You had no idea where he was taking you, he just told you ‘to put on something pretty and get your little ass in the car’. “Seriously, where are we going?”

“Hush. I told you to stop askin’, didn’t I?” Rafe’s large hand reaches out to grab your thigh, squeezing it. “Just be patient, aight? It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

You throw your head back with a groan and it makes Rafe chuckle. His ever impatient girl. But he can’t be giving away in secrets no matter how cute you are when you pout. Not tonight. Tonight had to be perfect. He drove out here to this spot you’ve been begging him to take you before picking you up to set everything up and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous. Which was out of character for him. Rafe Cameron doesn’t get nervous. But with you? It’s different. He pulls onto a dirt road before putting the car in park and when you reach for your blindfold he bats your hand away.

“I said no peaking, brat. Keep it on till I say.” Rafe cuts the engine and exits the car so he can come around to let you out. He offers you a hand down and guides you into his arms before leaning down and placing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t have you spoiling the surprise. C’mon.”

He drags you along and you can tell you’re walking through grass and dirt but other than that you’re clueless as to where you are. You keep stumbling every few steps and you hear Rafe playfully scoff before he’s lifting you in his arms and carrying you bridal style. He carries you to what you assume is his desired destination before setting you down gently on your feet again.

“Stay here. And keep that shit on, I mean it.” Rafe’s large finger taps the blindfold on your eyes before you hear some shuffling around. He approaches you again, this time standing behind you with his arms looped around your waist. “Okay, you can take it off now.”

When you pull the cloth from your eyes you can’t help but gasp. You’re standing in what looks like an abandoned mausoleum, surrounded by candles. There’s a blanket spread out with a bottle of wine and the vintage picnic basket you found at the thrift store last year. He even brought the Jack O’ Lanterns you carved together a few days ago and lit them up. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scene before you.

“Wow - Rafe, I - you did all this?” Your voice cracks and your lip wobbles. When you and Rafe met he wasn’t really a romantic guy at all and over time you’ve softened him up but he’s never done anything like this. “For me?”

“Yeah, baby, f’course. Who else?” He whispers in your ear and kisses down your throat and god you want to blow him right this instant. You grind your ass down against him and he laughs into your neck, his breath fanning against your skin only spurring you on. “Always so horny. C’mon, let’s eat first, lil succubus.”

You and Rafe are sitting on the blanket, enjoying the meal he definitely had the cook put together because there’s no way in hell he could ever cook something like this. You’ve been joking and laughing, sharing sweet kisses and dreams about the future. You look around you, smiling. This really is the best date you’ve ever been on. It’s so thoughtful and so you. Rafe has always taken the time to see you for who you are and that’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. Tonight is no exception.

“Hey, that guy isn’t lit!” You point at the pumpkin directly in front of you and gasp dramatically. “How could you leave him in the dust like this!? You’re evilllll.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly. You fell for his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

“Why don’t you light it then, baby?” He takes a lighter out of his pocket and hands it to you. You take it gleefully and crawl over to the pumpkin. Giving Rafe a delicious view of those red lace panties under those little tights you have on. He can’t wait to fucking rip them in half and shove his cock balls deep inside you.

He watches as you take the top off the pumpkin and look inside expecting to find a candle. But instead, there’s a little red velvet box sitting at the bottom of it. You turn back towards your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and he tilts his head, encouraging you to go on. You reach inside and pull out the box, your hands shaking. Is this really what you think it is? Rafe gets you jewelry all the time, but he never makes such a show of it.

“Go on, princess, open it.” When you flip the lid of the box, your hand flies to your mouth and your eyes well up with tears.

“Rafe, I - what is this?“ you turn toward him and almost jump out of your skin because he’s directly behind you, still towering over you on one knee as you crouch on the ground holding the box with the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in your life inside.

