#trying so hard to be respectful he actually just comes off like a bitch

[birdmanbirdplan]

Did a part two to this comic

Turns out Edgeworth just likes to see a more vulnerable side to Phoenix

It doesn’t translate well

[reidrum]

porcelain doll | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

a/n: writers block is a bitch fr but somehow this came out! i just wanna say that if you relate to reader or just have qualms in general about intercourse that its okay and its normal and you're still a wonderful human being at the end of the day ok that is all i love you mwah

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, making out, no p in v sex but talks about it, reader has an ambiguous reason for it hurting cuz there are like so many gdm reasons it can hurt it's ridiculous, hurt/comfort, fluff, afab reader, spencer is a loving and supportive boyfriend, i proofread this once sorry

summary: you'd been keeping quiet about something personal that you knew you should tell spencer but just couldn't find the right time for, but now it's all come to a head in a hot heat of the moment and you're forced to confront it

wc: 2.6k

_______________________________________________

you meant to tell spencer about it when you first started dating.

it’s not something that comes up to discuss in a natural context, like over coffee or at work. by the time you and spencer had actually started dating, you hoped there would be a quiet moment where you could tell him, but even when soft moments came and went your anxiety was the ruling emotion and prevented you from telling him.

that brings you to this moment right now— you straddled over spencer’s lap on his couch with your arms around his neck, his on your waist, wildly kissing him. you had just come home from the bar with the girls, and spencer couldn’t help himself with how pretty you looked as he pulled you to the couch and perched you on his lap.

still being in the somewhat early stages of your relationship, your intimacy with him never went past making out, with you most of the time tapping out after getting too overwhelmed. and spencer always respected your boundaries.

don’t get it wrong, you both still had a lot of fun when things got heated. if you could kiss him every second of the day you would. but being able to feel how much fun he was having always left a pang of guilt in your heart after always stopping. he’d always be heavily panting, trying so hard to hide the discomfort in his pants, and the most you could do in return was dissociate and live in false ignorance about it. it didn’t help that he still so devastatingly kind to you after.

but here you were on his couch tonight, and something felt different. a desire you hadn’t felt before taking over your senses as your bodies intertwined. it’s like every time you’re with him, he makes you almost forget all the insecurities that eat away at you.

almost.

spencer moves his mouth down your neck, leaving a trail of hot love bites before he finds your sweet spot. you angle your head more so he can get better access, and moan out at how fucking good it feels.

he moves his hand to the waist of your shorts, looks up at you silently asking for permission to remove them. you nod and he maneuvers them off, returning to straddle him. his hands move to knead the flesh where your hips meet your thighs, every movement delicate and intentional. it’s like with every touch he transfers his love for you through his fingertips to drive you absolutely crazy.

you subconsciously grind down on him, putting a pressure he wasn’t expecting as he groans lowly in your ear, “fu-uck.” it warms your heart a little, knowing the effect you have on him. your hands tangle in hair and pull firmly letting spencer moan into your mouth as he moves a hand further down your body.

“this okay still?” he breathlessly asks as he toys with the lining of your panties.

you nod again, not trusting your words at the moment. a sinking feeling starts to brew in your gut, as you can easily predict where the next events are going. he’s being so kind to you, and you feel sexy with the way he’s eating you alive with his eyes and touches. the guilt would chip you away if you had led him on this long only to stop right before the good part, just because you couldn’t handle it or something.

but he starts to stroke you outside your panties, and you have to admit that it feels vaguely good. you continue to bury your head in the crook of his neck in the hopes of masquerading any facial expressions contradictory to your words. you just want spencer to feel good, and this is the first step to reaching that goal.

spencer takes the soft breaths blowing in his ear as a sign to keep going, and hooks a finger on the cloth to pull it aside. he runs a single digit up and down your slit, swiping by your entrance to gather the wetness to spread around. when he circles back to give your clit attention you shakily moan out his name and his arm grips you tighter around your waist. you feel his finger descend again and prods around for the entrance again before gently sliding in.

the last five minutes you had been praying repeatedly and silently in your head, please let it be different this time, please don’t let me ruin this perfectly great relationship, please let my body just do what it’s meant to do.

but your prayers are left unheard, and all you can feel is hot, burning pain.

it tears through you, a feeling incomparable to walking on fire rocks even. it’s overwhelming, all consuming, things you would typically describe a normal sexual experience but here your body was, in a cruel twist of fate by being on the complete opposite end of that spectrum.

most of all, it just fucking hurts. point blank, you don’t see it subsiding anytime soon. you hoped the sentiment of making this good for spencer would overtake the signals being sent to your pain receptors. but it doesn’t, it actually intensifies the emotional pain in your heart that you know will weigh on you once this is over.

spencer being the darling lover he is holding you so gently, and yet instead your body betrays his gentle loving touches and receives them with malice. 

how dare you?

after a couple minutes, you can’t take it anymore. the panic starts to rise in your chest— from the pain, the guilt, all crashing down like an avalanche preparing to leave you stranded in the rubble.

“spencer…” you grit out.

“yeah baby?” he hums.

“can we-, i think i need to…” you strain. the pain is spreading throughout your body like a forest fire, uncontainable and devastating.

spencer slows his ministrations and pulls back a little, noticing the faint red rings forming in your eyes from the unshed tears, “hey, what’s wrong?” he pulls out his finger complete, subtly wiping it on his pants (which you’ll gawk at later because, who is this man?). even after the removal it’s left you scorned, and you feel it breaking your resolve fast.

“are you okay?” spencer tries to peer into your eyes again, voice laced with worry and dread.

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. you’re in shock, you think. and you’re feeling a lot of emotions, too many emotions all huddled up in your head begging for control.

spencer sits still below you deeply concerned and confused, “sweetheart, what’s going on?” he desperately tries one more time.

you think your brain has finally settled on what to feel.

mortification.

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly rubbing them with sweaty hands, “i’m okay, i’ll be right back.” and you don’t give him time to rebuttal as you swing off him and bolt to the bathroom in record speed. after you shut the door and lock it, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. and then everything else falls out too.

your arms clutch your stomach in distress as the panic settles in you, sliding down the wall as you sit on the floor with your knees tucked under your chin. tears blur your vision, and the deep breaths are counterintuitive as they seem to make you more and more lightheaded.

a faint knocking seems to cast a line to bring you back down, and another firmer knock solidifying it.

spencer softly says your name, “can we talk? i just want to know that you’re okay.”

a pang of guilty shoots up your heart and you let out a big sniffle inadvertently, and spencer finds an unknowingly matching pang shooting up his own heart.

“i’m sorry if i hurt you, sweetheart.”

that was the final blow, and you fully begin to sob on the bathroom floor. how selfish of a person were you to let him feel guilty for something that was entirely your fault?

“you didn’t do anything,” you say between cries, “i’m just, being weird.”

spencer isn’t convinced, “will you let me in?” he says softly.

you contemplate the outcomes. he comes in, you tell him about your irregularity, he gets upset with you for not telling him and because you don’t work. or you don’t let him in, he gets upset with you and your stubbornness, deciding it’s no longer worth it to deal with you and he leaves.

solid choices, you think.

swiping at the tears falling still, you think you can’t feel any lower than you do right now. so you reach up and unlock the door but don’t move to open it.

he hears the click of the lock turning and knows he has to open the door. the handle turns and spencer pokes his head through, “i’m coming in, okay?”

you don’t respond, your head still finding solace in your bunched up knees. you faintly hear the door creak open and a figure move in.

if spencer’s heart wasn’t clenching before, someone’s now got it in a death grip with how distraught you look is making him feel. he doesn’t enter your bubble, he doesn’t feel it’s appropriate at the moment. instead he sits in the open doorway, hoping it offers you a comfortable space to know that he’s there but not enough to overwhelm you.

you both sit in silence for what feels like forever, spencer knows it’s ten minutes and thirty two seconds, when you let out the smallest and faintest, “i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t do anything,” he immediately says, itching to move closer to you, “i just want to know what happened, angel.”

your eyes scrunch up in frustration, “ugh, it’s not-“ you falter, this was not how you pictured this conversation going.

he waits for you to continue. “i have this…thing.” you start.

“thing..?”

why does it feel so embarrassing to say out loud, he has three phds and hunts serial killers this cannot be the worst thing he’s heard.

it’s definitely the most vulnerable though.

you turn your body 180 degrees so you’re not facing him, thinking it would be easier to confess to him if he’s not staring you down, “when i like, put things down there… it hurts.”

“what kind of hurt?”

“it’s like a…really intense pain. that doesn’t go away.”

spencer ponders for a couple seconds, “is that what happened a couple minutes ago?”

you nod your head into your knees, letting the fresh hot tears wet your kneecaps. it’s humiliating.

he inches closer, “angel, did you think i was going to be mad?”

you sniffle, “are you not?”

a tentative hand rests on your back, “not at all,” he whispers, “i was just really worried about you.”

worried. people have been angry, apathetic, even sad (for themselves) when you told them. but never worried.

you suppose spencer reid has always been different, defying any preconceptions anyone previous had imposed on you. he always offered you kindness and love when you couldn’t find any for yourself. it was unfair, how much he loved you, and how you couldn’t show him how much you loved him back.

you clear your throat, “it just makes me feel…broken? to not be able to do the one thing my body is made to do. in the past it’s been a dealbreaker for a lot of people, and understandably so.”

spencer has moved to sit in front of you, inches away. he reaches a hand up to push a tendril of hair behind your ear, letting his palm rest upon your jaw. his eyes hold nothing but love, and he waits patiently for you to continue.

“i’m really sorry i didn’t say anything, i meant to tell you when we first started dating,” your voice gets higher as the emotion floods your throat, “but everything was going so good, i didn’t want to ruin it.”

you add one final blow before receding, “i thought when i told you, i would offer you an out to go sleep with some other girl just so you could have that experience.” you lament.

spencer lets your words sit in the air for a few moments before softly saying, “can i hold you?” 

he thinks it’s better to have you in his arms before he talks, because as much as his words could comfort you he thinks it can’t hurt for you to feel physically held together after all that’s torn you down.

if he wasn’t watching you so intently he would’ve missed the faint nod you give him. you’re scooped into his embrace with your head tucked under his chin and into his neck. he has one hand supporting your back and the other drawing letters into your thighs, and leans his chin to rest atop your head.

“first of all, please don’t ever feel like you have to ‘offer me an out’, especially for things that are really serious like this.”

“but it’s not fai-“ you try to argue.

“no. you can’t do that. you won’t do that. i don’t care what you’ve been told in the past, but loving and having you means holding every part of you, especially the ones you try to hide. i am not here to pick and choose what i want.”

he holds you the way you would a porcelain doll, achingly beautiful yet terrifyingly fragile.

“my sweet girl, you are not broken. i promise. penetration is not the end all for sex, and it’s not the only way to have sex. studies show that 75% of women feel pain during penetration, sometimes it can be related to stress or anxiety, which i’m sure on top of all that you deal with, that me leaving for cases all the time can’t help.”

he cups your cheek with his warm palm and angles your face to meet his eyes.

“what matters to me the most is that you feel good, and if you don’t feel good then it’s not worth doing in the first place.” he whispers, “if this is something you want to work on in the future, i will be there to help and support you however i can. but if you don’t want to do anything, i will still be there to support you. always. there is no dealbreaker for me, you are it.”

with red stained eyes you look up at him, “are you sure?”

“i’m sure,” he reinforces, “i love you. i don’t think a version of me exists where i am not loving you. you occupy an embarrassingly large amount of my brain, and there’s a lot of stuff in there.” you giggle and spencer feels flowers blooming in his chest.

you sigh and wrap your arms tighter around him, “i love you too, spence.”

you both sit in silence, basking in each others presence.

“you looked so beautiful tonight, i don’t think i told you when you came home.” he softly speaks, stroking your hair.

fiddling with a button on his shirt you reply, “thank you, honey. penny told me to buy that dress, said it’d drive you insane.”

he breathes out, “she was right. i don’t even know if i said anything to you, i was borderline delirious seeing you come home to me.”

you lean up to place a smiley kiss on his neck, “i’ll always come home to you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“i think i’ll be having you forever.”

“woah,” you smirk, “that sounds borderline stalkerish. better be careful, my boyfriend’s an fbi agent.” 

spencer’s eyes narrow, “i could probably take him.”

“eh.”

“eh?”

[klipkillakai]

Connie and bae getting into an argument about his friendship with his ex Sasha and she walks out mid argument because he was tryna defend their friendship. She leaves and doesn’t show up until like two weeks later because she knows he’s crazy about her and she wants to test his loyalty (basically seeing if he would come look for her or not) I’ll leave the rest up to you

inner peace 🎋

“i keep telling you about that bitch connie” you spit while throwing clothes in the washing machine with a harshness as your fuming with anger, your not a jealous person.. never, you respect boundaries and you think it’s reasonable for your man to have friends within the opposite sex, within certain bounds, but sasha.. sasha clearly likes him, the way she finds any way to touch him, the way she brightens her voice when talking to him, the way she looks at you when he’s not paying attention, and the way you know she’s had the pleasure of being all over you man’s dick at some point..

you hear connie’s heavy footsteps walk down the hall, knowing he’s looking for you—

“you say that every time she comes over mama, i keep trynna tell you we just friends”

you roll your eyes “please connie.. she be all over you, “oh connie you so funny” “connie remember when we was together and we did this” “connie remember the time i did a split on it” you say pissed as hell can’t believing she actually say that..

you hear a sigh “she’s just joking, you know that—

you look up “don’t tell me what i fucking know connie, cs your really starting to piss me off” you push pass him and start walking towards the living room

“bro you need to relax alright, your acting like a bitch right now..”

you stop walking and you turn around to face him, “i’m acting like a what?”

he smacks his teeth “man you heard me”

you just stare at him, feeling the anger of all those times, you watched her flirt with him and he seemingly flirting back, the small touches.. the whispers and the stank looks caught up to you in that one moment until now, does he even want you? why is he fighting so hard for her? does he have that same loyalty when it comes to you? i guess we gon find out..

“fuck you connie” you spit out with a potent venom, you make a show of climbing up the stairs and ripping open the hall closet to grab your suitcase and duffel bag

connie’s heart sinks knowing he fucked up, he quickly runs up the stairs and follows you, he sees you packing up your stuff and his heart stutters

“where you going?” you don’t say anything, shoving all your clothes in your bag, opening the drawer and discreetly grabbing your passport and stack he had left in there and you shove it your duffel..

“you must not want this like you claim” you say calmly “your willing to call me a bitch over your ex who i say clearly makes ME uncomfortable” “where is your loyalty to me connie? why aren’t you defending ME?” you say and stare up at him with unshed tears in your eyes.. so guess what.. i’m going away and i’m gonna let you think about where your loyalty lies..

connies mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say, he never thought this what happen, he never thought you would leave him like this, “imma fix this jus don’t leave” he starts stuttering out, he watches you grab all your bags and walking down the stairs “baby- FUCK please don’t leave” he says rubbing a hand down his head, at this point panicking over the thought of not seeing you again..

you don’t care, you’ve had enough and you need him to see, you slip on your crocs by the door and you walk outside, connie closely following, you throw all your shit in your car and you get in quicker than connie can catch you and you lock it so can’t get in, he banging on the door, pleading for you to not leave—

“please baby don’t” “don’t fucking do this y/n”

“GET OUT THE FUCKING CAR” he starts pulling on the door—

you start the car and you pull out, as connie starts following, trying to run with the car, but you speed off not giving a fuck..

connie stands in the middle of the road, yelling profanities, loosing his shit, he walks back in the house, and punches the wall, leaving a hole..

the first night you spend at your friends house, crying telling her what happened as you head you phone buzzing constantly, flooding for texts from connie and his friends, you didn’t care tho, you decided you was gon book a trip to costa rica, you have the money and you just want to get away..

a week has passed and connie wakes up, with a massive headache, he’s drunken and cried himself to sleep more than he wants to admit, he misses you, his baby, he misses waking up next to you and getting food with you, he misses your mind, your laughter, the peace you give him, and your gone

he’s reflected this passed week and he realizes his relationship with sasha is inappropriate, and it was confirmed when he called to cut her off, she called you all types of bitches and insecure and he realizes he been the biggest fucking idiot, and how much grace you’ve given him.. now he doesn’t know where you are, you blocked him and your friends refuse to tell him where you are, he stands up from the bed and decides to shower, he knows he should clean up the room but.. he needs to clean himself first,

—music floods the house soon after, and connie is shirtless fixing the hole in the wall, fixing the drywall with a white paste, he gets a ding cutting his music off for a second and he looks at his phone hoping it’s you, it’s eren and he reads the texts “this yo girl?”

connie’s brows furrow and watches the friends only story and sees you on a beach somewhere, just glowing, eyes looking brighter than he’s seen in awhile, your humming along to some song in spanish and it your with a group of people, someone says something in the background and you let out a soft giggle before the video ends..

connie feels his heart sink, not because you’ve done anything bad or anything like that, but he’s sees your thriving, you look better, you’ve gained a little weight, you look well rested and that makes him look like a shit person, had he been that draining? was his relationship with sasha stressing you out that much? why didn’t he listen to you? why didn’t he believe you?

he slams his phone down, climbing up the stairs abandoning, his project, just wanting to roll up that point and sleep—

-two weeks later-

you sigh as you walk off the plane, neck pillow around your neck and headphones over your ears, you can still feel the sway of the water all over your body, you can still feel the warmth of the sun and you can still taste the sweetness of the fruit on your tongue, you unblocked connie on the plane and watched all the texts pop up on your phone, you’ve forgiven him at this point and now you think about him, you miss him, you miss his smile, his jokes, him dancing around the house.. his dick, everything..and your glad to be back home..

connie hasn’t seen you in three weeks and at this point he’s lost a bit of hope, the only peace he finds is when he wakes up early and heads to the gym, he hasn’t been much of a gym rat, he has been here in there but he’s started taking it more seriously, to distract himself, he drops the weight finishing his set, he gets a notification from his phone and sees its from ring, thinking it’s a package or something he almost clicks out but then he realizes it says door unlocked and his heart skips a beat, he grabs his bag and water and almost runs out the gym, he gets in his car and speeds off, hoping it’s you, hoping your finally home—

you walk inside and set your bags down, looking around “connie?” you yell, looking throughout the house and quickly realizing he’s not home, you walk downstairs and open the fridge grabbing a coconut water and sipping on it as you tap on your phone, you had gotten a fresh set of a acrylics before you came home and you love them so much..

