#versus god just fucking around upstairs

[codenamejudas]

‘You’re alive!’ Said the Maker and smiled at the aardvark ‘You’re divine!’ By the grace of the Master above We fold our hands afraid of what we've done Fear’s the key to you, thy kingdom come Shake your head and have another wine Don't you almost die Laughing wondering why

[divinefireangel]

Scream Princess

SF9 Jaeyoon x F! Reader Smut.

YES I USED THIS GIF ON PURPOSE 😈

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: Listen. I fucking hate frat boys okay 😂. So this was easy to write cause Jae is hot and I'll do anything for him 🥰 This is the longest fic I've written so far. And I'm proud. I hope you like it anon! I have to warn you, I didn't include the choking sadly 😔 slipped my mind. But I still hope it lives up to expectations 🥺.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Fuck buddies/enemies to lovers. We live for that cute shit. Rough sex. Mentions of blowjobs. Fingering (f receiving). Jae calls reader 'princess', just incase I wasn't clear. And it's smut, so your typical smut warnings. Nothing overboard don't worry. But do let me know if I need to add something more. Not proof read. Excuse the errors.

Requested: Yes! By a lovely anon 🖤

frat! boy jaeyoon and you have a love hate relationship. you love him when he chokes u and calls u princess, hate him every other second. maybe he gets so jealous at a party seeing u play pong w someone else that he takes u upstairs to make u not hate him and to let everyone else youre his.

2.8k Words ;)

It was a simple arrangement. When either of you are horny, you fuck. And the rest of the time, you pretend he doesn't exist. Ugh how you hate fratboys. But Jaeyoon is hot. You gotta give him that. And he works out a lot which is very much seen on him and the way he tosses your around when you fuck.

Sex with him is just so fulfilling. He'll give you everything you want. The passion. The speed, always fast. The way his tongue always makes you so hot. Just thinking about it makes you wet. The way he stares at you with so much hateful fire that you mirror, when he's so deep in you. The bruises he leaves when he grips you so tight you can't escape from under him. The soreness you feel after every session of sexual entanglement is just delicious. You hate it.

But what you enjoy most is how he calls you 'princess' while fucking your guts out. The rest of the time, you can't tolerate his existence. It makes you wanna roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. You hate his playboy manners, the way he always acts like he's so cool cause he's a part of the most popular fraternity on campus. You hate how he's so cocky and acts like every girl walking would just drop their panties if he told them to. You hate that he thinks he's better than everyone. You hate him, so much.

And so here you are, at one of his frat parties, as much as you didn't want to be here. Even after insisting that you're busy and don't want to go to the party, your friends and roommates didn't buy your excuses, stating that you need to get a boyfriend or at least get laid. Oh if only they knew. Standing in the corner of the lawn, a red solo cup with disgusting beer in your hand, you stare cringingly at the mess of hot bodies grinding against each other, desperate for god knows what. Yep. You are definitely not attending another such, event.

" Hey you busy? " A voice asked.

Looking to your right, then left you notice a cute guy, who was clearly looking at you. Blinking you look at him with a blank expression. What's he playing at, you wonder.

" Oh right sorry. I'm Youngbin. We're playing Beer Pong and we're a player short and you are standing here by yourself so I thought you could join us. If you want to, of course. No pressure. " He said flaying his hands around innocently.

Well you do have nothing to do right now, might as well follow the cute guy. Who knows, he may ask you out.

" Yeah sure! I'd love to. I'm Y/N, by the way. "

" Ah. Nice to meet you. Are you a freshman? "

" Sophmore actually. "

" Oh nice. I'm a senior. A few freshmen students are still underage, gotta be careful you know. "

" Oh yeah I get it. But you should know that they are at times wilder than us. " Giggling at your words, he leads you towards the table, finally reaching.

" Oh great you found someone. I'm Zuho. " Another cute guy said. Wow you were really gonna miss out if you'd stayed in your room.

" Y/N. " You said as you shook his hand.

" Okay so it's 3 versus 3. You guys start. " Zuho said to the collective mass, starting the game. Winning a few, and losing a lot of ping-pong balls, you were finally happy. A little tipsy, but still sober enough to do a math problem, you continued to play the game, now having more players on each team. Surprisingly, you were good at the game and not so surprisingly, you started to get close to Youngbin. Slight lingering touches on your arm, your waist and the tingle that went down your body when he moved you hair so you could focus on bouncing the ball. Maybe the ball wouldn't be the only thing that would be bouncing soon.