“Bats. I think you know what it is…” Rafe laughs and the sound is like music to your ears, you love his laugh. “I’ve loved you since… well, since you yelled at me in that cemetery and told me off, if I’m being honest. I’ve never met anyone like you, baby girl. And I’m not - you know I’m not the best with words but I wanna spend the rest of my life with your weird little ass. Marry me?”

“Are you serious!? Of fucking course I’ll marry you, idiot!!” You squeal and jump into him, throwing your arms around his neck as the tears in your eyes start to flow down your cheeks. You lean back and place a sweet, messy kiss on his lips as you practically crawl into his lap.

“Yeah? I’m really fuckin’ glad because if you said no I was going to have to lock you in the basement until you changed your mind…” Rafe smirks at you and you burst out laughing. He plucks the box from your hand so he can pull the beautiful, skull, pearl ring from it and slide it onto your dainty freshly manicured finger. He made sure you got a fresh set before this. He knows how you are.

“That’s fucking hot. Maybe we could do that sometime, just for fun?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and Rafe groans at the thought of you all helpless and tied up for him.

“Fuck. I might have to take you up on that, princess.” Rafe takes your face in his hands and looks down at you sweetly, making your insides melt. “But right now? I need you to bend the fuck over so I can show my future wife how much I fuckin’ love her…”

Taglist: @starkeysprincess @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @sturnioloshacker @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[ohbo-ohno]

merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)

5.7k, mind the tags <3

cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)

Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.

It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.

Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.

You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth. 

You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart. 

Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.

There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year. 

But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.

It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.

The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.

He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.

He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.

There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.” 

You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.

There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.

Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.

There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.

You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.

You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.

He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.

You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.

The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.

But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor. 

The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.

“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.

“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.

The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”

Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”

You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs. 

He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.

You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.

You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap. 

Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.

You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.

“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”

You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.

“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.

“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”

You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.

The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.

He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.

“Keep movin’, Soap.”

“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”

The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.

Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.

You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.

Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.

You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.

He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”

“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”

His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.

He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”

You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.

You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.

“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”

You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”

Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.

“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”

The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.

You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”

“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”

You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.

He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.

The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.

You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.

He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.

Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.

“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”

Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.

“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”

You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.

“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?” 

“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.

“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”

“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.

“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”

You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure. 

It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.

He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body. 

“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”

You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.

“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”

Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form. 

You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.

He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.

“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back. 

He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.

“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”

You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.

You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.

“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”

You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.

“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”

You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance. 

The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.

The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true. 

He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.

Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.

You don’t even have the energy to beg.

The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.

You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.

He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.

“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”

Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted. 

His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.

Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster. 

There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.

You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.

“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.

“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.

You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.

The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.

You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.

Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.

He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.

You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”

You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year. 

So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers. 

Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.

———————————————————————

You wake, gasping, in a dark room. 

You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.

“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”

You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.

He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.

He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked. 

Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.

It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”

Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”

Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”

Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.

Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human. 

“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”

You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”

It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”

The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.

“Is the Purge over?”

The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.

“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”

You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”

Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”

You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”

Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”

“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”

“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”

You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.

“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”

Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”

His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”

“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.

It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds. 

Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.

Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.

With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.

[obeymedommc]

Sticker Chart

Obey Me Brothers + Undatebles - Leviathan

18+

In the end you needed to use your pacts to stop the madness that was unleashed from Mammons bragging and truly the only way it stopped was when you promised they could all have a weekend which turned into earning a weekend in order to stop the snowball about Mammons cries of unfairness turning into rivalry between Lucifer and Satan over who could earn it faster. To save face from being ordered around like a common dog by his human Lucifer insisted everyone go back to studying, laying the conversation to rest.. or so you thought...

-----

He didn't really care that the others were playing along with your silly normie chart... at first. About a month after the reveal Mammon had finally earned his weekend with you. Levi had been preoccupied by a new game drop he was gonna stay up for so he only heard about it afterwards when Mammon wouldn't shut up about it

After the first 10 minutes of bragging he had to put down his switch because he couldn't focus. The next 15 minutes led to a boiling stew of jealousy that would have boiled over had Lucifer not told Mammon to shut up and eat his breakfast (Lucifer has been at this long enough to see that and avoid the inevitable and wet mess that would happen otherwise). After breakfast he paced in his room emitting the same aura of a frenzied shark as he seethed to Henry 2.0.