30 mins pass and your listening to music as you cook some sausages in the pan, your stomach grumbling with hunger, you hear the door unlock and you slightly jump, heart skipping a beat.. you put down the spatula and quietly walk towards the foyer, hearing keys jiggling and shoes being kicked off..

you stand there, his back turned alway from you, a duffel on his shoulder and flowers in his hand and he finally turns towards you and your quickly met with a look of shock that morphs into a soft smile

“hi” you whisper, he slowly walks towards you “hi” he whispers back..

you run towards him and jump on him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck, he drops everything in his hand and wraps his arms tightly around you, he presses kisses all over your head and cheeks, whispering “im so sorry” and “i love you so much” “please don’t leave me again” you press a kiss to his lips and he walks further in living room and sits on the couch with you in his lap..

“how was your trip?” he whispers, staring at you like a hawk, trying to capture your face, in a way he never forgets anything about you again..

“peaceful” you whisper and softly wipe the tear slowly gliding down his cheek, you squeeze his arms and notices there firmer and stronger than usual and he jus smiles “i’ve been at the gym” you smile amused and nod “i like it” he softly grabs your cheek and kisses you..

you both know that you’ve changed and that your relationship will be different than before, but for the better, you guys are stronger than before and that gives you the peace you both have been looking for, inner peace..

——————————————————————————

|a/n|

chile i don’t think i’ve ever written angst before, i definitely think i could do a little better but, i didnt want it to be too depressing fr, but lmk if you want a part two for some smut 🤭, also sorry girl for taking so long to reply, school be kicking my ass fr!! but guysss send me more requests this was sooo fun!! i know for me that i want to see very specific things in fics or like smut, and the best way to make that possible is when you inbox the writer, so inbox me fr!!! i don’t bite 🩷

[harrysfolklore]

omg i have a question for the bitchy carlos fic -

so nicole piastri came on red flags podcast recently and spoke about oscar and his childhood, what if there’s an au segment of her talking about older piastri & what would his reaction be

okay this turned out being way longer than intended bc i added the scene of carlos and nicole meeting bc why not, i hope i'm not annoying you with too much little bitch content, i'll promise i'll post for other drivers now READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

Host: "So, Nicole, we've heard a lot about Oscar's journey to F1, but what can you tell us about his relationship with his sister, YN? She has quite the personality online, doesn't she? Can you tell us about their relationship growing up?

Nicole:"Oh, those two. They've always had such a special bond. YN is a few years older than Oscar and yes, she's known as the Piastri who fights people online, but she's always been fiercely protective of him. From the moment YN first held Oscar as a baby, she appointed herself his protector. It was adorable and sometimes a bit much, but always came from a place of love.

Host: Can you give us an example?

Nicole: "When Oscar was about six and YN was maybe nine. Oscar had just started school and was having trouble making friends. He was quite shy back then, if you can believe it. One day, YN overheard some kids teasing Oscar in the playground."

Host: "Oh no, what happened?"

Nicole: "Well, YN marched right up to those boys and she told them off in no uncertain terms. She said, and I quote, 'My brother is going to be a famous race car driver one day, and you'll all be asking for his autograph. So you'd better be nice to him now!' The boys were so shocked they just stood there with their mouths open."

Host:"That's amazing! Did it help Oscar?"

Nicole: "It did, actually. Oscar was so impressed by his big sister standing up for him that it gave him a confidence boost. And you know what? Some of those boys ended up becoming his good friends. They still joke about YN's 'prophecy' coming true now that Oscar's in F1."

Host: "That's such a heartwarming story! It's clear YN has always been protective of Oscar. Now, speaking of relationships, we've heard that YN is dating Carlos Sainz. Can you tell us a bit about how that came to be?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's an interesting story! YN actually told us she was dating Carlos a while back, but we weren't surprised at all. We knew she liked him since that time in Singapore last year when our family visited. YN was trying so hard to act mad about Carlos' win, but it was obvious she was impressed."

Host: "So you had suspicions before they even got together?"

Nicole: "Absolutely! Even before that Singapore trip, YN used to go on these multiple rants about, in her words, 'this arrogant Spaniard' who kept pushing Oscar off track. She called him something I won't repeat but I'm pretty sure everyone knows it, it absolutely irritated her. But you know what? We all knew that deep down, she had a crush on him."

Host: "That's quite the turnaround! Have you met Carlos — as YN’s partner this time — yet?"

Nicole: "I haven’t, actually. I’m hoping to do that in Baku after the summer break. But I can see Carlos brings out a softer side of YN that we don't often see in public. Don't get me wrong, she's still fiercely stubborn and outspoken, but with Carlos, there's this gentleness that comes out. He seems to really understand and appreciate her passion, and he's not intimidated by her strong personality at all. In fact, he seems to admire it."

Host: "It sounds like they complement each other well. How has Oscar taken to their relationship?"

Nicole: "Oscar's been very supportive. I think he appreciates seeing his sister happy, and of course, it doesn't hurt that Carlos is someone he respects on the track. It's actually quite funny to see YN now, cheering for both Oscar and Carlos during races. She's always torn between wanting Oscar to win and not wanting Carlos to lose."

Host: "That's nice, Carlos sounds like quite the gentleman. Has YN picked up any Spanish since they started dating?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's actually a funny story. We love to tease YN about this. You see, she failed Spanish in high school - couldn't conjugate a verb to save her life. And now here she is, dating a Spaniard! Carlos has been trying to teach her, but let's just say it's a work in progress. She can now order a beer and ask where the bathroom is, so I suppose that's progress!"

Host: "That's hilarious! I'm sure she'll be fluent in no time."

Nicole: "Bless her, she's really trying. She's determined to have a full conversation with Carlos' parents in Spanish by the end of the year. We'll see how that goes!"

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 498,646 others

ynpiastri our queen is here !! and no one is ready

tagged: nicolepiastri

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username1 NICOLE PIASTRI IS THE MOMENT

username2 SLAY THE HOUSE BOOTS DOWN

mclaren Icon 🧡

lilyzneimer the besttttt 💓

username3 IS SHE MEETING CARLOS ??

username4 oh i can’t wait to see our queen giving carlos a run for his money again

landonorris Coolest ever

↳ ynpiastri her favorite will always be yuki don’t even try it

↳ username1 HEEEELP

yukitsunoda5511 Nicole is brat

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM 😭

oscarpiastri I’m ready, your boyfriend however…

↳ username3 LOOOOORDDD

↳ username1 POOR CARLOS

↳ ynpiastri leave him alone 😤😤

Baku had a special energy during race weekends. The tight streets and high-pressure atmosphere gave you a mixture of excitement and nerves, but today, the butterflies in your stomach had nothing to do with the Grand Prix. Instead, it was about the lunch you were about to have, where Carlos would meet your mom—officially, as your boyfriend this time.

You walked through the paddock with Carlos by your side, his hand wrapped around yours. Oscar was a few steps ahead, casually walking toward the hospitality area where no other than Nicole Piastri waited. She had met Carlos briefly before, like many of the other drivers, but this was different. He wasn’t just a name on the grid anymore—he was the man you were dating, and Carlos seemed to be nervous about the meeting.

"You think she likes me?" Carlos adjusted his hat for what felt like the hundredth time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Carlos, she’s going to love you," you couldn’t help but smile at his nerves, "She already does. But, you know... as a mum, she's entitled to give you a little hard time."

"That’s what I’m worried about," Carlos chuckled, but his smile was still tight, "I just want to make a good impression, you know?"

"You will," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "Just be yourself."

Oscar slowed down, overhearing your conversation and grinning like he already knew how this would play out. "Mum’s gonna grill you, mate," he teased, throwing a glance back at Carlos. "She’s been waiting for this."

"Not helping, Oscar," you muttered, giving your brother a playful shove. He just smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

When you finally reached the hospitality tent, your mom was already seated at a table, smiling warmly as she saw you all approach. She stood up to greet you, wrapping you in a familiar hug before turning to Carlos with that same welcoming smile—though you knew there was a glint of mischief behind it.

“Carlos, it’s so good to see you again,” she greeted, shaking his hand.

"It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Piastri," Carlos said, his polite smile fixed on his face. His Spanish charm was dialed up a notch, but you could still feel the slight tension in his grip as he held your hand.

“Please, call me Nicole,” she said, taking her seat again. “I’m not that formal, especially not with my daughter’s boyfriend.”

As you all settled into your seats, you couldn't help but notice the amused glances Oscar and your mom were exchanging. You knew that look—they were up to something.

"So," Nicole began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "how long have you two been together again?"

You glanced at Carlos, who seemed to relax a bit as he answered, "About two months officially, right, cariño?"

You nodded, but before you could add anything, your mom raised an eyebrow. "And unofficially?"

"Mum!" you said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Oscar, who had taken a seat across from you, let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the dynamic unfold.

"That’s what I thought," she teased, making Oscar let out a loud laugh.

You felt your face grow even hotter as your mom's implications hung in the air. Carlos, to his credit, managed to maintain his composure, though you noticed a slight redness creeping up his neck.

"Well," Carlos cleared his throat, his accent a bit thicker than usual, "I think it's safe to say we've known each other for quite some time now."

"Oh, I remember. You two weren't exactly friendly at first, were you?"

"That's putting it mildly, Mum," Oscar snorted, "Remember the time she came home absolutely fuming after a race? She was ranting about 'that little bi—'"

"Oscar!" you cut him off, "We don't need to relive that."

Carlos squeezed your hand under the table, clearly amused. "No, please, I'd love to hear about this."

"Oh mate, you should've heard her," Oscar spoke again, "'Carlos this, Carlos that.' I swear, she talked about you more when she hated you than she does now."

"I did not!" you protested, but your brother's knowing smirk told you he wasn't buying it.

"It's true," your mum added, her eyes dancing with laughter. "I remember thinking, 'This girl protests too much.' I had a feeling even then that all that anger was hiding something else."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

Carlos wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "It's okay, hermosa. I love to hear these stories."

You looked up at him, seeing the warmth in his eyes. It was hard to believe that those same eyes had once glared at you across the paddock.

Nicole smiled, watching the two of you with that familiar mom look—part teasing, part proud. "Well, now look at you. I guess all that bickering was just a cover-up for how much you liked each other."

"You’ve gone soft," Oscar rolled his eyes dramatically. "I kinda miss the days when you’d call each other names."

"Don’t worry," you muttered, giving Carlos a playful glare. "He’s still a little bitch sometimes."

Carlos laughed, his arm tightening around you as he kissed the top of your head. "And you’re still my favorite enemy turned girlfriend."

Your mom let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I knew it all along."

[xxsabitoxx]

My Personal Upper Moon 🍆 Ranking

Warnings: if it isn’t obvious already, this post is taking about the Upper Moon’s and my personal HC on their dick sizes. If that makes you uncomfortable in any way, just keep scrolling

A/N: I was actually very surprised by the amount of comments on my Hashira version of this HC post. So I feel a little more comfortable with giving the Upper Moons a go, especially since someone asked if I would do it eheheh. That being said, these men are demons, therefore you may find my size rankings to be a bit unrealistic. But I’m not gonna go crazy and say Muzan has a dick that’s 2 miles long.

This post includes: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Hantengu’s clones (Karaku, Urogi, Sekido and Aizetsu), Gyutaro and Kaigaku. And no Gyokko cause that man doesn’t have a dick, period.

In a category of his own: Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan clearly deserves a category of his own for one particular reason: he’s able to alter his appearance.

Therefore, he’s able to change the size of his dick whenever the fuck he feels like it.

And don’t try and say that stupid cause he can literally change gender and age so changing his dick size isn’t out of the question

On average, Muzan prefers to have a larger dick, mostly because he’s a pussy ass bitch man that needs that kind of confidence down there, if you get what I mean.

Typically soft: 10.5

Typically hard: 11.7

But he can make it as big, small, curved, wide, as he wants

When he wants to torture your ass, he’ll make himself as girthy as he sees fit just to watch you cry and squirm and beg for something a little smaller.

Anytime you get “comfortable” he just increases his girth until you’re crying again. Your pleasure is never his first priority, it’s always his.

1. Kokushibo

Among the demons, it should be no shock that Upper Moon One has always been packing. This man is petrifying so it’s only right that his dick is equally as intimidating as him

Even as a human, this man’s dick was deadly. You can’t change my mind either.

Just in case you’re wondering, Yoriichi is bigger

That’s beside the point, Kokushibo has a lot to work with down there. Whether it’s hard or soft ngl

When soft: 9.5

When hard: 10.7

He’s long, girthy and curves slightly upwards. He’s heavy too, your jaw will certainly hurt by the time you’re done with him.

He’s the type to put a pillow or blanket of some sort under your lower back as he fucks you. Mostly because he’s not clueless to the fact that his dick is big

Kokushibo is the type to ease you into it though, he’s stern but he has a teeny bit of empathy when it comes to fucking you. Unless you’ve pissed him off ofc.

2. Akaza

I know this one is gonna be controversial, especially since I’m putting him above Douma but hear me out.

This man has audacity, which means he got a big dick. No demon is acting like Akaza and having a small dick to go with it. Nuh uh, no sir.

Akaza is sitting pretty knowing damn well his cock is bigger than Douma’s and it actually something Douma taunts him with… which you think the roles would be reversed but hey…

When soft: 8.5

When hard: 9.7

He’s straight, no real curve to him and he has a single blue line going up the underside of his shaft and one that wraps around just before the head of his dick. Like as in the lines that cover his body lol

Akaza is probably the “gentlest” of all the upper moons because of the respect he has for women

That’s not to say he isn’t rough with you, but he definitely cares about your pleasure and feelings more than Douma or Muzan would for example

He’s pretty confident in himself though, at least that’s how it seems to you. He knows what he’s doing to say the least

3. Douma

Alright listen, this man is still packing down there so don’t get mad at me for putting him at third.

His dick is smaller than Akaza’s but not by a ton. Let’s be honest Douma is probably the straightest and gayest demon to ever exist. The embodiment of bisexual LMAO

How does Douma know Akaza’s dick is bigger? The world may never know

When soft: 8

When hard: 9.2

It’s pale like the rest of him, a pretty noticeable curve to it as well. He has some prominent veins because of how pale he is. His tip is like a pinkish gray (idk why I felt the need to include this)

He’s pretty girthy too, so he definitely will make your walls stretch uncomfortably if he doesn’t offer you foreplay

Douma is rough, selfish and truly only cares about his own pleasure but he likes watching you whine and squirm while being impaled on his cock

Douma also has a thing for “belly bulges” so he will fuck you in some odd positions if he means he can see his dick from the outside… if ya know what I mean

4. Gyutaro

Listen, plz just listen cause I promise you I’m going somewhere with this. Cause I can already hear y’all being like ???Scrawny ass Gyutaro is in 4th??? Yes. He is.

Gyutaro got himself a bit of an upgrade when becoming a demon. He for sure does not look like he did a a human. By that I mean he’s taller than he was (even tho he’s hunched)

What I’m tryna get at is demon transformation made his dick bigger and Imma live in my little fantasy world

When soft: 6.5

When hard: 7.2

Gyutaro’s dick is as curved as his spine and as thick as his tiny ass waist. He’s got length but not crazy girth.

Even if he’s rough, it feels good. Like there isn’t a ton of discomfort if he goes in raw with no prep cause he wants to punish you, he’s like the perfect amount of stretch

He’s mean, verbally and physically but at the same time he’s a fucking sucker for your body so he can’t really say much without whining and groaning

He’s got some confidence in his cock but he’s also a bit envious of the other upper moons

5. The Hantengu Clones (Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi)

I’ve talked about my dick HCs for these four in my A-Z NSFW alphabet and I was tryna be realistic. However, when it comes to this post, fuck being realistic.

Sekido when soft 6.2 | when hard 7.1

Karaku when soft 6 | when hard 6.9

Urogi when soft 5.9 | when hard 6.7

Aizetsu when soft 5.7 | when hard 6.5

There is so much to say here but honestly my brain is malfunctioning so I can’t even delve into it

Regardless, the four of these demons fuck very differently and use their dicks very differently

Sekido and Urogi have no curve, Karaku has a slight curve and Aizetsu’s curves upwards

Hantengu himself had a 3 inch dick and you can’t tell me otherwise. Pussy ass bitch

6. Kaigaku

I hate this little bitch but I’m including him so I can rag on his fugly ass. Kaigaku simps I’m sorry but I can’t stand him

This douche has the smallest dick among the upper moons. This is full Kaigaku slander.

When soft: 5.2

When hard: 6

I’ll give him a decent dick tho cause boy does he have the fucking audacity

That’s all I’m gonna give y’all cause I ain’t wasting my time on him GOOD BYE I didn’t even tag is ass

[kurocamille]

❝maybe frat boys aren’t so bad (aka cars are meant for driving!)❞

Frat!Bakugou Katsuki x reader (except he’s not stereotypical and mean) mdni

part 2

4.1k+ words

you attend your first frat party and run into a familiar flirty face. he offers to drive you home from the party, the empty parking lot outside your dorm building definitely seems like the perfect place to get down and dirty…

warnings

part 1 of 2 (2 will have full smut..) 1 oc who’ll come into play later…., car sex, fingering, handjobs, heavy makeout, hickeys/neck kisses, dry humping/grinding kinda, female/afab reader, no pronouns used, inexperienced reader, “baby” as a pet name

It was your first time going to a college party, miraculously enough. This year, you had met a group of girls who had quickly invited you into their friend group. Somehow, despite you refusing over ten times, they had managed to drag you to a frat party.