" YO YOUNGBIN! " A booming voice called. Oh no. You knew this voice. You knew it really well. Begrudgingly you turned to look at none other than Lee Jaeyoon. Of course the fucker is here. He's at every party, trying to hook up with random girls who all seem to be interested in him.

Staring at you intently as he hugged Youngbin, You wished the ground will open up and swallow you whole. Why was he here. You were having so much fun. Well who says you can't have fun with him right here, staring at you like you were a piece of candy. Yeah nope. Time to go home. Vibing with the music, you slowly start to step back as everyone at the pong table started to talk to Jaeyoon. After stepping far enough, you turn on your heel, ready to strint away. Feeling someone grab your wrist, you're turned around with so much force you crash into a hard chest, hands going to his shoulders to stabilize yourself. Looking to see who stopped you, you're met with a cocky smirk, adorning the face of, well you guessed it.

" Where are going? I thought you were having fun so I came to join you. And you decide to leave without telling me? I'm hurt princess. " He says, the smirk only getting bigger as your blood boils with rage. This fucker. If given a chance to wipe out someone's existence completely, you'd choose him.

" Yeah well. Since you're here, it won't be fun anymore. "

" Oh is that how it is? "

Nodding yes, you step away from him, crossing your arms as you try to look tall next to his broad, tree like, super climbable figure. Stop it. Don't think of him like that. Not now at least.

Running his tongue on the inside of him cheek, he looks down at you. He looks hot. And angry?

" Well princess, I'm hurt. Right here. " Pointing at his chest, he moves closer to you. Breath hitching, you stare at him wide eyed, as his face comes to your eye level.

" You seemed to have forgotten out arrangement princess. "

What is he talking about. Was he drunk? Sniffing, you check if he was drunk. He wasn't. Which is shocking. Grabbing your upper arms and pulling you near with his hands, his lips move to your ear.

" I'm not happy with the way you were getting so close to Youngbin. You shouldn't do that when you have me. "

" Excuse me. What. " You say, breaking free from his grip. Looking at him, your face screams, 'Are you crazy'. Well someone should.

" What the fuck do you mean ' you're not happy'. Last I checked, I'm a free independent woman, who is single, and would very much like a cute caring boyfriend AND who doesn't just wish to be someone's fuck-buddy. So if you may, I'd like to go ask out Youngbin. " Smiling bitterly, you try to make your way around Jaeyoon, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back into Jaeyoon's muscular chest.

Glaring at you, he starts to walk towards his room, a path you aren't new to, as his grip on your wrist tightens, pulling you with him. Entering the room, he pushes you in, then locks it. Stumbling, you grab his chair so you don't fall. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

" What in the actual HELL is wrong with you! What the fuck dude. Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? Is it cause I was actually happy flirting with Youngbin? Last I checked, I don't belong to anyone. And especially not to you. So don't go around acting like you're my boyfriend because you aren't. And don't at all act like you care about me because the whole wide freakin world knows that you care about no one but yourself. So move, before I kick you so hard you'll have to go the hospital. " To say you were angry would be so wrong. You were furious. His existence infuriates you.

" I like you. "

" What? " Is he for real? Manipulation? Really?

" I'm not trying to manipulate you. I really do like you. And I wasn't happy seeing you get touchy with one of my friends. " Is he a mind reader or something? Probably. I mean he does know what you want when you just whine and writhe under him as he pleasures- Wait no! Stop.

" Why tell me now? " You ask calmly, well as calm as you could get without letting your guard down.

" Because... I don't know okay! I just, I just couldn't stand there as he got close to you. When it could've been.... Well could be me.... " He said slowly. You've never seen him so, vulnerable. He looks like a sad puppy.

" I'm sorry but, are you sure? " Chewing on your lower lip, you wait for him to reply. How can he like so suddenly. It's not natural right?

" I am. I really like you. And I want you to be my strong independent girlfriend. I want to take you out on a date. A real one. Many dates. Please just give me a chance. You won't regret it. " Taking your hand in his, he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. Dramatically, you life your eyes up, only to find him looking at you with puppy eyes. Nodding your head slowly, you swallow. Breaking a grin on his face, he places your hands on his wide shoulders as he connects your lips for the first time this evening, his hands wandering from your waist to your hips.