He paced himself into a metronomic state mentally and physically before he started Operation: Level Up to Chart Status!. He started by sending you a text insisting you come to his room for a watch party that night. The minute he got confirmation he was getting a grocery order for snacks and making a nest fit for leveling up seduction

You could tell something was up from how he texted you, so you set about making him as comfortable as possible. Making your way to your room first, you changed into a hoodie you stole from him a while back and some small shorts forgoing undergarments entirely. You threw your strap in a bag with his collar and orange flavored lube and made your way to his room.

He practically threw the door open and snatched you from the hallway, his tail wrapping firmly around your waist with his arms following after. Your presence grounded him in a way that had the cool stuttering breaths slowing as you rocked him back and forth, and you rubbed his back. When you separated enough so you could walk, you complimented the snack collection and cooed at the blanket fort in front of the TV before flopping down on the blankets.

The twinkle lights he had put up provided enough light for you to see the blood rush to his face when you throw a leg over his and kiss his cheek.

'You did all this for our watch night baby this is so pretty!! You're such a good boy I needed a quiet night and you made it so special!!' You held his face and gave him gentle kisses on the lips as you praised him.

---

Leviathans chest felt like he was going to burst from how much warmth and love he saw in your actions, it was almost enough to quell the jealousy that was the catalyst to the night.

'Good enough for a star on my chart?' He slapped a hand over his mouth and hid his face in the pillows he had artfully piled up against his tub.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was NOT the plan! He was gonna ask you about it after he had gotten more points ans now his big fat mouth

'No' you said firmly and his mouth dropped open as he gaped at you

'Having a pact with you has made me extremely jealous so a chart isn't good enough. I want you to put them on your monitors so you always see them. But you'll have to earn it tonight. What do you think baby?'

He shivered and his tail pulled you closer to him as he nodded fiercely, breath quickening as his frantic brain processed what you said

'Y-yeah, yeah, want that, wanna earn it, be good for you p-please, be your good boy!' His squirming lead him to rubbing against your thigh and his tail wrapping around your thigh just high enough that you could feel it squeezing past you at the same rate as his hips. Before the heady feeling could take you over you had to focus.

You were really proud of how he had gotten the courage to ask for something he wanted and truly you wanted him to be proud of earning it too. You held his hips down, gripping his soft waist hard enough to bruise the way he likes. You kissed his whines away softly and giggled when he chased after your lips as you pulled away.

'You still have to earn it sweet thing.' You kissed his neck gently and bit down softly

'Y-yeah, earn it, for you, wanna-' he let out a high pitched whine as you put your hand in his pants roughly, grabbing at his dick and giving a gentle squeeze that had his whole body curling around your hand

You kissed his jaw as you saw his desperate eyes take in the smirk that spelled danger for the night ahead of him

'I'm gonna edge you as we watch pretty boy, you're gonna tell me when you're gonna cum, and however many episodes we get through is how many times you have to make me cum before your release.' You kiss him slow and sloppy as you stroke him, smiling when he whines and grabs your hand to ground himself

'What do you say pretty boy? I know it's a hard task but it's nothing my pro gamer can't handle right.'

He nodded, trying to catch his breath as he tried to focus his eyes on your face. 'I c-can, can be your good boy, can do it for you'

'MY good boy' you repeat and kiss his jaw, pressing the remote into his other hand to let him put on the show that would watch his struggle

---------

Don't steal my shit dude I'm already struggling

[missviviii]

screaming over the idea of mizu with a reader who's super into mizu and often gets flustered around her, becoming stuttery and flushed, and just kinda sucks at hiding it... I feel like she might allow herself to be a bit of a tease then

a/n: y e s. 🫶

.