After getting yourself a cup of mysterious red punch, you stand in the crowd of people. Bodies brush against you—intentionally or unintentionally, you don’t know. You’ve seen a few of your friends since arriving, but it seems like most of them are off doing God knows what with some drunken frat boy.

You can feel the beat of the music in your chest, as if it’s pumping your heart for you. The strobe lights flash around you. Sipping away at your drink, you go wandering in search of someone you know.

When you exit the common room, you float down a hallway with fewer people. Despite fewer people being there, the hallway is stuffy, and you can barely walk through without knocking shoulders with someone.

You aren’t watching where you’re going, and suddenly you trip on the bunched up carpet beneath your feet. The half-full soda cup goes flying, and so do you. It spills on the front of your shirt and down the back of a nearby couple who, until now, had been in the middle of making out,

“Ugh!” the girl shrieks, and you look up to see her glaring at you. She comes out from under the guy caging her, and you realize it’s the girl Mika from one of your classes. As always, her hair is perfectly coiffed, and she’s wearing a dress that barely covers her ass.

The girl shakes her hands of the sticky liquid that spilled on her, but seeing as she had previously been caged under that other guy, she had barely gotten wet. Meanwhile, the guy stands in a sopping wet shirt. You also recognize him; Bakugou Katsuki. He’s in another one of your classes, one of which you had been paired up for a partner project. Unlike Mika, he doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard. A white short-sleeved band t-shirt complements his black jeans, something you wouldn’t have expected a frat boy like him to wear.

Despite being in the same fraternity/sorority group, Mika and Bakugou could not be more different, and you can’t help but wonder how they ended up together. While Mika is extremely stereotypical and, if you might say, annoying, rude, and a bitch, Bakugou is really nice. That one project had taught you that not every frat boy is a shameless womanizer and prick. Although he’s a definite flirt, he’s always been respectful and acknowledged you as an equal—opposite of what Mika had done to your friends, and now you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say hastily.

“Don’t min-” Bakugou starts, but he’s cut off by Mika.

“You better be sorry!” she all but screeches at you. “This is a brand new set of nails. They’re completely ruined. You better repay me for this. It cost 10,000 yen, you know that? Can you even fucking afford that”

“Look, I’m sorry I did that, but I don’t know if I can repay tha-” you start. The look she gives you is incredulous as she snarls before interrupting you.

“I actually can’t believe you. You must be a dumb slut dying for Bakugou’s attention. Imagine sabotaging me just because he chose to be with me! And you’re so poor you can’t even afford to fix your mess… Ridiculous,” she huffs, pressing a pointy finger into your chest and probably expecting you to bow down and beg for forgiveness.

You try to apologize, but Bakugou steps in before you can say anything.

“Mika, who cares,” he sighs. He looks at you with a silent ‘I can’t deal with this face.’

The silence that follows feels like an eternity, but it really only elapses the half second before her hand makes contact with Bakugou’s face.

The sound from the slap resounds in the small hallway. You stare wide-eyed at the growing red spot with matching nail marks on Bakugou’s face.

“You should fucking care. We’ve been together for, like, a month already, and you still won’t stand up for me?! I’m done, don’t call me,” she seethes before pointing at you. “And you, you better hope we never see each other again.”

After that, Mika storms off in a fit of rage and disappears into the crowd.

“Dating on and off for a month, and she pulls that. Psychotic bitch,” he mutters before turning to you. “Hey, Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming, you should’ve told me.”

“I’m so sorry, for all of that. I’ll just get going and pretend I never saw that.” You turn on your heel to dash out, but a hand grips your shoulder and turns you around.

“No need to apologize, she gets crazy when she’s drunk, and I was planning on breaking up with her,” he shrugs. “Anyway, I’m just gonna head upstairs and shower this stuff off. You can come up too, if you want, Y/N.”

You raise a brow at his suggestion. “You want me to come shower with you?”

A look of confusion and surprise crosses his sharp features before a smirk breaks out. “There are multiple bathrooms up there, but you know, if they’re all taken, you can always join me.” He sends you the stupidest wink that still sends your stomach into frenzy.

“You bounce back too quickly,” you groan. “Whatever, I’m coming up, but not with you.”

Bakugou reverts to his uncaring self and has you follow him. You follow Bakugou, slowly making your way up the rickety house stairs. When you make it around the corner, Bakugou points you in the direction of an ensuite washroom, and disappears into the room across from you. “Just take a folded towel, and I’ll deal with it. If you need anything, just come and get me.”

In the quiet of the bedroom, you lock the door and undress. You make your way into the connected bathroom and strip down in the low light. The shower has terrible pressure and doesn’t heat up, but it does the job of cleansing the sticky punch off your skin.

You finish your shower within five minutes and step out to grab a towel. It’s surprisingly clean, but the pile of your clothes on the counter are still dripping with liquid. That means you’ll either have to walk around in a towel for the rest of the night or muster up the courage to ask Bakugou for some clothes.

You opt for the second option, seeing as you won’t have to walk through a drunken frat house in a towel that barely covers your “good bits.” So, you head back to the door where Bakugou was, rolling your clothes into a ball and tucking them under your arm. When you get there, the door is still closed, as you expected, but there is no sound of running water coming from the room.

“Bakugou, sorry, I need some extra clothes,” you say after knocking on the door.

As if it isn’t embarrassing enough, Bakugou takes his sweet time getting to the door. When it finally opens, he stares at you, his eyes unashamedly trailing up and down your body. He, similarly to you, looks to have just gotten out of the shower. Water droplets fall from his hair and fall down his hardened chest, which he doesn’t bother to clothe. The only thing keeping his from being stark naked in front of you is the towel sitting low on his hips, low enough that you can see his v-line drifting below.

“Clothes?” he asks after an awkward pause, and you flush.

“Yeah, anything will do, I just need it to get home in them,” you reply.

“Alright, come in.” He beckons you with his hand to follow him.

The first thing you notice when you enter is that his room is far different from the other one. While the first bedroom, whose you can only assume is his frat brother’s, is standard for a male college student—clothes strewn everywhere, an only half-made bed, and suspicious posters. Bakugou’s room is the opposite, the bed made, shelves tidy, and everything in order.

Bakugou coughs and breaks you out of the spell you’re under. He’s holding out a crumpled plastic bag, with some grocery store logo on it. “Here, for your wet clothes.”

You quickly snatch the bag and stuff your clothes into it. As you struggle to fit them inside, the towel hugging your body slips from its hold and drops below your nipples. From your peripheral vision, Bakugou freezes ever so slightly, and you hear an awfully loud swallow.

As soon as you notice him, however, he averts his eyes and pretends he had been looking for clothes the whole time. The outfit he chooses for you isn’t half bad, a hoodie and drawstring sweatpants, but they look so big they could drown you.

You take the two garments from him, accidentally brushing fingers in the process. He pulls away from you and heads back towards his ensuite bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll be in here. I won’t peek. You can get changed in the bedroom.”

With that, he closes the door and cements a divide between the two of you. Quickly, you change into the clothes he gave you, having to roll up the cuffs on them multiple times. You look like a blob of fabric, but it’ll have to do. Hopefully Bakugou won’t notice that you’re not wearing your bra and panties.

Knocking on the bathroom door, you meet face to face with Bakugou one last time. He’s fully clothed now and gives you a smile.

“Looks like it fits,” he says sarcastically.

“For sure,” you joke, flattening out the garments awkwardly. “I’m planning on heading out now, by the way. I think I’ll just catch an Uber, I’m pretty sober now, and my friends will probably be here for a while longer.”

“Don’t take an Uber,” he replies suddenly.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he corrects himself. “I mean, it’s not safe to take one right now. Let me drive you, I didn't drink tonight.”

“No way!” you retort. “I couldn’t bother you with that. I’ll be fine, anyway.”

However, Bakugou, being his stubborn self, does not relent until you agree to let him drive you all the way back to your dorms, only a stupid 30 minutes away.

Normally, you wouldn’t risk going with someone in his frat, but you have enough trust in Bakugou to keep civil. So, after a moment of contemplation, you accept his offer and follow him to the adjacent parking lot. Multiple people stare as you walk past them, but you pay them no mind, seeing as you’re practically unrecognizable in your new outfit.

“Yo, Bakubro, good for you!” a redhead yells from the doorway as you leave, whooping in a supportive, you suppose, manner.

“Ah, shut up, don’t spread any rumours, Shittyhair.” Bakugou groans, but you don’t miss the way his ears turn pink.

You’ll have to forget about that, though, because the lights of a black Jeep Wrangler flash on, and Bakugou escorts you to the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know you were this much of a gentleman, Bakugou,” you giggle in an embarrassingly girly way.

“I’m always a gentleman.” He winks and walks around to his side of the vehicle, leaving you feeling hot in the face.

He swings into the passenger seat, and puts the car in motion. You can’t help but notice the way his arms grip the steering wheel, the veins from his strong hands trailing up his forearms in a way that makes you unconsciously bite your lip.

“Put the address into the GPS,” Bakugou interrupts, and you notice his eyes force themselves away from your lips.

You deny whatever you just saw and punch your address into the screen. The machine takes only a second to bring up the route home, which, at this late hour, will actually only take 15 minutes.

After pulling out of the lot, Bakugou heads down the street following the indicated yellow line. He drives smoothly and professionally, as you expected he would. He maneuvers the car with expertise, and you can’t help but think he’s showing off when he steers with an open palm and an arm on the back of your seat.

For most of the ride, you guys are silent. Other than the faint whirring of the air conditioner, the only sounds to be heard are made by you and Bakugou. His by his slow, peaceful breathing, and yours by the beating of your heart—something which betrays you by getting louder and faster with every minute.

Luckily for you, the drive is soon over and Bakugou’s car is parked right outside of your dorm building. For the most part, the lot is empty, and the lights from the windows are off. It makes sense, most people in your extremely small building are out partying at 9 o’clock on a Friday, and the homebodies you’d normally associate with are already in bed.

Your specific block seems to be completely dark, seeing as you left your friends behind at that party… Whoops. It’s no matter, however, you’ll just be the first one in your complex to get back.

You unclick the belt from your waist, moving up on the seat to grab your things off the floor.

“This is you, right?” Bakugou questions.

“Yep! Thank you so much for driving me. I’ll text you later so you can have your clothes back.” You smile at him and go to open the door, but he lightly pulls you back.

“Wait. Y/N, you can keep them, actually. ” He chuckles, but it has an awkward tone to it. “You look better in them than I do”

Wait, what?

You always thought Bakugou was just flirty by nature, which to some extent he is, but you could see it now. Whatever you two had going on was certainly out of the ordinary. From what you could tell, Bakugou wasn’t half as teasing towards Mika as he was to you.

Ever since that one project, he had always made it a priority to sit next to you in class. You had assumed he was there for your notes, not that you minded, but could it actually have been for another reason altogether?

“Well, I would bet you look pretty good in these too, not that you don’t always look good,” you giggle, testing out the waters.

Bakugou’s eyes widen in surprise and soften under the pale light of his car. You stare at him fondly, accidentally letting your eyes flicker to his lips.

“Y/N, I-“ he starts but can’t seem to find the right words.

“I know you just broke up—literally tonight, but, Bakugou, gosh, I really want to kiss you right now,” you speak for him.

Maybe that punch was more potent than you thought. Good thing Bakugou drove you all the way here…

Instead of replying, Bakugou places a tender hand on your cheek and pulls you in. Soft lips meet your own, and you smile. You move to his lap where the seat has suddenly been rolled back.

Ah, it’s his frat boy car seat trick.

Your kisses continue slowly, and you can tell Bakugou wants to deepen the kiss when his tongue brushes against your lips. Upon first contact, you freeze in place. Before this you’d only ever been with one guy, one that you hadn’t even gone far with. In the moment now, you can only hope and pray that he won’t notice your inexperience.

However, you completely forget whatever worry you had when Bakugou starts to go into your mouth. His large hands pull you flush against his body, grabbing at the flesh right above your ass.

When you finally pull back, Bakugou’s eyes are blown wide, and he looks lost to lust. The lips that had previously been on yours now have a cute pout, having puffed up from your kisses.

Bakugou’s lips move down and pepper chaste kisses along your jawline. Even with his light and seemingly innocent pecks, you’re still softly moaning under his hold.

Bakugou switches focus to your neck, licking and sucking a hickey into your skin. After nipping at you for a while, Bakugou lifts off of you, and you can tell with his smirk that he left a massive bruise blooming on your skin.

“Bakugou, let me touch you,” you whisper as he moves to kiss the other side of your neck.

“Call me Katsuki… Please. “ He groans when you slightly grind against his groin.

You shift down on your hips and look down to see a thick boner growing in his pants. Curiously, you press it softly with your fingers and give it a light squeeze.

Katsuki looks down at you, his face quickly turning red. Silently, you reach into his pants, looking at his gorgeous ruby eyes for any sign of contestment. Katsuki stays quiet but gives you a small nod in approval.

Finally, you get to the moment you’ve been waiting for. You press your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hand across the top of his cock. Then, with one movement, you free him from his confines, and his dick stands proudly in front of you.

Any expectations or preconceived notions about what Katsuki was packing were shattered. Painfully hard and dripping tiny amounts of precum, his cock is a beauty. The dark pink tip invites you in, begging you to give it one moment of reprieve.

When you nervously stroke the shaft, Katsuki’s reaction is instantaneous, his hips lurching up against yours.

“Fuck, keep going,” he hisses, his breath already laboured.

With more confidence you wrap your fingers around him and give his cock a few quick pumps. Your sudden change in tempo makes Bakugou’s cock twitch in your hold and release a bead of white precum. You remove your hand, and Katsuki’s eyes meet yours with a pleading look.

Carefully, you push your thumb against the slit of his dick and lubricate him with his own pre-cum. As you swirl the substance around the head, Katsuki buries his face in your shoulder.

“Oh my God, I’m about to cum,” he gasps. “Fuck, it’s like I’m a virgin again.”

Bakugou’s chest heaves as you work him to his high. With every light touch or squeeze of his dick you make, it twitches and throbs in reply. You decide to help him finish, doing the same fast strokes that make him groan lewdly in your ear.

Then, all of a sudden, Bakugou reaches out and stops your hand in the middle of its movements. You eye him, confused. “You into edging or something?”

“Not quite, I wanna get you off, too.” He surprisingly lets out a hearty laugh.

“Sit up, baby,.” You follow his instructions and he picks you up with ease.

Katsuki flips you over so you’re no longer sitting on top of him, rather lying caged underneath him. His body is so close to yours that you can’t look down to see what’s happening when you feel his hands moving against your clothed pussy.

“May I?” he asks, tugging at the edge of your panties.

“Still such a gentleman,” you giggle embarrassingly.

“Breaking the frat boy stereotypes as we go, I suppose.” He laughs with you, before turning his attention back to your body.

His adept fingers pull your soaked panties to the side, revealing your equally glistening cunt. Katsuki nimbly dips his fingers in your wetness with a soft hum.

“So wet, baby,” he grins, and you blush in embarrassment.

Bakugou skillfully captures your attention by pressing the pad of his thumb against your aching sex, as if to test the waters. When he hears your soft moan in response, he takes it as an invitation to keep going.

Slowly, Katsuki’s thumb plays with your throbbing clit, brushing it in teasing circles. A whine escapes your mouth, and he chuckles upon hearing it, knowing how needy you feel. “You want my fingers inside of you?”

You gasp out a ‘yes,’ and his fingers are immediately prodding at your entrance. Then, you feel the stretch your hole makes to accommodate his intruding finger. Although you’re not used to such a feeling, you easily adapt to the length of his digit, which pleasantly curls into your depths.

Bakugou starts fingering in and out of you, and the pleasure increases. Previously soft moans and whines turn into cries against his shoulder. Despite your embarrassment of being oversensitive, the flush on Bakugou’s face proves he’s just as affected, without you even touching him.

As Katsuki continues to slip inside your wetness, you feel the pressure building in your stomach, much differently than it ever has before. One more finger squeezes into your tight cunt and presses against your pleasure spot. You cry out, and his hands continue to brush against that sensitive place.

“Fuck, that feels good, please don’t stop,” you babble mindlessly, barely even registering Bakugou’s reply of, “Course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.’

To your blissed out surprise, the pleasure gets stronger. The sensation on your clit returns, and your body uncontrollably arches into Bakugou’s above you. With every calculated movement against your bundle of nerves, you’re worked closer to orgasm.

Then, all of a sudden, the angle of the thrusting fingers changes. Bakugou changes his position to be closer to you, somehow managing to reach further than before. With every new touch to your g-spot and clit, you feel yourself being pushed to your high.

In turn, you grasp a hold of Katsuki’s twitching cock. His hiss in reply shows you just how sensitive he is from before. Your hand moves up and down, matching the quick strokes of his fingers. Just as quickly as he had gotten you to the peak of your orgasm, his body convulses, signaling his is soon to come, as well.

Your moans crescendo and bounce off the walls of the car, and Bakugou can't help but be spurred on by them. The speed of his hand gets faster, still very much calculated in its movements, your hole fluttering around his digits.

After swiping your thumb across his leaking tip, Bakugou’s body seems even more sensitive, if it’s even possible. His cock violently throbs in your hand, begging to spill its seed. You oblige its wishes and continue your pumps up and down his hard length.