" Oh baby. I'll make sure you never regret this decision. " And with that he places his hands on your ass, tapping it so you jump in his arms. Obliging, you connect your lips again, wanting to feel them melt against yours as you process what's happening. Placing your on the table, he removes yours and his jackets, throwing them on the floor somewhere. Moving close to your seated figure, his hands find themselves on your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you again and again till you're both out of air in your lungs. He slowly grinds his hips to your front, your knees going around his hips as your hands tug at his shirt.

Stepping back he removes his shoes and shirt, exposing his well toned chest and abs to you. Removing your footwear and freeing your hair, you beckon him to come to you as you bite your lip seductively. Smirking, he obeys you, coming as close to you as you want. Lips meet your neck, one hand to your hair, pulling it till your head tilts back exposing the flesh on your neck to him, his other hand wandering up under your top. Hunching it in your palms, you remove your top as he wastes no time to undo your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air of the room.

Kissing down your body, his lips latch on to your left nipple, hand toying and twisting the other. Arching your body into his face, you grab his hair, pulling it like you always do. Releasing your nipple with a pop, he begins to undo his belt with one hand. Raising his free hand to your head, he advances in your direction till your chests meet, skin to skin, heat to heat, and lips meet once more.

Without breaking the kiss, he discards his pants, leaving him in boxers. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lifts you up moving the two for you to his bed. Gently he puts you on the matress, hands finding the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling them down your legs. Staring in your eyes he bites his lip, freeing it sexily he leans his face down to your neck, kissing, biting and marking you with little lovebites.

Rotating your head to the opposite side you gasp when you feel his fingers rub your folds over your panties. Lifting your upper body off the bed slightly your hands grab hold of his wrist that's on your needy mound. Keeping them there you begin to grind yourself on his fingers, releasing breathy moans of constricting pleasure.

" Fuck princess, you look so hot grinding yourself against me. Let me take care of that for you. " He whispers on your ear, chills travelling down your body reaching just where you need him. Letting go of his wrist, you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him again. Moaning in his mouth when he moves your panties to a side with his fingers, touching your wet pussy. Groaning at how wet you are, he easily slips in two fingers in your hole, pumping them slowly. Breaking the kiss you curse at the feeling of his thick digits moving along your entrance.

" Oh fuck. Yes- Please don't stop " You gasp when he touches your g-spot with his fingertips at the same time his thumb finds your clit. Increasing the pace of his fingers, he presses his nose on your cheek, breathing out ragged breaths as he grinds his dick to the matress at your moans. Roughly he rubs your clit pulling out as you cry in protest, feeling empty. Opening your eyes at the loss of warmth above you, you feel his hands pulling your panties down your legs, noticing his hard length, tip so red he would probably cum if your wrapped your mouth around him. Ripping open the condom, he rolls it on his cock, forcefully making your lay on your back as he enters you whole. Crying out at feeling so full with his dick deep in your pussy, you arch your back adjusting to his thick length. Slipping an arm below you when you do so, he licks your lower lip, biting it and pulling at it.

Drawing his hips back just a little, he slowly starts to ease himself in you, body rocking against yours, hair falling down on your forehead, hands grabbing your waist to keep you in place. Pressing your fingers into his back you chant his name, encouraging him to go further and faster. Being the mind reader he is, he pulls out almost whole, before ramming his cock in as fast as he can. Screaming out in pleasant surprise you hug him tighter, allowing him to go faster and faster till you lose your voice.

" Princess. You're so tight around me. Yes baby, scream my name " He growls in your ear deeply, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each thrust, feeling full till your stomach every time his dick is balls deep. And feeling just as empty when he drags out. Your hole stretched out to accommodate his thick girth, making you think it might tear open. Jaeyoon is driving his cock in and out of you so rapidly you can feel you juices leaking out of your pussy, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

" Jae. I'm gonna- I'm close " You warn him, wanting to cum undone together.

" Yeah baby me too, fucking scream my name for me princess. Please I need you to. Scream princess! " Rubbing your clit, he freezes at sensation of your walls closing around his dick just as tightly as your legs close around his hips. Screaming his name out so loudly, your body jerks and squirms shamelessly as you cum on his cock, squeezing his till he's dumbfolded above you and helplessly cums in the condom.