“Your face is adorable.”

warning(s): swearing and a little suggestive

summary: you suck ass at hiding the fact you get flustered easily and the fact that you are into a certain blue eyed samurai. mizu finds it adorable, amusing even. so much that she’ll even be a bit of a tease just for you.

——————————————————————————

A terrific healer, you ended up joining Mizu on her journey after you found her in the woods on one snowy day, badly injured yet somehow still walking fine and even holding her blade. You were a litttle reluctant on joining because A, She was awfully hot and you could barely hold a conversation, and B, you could not focus for the love of god.

Only reason Mizu finally gave in after Ringo tried to convinced her to was because “you actually had some usefulness to you and could defend yourself.” Ringo was ecstatic, finally having someone kind and patient on board with them.

Mizu could easily tell you were into her, hell everyone could. Besides Ringo, of course, he’s a little clueless. The samurai found it amusing, often purposefully trying to fluster you as a little joke. You knew you sucked at hiding it, and Mizu certainly loved it.

After Mizu had busted open her stitches again by another petty spar between her and Taigen, you were left with the task of mending her ripped up cloak. Of course you didn’t mind, it’s the least you could do while Ringo patched Mizu back up again. And you would get some peace while doing so alone.

Or..perhaps that wasn’t the case.

You were stitching up her clothes again peacefully, humming by the fire while you worked. You didn’t notice that door sliding open and someone entering. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t catch Mizu creeping up upon you and leaning close to your ear. “Hm, what are you doing?” She murmured, causing you to immediately stop and swing your head around.

“Gah! Mizu!- shit, you sca-scared me,” you said as you took a sharp breath and put down the needle on the table. Mizu smirked, tilting her head to the side, amused, before sitting beside you.

“I scared you? Is that why your face is red?” You immediately closed your mouth, hands covering up your face and looking away while puffing out your lips. Yes she did scare you, a bit, but it was the fact her warm breath was on your ears, which were particularly sensitive—

“Or is it because I was close to you?” Mizu’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, now she was leaning in very close and her rough hands were on your thigh. You felt your face burn even hotter. Why was she so close? And touchy?!

“You..you—wha-what do you need?” You managed to utter out. Mizu smirked before she yanked you over onto her lap so quickly you had no time to react or resist. You let out a squeak, embarrassed at the position you were in. Yes you were severely down bad for her but what is this?!?

Mizu’s lips ghosted down your neck, her warm breath trickling against your flushed skin and sending shivers down your spine. “I thought you liked me, no?” Well that managed to shut you up, and Mizu knew that as well. She began to leave kisses along your neck, and had decided to leave a few marks along the way.

You squirmed in her lap, softly moaning and also embarrassed at how easily you react. Your entire body was hot and your face was on fire. Mizu held you in place, one arm tightly around your waist to keep you still. She hummed, her blue eyes looking at the purple marks and the soft bite marks all over your neck. Pretty, right? Why not mark the entire body now?

“I think I might want something more..active. Up for it, Princess?”

——————————————————————————

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

rizzless sukuna pt 3

FINALLY!! i've finished it. it's much longer than i planned but what're you gonna do?? lmao happy late late valentines day everyone! have a sukufushi date

@nessieartss you wanted me to tag you so here i am tagging you!

part 1 | part 2

---

Sukuna hasn't been able to stop thinking about his date. 

Yes, it's only been about two hours since he and Megumi have set up their date, but that doesn't mean that Sukuna can't be excited. He's never had a date before (if that wasn’t obvious by the way he totally fucked up his pickup line). It’s a mystery why Megumi had even agreed.

After the initial excitement had worn off, Sukuna found himself wondering if Megumi only said yes out of pity, even if he had been amused by Sukuna's fuck-up. 

But as soon as the thoughts came, he pushed them away because since when does Sukuna think about the consequences of his actions? He should be thinking about what the hell they're gonna do for this date. 