You can feel yourself almost cumming, on the brink of losing your mind. Similarly, Katsuki’s body, his higher-pitched moans, twitching shaft, and milky tip, tell you he’s extremely close.

Then, taking you by surprise, Bakugou cuts off your moans with a hot kiss. Immediately after you make contact, his tongue sweeps against yours in a passionate dance.

“I’m gonna cum!” Your voice gets muffled by the tongue pressing against your own.

The addition his mouth was to your pleasure plunges you right into orgasm. Your body convulses, pussy tightening uncontrollably, and you wail into his mouth. Anything you had ever expected of sex is automatically blown to bits when this atomic force hits you.

You feel your eyesight black out, as if you’ve been hit by a truck. You subconsciously grip harder around Katsuki’s dick, causing his orgasm to come shooting out of him. Long strings of his pearly cum cover the palm of your hand, his cock still moving to let out the last bits of his seed.

The bliss that follows is calming. Bakugou finally pulls out of you, his face coming off of yours to reveal his dazed eyes and flushed cheeks.

You doubt you look appealing, but Bakugou looks at you sweetly and more kindly than you can assume he does with anyone else.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispers to you after leaning down to your level.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and slowly untangle your limbs from his. Bakugou helps you up and grabs your (borrowed) clothes that had previously been strewn across the other seats.

After dressing yourself and saying a quick goodbye to Bakugou, you slip out of his car and head back into your dorms.

You smile to yourself as you lay in bed alone. On your bedside table you notice you’ve received a new notification, a message from an unknown number. What you see makes you smile and blush.

‘That was such a great night, let’s do it again sometime. - Bakugou’

a/n: hi guys. i’m back for the holidays and i hope to put out part two soon (let’s be honest, i never write things on time). i tried writing something more plot heavy… hope you enjoyed🫶 also, sorry for the edging joke. i think i’m funny.

[vampirevatican]

can we talk about judd? i just wanna talk about judd. visiting the birch house for your boyfriend and/or friend?? yes.

he does scare you but it's not intentional. you'd show up to the birch household because leah invited you or you are miraculously friends with him and after all of the pleasantries you hear his voice echoing from somewhere

on occasion you can pinpoint where his voice is coming from and you just either look up at a vent or knock on that specific wall

riding in his van? you'd think it's a death wish but he actually makes you put on your seatbelt before he takes off. probably even puts his arm out infront of you when he makes a hard stop

with that said there's so much more to him than just a man that wants to watch the world burn, not like he doesn't want that but there's more.

he's a whole lot sweeter to you because I mean, you're his "bitch" and yes he'd call you names and you do the same back

the relationship is very chill and playful but on occasion he's a true romantic

his love language is quality time and physical touch, high-key physical touch though he can NOT keep his hands off of you, especially infront of anyone who makes him a bit jealous

carrying the torch and going off canon, nick and his friends, or the kids of the cast? you practically treat missy, jessie and lola like they're your own daughters as for nick, andrew and jay? it'd be a cold day in hell before Judd just leaves you with those weirdos.

granted jay is kinda taken under his wing at vocational school so he trusts his werid little bro code bs but as for that perv andrew and his jackass brother? he has eyes and ears everywhere.

nick: your girlfriend is coming over?

andrew: judd has a girlfriend?

judd: yes, and you shitheads better not do anything to make her uncomfortable.

jay: rule #1 of the bro code, never eye another bros girl.

judd: yeah, whatever

ofc he doesn't think that you like them, or see them as competition. he just doesn't want you to be uncomfortable

however you find this adorable and sometimes creepy, it's why he looks out for you when they're at the house

nick? adorable, you know he has a crush on you but he's literally a child and a baby so you pick on him.

you: little baby man.

judd: ha, you're a little baby.

nick: no im not!

you: baby baby baby man.

andrew... gross, iconic and silly at times but just straight up weird, what you respect though is his self awareness

on occasion you try to help the duo be normal and get girls in their age range but it's rly difficult with nick because he's such a cocky asshole

his parents? so nice and welcoming, there was a few times that elliot walked in on you two hanging out and of course judd was urging him to, "get the fuck out."

ngl though diane and elliot see how much light you bring into judd's life and they couldn't be more grateful

[cvnt4him]

Can I request Hawks x reader Enimies/rivals with smut and then fluff towards the end

As you all know I love and adore izuku midoriya, however, I am loving this req mostly because I get to expand my horizons on characters hopefully I didn't stray too far away from hawks actual character, I hope you all enjoy and leave more reqs!!!

Enemies With Benefits.

...........................................

You and hawks, or rather keigo takami, had met in UA highschool, he was best friend with rumi usagiyama, she was cool, strong, reliable and trust worthy, they were best friends until you came along.

She never really had any girlfriends mostly because she wasn't too girly, she liked getting her hands dirty, she wasn't afraid to be in the splash zone, which to her surprise, you were just like her, you liked to be messy and get your hands dirty as well, you walked with your head held high and spoke loudly with confidence.

She loved that, you weren't shy and quiet like most girls that attended at the same time as the three of you, you were loud and boasted and demanded what you wanted and made damn sure you were going to get to your goals no matter what it took, you were respectable and she enjoyed that, it wad a breath if fresh air to have a cool girl to hang around in rumi's opinion.

Keigo however, he loathed it. He loathed you, he had so much hatred and spite for you it was honestly impeccable he still was trying to be a hero, he didn't hate you for befriending his best friend, no. But rather because your quirks were so similar, because you were much better than him, faster, stronger, and overall better. You were better. It didn't take a microscope to see that.

So when you were with going against each other in the sports festival, he'd thought he had the upper hand when he got you tit he ground, he was ready to throw you out yet you had s trick up your sleeves, there was a lot of smoke and debris flying around, you shed that to your advantage, blowing tbe smoke and debris his way making it to where he couldn't see, he rubbed his eyes the heavy amount of smoke and sand getting in his eyes, he tried to make out your figure through the smoke yet failed as you flew him out of the ring, therefore winning the battle against him, rumi cheered you on and laughed that her other friend had lost, she was a team player and still congratulated the both of you and told keigo, 'better luck next time!'

But did that anger him even more, not only had he lost to the likes of you, but to his surprise there were agents in the crowd looking and looking over you all to pick out and recruit the best of the best, he knew he had to do a good job, he tried so hard, and when you ajd besten him, it enraged him, a fiery pit of fury burning inside if him, he hated you, your shitty smile, and that shit eating grin you gave him as you turned to look at him with a chuckle, you walked last him and bumped him nearly knocking him over, and fluttering your wings in his face.

"whoops! Better watch out, baby bird."

You digressed, laughing and walking away with a sway to your hips, he growled under his breath before pushing you against the wall catching you and rumi off guard.

"hey, what the hell takami?"

Rumi shouted at him, coming to your defense as you looked at him with a spite filled look, you hated him just as much as he hated you, that hate could be sensed from a mile away, your squinted eyes loomed up to his, his hair covering his eyes from the side but you could see them, his burning, fury filled, yellow eyes, they peered at you from beneath his hair, they stared deep into your own with such hatred, you weren't affected by it, not even phased even a little, he didn't make you scared, you thought he was pathetic, worthless.

"you walk around with your head held high, all high and mighty thinking you're better than me, but you're not. You're some snobby rich bitch from a good family and a good home, you're a self centered, conceited piece of trash who's incapable of love, you push others away and you take, you feed off of others and once there's nothing left for one to give you, you vanish, you're a user, an abuser, and you are a manipulative gaslighting piece of shit."

With every word he uttered, venom spat right along with them, he knew it would be unheroic to fight you head on, he didn't want to get kicked out, UA was his ticket to becoming a hero like his idol, so he fought you with words, he knew they would get to you, by the way tour face looked in shock and anger and slight embarrassment he could tell they defintely hit you where it hurt.

You were speechless, rumi just sat there wide eyed at the both if you before pilling keigo off of you.

"what the fuck, man? How could you say something like that, she's -"

Rumi continued yelling at him for the cruel things he said to you, the words she spoke falling into deaf ears, you both glared at each other with piercing eyes, you growled lightly before scoffing, a smile falling right back onto your face, it angered him even more, how could you smile knowing what he'd just said to you? Had it not affected you?!

You laughed before walking away, rumi stopped talking as you grabbed her attention, keigo's eyes never left you once.

You stopped right next to him, your mouth right next to his ear before you whispered something so vile, so disgustingly crass it made his stomach turn, he wanted to puke, lunge at you, something, everything. But he just froze. Tears threatening to spill from his eyes, not out of sadness or humiliation, but out of anger, be was so angry he almost cried.

"never forget where you came from, you loser wanna be, you're a nobody and you're unloved, how dare, you even come to me, telling me I'm incapable of love when you've never had any to begin with. Speak what you know, not what you think you know."

A smirk was plastered on your face as you walked away, taking your win with pride, your head was still held high as you laughed to yourself, knowing what you'd said definitely struck a nerve.

Keigo takami vowed, that he'd never stop training to be better than you, he was better than you, and he was gonna prove it no matter what.

______

Years had past, he hadn't given you a single thought since you all had graduated, he became a hero, #2 at that, and you became a---

'this just in, a villain has struck a local bank, making a huge hit, clearing out the entire bank! While we wait for the heroes we--'

Hawks was already on the scene, clearing the bad guys of the money they'd stolen and scared the day with a smirk, giving autographs and taking pictures with his numerous of fan girls.

"awwwh, baby bird, are you trying to get one of these teenagers to love you? How pathetic."

His eyes shot open wide, horror filled them, he hadn't heard that voice, that name, in such a long time. There was no way.. you were the one behind this, he thought it was too easy, there was no way these simple criminals were behind a huge heist, something this big couldn't have been orchestrated by one of these lowlife thugs.

He turned around to see your wings wide and open, you were in a black suit with a hood over your head, a maniacal smile being plastered on your face as you held a finger gun out to him, what were you doing, he squinted his eyes and took his glasses off to get a better look at you.

"pew."

Was all that was heard from you before he was shot in the wing with a quirk canceling bullet, you had discovered some time ago that yes his wings are apart of his body but they're also his quirk, the bullet won't take his wings away but they will weaken them, he won't be able to fly or even move his wings without being in utter discomfort, suffering as you laugh above him with glee.

He groaned people screaming as need reporters and other reporters cried the scene taking shots of you as you just smiled before being captured by none other than the #1 hero, endeavour.

Everyone hollered and gave cheers and hoorays and the #1 hero had saved the day!!

You pouted as he held you if his shoulder in hand cuffs, you had been on the run for a while, finally you'd been caught, but again to hawks this felt just too easy for him to wrap his head around, he tried to stand before being betrayed by his legs, they were weak, he was weak, everything started to get blurred around him as he looked intensely pale, before anyone knee uit he'd passed out, body thudding against the ground.

____

It had been three days since he had gotten shot, he was able to move around well and fly faster than ever, all he needed was a little rest and he was back in action!

But he still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, he felt uncomfortable everywhere he went, maybe it was side effects from the bullet, or maybe it was him being hungry, but he just couldn't relax for the life of him.

He tried to fall asleep in his bed without ail, he moved around and shifted all about to find comfort, suddenly his wings felt too big, and his hair was just everywhere, he'd gotten so sweaty he felt like he just went for a run. He sighed in annoyance one last time before finding comfort, he held his pillow and closed his eyes tightly, before something clouded his thoughts.

You.

The way you laughed at him, called him that oh so annoying name, the way you looked.

His eyes shot wide open as he furrowed his brows in anger, he groaned loudly.

It was going to be a long day tomorrow.

He walked around endeavours agency in anger, he knew he was going to have to go and see you in jail he knew he was going to have to settle this lifetime battle you two have had since you were kids.

He sighed and jumped out of the nearest window before flying over to Tartarus, the prison where the most evil, most vile, the most cruelest and inhumane villians go, so why the hell were you there. He thought to himself with a chuckle.

He arrived, being let inside, as he made his way to your cell. Empty. It was fucking empty.

"GUARDS!... Is her cell supposed to be this empty?"

The guards were in shock, one of them sounding an alarm causing a number of people to look around for you, you were known to be in spots you weren't supposed to be.

Hawks groaned, leaving the jail and flying over the city, there was just no way you managed to escape from there threshold. The greatest villain of all time, AFO hadn't even done that, not without hell at least.

He couldn't wrap his head around it, you weren't even a threat to society, you were some bitchy cunt who tried to prove a point that was irrelevant and useless, how did you even get into UA, why did you even go to UA if you were just going to be a villain in the first place?

So many questions filled his head, he was confused angry and hungry, he decided to pop over to the burger shop he and rumi used to go to all the time, you occasionally accompanied rumi as you two were friends.

He decided to take a break and flew down to the shop, he ordered his usual and sat on top of a building eating and staring at the sunset, he sighed in content with his delicious burger before feeling like he was being watched again.

He finished his burger, standing and wiping off his hands, he stretched his wings out and stretched his body with a moan, before sighing one last time as he tackled you fastly on top of the roof, pinning you down with a frown.

"hello, baby bird.~" you sang to him from beneath him, you were still in your prison clothes as you smiled up at him, he groaned as he peered down at you with spite filled eyes.

"awh do you still hate me for winning the sports festival when we were kids? Come on man that was like so many years ago, grow a pair."

You roll your eyes at him as he surprisingly lets you stand up, he moves to get off of you as he sighed in annoyance.

"you're going back to Tartarus."

"I'll just get out again, let's not waste anyone time eh?"

He pushed you back onto the ground, you fell with a thud, groaning and looking up at him in anger.

"what the hell man?"

"we're not friends, I in fact hate you wish I could kiss you with my bare hands, however I am a hero and can't do that, so I suppose I'll just have to send you back to jail, I'm sure they won't mind if you have a couple of bruises."

He smirked and cracked his knuckles, earning an earnest chuckle from you, he rolled his eye before dropping his arms.

"you don't want to fight, baby bird, we both know you just want to sit down and have a talk about friendship and goodliness." You scoff, and laugh at him making him look at you with hate filled eyes once more.

"besides,... I missed you." You admit lowly, looking away from the blonde as you look out into the distance, smile slightly faded and your laughing ceased.

He lifted an eyebrow at you, looking you up and down before scoffing, he didn't believe you one bit, you'd always hated him, and for what? The only time he'd actually treated you with disrespect was when you won the sports festival, he'd always been somewhat civil towards you.

"yeah okay sure, enough games degenerate you're going back to Tartarus."

"why were you even there, keigo?"

You question, looking back at him with a piercing gaze, he shivered at your eyes staring directly into his, his feathers ruffling up slightly, he couldn't look away from your eyes it's like they were sucking him in and hypnotizing him, he didn't remember you being so pretty.

He gulped before managing to get out of the trance you put him in, his eyes shooting down to his feet as he crosses his arms and pulled his wings in.

"you were there for me huh."

You ask, but not as a question, you knew he was, he had no business being there 5 days after you'd gotten put in there, there was no reason for him to be there if not for you.

He sighed and looked back up at you, his arms finding themselves back at his side again.

"I wanted to talk." He answers bluntly, skipping the lies and other lame excuses.

"about what, baby bird? I'm all ears."

You say, the wind billowing into your hair in the best way, the sunsets arrays shining onto your beautiful skin, making you look so gorgeous.

You were breathtaking to him, why had he started to feel these odd feelings about you now? You were a villain it goes against his code as a hero to even affiliate with a villain outside of a mission.

All he could do was look at you, he couldn't think of any words at the given moment, that stupid name he hated so much becoming rather appealing, he thought so hard about your words, it bringing a slight blush to his face.

You smiled, you'd thought he looked pretty well, the years have traded him fairly, he was rather handsome dare you say, his eyes looked more attractive than normal, the vibrant electrifying gaze he has, so intense and sexy, you couldn't possibly look away now.

You bit your lip as you moved closer to him, his eyes watched you closely, your every move his eyes moved along with them, he stared down at you something else filling his eyes that you noticed, want, he wanted you and you knew it.

You wanted him just as badly, the tension between you two becoming rather sexual, his breaths and changed, you continued to get closer to him as your faces were so close, his breath fanned your face lightly, the smell of the burger coming off of it but you hadn't minded it too much, it was kind of nostalgic in a way.

His eyes kept faltering from your eyes to your lips, the way he licked his rather dried lips made you chuckle lightly, you were tired of beating sound the bush, you pulled him into a rough passionate kiss moans and groans coming from the two of you, the way he pulled at your waist and tugged at the bottom hem of your shirt signaling he wanted it off, it caused you to feel hazy, he pulled you deeper into the kiss, tongues gliding and dancing so sweetly against each other like they were made to.

You pulled away, he tried following your lips before accepting the end of it, both of your breaths were heavy as you tried regaining air into your system, he held you tightly looking down at you with those piercing lucent eyes, his yellow eyes become more lust filled and lidded as he looked at you, you swallowed, his eyes never leaving touz waiting to see what you'll do next.

You liked that, he was waiting for you, waiting for you to do something it's almost as if you were in control.

"we should go somewhere a little more private, yeah?" You sing to him, your voice light and breathy as you still tried to catch your breath from the previous heat filled kiss.

He nodded before grabbing you and picking you up, holding you bridal style, it made you squeak lightly, you and wings you could just fly.

"I can fl---"

"i can get us there faster." Was all he said as he cut you off mid sentence, zooming through the sky in what seemed like a very, he hadn't wanted this moment between you two to vanish, he wanted to be as quick as possible to get back to you.

You couldn't fly as fast as him, that's for sure, when he settled you down in his house, coming in through the window you were dizzy, the fastness from his flying causing you to have some kind of jet lag, and you weren't even in the air for that long, you fell against his chest as he quickly brought your lips back to his, pulling your face up by your chin, as he pressed his soft lips to yours, a light sound leaving his throat, he must have really needed you.