Falling on top of you gently, he catches his breath, chest heaving heavily as you slowly unclench your legs and pussy, also catching your breath, enjoying your post orgasm euphoria. Whimpering when he pulls out, your body convulses around air, still not over your high. Blinking your eyes, you close them slowly, feeling tired out due to the mind blowing orgasm you just had.

Feeling a damp cloth on your sore folds, you open you eyes unwillingly, looking at your 'boyfriend' who's cleaning you up. And who has already worn sweats. Going back to the bathroom, he throws the towel in the laundry basket, returning to the room and handing you one of his shirts and clean boxers. Shyly you put on the clothes given to you.

" Oh don't go all shy on my now when you were just screaming my name a few minutes ago. " He says laughing. Blushing you wait till he comes to sit behind you, laptop in one hand.

" Wait what about the party? " You ask, wondering why he's switching on his laptop.

" Eh. It's just another party. And I have you here now. You're all the party I'll ever need. " Pulling you close by your waist, he makes you sit between his legs, covering your legs with his comforter. Throwing a pillow on top of the comforter, he places the laptop on it, playing a newly released movie. Nuzzling into your neck, he pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your frame as you both started your first binge session.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Us Versus. Them (Rafe Cameron)

Author's Notes: This was an idea that was floating around in my head for a while, so I decided to write it. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment, I'm pending writing a second chapter - and please proceed with some caution, not an ideal relationship depicted. Thank you xoxo

Warnings: CANON RAFE. OBX 2 SPOILERS. Swearing, Violence,

Requested? Nope. Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

The air on the Coastal Venture was crisp, the mist in his face was refreshing after all that time feeling cooped up on that island. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the flat of his ring and twisted it as he took one more deep breath then turned on his heel. He walked quickly down the narrow halls and to the small room where they were staying, tossing a quick glare at the room his sister was currently sleeping in.

"Hey. You up?" He grumbled as he opened their door and walked into their small cabin. He looked at the woman just sitting in up in bed, her hands pushing through her hair.

"Yeah. Just woke up." She whispered as she pressed up on her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. She pushed some hair out of his eyes then ran her fingertips over his cheekbones.

"I'm going to go check on the Cross. I feel anxious. Get dressed. She'll be awake soon." Rafe muttered as he pressed his right hand to the small of her back, bringing her close as he kissed the side of her face.

"I'll come with you." She replied quickly getting out of bed and grabbing her discarded jeans from the floor, pulling them up her legs. She grabbed her dark jacket from the back of a nearby chair and followed him out of the room to see the treasure.

Down, down they went. Below all the hustle of the busy workers above. Rafe reached for her hand as he reached the level the Cross rested on. He helped her down the metal steps, then led her towards the box. He crouched down beside the box and lifted the top gently, sliding it away to reveal the golden Cross.

"There She is." Rafe mumbled as he pulled the blankets wrapping the Cross up for safety to show his girl their treasure.

"It's beautiful. Might be the most beautiful thing on this ship." She smiled as she crouched down beside him, her fingertips running over the delicate jewels encrusting the Cross.

"Second." Rafe replied as his eyes quickly looked over at her, then down at the Cross before he covered it back up. He looked over at her again, thankful for every sacrifice she had made to help him get to that point.

"Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. When this is over, I'm going to make you a Cameron. A real one." Rafe smiled as he reached out to place his palm gently on her cheek.

She smiled over at him, her blush warming his hand as she leaned over to kiss his lips. Rafe sighed contently through his nostrils and thumbed at her cheekbone. It felt like he had not been able to simply be with his girlfriend in so long.

"C'mon. We should get back upstairs." Rafe mumbled, his forehead pressed to hers. He stood up once more, taking her hand and pulling her upright to lead her back up the stairs where his family was waiting for them.

The door to the State Room was closed and locked, the way his father had intended. Rafe pulled out his key, smoothed his fingers over the teeth and gently placed it into the knob. As he unlocked the door and opened it slowly his sister came running from her spot from the cracked leather seat by the window, laying a firm punch to his broad chest.

"You knew! You helped him, and you knew! Fuck you, Rafe!" Sarah screamed as she punched his chest, one right after the other. Rafe stood in place, his eyes out the window at the passing ocean as he took each meager punch from his little sister.

"He asked me for my help." Rafe glared as he grabbed her wrists and pushed them towards her own chest.

"You're insane. The both of you. You and dad, you've lost your minds." Sarah cried as she ran her shaky fingers through her hair.