Sukuna had half the mind to ask Maki what they should do, whether she had any suggestions about what Megumi might like, but then he remembered the “advice” she'd given him earlier and a scowl came to his face. Even if it had worked, he refused to send her a text. 

“Hey, Sukuna!” 

The older boy looks up at the sound of his name, seeing Yuuji making his way over with a grin on his face. He doesn't allow Sukuna to speak before he nudges his brother with an elbow. “We should go to that new Boba place! Gojo told me that the Mango flavor is amazing—”

“No—”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Yuuji pulls away, looking affronted. “You don't wanna spend time with your favorite brother?” He gives Sukuna his best puppy eyes, sticking out his bottom lip for added effect. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes and pushes Yuuji's face away from him. “Well if you'd let me finish my damn sentence,” he grunts. “Not today, I have plans.”

Yuuji snorts. “Plans? Doing what? Throwing rocks at police cars?” 

“None of your business,” the older boy replies with a sniff, keeping his face impassive. Yuuji opens his mouth but Sukuna already knows what he's going to ask. “And no you cannot come with.”

“What? Why not?” He pouts once again. 

“Because.” That's all Sukuna says. He pulls out his phone and checks his messages. His heart does a stupid little flip when he sees Megumi's name on a notification, letting Sukuna know that he's reached the spot where they're supposed to meet up. Sukuna responds to let him know that he's on his way. 

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he reaches out and ruffles Yuuji's hair, earning an annoyed grunt from his brother. “See ya later.”

Sukuna turns on his heel and heads in the direction of where Megumi is waiting, missing the intrigued look on his brother's face. 

The closer he gets, the faster his heart starts to beat and Sukuna runs a hand through his hair. Briefly, he stops himself before he rounds the corner just dust himself off and shake out his hands as if it might get rid of the anxiety that he’s feeling. Once again, he pushes his hair back and takes a deep breath. 

Rounding the corner, the corner of his mouth lifts up when he sees Megumi waiting patiently, scrolling through his phone. He looks up at the sound of footsteps and he immediately pockets his phone when he sees that it’s Sukuna. A small smile comes to his face.

“Hey,” Sukuna greets.

Megumi replies with a “hey” of his own. 

Silence stretches out between them and if it were anyone else, Sukuna would be inclined to laugh at just how fucking awkward it is. He really didn’t think this through.

Megumi doesn’t seem to mind however and asks, “So, where are we going?”

“How about that new Boba place?” Sukuna suggests. 

“Sure. Better to go with you than be dragged along by Gojo. He was late to class this morning because he was getting a drink there.” Megumi shakes his head and Sukuna huffs. 

The two of them turn to begin walking in the direction of the Boba shop which Sukuna realizes that he has no idea where it is. Hopefully Megumi knows where they’re going. The older boy would hate to make himself look like an even bigger fool by getting them lost. 

As they walk, the two of them make small talk and Sukuna finds it easier to keep up a conversation with Megumi than anyone that isn’t Yuuji; he feels his anxiety melting away by the minute. There’s still something nagging at him in the back of his mind that Megumi is only humoring him, but Sukuna ignores it, as he does with most of his internal turmoils. 

When they arrive at the shop, Megumi and Sukuna reach for the door handle simultaneously, their fingers brushing. Both pull away instantly, eyes wide as they meet each other's gaze. There's a pink blush dusting over Megumi’s cheekbones and Sukuna's brain short circuits at how cute he looks. The thought alone makes Sukuna's ears burn and he clears his throat, forcing himself to look away. 

They both hesitate only to reach for the door at the same time, again, both retracting their hands before they can touch again. This time, Sukuna does chuckle at how ridiculous they're being, trying his best to ignore how fucking adorable Megumi is with his cheeks red (and ignore how his fingers are still tingling after he and Megumi barely touched). He grabs the door handle to yank it open much harder than necessary. 

He gestures for Megumi to enter first and Megumi nods, stepping around Sukuna quickly to enter the shop. Sukuna shakes his head at himself, pressing his hand to his chest, willing his heart to slow the fuck down. He's on a date, not running a fucking marathon! 