You happily kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he put you down on the couch, hm getting on his knees as the kiss suddenly broke, you sigh and you watch the way his eyes trailed your body up and down slowly, he looked at you with such needy eyes.

His eyes stopped at your thighs, his hands big warm hands rubbed up your body before coming back down and gripping your high rather harshly z you winced, his eyes shot up to you, but not in concern, he had a mischievous look in his eyes, the need still being laced in his lucent yellow eyes.

He pulled your pants off hurriedly, like he wanted what was behind them in an instant, he looked back down to your now bare thighs, they were so soft and squishy under his touch, the way his warm hands touched you body sent a shiver down you spine, you just looked down at him as he rubbed your thighs, squishing and squeezing them with every touch, he finally pushed your thighs apart, before seeing a damp spot in between your thighs that was on your panties.

A smile shot to his face, you wanted him just as bad as he did you, his hands moved to touch the inner flesh of your thighs, a sigh leaving you as he glanced up to you before looking bad down to your clothed cunt, to weren't embarrassed by the want the dripped from you cunt, you had wanted him and you weren't ashamed of that, especially because you knew he wanted you too.

He moved his face closer to your clothed cunt, taking off his jacket in one swift motion as he buried his face in between your thighs, his eyes rolled shut as he licked a stripe up your cunt earning a whimper from you as your whole body shook, you were instantly hit with an intoxicating feeling inside, one lick from him and you already were ready to take his cock whole.

He kept licking long languid stripes up your clothed cunt, a wet patch forming from his tongue and your juices mixing and dampening the cloth that covered you, your taste danced on his tongue so nicely, he was drunk off of the little that he was given, he couldn't Wait to taste every bit of you.

No, he really couldn't, he ripped out panties off of you with one hand, they broke as he simply threw them somewhere before diving right back into your pussy, his nose tickling your clit in the sweetest way, his tongue licked and slurped all of your juices up expertly, all you could do was moan and kay your head back from the feeling he was giving you, your hand fell into his messy blonde hair as he shook his head around, groaning around your clit as he sucked it, the vibration sending chills up your entire body.

You lightly tugged at his hair trying to get him away from your cunt, you hadn't even cum yet you were heavily overstimulated, it hurt in such a delicious way, he pushed his head deeper into tiur cunt, you hand feel out of his hair at the immense pleasure he was giving you, he looked up at you the entire time, his lucent lidded deep lust filled eyes, staring at your body, the way you moved and squirmed underneath him, he was the one giving you pleasure, you needed him, and he could strip your upcoming orgasm away from you at any given moment.

You wrap your legs around his head, locking him in place and which he happily accepted, he was so pussy drunk, drinking everything you gave him willingly, he slurped and sucked at your clit licking it with light and fast licks, he managed to move from the painful grasp of your legs wrapped around his head to catch a breath, his mouth and chin dripping in your arousal, you breathed heavily, looking at him as he didn't bother wiping his mouth, simply diving back into your cunt and devouring you all over again.

It hadn't taken long for you to cum around his tongue, he guided you through you mind boggling, toe curling, gut wrenching orgasm, you moaned aloud as he drank everything you gave him, staring up at you and watching your face contort in such beautiful ways, your brows furrowing, the sweat slightly sticking to your forehead, the way your eyes squeezed shut, you were too entrancing to be real.

He moved away from your cunt with a smack of his lips, licking every last bit of your arousal off of his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his breath smelled exactly like you, he hadn't minded though. He moved back up to your face, the strong scent of your cunt sticking to his breath, he pulled you into a somewhat soft kiss, you were still trying to regain your composure before he'd pulled you into the kiss, it was sweet, gentle, and compassionate, he kissed you like he loved you only soon to fuck you like he genuinely hated you.

Before he had, but getting you like this, seeing you in a vulnerable estate, he hadn't necessarily wanted to kill you anymore, he wouldn't go as far I say he liked you more or less just liked eating you out.

The kiss became more passionate, filled with lust and greed from both sides, a groan escaping him as he moves to take off his suit as you grab at his pants attempting to unbuckle this belt, you were so close and yet, the heat of the moment, everything that was once there vanished once his phone rang.

His pants vibration from his phone ringing loudly in his pocket, he rolled his eye before grabbing at it to see who it was.

"shit, endeavour."

He sighed heavily before picking it up.

"go for hawks."

You snort, cringing at this, trying to hold back a laugh as he glared at you, his now he remembered why he disliked you heavily, you couldn't never take anything seriously, hell he bets you even would want him to fuck you whilst he were in an important call, fucking slut.

You could hardly make out coherent words but from guessing you figured it was about you escaping.

Hawks sighed once more before banging up the phone at grabbing at his jacket that was thrown off of him previously.

"awwh, where ya' going, lover boy?" You ask with wide eyes and a pout, he scoffs and rolls his eyes, grabbing his glasses out of his coat pocket and putting them on.

"stay here. I'll deal with your slutty ass once I get back."

He gives you a rebuttal before zooming out of the window before you could even say anything back, you roll your eyes with a smile, laying back on his couch, it was rather comfortable, you'd supposed you'd be there for a while so might as well get settled in.

...........................................

AN: wow this was an interesting one, I couldn't figure out if I wanted to do a full blown smut or something light so I js went ahead w something light sorry if it wasn't what you'd expected, again this is my first time straying away from my main bae, [my zuzubear] i hope i stayed true to hawks' snarky teasing character!!

[alrxiin]

so... thanks for the idea @mokozroach , now that I'm done with my winter break, I have done it :3

(not proofread)

TW's : 'Cheating', fighting, mentions of character getting hurt, character death, su!cid3 mention.

Sam x Darlin' (GN reader) | angst

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"I'm Losing Hope In Our Lives Apart."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

A week. It's been a week since the death of William, other Vamps speculate the cause was Demon Blood, but even after such long time there's nothing sure.

The death hit Sam hard, to say the least, especially after the Summit and the other murders... but Darlin' has been next to him every day, making sure he was fine and taking care of himself.

This day was different though, Sam had told them he's going on a walk, which isn't actually that unusual for him. What was unusual, is that when they went out to get him – since they had made food and didn't really like eating alone anymore – he wasn't in his usual spots that he would end the walk in.

Not in the small spot where tree's didn't grow and made a perfect place to watch the stars.

Not anywhere near the hills he would sit on and watch Dahlias lights shine at night.

Nowhere. He seemingly was nowhere.

Worried for their mate, they made sure the house door was locked before heading out to look for Samuel carefully sniffing around to catch his scent – which was fairly easy considering the time they had spent with him.

2 years, they have been together for 2 years, and they could recognize his scent anywhere.

Following his trail, they stumbled through the woods mindlessly, going into Vamp territory just like the first time they had met when they were after Quinn.

Close, they felt him so close now, looking around through the trees, and finally they saw a blonde tuft of hair.

Relief washes over them and they quicken their pace, going around the trees to him, only for shock to go through their body when they do.

There he was, Samuel Collins, sitting on a fallen tree, and on his lap, Alexis. A nightmare come true.

Since the very first time Sam has told them about her, they hated her for what she has done, and – to a point – feared that she would weasel her way into their lives. Exactly like she had now, and it took every ounce of self respect they have not to burst into tears, but it had brought them into being violent yet again.

Hitting something that would definitely hit back.

Walking out and up to them, hands balled up into fists, they spoke up finally.

- "You absolute bitch..." —

- "Alexis?.." — Sam's voice came through weakly, like he was disassociated, the hold Alexis has on him still strong.

- "What did you just call me?" — She scoffed, getting off of him to face them, irritation showing on her face.

- "I called you a bitch. What are you, deaf?" — And with that, she lunged at them.

They knew they stood almost no chance against her, they found that out so many times before while fighting off Vamp after Vamp, she overpowered them with ease. Yet they had no intention of stopping, putting up a fight like they had always done before.

Every bit of emotion getting out of them as they fought, taking hit after hit from the woman, and striking back when they had the chance, taking it as far as turning to try and get their chances up.

They knew that Sam wouldn't do something like this on his own, that she had to do something to get him to be with her.

They hated it so much.

Lost in thought, so many emotions going through their head – betrayal, anger, confusion, whatever the hell else there is – and before they knew it, Alexis struck again, landing a final blow.

They gasped, finally conscious yet again, and instead of giving her the satisfaction of looking at her, they instead looked at Samuel.

It's like something snapped in him, the invoking she had done going loose, and he was looking back at them again.

- "Wait... no." — His voice quivred, and he got up from the log, quickly jumping into action and running up to them as they fell back, already too dizzy to stay up.

- "Darlin'!.. shit, please don't do this!.." — He took their hand, shaking ever so slightly as he panicked. His powers had weakened from the sort of trance she had put on him, and he would have no way of healing the damage Alexis had done, not like this.

And in the end, it was too late, and Darlin' layed limp on the ground..hand so cold in his.

- "Awhh... poor little puppy. All bark, and yet, no bite." — She put on a pity face, only a giggle escaping from her as she stepped closer, putting a hand on Samuel's shoulder.. only to have it pushed off in a hurry, with anger on his face and tears in his eyes, he gazed up at her.

- "Why, why do you always do this?! Why do you always take everything I have away from me?.." — His voice broke at the end, unable to maintain the threatening tone, as a sob ripped through him.

- "Oh Sammy... you must realize they were a downgrade from me, do you not?" — Her voice, terrifyingly calm and collected. She put a hand under his chin, lifting it up to face her properly, with a touch so gentle...

- "They were just a lost puppy, that turned everyone away and clinged to the first person that showed a little care. But now, you don't have to worry.. you know well that we're a gorgeous match." — The smile, meant to pull him in, only made him come to his senses.

Sam pulled his face away, and his eyes turned a copper red in anger and disgust.

- "I would rather die, than be with someone like you, Alexis." — His voice came out muffled, gritting his teeth to try and keep his composure.

The woman, was left in a form of shock and he took that chance, picking up his mates limp and pale body into his arms, before speeding away back to their house.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Not even a week later, the Shaw Pack got worried from the lack of contact from Sam, knowing how heartbreaking it is to lose someone – a lover nonetheless – so tragically, without even as little as a goodbye. And it wasn't until Vincent had called, that they had gotten the news...

"Samuel took his life." — was what he said.

He couldn't have gone on without them, without the only true spark of light in his nocturnal life that he had.

He had no one.

And now, he hoped he would see them again in their next life... Together, in every universe, every form. Forever.

[alovesongtheywrote]

can we pleaseeee have a pt.2 to nightmare academia bc THOSE TWO HAVE SO MUCH TENSION???!!!!!

♥ Summary:  abso-fucking-lutely you can. here's reid's proper response to the typewriter incident(s) [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: discussions of sex, but no actual smut. arguing. spencer's a little mean, but shit, so's the reader. crim and psych facts. this is another 1000 words of the reader being a brat and reid losing his cool over it

♥ A/N: i still don't know when this is. if you have ideas, lmk, but again, im thinking it's right after s9.

♥ Word Count: 1646

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Yeah, so, about three weeks later, your students started breaking down again. You had to wonder if Dr. Reid was actually some sort of closet sadist who enjoyed watching his students break down. You tried to shake that thought from your head. He had been an FBI agent, after all!

If he was a sadist, he wouldn’t have left the FBI.  

You reached your sobbing student quota of seven faster this time- though in at least one instance, the student apologized for Reid.

“He’s a good professor,” they said, curling up in a hard plastic chair that was not meant to be curled up in, “He’s just really bad at technology.”

You couldn’t help but agree. The students you had in common with Reid were incredibly insightful when they spoke in class- specifically on topics that the doctor would have touched on. Despite that, you could only have so many students come to you on the brink of collapse without doing something about it.

So. You brought the typewriter out again.

-

Spencer had tried to do the whole laptop thing. He really had. However, when the time came for one of his classes to submit an assignment, half of that class presented him with links to Google Documents that he couldn’t access. And this was after he requested PDFs!

After a weekend of writing emails, making repeated calls to Penelope Garcia, and lying facedown on the couch trying to fight off a migraine, Reid gave up on the technology thing. He banished laptops from his classroom once more. He told himself he just wouldn’t let the typewriter bother him. He wouldn’t let you bother him. At least, you wouldn’t bother him as much as emails did.

Then he got to class.

“So, when we look at externalizing disorders-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“As the name would suggest-” 

Click, click, click, click, click.

“These are the issues that manifest externally-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“Maladaptive behaviours caused by externalizing disorders impact the environment-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“While internalizing disorders do not, generally, cause crime-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“Externalizing disorders-”

Click, click, click, ding!

“Son of a bitch-!”

Reid’s students watched as their usually composed professor began to fray at the edges. His long fingers ran through his hair, messing up his already messy curls. He ignored the way some strands landed in front of his eyes- how could he pay attention to that? He was too focused on not screaming in frustration. Reid pulled off his cardigan almost forcefully and threw it on his chair. His body felt too warm, his skin a prison and his ribs a furnace. He crossed his arms, bringing one hand up to press his fingers against his brow.  

He stood like that for a few moments, catching his breath, reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to let you get to him.  

When Spencer tried to profile you, he saw a respected professional who genuinely cared about their students- so much so that you went out of your way to interfere with his classroom policies. He didn’t know why you cared so much. Most professors wanted to see their students succeed to a degree, but you seemed to have it out for him, specifically.  

Maybe it was his anti-tech policies. Maybe it was just something about him.  Spencer knew he was a difficult person to be around. You wouldn’t be the first person who couldn’t stand him because of things that were just intrinsic parts of his being. You definitely wouldn’t be the first person to be annoyed by him. Whatever it was, he was going to figure it out- even if he had to return to your office to do it.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Returning to externalizing disorders-”

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. DING.

You were going to be the death of Spencer Reid.

-

That evening, you caught Reid just outside your office, typewriter held aloft in his arms. You didn’t try to get the door for him.

“Well, hello Doctor Reid! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Reid didn’t bother with pleasantries. He got right to the point, “Why are you doing this?”

You played dumb- it was one of your favourite things to play, “Whatever do you mean, Doctor? I’m just supplying my students with the tools they need to learn. Do you have a problem with that?”

Reid pulled his lips together and frowned. He looked a little bit like a frog- or perhaps a sad chipmunk. You refused to admit that the exasperated expression on his face was kind of cute.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you’re smarter than this. What could you possibly stand to gain from irritating me incessantly?”

“Why don’t you profile me about it, FBI guy?” you raised your eyebrows, very clearly mocking his previous line of work as you relaxed against the door.

“Okay,” Reid grit his teeth, re-adjusting his grip on the typewriter. If you wanted to play this game, he would play, “You’re irritating me out of a strange mix of genuine concern for your students, and what appears to be a desperate need for attention. Maybe your parents didn’t focus on you enough during your childhood. Maybe you feel inferior in your work, so you’re taking it out on me. Either way, it’s kind of sad.”

Your eyes narrowed. A vein in your jaw twitched. Your mouth turned downward into a scowl as you tried very hard to pretend that you didn’t feel just a little inferior in your work. And hey, even if you did, that had nothing to do with this. He was wrong- not entirely- but enough to keep you steady.  

You knew you were playing a dangerous game.

“For a profiler, that was a pretty shit assessment. What I stand to gain isn’t attention. If I wanted your attention, I would have it. What I gain is a student body that’s further than two inches from collapse,” you leaned back against the door again, keeping him out and forcing him to keep the typewriter in his arms.

“What about you, Doctor?” you hissed, “What could you possibly stand to gain from murdering your students by way of lead poisoning?”

“Lead hasn’t been used in the creation of pencils since 1978, and the amount of lead paint a person could ingest by chewing the paint off a pencil wouldn’t be lethal. Try harder.”

“‘Try harder,’ he tells me. Fine. You aren’t a sadist and you aren’t going for mass murder by way of pencil.  Maybe you’re just a huge asshole, but if you were, that reputation would precede you. I’m out of ideas, so just tell me.  Why stop with the tech? It looked like it was working.”

“It wasn’t, not that that’s your business,” Reid adjusted his stance, trying to take a defensive stance without dropping the typewriter, “And how do you know I’m not a sadist? That’s a pretty big inference considering we’ve only worked together for a few months.”

“If you were a sadist, you would’ve stayed in the position that gave you the most power over other people. University professor is not that position.”

Reid went silent for a second. Then, to your surprise, he gave you a straight answer, “The laptops worked until I assigned a paper. I received broken links, inaccessible files, and a migraine.”

You paused, squinting at him slightly, “It was Google Docs, wasn’t it? They all sent in links to Google Docs?”

Reid paused, tilting his head like a confused puppy. What a fucking asshole, looking so fucking adorable while being a huge dick. Maybe that was on you. You had to stop comparing him to cute things.

“How did you know?”

“Because college kids have the capacity for massive stupidity. Did you specify what format you wanted?”

“Of course I did, I’m a professional.”

“Uh-huh,” you didn’t seem to believe him, “Well, even if you did, some of your students are gonna fuck it up.”

“How?! I stated it multiple times-!”

“Well, forgive the rest of the world for not having IQs in the thousands and eidetic memories. Some of us forget things, Professor.”

“It’s 187.”

“Excuse me?”

“My IQ, it’s 18-”

“Anyone who actually tries to measure intelligence with IQ is fucking unintelligent, and not worth my time. Give me my typewriter and get out of my office.”

“We aren’t in your office.”

“Give me! My typewriter! And get out! Of my office!!”

When he still didn’t move, you seized the typewriter from him and hissed, “Out!! Away with you now!! Don’t make me bite you, because I swear to god-”

Reid put his hands up in surrender, stepping back and heading down the hallway. The second you were out of sight, he pulled out his phone. Emails were a no-go, but a call? That he could manage.