Stepping up next to Megumi, Sukuna looks over the menu, briefly considers asking Yuuji to recommend a flavor, but immediately brushes that thought aside. He would not hear the end of it considering he just turned his brother down to come here. Now Sukuna is on a date with his little brother's best friend at the shop that Yuuji wanted to come to.

Megumi and Sukuna step up to the counter, and as Megumi gives the person at the register his drink order, Sukuna is already pulling out his wallet and card before the other boy can even think about paying. The second the barista gives the total, Sukuna is tapping his card on the terminal screen. When he glances over, Megumi looks unimpressed. 

“Hey, I asked you out first,” Sukuna points out as they find a table to wait at. “It's common courtesy that I pay.”

“Then I suppose I'll have to pay for next time,” Megumi hums, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Sukuna feels his heart flutter in his chest and he internally scowls at himself for such a stupid reaction; what is he? Some little school girl? 

Grow up, Sukuna, he scoffs at himself mentally. 

He hates that the idea of a second date gets him so excited. 

“Bold of you to assume you'd wanna go out with me again,” Sukuna responds with a quirk of his lips. 

Megumi arches an eyebrow, leaning forward. He rests his arms on the table. “Why wouldn't I?” 

Sukuna drums his fingers on the table, holding Megumi’s gaze. “Well for starters, I'm an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Megumi nods. 

“I'm also Yuuji's older brother.”

Again, Megumi nods. “Correct.”

“Gojo doesn't like me. Or rather, I don't like him.”

Megumi snorts. “Gojo enjoys having you at the school. He just thinks you're fun to tease.”

Sukuna pauses momentarily. “He's a terrible influence on Yuuji,” he grumbles. 

This time, Megumi laughs, tucking his face into the collar of his school uniform. The sound makes Sukuna's chest grow warm and he wants to hear that sound again. Who knew such a pretty sounding laugh could come from Megumi Fushiguro?

“That is very true,” Megumi sighs once he's finished laughing. 

Sukuna gets to his feet when their names are called for their drinks, and he’s thankful for the out to give himself a moment to take in a deep breath, to regulate himself before going back to the table. He slides Megumi’s drink across the table and watches as the younger boy easily stabs his straw through the top of his drink and takes a sip. For a second, Sukuna is so transfixed on watching Megumi’s Adam’s apple bob that he doesn’t register the fact that he’s being spoken to. 

“Huh?”

Megumi huffs in amusement. “I was asking why you asked me on a date.”

“Oh,” Sukuna breathes. He blinks and rubs the back of his neck. With his free hand, he takes his straw and stabs it into his own drink so that he can take a sip, stalling for more time to try and give an answer that wouldn’t sound stupid. “I don’t know.”

Perfect. Great answer you fucking loser, Sukuna  tells himself. 

“I, uh, well—” He stutters over his words, making himself look like an even bigger fool. The biggest fool in the Goddamn world. He’s reminding himself of Yuuji at this exact moment. “I’ve been thinking about it and, uh, ah fuck.” Finally he gives up and leans back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“I just wanted to and Maki told me to just do it,” Sukuna says, his words muffled by his palms. By now, the tips of his ears are red and he’s sure that his face is the same. Dropping his hands, he continues staring at the ceiling before looking back at his date. 

An amused smirk spreads over Megumi’s mouth and he snorts. “You asked Maki for advice?”

Sukuna takes a sip from his drink as his other hand runs through his hair (he needs to break this habit sooner than later). He scowls, more at himself than at Megumi as he says, “Listen, it’s not my proudest moment, but I’ve never done this before—”

“What?” Megumi gasps dramatically (or as dramatically as Megumi can be), interrupting Sukuna. “Date Man has never had a date before?”

“No,” Sukuna grunts, “and why do you keep calling me Date Man?”

Megumi simply shrugs in response. 

“If I'm Date man, that means you’re Raisin Boy,” the older boy decides with a firm nod. This earns an amused snort from Megumi who doesn't disagree. 

They go back to sitting in silence again, sipping their drinks. Thankfully, the other boy speaks up first.

“Are you as big of a movie buff as your brother?” Megumi asks.

Sukuna looks up. “Only by association,” he replies. “If he's not watching with his Junpei friend then he's forcing me to watch them.” A pause to take a sip of his drink. “Though, I do love a good horror movie; it's my favorite genre.” 

Perking up in his seat, Megumi leans forward a little. “What's your favorite horror movie?”

“'The Exorcist'. A classic.” Sukuna kisses his fingers. When his eyes land on Megumi again, the other boy has a look on his face that says he doesn't agree. Arching an eyebrow, Sukuna asks, “What?” 

Megumi gives a lame, one-shouldered shrug. “It's alright.”

Sukuna gapes at him, jaw dropping slightly and he blinks, shaking his head. “Alright? What do you mean ‘it's alright’?” 

“It's alright,” Megumi repeats while he mixes his drink. “I'll agree with you that it's a classic.”

There's a pause and Sukuna waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. Sukuna gestures for Megumi to continue. 

“I just think 'The Conjuring' is better.”

A loud laugh escapes from Sukuna's mouth and he claps a hand over his mouth. He clears his throat, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Turning back to his date, he folds his arms and rests them on the table.

“You're just saying that,” Sukuna decides, eyeing Megumi over. “There's no way you think 'The Conjuring' is better.”

Megumi almost looks offended. “It is better. I prefer the first movie out of all of them, but I'm not too picky. Not to mention they're based on true stories and I'm a fan of nonfiction.”

“'The Exorcist' is based off of a true story,” Sukuna points out.

“Very loosely,” Megumi retorts. “Don't get me wrong, the actress who played the little girl—”

“Linda Blair—”

“—did a fantastic job, as did the actress who played her mother—”

“Ellen Burstyn,” Sukuna supplies helpfully.

Megumi smirks at him. “Not a big movie buff, huh?” he teases.

All Sukuna can do is shrug. “It's my favorite horror movie. I've done my research, alright?” 

Shaking his head, the other continues, “but with that being said, I think the plot of 'The Conjuring' is better. It's more suspenseful. Keeps you on your toes. Nothing terribly exciting happens in 'The Exorcist' until the last 20 minutes of the movie or so.” Seeing unimpressed look on Sukuna's face, Megumi asks, “When is the last time you saw 'The Conjuring'?”

Sukuna thinks for a moment. 

When is the last time he's seen that movie? Yuuji isn't much of a horror fan, and recently, Sukuna has been busy dealing with his stupid feelings and training that he had really watched any movies. 

“It's been a minute,” he finally says. 

The corner of Megumi’s mouth twitches up. “Maybe we should get together again and watch them back to back, you know, to see which one truly is better.”

The suggestion throws Sukuna through a loop and his brain stops thinking for a second. His heart skips a beat in his chest, his stomach twisting into knots and he wants to punch the table for getting so giddy. He can't stop the smile that comes to his face. 

“It's a date… Raisin Boy.”

[snail-migraine]

ooooh! Could you do something for Elliott from Stardew Valley? Or perhaps Mr. Qi? Elliott’s my favourite character, but Mr. Qi has that “omnipotent stalker with a weird sense of humour” vibe that would fit perfectly.

Thanks in advance!

Ooh, okay! As much as I think Mr. Qi is the most likely out of everyone in the cast to become a yandere, I can't help but that I just wanna cuddle a delusional yandere Eliott. Thanks for the Ask btw!

-

Anon Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Yandere Elliott

I feel like Elliott is the delusional stalker type.

Like when he and the farmer (aka you) first meet it's love at first sight for him.

He's been in a creative rut for so long, bored out of his mind and replaying the same words over and over again in his mind.

He heard about the new farmer coming into town from Leah, and thought nothing of it really. It wouldn't effect him and his work.