“Hey, Garcia? I need you to do a background check on someone for me… what? No, this isn’t about the PDFs! I need everything you have on Professor (Y/N) (L/N).”

-

Meanwhile, across town in a bar that just so happened to be very popular with college kids, a certain group of students sat.  This group had one major thing in common- they shared two specific professors.

“So, profs (L/N) and Reid are fucking, right?”

“If they aren’t already, they will be soon enough.  Did you see him lose it over the typewriter in class today?  He said an actual swear.  Fucking nuts.”

“That was kind of hot, I’ll be honest.”

“It was- but I’ll bet you anything that (L/N) tops.”

“You’re a degenerate.  I’ll bet ten on those odds.”

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt. 7

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6

Eddie is good at puzzles

Cryptograms, jigsaws, Rubiks cubes, mazes. For all the trouble he has in school, he’s always loved word search and crossword assignments. He finishes first; he saunters up to the teacher’s desk; he slaps it down in the assignment box. He grins as they grade it with grudging respect. The strategy required for D&D was just as appealing, initially, as the escapism.

So. Eddie is good at puzzles.

Until, of course, Steve Harrington appeared in the early-morning hallway of Hawkins high, apparently having turned over an inexplicable and very puzzling new leaf.

Steve Harrington is unsolvable.

And it makes Eddie crazy.

He’d written out a list detailing the nuances of the Steve Harrington Puzzle. That was the title on the piece of the paper he’d torn out of his campaign spiral: There was the sudden friendship with Robin Buckley and the additional strange company he’d been keeping with Nancy and Jonathan and Barb. There was quitting the basketball team and absolutely burning bridges to ash with his former friends.

The panic attacks, related to flickering lights and D&D monsters The kids. The walkie-talkie check-ins and mentions of gates.

Chief fucking Hopper’s involvement.

The weird obsession Steve seems to have with Eddie. The flirting.

The baking.

Okay, the baking could be normal, but it’s still potentially out of character enough that Eddie doesn’t scratch it off the list.

Eddie's first hypothesis is drugs, even though that doesn’t explain everything.

As long as he’s not leaving town, there’s only one person Steve could be getting drugs from if he’s not getting them from Eddie. So Eddie walks to the gas station down the road and calls Rick from the pay phone outside.

“Hey. Weird question. Are you selling hard shit to Steve Harrington on the side?”

Rick laughs at him until he hangs up. That’s fair. It was a long shot anyway.

His second hypothesis is…

Well, that’s the problem. He doesn’t have a second hypothesis. Because nothing explains all of the everything going on with Steve and even drugs only explain like…half of it.

Eddie crumples up the paper and tosses it in the trash and the Steve Harrington Puzzle remains unsolved through Saturday night as he loads up his guitar and amp into Gareth’s mom’s car.

One of them really needs to buy a van or a truck or something. Showing up to your metal gig in a minivan is not the cool aesthetic they’re trying to embody.

Eddie has been trying not to have expectations. Just because Steve said, several days before, that he was going to come to their gig didn’t mean he’d actually show up. And unlike Eddie’s embarrassing, seat-saving hope from Friday, his anxious door-watching as they set up and then take the stage at Hideout does not pay off.

Steve doesn’t show.

Maybe he forgot. Maybe he changed his mind or something better came up or maybe he never intended to come at all. 

It doesn’t occur to Eddie that there’s another potential reason until he gets home, hoarse and jumpy with endorphins to find a note from Wayne by the phone. 

Steve called. Said he’d been in an accident and was sorry he couldn’t come. Sounded rough. Left his number for you.

Eddie calls the number, even though it’s late. It rings. And rings. And rings. They have an answering machine, because of course they do, but the woman on the recording sounds like a stuck up bitch and Eddie lingers, just for a moment, trying to think of something to say, before hanging up.

He tries again on Sunday, just past lunch. Still no answer.

By Monday morning he’s vacillating between annoyance and concern which takes a careening turn down the concern offramp when he catches sight of Steve in the hallway. His face is beat to shit and his neck––

His neck looks like someone tried to fucking hang him.

But despite the bruises and the line of stitches at his temple and the general signs of a thorough ass-kicking, Steve is moving through the tide of students around him with the unmistakable swagger of someone who won.

It really does make Eddie want to see the other guy.

Eddie isn’t thinking. Well, he is thinking, he’s thinking what happened and are you ok. He’s not thinking about optics as he pushes his way through the other students in the hallway, grabs Steve’s wrist and drags him into the bathroom. It’s empty, thank god.

“What happened?” Eddie says, tugging down the collar of Steve’s shirt so he can better see the—Jesus, the ligature marks on his throat. “Are you ok?”

Steve’s hands catch around his shoulders, pushing him back with an infuriating little smile that says he’s enjoying Eddie’s reaction. Enjoying Eddie’s concern about him nearly being killed, the sadistic asshole.

“Hey, easy,” Steve says, “I’m fine. Though that does hurt a little so maybe let go of my shirt, yeah?”

“Oh what, you can pull me into bathrooms and feel me up but I’m not allowed to return the favor?” Eddie snarls.

Steve goes delightfully pink. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve apologized for that.”

Eddie lets go.“And you still haven’t explained it.”

“I can’t.”

“And all of this?” Eddie gestures to encompass the entirety of Steve’s stupid, muscular, injured self. He’s wearing the same jeans and boots as he was on Friday, this time paired with a black T-shirt that is likely intentionally a size too small.  “Can you explain this?”

“I––”

“Can’t.” Eddie finishes with him.

At least Steve looks cowed about it.

“Are these the worst of your injuries or are there more under your clothes?” 

Steve opens his mouth and Eddie interrupts before he can say anything. “Don’t lie.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “My back is a little beat up, but it’ll be fine.”

“Let me see.”

“What, do you have a medical degree, now?”

“Let me see.”

“Fine. Fine,” he turns, bracing one hand on the sink and using the other to hike up the back of his shirt. “I forgot how goddamn annoying you are when you’re––”

He cuts himself off, going still. His eyes are wide where they meet Eddie’s in the mirror. “I mean. Sorry. Whatever. Look, I’m fine.”

Eddie looks.

“Oh my god.” He’s touching the mottled bruise down the left side of Steve’s spine before he realizes he’s going to do it and by then it’s too late. He tries to be gentle, at least. “What hit you, a truck?”

“Eddie.”

“Are you pissing blood?”

“Only a little. Honestly, I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Eddie drops the shirt and lets Steve turn to face him, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he leans closer still to inspect the tidy line of stitches hugging Steve’s temple.

“At least everything looks clean,” he murmurs, pushing Steve’s hair out of the way. “Did you go to the hospital for these? Please say you didn’t do them yourself.”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer, though, because Tommy Hagan pushes his way into the bathroom. Where Eddie currently has Steve pressed against the sink, nearly hip to hip, with his hand on Steve’s face.

He’s going to die today.

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says with a degree of annoyance that Eddie finds commendable considering the circumstances.

“What are you––what’s going on?” Tommy says as the door slides shut behind him. “Did Munson do that to you?”

Steve scoffs and Eddie should probably be insulted. Steve slides around him, putting himself just a hair in front of Eddie as he half-turns to face Tommy. One of Steve’s hands is on Eddie’s chest and Eddie isn’t sure how it got there, but it’s steady and firm, like he’s holding Eddie back.

“No,” Steve says. “He’s just a concerned citizen. What do you want?”

“He was touching you,” Tommy says, low and quiet and weirdly hurt. 

“He was,” Steve agrees easily. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. Friends touch each other all time, right? No reason to make it weird.”

The words land like a blow. Eddie watches as Tommy physically recoils from them.

“Steve.” Tommy sounds wounded.

“Tommy,” Steve answers, dispassionate.

Tommy’s eyes move to Eddie. Move to Steve’s hand on Eddie’s chest. He turns abruptly and shoves his way back out of the bathroom with a muttered curse.

Steve watches him go, and then, when he turns to face Eddie again, his mouth twists.

“Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I sort of implicated you, there. I swear he won’t tell anyone, though, even if he does think we’re––whatever. I can,” Steve exhales, shoving a hand through his hair, and then winces, either because of the stitches or his side. “I can tell him you turned me down.”

As if that would happen.

“No,” Eddie says. “It’s fine. I mean, a lot of people already assume that I’m––” he knows he shouldn’t ask but he can’t seem to help it, “––wait, are you?”

“Yeah?” Steve says, like it should be obvious. “I like both. Either. All.”

“Right.” Eddie says. Like his entire worldview hasn’t been shaken to the core. “And you and Hagan—?”

Steve leans back against the sink. “I’m honestly not in the practice of outing people, if I can help it.”

“Hey, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” Steve says finally. “I know.” He’s got his hands braced on the lip of porcelain on either side of his hips. It makes his biceps look enormous. “We didn’t have a thing,” he murmurs. “Not really. I wanted to, which is embarrassing in retrospect, but––” he laughs and there’s nothing comedic to it. “Some guys are just fine with you giving them handjobs in the dark, but god forbid you ask them to kiss you in the daylight, you know?”

Eddie does know.

“Their loss,” he mutters.

Steve bites his lip. “Hey, so. I’m sorry I missed your show. Can I buy you dinner tonight as an apology?”

Eddie might not recover from the conversational whiplash. “What?”

“I can pick you up at seven?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, cool. We should get to class.”

And then he’s gone. 

Eddie has a quiet, 30 second, existential crisis before following him.

***

Steve takes them to the diner again: same booth; same waitress.

She doesn’t try so hard this time to get Steve’s attention, either because she learned from last time or because Steve’s face looks like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

Regardless, they’re mostly left to their own devices and Steve gets him talking about the Lord of the Rings and once again Eddie finds himself flailing his way through a long-winded rant while drinking a chocolate milkshake. Steve watches him fondly.

He keeps forgetting that Steve is a giant, potentially dangerous, puzzle that needs solving in the face of his fond looks. It’s really becoming a problem.

Eddie is trying to find an elegant way of inviting Steve back to his place when Steve’s ever-present overstuffed backpack makes a static noise and then Eddie hears the muffled sound of Chief Hopper’s voice saying: Steve, you there?

Steve is out of the booth, throwing money on the table, in seconds.

Eddie scrambles to follow him.

Steve unzips his bag and pulls out the walkie before he’s even out the door.

“Hop?” he asks into the receiver. He doesn’t hold the door for Eddie which Eddie will be bitchy about later.

Are you still at the diner? Hopper asks. He sounds out of breath. 

“Yeah.”

I’m two minutes away, meet me in the parking lot.

“It’s happening now?”

It’s happening now. Sorry, kid, I know you probably haven’t recovered from Saturday yet but––

“No, it’s fine.”

Two minutes, Hopper repeats. Be discreet.

Steve starts running.

By the time Eddie catches up to Steve at the back of  the parking lot, he’s got the trunk of his car open and he’s pulling basketball uniform shirts out of a giant duffel bag. Previously hidden under the layer of jerseys are—guns. 

Holy shit, that’s a lot of guns.

And grenades? Probably. Eddie has never seen a grenade in real life but he’s reasonably sure those are grenades. 

“What.” Eddie says. 

Steve zips the bag back up, cursing, and reaches for a baseball bat wrapped in a towel. Except when he pulls it out by the handle, the towel falls away and Eddie realizes the top of the bat has been gored through with at least two dozen nails: Spiked and lethal and covered in a red brown patina. 

It could be rust.

Eddie is pretty sure it isn’t rust.

“Steve,” he says.

And Steve meets his eyes with a disturbing degree of calm.

Neither of them has a chance to say anything else, though, because Hopper's truck is careening into the parking lot and literally screeching to a stop a few feet away from them.

Steve tosses his bag of guns and his murder bat into the truck bed with a degree of familiarity that Eddie does not want to think about.

“What the hell, Steve,” Hopper is saying through the open window, “what part of be discrete did you not––oh.”

Eddie turns and when Hopper’s eyes settle on Eddie’s face, he stops talking.

 “Eddie,” he says.

And that is not a way that Chief Hopper has ever said Eddie’s name before.

“Hop,” Steve says levelly.

“Fuck,” he says, still staring at Eddie like—Eddie doesn’t even know. Like he’s a ghost, maybe.

“Right,” he says. “Munson.” He drags his attention back to Steve. “We need to go. Now. Is he—“

“No.” Steve says. “Absolutely not.”

“Am I what?” Eddie asks.

Steve is shoving something into Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s hand comes up automatically to close around—keys. Steve’s keys. 

“Do you know where my house is?” He asks.

“Yeah? Everyone knows where your house is, dude.”

“Don’t go home. Wayne is working tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but—“

“I need you to trust me. Please. Go to my house and––wait, no. The pool.”

He looks at Hopper.

“Henderson,” Hopper says. “The Henderson’s house. The other kids are already there. No nearby gates.”

“Gates? What the fuck are you two talking about?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Hopper says.

“Where are you going?” Eddie demands. “What is going on?”

“Eddie,” Steve says, urgent and terrible and wild. “Please.”

There’s an undeniable supplication in his tone, in his eyes, that makes Eddie say: “Okay. Alright. Just––tell me what to do.”

Steve pulls out a sharpie and a butterfly knife from his pockets. He pushes the knife into Eddie’s hand that is already holding Steve’s keys. He takes Eddie’s other arm and turns it palm up, uncapping the sharpie with his teeth. He writes hurried instructions across his wrist.

“Ok,” he says. “There. Take my car. Go to Henderson's house. Stay with the kids until I come back, okay?”

“When will you come back?”

“Late. Early. I don’t know. Before school tomorrow.”

“Steve,” Hopper says.

“Just don’t go back to your house, ok? Don’t go anywhere near Forest Hills or Lover’s Lake. We’ll get a message to Wayne too, but. Don’t go back. Go to Henderson's. Wait for me.”

“Steve,” Hopper says.

He squeezes Eddie’s arm. He lets go like it hurts him.

Steve climbs into Hopper's truck and Eddie watches them pull out of the parking lot with a dread he can’t explain sitting like stagnant water in his chest.

Eddie’s pulse is loud in his ears and heavy in his stomach as he considers the black ink on his arm; the knife; the keys. There’s a thunderhead building, eerie and green, eclipsing the sunset in the distance.

He walks to Steve’s car, closes the trunk, and opens the driver’s side door. He sits. He cranks the engine. 

Dio is playing.

He looks at the instructions on his arm, directing him left onto Main Street, and for a minute he considers obeying. He doesn’t. He puts the car in gear and turns right toward Forest Hills. 

He’ll go to Henderson’s. But Steve is acting like the trailer park is going to get bombed in the night and there are things at the house that…there are things he needs. He still half thinks this is all some giant prank, but Steve’s injuries are real and the guns were sure as hell real and Hopper is real.  If something terrible is going to happen tonight, Eddie has to save his guitar, his mom’s records, the t-shirt from the first concert Wayne ever took him to. He’ll need to get Wayne’s favorite mug and the rosary Wayne’s mother left him and their social security cards and other important documents from the drawer in the kitchen. 

It’ll take five minutes. Guitar. Milk crate of records. One bag of assorted shit. And then he’ll go to Henderson’s.

Five minutes.

In and out.

It’ll be fine.

[berylcups]

I feel bad because this is my 3rd ask in less than 24 hrs, lmao 😭 anyway... I think u said you had pt.3 brainrot rn? Me too lmaoo, could you do hcs of the crusaders with an s/o who's standing kinda works like Wanda's powers from Marvel? I think that would be dope asf, tyty!!! 🩵

Hey sorry for the long wait! I assumed you meant Wanda from the MCU cannon so that’s what I based readers power off of since her powers are kinda vagueish. (Telekinesis and mind control) I hope this is what you have had in mind-if not please forgive me 😭😭😭 (it’s been forever since I watched a marvel movie…I think Black Panther was the last one? Damn that’s a long time ago!)

SDC X Reader who has powers like Wanda

CW: poopoo mention? Idk nothing really! But be forewarned- I love toilet humor and so does Araki it seems lmao

Notes: I based this off of the MCU Wanda and her powers. I did some research just to make xtra sure since my Marvel knowledge is a lil rusty! But I hope everyone enjoys!

Joseph

“Next you’ll say—I’m going to take control of your body gramps! …wait hold on a minute.”

He’s amused by your abilities! He wants to see you take control of poor bystanders or his grandson and make them do harmless embarrassing things. Silly things like doing a stupid dance, picking their nose, farting loudly in public, just really crude juvenile behavior. You think with him being the oldest he would act the most mature!

Jotaro

“…Stay out of my head bitch/bastard.” He grumbled.

He acts all cool and collected, unaffected by the power of your stand. But internally he’s sweating buckets. The ability to mind control and move objects is a very valuable ability. He’s happy you’re an ally and not one of Dios minions…but if you are, he’s willing to take you on! But he’s going to have to think hard on how to find and exploit your weaknesses!

He really wants to see you in action. Taking control of Steely Dan would have taken a lot of stress out of the whole lovers debacle.

Kakyoin

He thinks your abilities are cool! He’s actually really excited but is too shy to show it. He likes how you can control minds, Hierophant green can control bodies like puppets too. 🙂 it makes him feel good to have something in common with someone.

He does wonder if you can use your telekinesis to play video games or if it takes more concentration to do so… it seems like a good experiment to test out for him! (And me too… I wanna play my switch without having to worry about joycon drift 🥲)

Avdol

Magical! He’s intrigued! He would love to test your limits and help you hone your skills.

He wonders how strong of will you can take control of and how much weight you can carry with your telekinesis.

“My will is strong and my mind is clear. Just try and take control of me!”

Polnareff

“Mind control and telekinesis?! Niiiice. There’s so many things I need you to do!”

He respects your powers and he means well but… he really wants to see you use your powers for shits and giggles.

He wants to see you manipulate objects in front of nonstand users and take control of others minds to make it seem like they are being haunted.