Oh how wrong he was. From the moment Elliott met you the man became a simp.

He watched you run around town foraging for anything good to sell, he always admired how keen your eye was for the little berries that'd grow in the bushes and the flowers nobody thought to pick.

He looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon in the sky. Like you've moved the heavens and the earth to make space just for him and his little whimsical fantasies. And in a sense you kinda did.

After all, it was you who brought him out of the bored gloom he'd had been living in for the past months.

So it'd only make sense that you'd become his one and only muse.

The man could write thousands of sonnets and haiku's in your name. He hasn't gotten that far yet, but he's getting closer everyday.

He's sickly sweet, that lovey-dovey puppy-dog expression crosses his face whenever he so much as thinks about you. [Which is all the time btw]

He is totally and completely enamored with you, fallen for you like a fish falls for the bait. Which is unfortunate for him as you don't seem to have fallen for him.

But it's fine! Maybe you're just shy, that's okay, he'll just need to be a little more forceful in his affections.

"Darling! There you are. I have been looking all over for you. Come along now, I have made another poem for you to read. It'll be wonderful."

Which doesn't work...in fact it seems to make you even more reserved.

But thats okay to! You guys will work on that together.

He just keeps on pushing and pushing and pushing, and it never seems to stop.

It isn't until you blow up on him, calling him a creep, that he backs off. But only for a little bit.

He see's this as just a small argument between you guys, it'll pass over in a few days once you cool down.

But then he see's you talking to Sebastion in the saloon. You twirling your hair between your fingers, laughing at his jokes, blushing when he gets a little too close for comfort, and looking up at him with sweetest expression he's ever seen from you.

For the first time in a long time, Elliott feels rage. And not the normal kind, oh no no no, I mean blinding rage.

The kind that makes you act on your violent thoughts. Which is exactly what Elliott ended up doing.

In a flash he's on Sebastion, beating the poor boy within an inch of his life.

The other people at the Saloon try to stop the raging Elloitt, but all of the get knocked on their ass and get to scared to do anything.

Once Elliott was done with Sebastion, he turned to look at you. No longer did he look at with that sweet puppy-dog face, no instead his eyes were filled with nothing but apathy as he grabbed your chin with his bloody thumb and directed you to look at the dead body of your best friend.

"Look at what you've caused dear. This is what happens when you try to make me jealous."

[misc-obeyme]

Belphegor keeps his pain buried so deep, even he isn't fully aware of it. An undercurrent forever replaying the moment his sister died, as he watched her bleed from his place of safety in his twin's arms. The endless scream that lingers beneath his soul, the one that started as he fell and saw his brothers fall beside him. The heartbreaking howl that pierced high above it all when he felt his fingers close around your throat.

It's easy to act like he doesn't care. He holds it all in and sleeps it all away, never confronting the guilt, the shame, the confusion. It's better that way. His brothers will look after him still. They wake him up when he falls asleep at school or dinner, they carry him to his bed when he's dozed off somewhere unusual.

And you… you seem to think that his pact is enough. That he belongs to you now in a way that makes up for what he did to you. You could forgive him over and over again, but that can't change the way he shoves everything aside. Nobody ever bothered to ask him if he forgave himself.

It still surprises him sometimes, when you smile at him. When you take his hand as if that hand never hurt you. The most unexpected moments when you fall asleep in his arms, cozy and safe.

How could you ever trust him again? How can he trust himself with you?

Belphie loves you so much it hurts. It's like a tangled heartbeat that thuds through every other sound of suffering that's always pulsing through his fallen soul.

He knows he can never take back what he's already done. And he also knows he can never give up the way your love seems to fight for him inside himself, beating back every memory, every hurt, every nightmare.

The truth of his past will always be there, waiting to overtake him, to force him into a slumber that will help him forget. And yet Belphie finds that he can put it off a little longer than he used to. He would rather be awake with you because every time you say his name, a tiny piece of that pain heals.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!