“Tell the madame she’s forever doomed if she doesn’t date the beautiful man with the perfectly styled hair!”

…Don’t do it. He needs to earn love the RIGHT way 😅

Iggy

“Im just a dog. What are you expecting from me???”

*farts*

If you use telekinesis to pick him up he’s gonna PANIC 😱 here we come—Flying Dog!!!

Please fly him above Polnareff so he can fulfill his dream of shitting on his head like a bird. And so he can get revenge on all the other birds that shit on him by shitting back.

He will be your best friend ever after that. No joke. You got yourself a new dog.

[headfulloflettuce]

Puppet Darling - Part 6

Credit: Inspired by @wallflowers-in-the-wind’s post here.

Warning: Rhysand being as asshole, again. Also, mind meddling.

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

Rhysand wasn’t sure how many liquor glasses he had already destroyed, but he was sure it was many. He slumped in his office chair, staring up at the ceiling.

She ran.

He still couldn’t actually believe it.

She ran, and got away with it.

He felt a small laugh escape him.

I mean, I shouldn’t really be this surprised. Feyre had always been quick on her feet - when permitted.

A knock sounded on his office door.

Definitely Cassian, he’s the only one that makes me think the door will fly off the hinges.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, “Come in.”

His brother peered inside the office, a ginger smile spreading over his rough features upon seeing the office’s demolished state. A tuft of blonde hair appeared for a second behind the Illyrian warrior.

Ah, Morrigan too. Wonderful.

Rhysand smiled, “Are you going to just hangout at the doorway or actually step in?”

Cassian obeyed, followed by Mor, whose eyes immediately narrowed as she took in the office’s state.

“Don’t you think you went a little hard on the whiskey?” Cassian tried to lighten the mood, walking over to the liquor cabinet, “I mean what has the bourbon done to you?”

Rhysand gave him the obligatory laugh.

Morrigan tensed, uncomfortable.

“Rhysand…why did Nesta leave?” Cassian’s voice was quiet.

Rhysand smiled, “You know Nesta, Cassian. She’s always been like this. An unreliable bitch.”

His brother’s hand tightened into a fist, but didn’t call him out.

Rhysand couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips.

It was honestly adorable watching his dear brother try to process this.

No wonder Eris kept so many of his around: endless entertainment.

Cassian shook his head, “But what of Feyre? Rhysand, it doesn’t make sense. Why would Feyre run?”

Rhysand had been mulling over what lies to feed them the past several days.

“Me and Feyre got into an argument.”

True, albeit it was a perpetual one, but still, true.

“We…I in particular, said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

Displace blame onto myself to seem like a responsible party.

Rhysand smiled remorsefully, “I apologized of course, but she said she wanted some space. So, I am respecting her choice.”

Cassian nodded, somewhat satisfied by the response, “But why did she bring Nesta with her?”

“Nesta comforted Feyre after the argument took place, so she and Elain decided to bring their sister along.”

“Nesta? Comfort? Never thought I would hear those words in the same sentence.” Amren leaned against the doorway, black jewelry adorning her neck, “I highly doubt she has the capacity for empathy.”

Cassian’s knuckles turned white, but once again didn’t say anything.

Rhysand gently probed his brother’s, checking if the subtle ‘suggestions’ he had planted still held their root.

Not that he was speaking out, but his discomfort unnerved him.

You shouldn’t even be concerned when something of that sort is said regarding her.

‘She’s spiteful.’

‘She’s Illyrian.’

‘She’s hurtful.’

‘She’s dangerous.’

‘She’s a threat.’’

‘She’s strong.’

‘She’s empathetic.’

Rhys frowned.

‘I love her.’

Rhysand did a double take on the last thought, quickly pushing it beneath the ‘she let Feyre hunt.’

A mating bond truly was a force of nature.

Rhys had already placed many subtle thoughts into Cassian’s mind. Little reminders that perhaps Nesta wasn’t as amazing as he had thought. Perhaps she was just a little too rambunctious. Too hard to control

“What was the argument about?” Cassian asked.

Rhysand glanced through his brother’s thoughts and memories once more, retreating with a mental sigh.

Editing this mess of a brain now would only worsen the situation.

Rhysand, despite everything, didn’t particularly want to break Cass’s mind.

He wouldn’t be Cass anymore if I did that.

“I think it best for me to tell my side of the story only once Feyre returns, I don’t wish to be too biased.”

Mor didn’t say anything, choosing to stare at a destroyed cabinet.

Nothing to say dear cousin?

Mor restrained a flinch at his voice in her mind.

‘No Rhys.’

You look tense.

‘I am fine Rhys.’

Rhys rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, trying to reach down the mating bond once more, giving it a firm tug, but to no avail; Feyre didn’t tug back.

I will give her time, if she wants it.

Rhys traced the rim of his glass.

She’d eventually see that the Night Court was the best place for her.

Azriel’s shadows made their presence known before he himself appeared, startling Mor as a result. 

What a flighty female.

An apologetic look flashed across the male’s face as the blonde shifted away from him.

This time Rhysand didn’t tug on the bond, simply feeling, trying to gauge as much as he could of Feyre’s well-being. 

Calm. Happy? Calm. Nervous. Worried. Happy?

The bond prattled off, jumping from place to place within minutes.

Well, at least she wasn’t hurt.

Rhys took comfort in that, but the positive feelings stabbing at him down the bond made him scowl.

When was the last time she was that relaxed around him?

“I have tracked down Elain.”

The room froze, Rhysand’s fingers drumming against the desk thoughtfully.

“Where?”

“Spring Court.”

“Ha…” Rhysand restrained the urge to throw the table against the wall. 

“Spring? Bold.” Amren mused.

Rhysand shot the fae a glare, only to be met by her steel expression.

“Why would they go to Spring?” Cassian stared at Azriel in confusion, his wings flaring slightly, “Tamlin abused Feyre! She fled from there!”

“Perhaps he kidnapped them?” Amren suggested coyly.

The thought made Azriel and Cassian growl but Rhys’s mind was elsewhere.

She ran to him. She trusts him over me.

“Azriel. Mor. You two will go to retrieve Elain and Feyre respectively.��

I’d go myself but that would mean war.

Rhysand was a patient man. He could wait a little bit before seeing his darling once more.

“What about Nesta?” Cassian pipped in.

“Mor will get Nesta too.”

Guess we can’t forget about her either.

“I can get her.” Cassian offered.

“No, Morrigan will go.”

Considering that my power isn’t enough for you right now Cass, I’d prefer to not stage any experiments.

“Use violence if necessary.” Rhys ordered.

“Rhys…” Cassian muttered.

Azriel nodded, his shadows slipping away from their hiding spots near Rhysand and returning to him, his eyes gleaming anew at the prospect of violence.

Mor remained neutral. 

“When I give an order, I expect it to be done now.” Rhysand smiled, annoyed that they hadn’t taken their leave yet.

“It may take some time to bring them back.” Mor finally spoke up, “Tamlin has most likely hidden them somewhere in his court that is concealed to outsiders.”

Rhysand’s hand twitched into a fist before relaxing upon hearing his name.

“I understand  but I am sure you two, powerful, competent faeries, are up for the task, no?” he held Mor’s gaze, “Or am I mistaken?”

Are you useless now?

Azriel slipped away into his shadows and Mor quickly winnowed away.

Rhysand looked over to an amused Amren and a concerned Cassian. 

“Go. I wish to be alone right now.”

“Rhys, are you sure-” Cassian tried.

“Go.”

Rhysand waited for their footsteps to disappear behind the closed office door, before flicking the table before him into the wall, causing it to break into millions of splinters. 

She dares to run from me? To go back to him after everything I gave her? 

Rhysand took a deep breath but it did little to soothe his anger.

I made her into a queen.

He stood up, stepping over the debris covering his office. He’d need to summon the servants to clean it up.

Is this what you do Feyre? Make a male fall head over heels for you and then waltz away to whatever new eye candy captures your interest?

He knew it was immature when he grabbed at the mating bond, giving it an extra painful tug. 

Rhys felt Feyre shudder, but the walls she had put up remained. 

Whatever was happening on the other end clearly soothed Feyre quickly, as the bond’s  trembles subsided, replaced by a calm feeling, instead of the usual nervousness his meddling brought.

Rhysand laughed. A cold, dark sound filling the room and echoing off its walls.

It seems that I have been too lenient with my favorite toys.

The calm continued to be present on Feyre’s side of the bond, only growing stronger.

Treasure this feeling while you can darling. You won’t get to have it for much longer.

Next: Part 7

Masterlist

Tag list: @rcarbo1, @planet-faerie, @fox-in-flowers, @bookishfeylin

If you want to be added to a tag list let me know :D

[echo-bleu]

Noldor hair headcanons (1/4)

With AO3 down, it seems like a good time for some good old tumblr bullet-point pseudo-fic (I'll post it on AO3 eventually).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Note: Inspiration for some parts of this came from @mynameisjessejk's wonderful Otter Mayhem series which you should go read when it's possible again.

The Noldor wear their hair in elaborate braids.

Hairstyle is a status thing, so noble Noldor have the most complex styles. They’re meant to show off craft, so there’s a lot of jewellery and gemstones involved, and the nobles’ hairstyles purposefully can’t be self-braided.

But touching hair is a very intimate thing and it’s never done by servants, always by family (spouse, siblings, parents or children). It’s a show of love and respect, if someone has a particularly complex hairstyle it’s supposed to mean that they’re well-loved.

Now Finwë as the king must have the most complex hairstyle of all. Míriel was of course very good at it, she’d weave and sew beads into his hair every morning, making each hairstyle a work of art.

When she fades, Fëanor is still really young, and he has to learn real quick to do his father’s hair, which he of course takes as a challenge. He starts making all of Finwë’s hair jewellery himself, he experiments with dozens of braiding styles. In the early months/years of their grief Finwë finds a lot of comfort in having his hair braided and they’ll both spend entire days beside Míriel’s body, with Fëanor braiding his father’s hair over and over.

Then Indis comes along, and hair braiding is traditionally the spouse’s work. It’s very hard for Fëanor not to feel like he’s been replaced (and not just his mother), especially since Indis has zero interest in it and Finwë’s hairstyles grow markedly simpler. Which is also not great for his reputation.

Nerdanel and Fëanor, once they marry, are extremely competitive and keep trying to outdo each other’s braids. It’s highly entertaining to outsiders, especially since it’s the only remnant of the Crown Prince’s more playful side. When little Maitimo comes out with red hair like Nerdanel’s, Fëanor bitches about having to make even more copper jewellery (he’s secretly overjoyed because he loves Nerdanel’s hair).

Fëanor is also careful to always have better braids than his half brothers, though Findis starts braiding Fingolfin and Finarfin’s hair as soon as she’s old enough, and she’s pretty good at it, unlike Indis.

Anairë’s hair texture is very different from anyone Fingolfin knows. He’s never been that into hair before, but he learns to do her braids with his tongue poking out. Once she figures out what to do with straight hair, she braids his into brand new styles that Fëanor is terribly jealous of.

Fingon has extremely thick kinky hair that takes a ridiculously long time to braid, and he’s very proud of it, thank you very much.

Thankfully for Fingolfin and Anairë, none of their other children have hair quite as thick.

Eärwen is Teleri and keeps her hair mostly loose. She wants none of that nonsense, especially not gems in her hair, come on. If she puts anything in her hair it’s gonna be pearls. She’ll do Finarfin’s hair if he really insists on it but if he wants the children to follow Noldor rites so much, he’ll have to take care of it himself. (He’s pretty good at it, actually.)

Maedhros and Fingon start doing each other’s hair in secret before Fëanor’s exile.

Celegorm switches from Noldor style to hunting braids when he joins Oromë’s hunt. They’re more practical and involve a lot less metal.

People have whole legends about how great it must be to braid Artanis’s hair, but it’s actually really fine and fragile and a nightmare. She insists that the only one who can do it right is Finrod. He tries to foist that chore on others a lot.

Aredhel and Curufin bond over hating to have their hair touched (sensory issues). Eventually they start doing each other’s hair because they know what to avoid.

Fëanor asking Galadriel for her hair is an Actual Taboo given that they’re not close (by the time Gimli asks, Galadriel has adopted Sindarin hair practices, but it’s also a fuck-you to Fëanor that she accepts).

At Losgar, (lightly-toasted) Amrod has part of his hair burned off. He is, after that, the very first elf to sport a side-cut, as hair won’t grow back over the scars. He never let anyone but his twin do his hair again.

Crossing the Helcaraxë, Fingolfin’s people try to keep up with tradition, but hair-braiding is hard when your fingers are constantly frozen stiff.

Still, Fingon insists on doing his father’s hair every day, even when he nearly loses fingers to frostbite.

He refuses to let anyone do the same for him, though, and he’s the first to start braiding his own hair. That’s when he starts braiding in golden ribbons, because they’re easier to do than beads, and frozen metal can burn skin.

Gradually they move away from long flowing braids and start making up crown-braid styles that protect their ears. As they progress, braiding becomes less and less about status and more and more practical.

Turgon and Elenwë (who adopted the Noldor style upon marrying) still keep to the tradition and braid each other’s hair and Idril’s right up until Elenwë dies. After that Turgon doesn’t let anyone touch his hair again until Gondolin (and then only Idril).

Finrod and Galadriel do each other’s hair. Galadriel’s fine, brittle hair suffers a lot in the cold, and for a long time she’s afraid that it will never go back to its former glory. It does eventually, but it takes decades.

In Beleriand, Maglor’s main contribution as King Regent is the invention of Mourning Braids (and also a slightly unhealthy number of laments).

Let’s be honest, he’s wearing them more for Maedhros than for Fëanor or Finwë, even though Maedhros is demonstrably still alive.

(No one thinks that will last.)

(Maglor can’t go save his brother and the guilt is staggering.)

(For some reason, Curufin is the one who does Maglor’s impossibly complex Kingly Mourning Braids.)

Then Helcaraxë Team arrives with their frozen fingers and their crown braids and It’s A Mess, Actually.

The Sun has just risen and Fingon’s golden ribbons are really blinding, no one can even look at him.

Listen, they haven’t had proper light in about forty years, they’re really light-sensitive now.

Everyone argues, Fingon makes at least two attempts to sneak out to Thangorodrim but he’s caught because he’s just way too shiny.

Third time’s the charm.

The only reason Maedhros doesn’t see him before he hears him is that he’s even more light-sensitive and just keeps his eyes closed. Also he’s tired. So very tired.

In Angband, Sauron took great pleasure in hacking Maedhros’s hair off and messing with it. When he’s rescued, what has regrown is a tangled, discoloured mess and they have to cut it all off.

Fingon stays with Maedhros a lot throughout his (physical) recovery, which in my mind takes at least the 55 years between his rescue and Dagor Aglareb, and he braids Maedhros’s hair every day, even at the start when it’s barely past his ear. Eventually Maedhros stops fighting and crying when someone touches his hair.

Mostly.

Fingon does tone down the golden ribbons eventually. Mostly because he runs out of Valinorian gold and has to do with Beleriand gold, which just isn’t the same.

To be continued.

[wyvernquill]

I'm rewatching Anastasia and this convo would really fit in your AU

Hob: look, Murphy, I'm just trying to help Murphy: do you really think I'm an Endless, Hob?

Hob: you know I do.

Murphy: then stop bossing me around

I'm sorry, this ask is already over a year old, but I finally got around to writing a scene based on it! (Plus some Murphy&Gil bits I wanted to put in somewhere, anyway.) Hope you enjoy!

[Mild warning for contemplation of one's potential death, and having once lost the will to life - I wouldn't call it suicidal ideation, it doesn't quite go there, but I figured I'd better be safe than sorry.]

Link to Anastasia AU Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

“Hob.” Murphy interrupts, eyes flashing with frustration.

(Today’s how-to-be-a-Dream-Lord lessons are not going well - not that any of them have, but this one is a particular catastrophe. Gil has already given up on their contrary charge for the evening, and with the way Murphy’s shoulders are up and tension bristles between them, Hob is unlikely to make much more headway tonight.)

“Tell me. Do you truly believe I am him? The Prince of Stories? The Dream King?”

“Yes,” Hob lies, easily, unflinchingly, and with a smile on his face. A good lie has to be treated like the truth, and maybe, one day, it’ll actually turn into one. They’ve been trying so very hard to teach Murphy this, he should know it by now. “Of course.”

“Then, perhaps,” Murphy spits, and despite his feral arrogance, despite the way he holds his head high and squares his slender shoulders, it’s not the regal indignation of a King, but the helpless tantrum of an angry child who’s failing in class. “You ought to finally treat me with the fucking deference an Endless is owed, Hob Gadling!”

(There are tears in his pale-blueish eyes, Hob can see them, can hear the crack in Murphy’s hoarse voice.

Nobody has treated this man with respect in all the years he remembers, that much is obvious. Nobody but his birds. And he knows, they all know, that he’s no prince, that his blood runs red, not blue - runs at all, come to think of it. Endless don’t bleed.

But he wants to be. He wishes he was. Murphy is not Dream of the Endless, but he is ravenous for the spoils of such a role. Desperate to be respected, to be worshipped and revered, desperate to be owed the sort of treatment he has never received.

Hob ought to be ashamed of himself for taking advantage of that helpless hunger for kindness and decency… and he will be. For the rest of his immortal life, he’ll live with the shame of what he did to cheat Death, and still not regret it.)

Hob plasters a smile over his impatience and opens his mouth, gentle, calming words already on the tip of his tongue. Murphy is lonely and frightened and frustrated, that much is obvious. Fine. Hob knew it wouldn’t be easy, to teach their false Dream all he needs to know, and this is not an insurmountable roadblock. If Hob can only reassure him, earn his trust, be his friend, even, it will make everything much easier. Poor thing, lashing out like an injured animal. But Hob can surely coax him into-

Murphy recoils. Flinches back from the admittedly-half-faked warmth, his face, his entire bearing collapsing into itself like a heavy portcullis rattling shut.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, pointing one of his stick-thin fingers at Hob’s face, “don’t you DARE! I have no need for your false pity, and I want no part of it! I want-” the white of his eyes is bloodshot, and in his terror, in his fury, in his desperation, awash in unshed tears “-I want out. This deal is off. Find some other poor sucker to teach how to play Endless, I won’t do it! I’ve had enough!”

And before Hob can say as much as a single word, Murphy has snatched up his coat and slipped out onto the rainy street, Matthew following - but not after awarding Hob with a colder glare than he would’ve thought a mere raven capable of.

Murphy does not manage to flee very far.

He is in an unfamiliar town, with no money, no valuables besides the clothes on his back that are now slightly finer than he used to be; and the winter is cold and deep and stifling. He gets no further than a handful of streets until he slows halfway across a bridge, shaking with cold more than anger, snowflakes dancing around him. It is a quiet, windless night - and it has always calmed him, to stand underneath the dark sky at night, and know that most of the city lies asleep around him.

Matthew settles on the bridge’s parapet, caws. Hops closer, cocks his head to one side. There is a clear question in his bearing, a what now? glinting in his eyes. Birds are open and honest - unlike humans. Liars and hypocrites all.

“...I do not know, Matthew.” Murphy admits quietly. He has taken the coat, but forgotten the scarf in his haste, so he tugs at his collar, to keep the cold air from trickling down his spine. “I truly don’t.”

He does not have the means to return to London on his own - and at the same time, does not have much desire to do so. He had nothing and no-one there, but for the birds. Pockets can be picked anywhere - he could make a new start in this nameless town.

…if only it weren’t winter.

Murphy shivers, feeling his bones rattle with it. The night is calm, but bitterly cold, and it will not end well for him, sitting in the snow until morning. In the dark of winter, he cannot afford a night without shelter, a day without a sure way to come by some food to keep his strengths up. In London, he would have known where to go. Here, he is helpless.

Damn Hob Gadling, and may Destruction take him! Murphy will have no other choice but to crawl back to him, and hope he’ll be kept on as Endless-impersonator. Hope, because Murphy’s made a right pig’s ear of it so far, slow and clumsy to learn, and outright refusing to play at nobility. He will always be a gutter rat, Murphy knows it. They can’t fashion him into a Dream King, and perhaps this flare of temper will prove to Hob once and for all that there is no point in trying.

There is no point in trying.

Murphy gives up on his collar, and rests his hands on the parapet. Matthew caws, and presses his head against his arm, a far better reassurance than Hob’s false smiles. It comforts Murphy, at least a little. He’s not alone, never alone - no matter how lonely he might feel.

Underneath them, a foreign river flows just fast enough to avoid the freeze. The water does not reflect any stars, but the snow dancing over the surface makes it almost look as if. His own reflection wavers and breaks across the waves.

(Some nights, he dreams of a darkened shore and a sea stretching far past the horizon, black waters that fold up into the night sky, indistinguishable from each other. Of a wooden pier, and galaxies swirling underneath.

Whenever he leans out too far, the reflected eyes he meets are not his own, and he wakes with a scream lodged in his throat.)

Murphy shivers again, and savours the last remnants of his pride, before it, too, will have to be cast into the dirt and abandoned.

“I believe you forgot this, young friend.”

Murphy’s head snaps up.

Dreams and nightmares approach without a whisper, perfectly silent at night if they choose to be. Gilbert is no exception; and if Murphy were to pay attention to anything but his heart racing like a startled hare, he would perhaps be a little distressed by the fact that there are no fresh footprints in the snow beside his own.

But it’s only Gilbert, kind-eyed and not-human, holding out Murphy’s scarf like a peace offering.

Murphy does not take it.

“Did Gadling send you?” he asks, wary.

“Robert informed me what had transpired between you two.” Gilbert admits. “But rest assured, I am here on nobody’s behalf but my own - and, well, yours. Frightfully nippy tonight, wouldn’t you say?”

Murphy does not say. He trusts Gil as little as Hob, perhaps even less. A dream attempting to betray the memory of his master seems hardly like a paragon of virtue, and is perhaps even more suspicious than a deceitful human.

(He does, however, take the scarf now. It’s too cold to be stubborn, and when he winds it around his neck, it smells of sunshine on a summer meadow, warm and comforting.)

“And if you truly wish to leave… dear boy, I won’t stop you.” Murphy does not like the way Gilbert looks at him, as if trying to see someone else beneath his skin. He does not meet Murphy’s eyes, if he can help it. “In fact I would send you off with well-earned compensation for your time, and travel fare. Unless…”

Gil steps up to the parapet beside him.

“...unless I can convince you to stay…?”

“Why would you?” Murphy mutters, instead of why would I, if you’re offering to pay me off? “It should be perfectly obvious that I’ll never pass muster.”

“Ironically,” Gilbert smiles, but only at the man he pretends to see whenever he looks at Murphy, “it is well known among the former denizens of the Dreaming that His Lordship was often prone to very similar bouts of pessimism. I have faith in you, Murphy - and so does Robert Gadling. Please, do not leave. I rather doubt we will succeed without you.”

"You…" Murphy struggles with the words, the sentiment behind them lodging uncomfortably in his throat. "You have great respect, even love, for Dream of the Endless' memory. So why do you pretend? Why try to fool his siblings that I am him?"

For a moment, Gilbert seems ready to insist, as always, that Murphy is, or at least might be - but, to his credit, he does not play Murphy for a fool, in the end. Not this time. Not like Hob always, always does.

"You are quite correct. I loved His Lordship deeply, in a way that could never be understood by anyone but a dream and their creator." Gilbert sighs, his soft meadow-green eyes gazing far into the distance of better days, lined by old grief. "He made me to be the Heart of the Dreaming, and he was the Dreaming, so I knew his heart and self better than any other. The loss, when he… you cannot imagine it, young friend. I thought I would wither away and die. I thought that would be a mercy. To live as a dream in a universe that does not contain Dream of the Endless seemed entirely unthinkable, and to be quite frank, I did not think I would survive longer than a year at most in the Waking."

"I understand," says Murphy, quietly, and he does. He is no stranger to the feeling of being so untethered, only floating along with the end looming over him, death - not Death, no longer, the Endless have been cast from their domains - only biding its time.

(In the first year he can remember, Murphy did not think he would see another, either.)

"And yet, the year passed. And I lived." Gilbert smiles, faintly, taking off his glasses to polish them. "I suspect it was humanity which saved me, for all that they robbed me of my home and Lord, as well. I found… such joy, in this world. In my human form, wandering among them. Calling a few select individuals friends, even. Young Robert's companionship was a particular blessing, and I owe him more than he can ever know."

He sets the glasses back on his nose.

"Lord Morpheus is dead." Says Gilbert. Says it like fact, like something too absolute for the sort of dream-creature born of hypotheticals he is, like an unshakeable truth he has resigned himself to. His voice only barely breaks over the words. "And I shall grieve him for all the rest of my days… but I must live to mourn him. Life goes on, young friend, and we must all move along with it. And, well. I cannot speak for Robert's motivations, but the true reason why I have agreed to this mad scheme…"

Gilbert takes Murphy's freezing hands in his own. His fingertips are not lined quite right, they would not leave prints that look even remotely like those of a human - but aside from that, his grip is warm, avuncular, firm, reassuring.

"I fear that his siblings will not be able to live on without him." Gilbert confesses, quietly. "They are not made to accept change and move on from a loss as monumental as what humanity has wrought upon them. To have you… not him, not entirely, but perhaps enough… it is my most solemn hope that it might give them some form of closure at long last."

"So that's what it is?" Murphy laughs, bitterly. "Charitable concern for the well-being of personifications of abstract concepts!?"

"No." Gilbert corrects mildly. "Love. For my creator's family."

Murphy scoffs. His chest aches with it.

"What you, hmm. What you must understand, about Lord Morpheus…" Gilbert seems to be choosing his words very carefully. "...is that, for all that he was often harsh and commanding, he was so very loving, always. My Lord loved with all his self, even if he would attempt to turn a cold shoulder to the world - and I think you are much like him in temperament, young Murphy.”

Murphy does not acknowledge that. He doesn't think he can.

“He loved his family, and he loved the Dreaming, and all the beings in it. I was his heart, or near as, you must recall, I knew the truth at the core of him.

Memories or not, love as he did, and you will be a credit to his name, and a comfort to all who knew him."

(Murphy does not have it in himself to love like Dream of the Endless did. He already struggles to love at all.

But perhaps, for the sake of the entity whose memory he will dishonour, he can try.)

“So. Will you come back and resume your lessons?” Gil asks, very gently. “You may leave, now or any other time, of course you may. But it would be to your benefit, as well as to that of many others, if you did not.”

“I’ll stay,” Murphy forces out. He could blame the way his hands shake on the cold. “For now.”

“Thank you, dear child. Thank you.” This time, when Gilbert smiles, it very nearly feels like it is directed at him, after all. “Now, let’s get you out of this cold, hm? And Matthew as well.”

Murphy lets Gilbert herd him back to their inn, sits through Hob Gadling’s apology and wonders if it was sincere - he can never tell, with this infuriating man - and continues to learn as much as possible about the life of Dream of the Endless.

But he’s slowly realising, if anything will convince the Endless siblings, then it certainly won’t be the trivia. He’ll have to learn to love like the Lord of Stories, for their deception to have a snowflake’s chance in hell.

(Oh, wonderful. As if this wasn’t difficult enough already…)

[azrielgreen]

The Way It Shouldn't Be - Part Two

It doesn't happen again for weeks.

Actual fucking weeks.

Steve hates that ever since the last time, when Eddie completely gave him the slip (sneaky fucker) he's been actively looking for him. Scanning the hall during lunch, listening out for any sign of Eddie's voice.

Looking for him.

With zero fucking results because Eddie just skipped school for a week apparently. Steve's never known anyone to do that. No matter how bad shit is, you go to school.

But that first week, Eddie's just absent in Steve's periphery. Gone.

And the world is duller for it.

School is almost unbearable in comparison to the times before when Steve could at least look forward to lunch because he'd grab Eddie, fake some bullshit and then drag him away.

Fuck him wherever was nearest, flimsy excuses disintegrating beneath the heat of a desire that was never quelled with indulgence, but galvanised.

Eddie's back in school the following week but he doesn't meet Steve's gaze once. Avoids him entirely. Steve doesn't stage anything, he doesn't even try to get near him but he burns to. He aches to run into Eddie and smash this distance between them.

He's angry. Confused.

Irrationally horny.

But most of all, he's sad. Guilty. Knows he fucked up and even if he can't understand the degree of it, he knows he did something he shouldn't have. Crossed a boundary.

Steve can't stop thinking about him.

And Eddie's made it clear this thing between them is done, to stay away.

He's respecting it.

He's respecting is so well the day it all goes to hell.

*

It happens in the parking lot, as most scuffles do. Steve's on his way to the Beemer, a weekend of drinking and moping ahead of him when he hears the unmistakable sounds of male violence and he turns to see a bunch complete wannabees kicking Eddie while he's down.

The jacket, the hair, his high tops. He'd know him anywhere and Steve is running before he knows what he's even gonna do and then it's just happening.

There are five of them and Steve doesn't think (never does, it's not his style) he just swings his best right hook and it lands so well, the guy goes right down, knocks into a station wagon. Steve is going fucking wild, he hasnt felt anger like this in years. Swinging, smacking, punching.

They don't fight back, they scatter and throw their stupid fucking hands up.

'Whoa, Steve, STEVE!'

With no one near Eddie now, Steve crouches low, hands on his shoulders. Eddie flinches. 'Hey, you're OK, it's me, it's Steve. You're OK.'

Eddie unfurls slowly, doesn't look at Steve but he nods.

The first guy Steve hit gets to his feet.

'The fuck, Harrington?' he demands breathlessly. 'He's not even-'

Steve draws himself to full height, invades the other boys space and them slaps him. Hard, demeaning, it hurts more than a punch, Steve knows.

The guy, Alex, closes his eyes, cheek red.

Doesnt fight back.

Wouldn't dare.

Rare days that Steve throws his weight around but today, oh he's happy to be King fucking Steve today.

'He's my dealer,' Steve tells Alex Carver, voice low and deceptively soft. He grips the lapels of Alex's shirt, expensive polo that Steve then uses all his strength to rip, to tear right down the V of the collar. Exposed, messed up. 'You don't touch him, understand?'

Alex endures Steve ripping his shirt open to the naval, eyes closed. He nods.

Steve then rearranges his collar so it's neat, brushes his shoulders off. 'You want a fight, come to me next time, you fuckin' pussy. I'll smack you silly and send you home to your Mommy looking like you got rolled again and that's a mercy. Now say sorry.'

Alex's jaw tightens. 'Sorry, Steve.'

'No, to him.'

Ugly blue eyes open, brow furrowed. 'He's trailer tr--'

Steve slaps him again, harder, uses the other hand so he doesn't see it coming. Both cheeks red and ruddy.

'Now you look like you got fucked up by a bitch you tried to ask out, huh? What's your Daddy gonna say if I piss on your sneakers? Think he'll be proud? Apologise to him, now.'

Alex shoots a venomous glare at Eddie, who's leaning against a car to stand. 'Sorry, Munson.'

Steve really wants to press, he wants to stay in this sickly space and make Alex regret it even more. Fuck him up, teach them all a lesson. No one touches Eddie ever again.

But Eddie touches Steve. Hand on his arm, like he can tell what he's about to do.

'C'mon.'

Steve jerks his chin at the others, giving them leave to scurry away and spread the word. Alex goes last, backs away like he's scared to turn his back on Steve and yeah, too fucking right, bitch.

When they're gone, Steve turns all his attention on Eddie and the anger melts like French vanilla ice cream during that one unbearable week in August.

'Fuck, that looks bad,' he says, hands hovering over Eddie's face. 'Split lip too, OK. Come on, I've got a first aid kit at home.'

Eddie eyes him warily. 'What?'

'Or straight to hospital? What about your ribs? Let me--'

'Steve,' Eddie says, tone stern. 'What the fuck are you doing?'

'You're hurt,' Steve says like that should explain absolutely everything. He blinks, maybe it's a little slower than it should be but he feels alert, feels powerful.

'Yeah, so?' Eddie looks like he's about to unload all these reasons Steve shouldn't care.

Steve rolls his eyes. 'Don't be a brat. Come on, I'll drive.'

*

Eddie's silent the entire way there.

Steve too.

He's thinking of what injuries he saw, which ones looked the worst. If Eddie's needs butterfly stitches, maybe.

'Your folks home?' Eddie's asks warily when they're outside the house.

Steve snorts. 'No. They're never here. Come on.'

Inside, Eddie lets Steve sit him down and clean the worst of the injuries. It's only when Eddie takes careful hold of Steve's wrists, seeks out and holds Steve's gaze that Steve even realises Eddie was talking to him.

'You're shaking,' Eddie says, voice low, eyes moving between Steve's own. 'Steve, you're shaking.'

'Am I?'

'Is it like...?' Eddie licks his lips nervously. 'Adrenaline?'

Steve looks down at his own hands, sees Eddie is completely right. He feels weird too, like he's seeing through a tunnel and there is only Eddie at the end.

'I uh... I don't know,' he laughs, vaguely astonished when he blinks tears down his face. 'Feel kinda fucked up, actually.'

Eddie's all drawn in shades of concern, of unreadable thoughts in those dark eyes and his lip is still bleeding a little. Steve wants to kiss it better, kiss it worse.

'Why did you do that?'

Steve's teeth are chattering slightly, but he manages a smile. 'Do what?'

'What you did.'

Steve wraps a light bandage around Eddie's knuckles, evidence he fought back hard enough to split skin. 'What, with Alex? Anyone would have done that.'

Eddie says, 'No one did. No one ever does.'

'Yeah, well. I guess that's changed now.'

'You made it sound like we were fucking.'

'I don't care, so long as he doesn't touch you again.'

'Why do you care who touches me?'

Steve can't take it a second long, leans in like he's falling and softly presses his lips against Eddie's; against the split, still wet with iron ore and red salt from the flesh vessel that contains Eddie Munson.

Eddie isn't rigid, he doesn't push away, but when he kisses Steve back, he makes this sound like maybe he's gonna cry.

He doesn't, though.

And Steve keeps the kiss gentle, soft and wet, devouring the red to keep what little of Eddie he can inside himself, where it's safer.

'I care. Isn't that enough?'

'Too much, Harrington,' Eddie whispers in a trembling exhale. 'You're too fucking much.'

Steve pulls away, swallows thickly, Eddie's blood and spit go down with his vague hopes and painfully specific desires.

'Yeah, I know. I'm sor--'

Eddie kisses his hard, knots his fingers in Steve's hair to tight it hurts, pulling him close and keeping him there.

'Lucky for you I'm a greedy motherfucker, huh?' he gasps, licking deep and dirty. 'God, you're fucking crazy, you know that? They call me freak, but what you to did to Carver-'

'Don't say his name while we're making out.'

Eddie laughs, low rumble offset by the way he sucks on Steve's tongue. 'Don't want him muddying the waters?'

'Can't believe he even touched you,' Steve pants, kneels in front of Eddie, goes for his belt buckle. 'Need to kiss you clean, all over.'

'Oh my god,' Eddie grits out. 'Steve, we shouldn't--'

'Then you can fuck me, yeah?' Steve leans up, kisses him again, mind spinning, heart cranking like a cog. Fucked up, feral, he'll never forget how small Eddie looked curled up like that. 'Take my virginity?'

Continued next Saturday...