"We're aligned on a common goal, Sarah. And maybe...just fucking maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your Pogue shit you would understand that. This? All of this is for our family." Rafe growled his eyes narrowed at his sister as his hands gestured to his heart. His family. His heart.

"And her?" Sarah asked with a deep inhale as she looked from her brother's feverish eyes to the girl standing behind him, arms over her chest.

"Her? She's my family." Rafe grinned with a raised eyebrow. He looked behind him to his girl who looked his sister up then down, her lips pursed.

"Elise. Heard a lot about you, Sarah Cameron." The girl behind Rafe stated, taking a step forward to stand beside him.

"Wish I could say the same." Sarah glared as she sat back down, her legs feeling like they may give out beneath her any second.

"You're right, baby. She's not very nice." Elise mumbled as she looked up at Rafe.

Rafe breathed out a laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. He gave her backside a soft pat as he looked down into her eyes.

"Go check with the Captain, see how far away we are. I'll be right up. Take your knife with you, too." Rafe muttered as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, pulling her switchblade out of her back pocket to press it to the palm of her hand.

She nodded with a soft smile, happy he was always looking out for her even though she could handle herself. She turned on her heel, tossing Sarah Cameron a wink before she shut the door behind her and walked quickly down the halls towards the Captains deck. She clicked the latch of her switchblade, opening it, and dragged it along the old walls of the boat leaving an indent.

"What's the timeline?" She asked as she walked up to the top of the boat with the Captain, who flinched upon sight of the small woman. Something she never tired of seeing.

"Few hours, I think. As long as the weather holds." The Captain nodded, his eyes fixed forward and away from the girl that wielded the small switchblade at her side, the tip of the blade pressed into her thigh.

"Good. Make it happen." She replied as she turned to exit the small room, only to run into the strong chest of a man she didn't know. He smelled of dirt, sweat and ocean water.

"Arms length. You know the rules." She spat as she pressed the tip of her blade into the chest of the person who dared come close to her.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his head low and face covered by a mess of curls as he tried to hurry passed her below deck.

"Wait. You aren't part of the crew, are you?" Elise asked, knife extended towards the boy. He looked up at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes and her heart began to race as she recognized him.

Routledge.

"Summer program." John B stuttered as he backed down the steps from the top level of the boat, eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon to evade the girl.

"Get the fuck back here, Routledge! How did you get on this boat!" Elise cried as she took off with a sprint after him, scrambling down the steps.

"Oh, my God. She's fucking fast." John B mumbled as he hopped over tipped over barrels and scattered coils of rope to get to his destination.

A door on the opposite side of the ship that led to a hallway, where he was certain Sarah was being kept in one of the many rooms. He just had to find that room. He tripped over a coil of rope, but caught himself on the frame of a door, jiggling the handle to let himself in. He let out a heavy breath as he slammed the door behind him and ran through the narrow halls, screaming her name.

"Sarah!" He slammed his fist on each door his passed in the hopes her beautiful face, and that long golden hair would pop out.

She never did.

So John B kept running. He kept running and he kept yelling in the hopes that she would hear him. But the small girl with the knife wasn't far behind him.

"Rafe!" Elise yelled as she ran through the hallways, John B evading her quickly as he made a quick left turn.

Rafe perked up at the sound of his name, but his heart began to race as the tone of her voice. It didn't sound good. He had simply sent her off to get an arrival window so they could get off this boat and safely house the Cross. He clenched his fist as he stood up from his spot in an old chair in the State Room and walked quickly to the door, tossing a glare back at his sister.

"Stay here." Rafe growled at Sarah as he unlocked the door and stalked out to the hallway, locking the door behind him once more.

Rafe spotted his love in the hallway looking frantic, and that wasn't a headspace she was usually in. She was calm, collected. She was his rock most of the time and he didn't like the look on her face as he checked the lock behind him.

"Pogues are here."

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting

@beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864

@maybankslut

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo (next chapter would have...a lot of violence, it's just a matter of writing that out, finding that angle)

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[duskholland]

prompt idea if it vibes with you... frat!tom and y/n are close friends at a party and Tom accidentally drunkenly tells her how he feels about her. this could be followed by her making sure he gets home and sobers up and in the morning they talk abt it (smut could ensue, if the mood so strikes). wishing you good writing vibes 💞

no smut, just a lot of fluff! thank you for requesting--this concept makes me feel :’)) cw: alcohol

frat!tom !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’ve never seen Tom this drunk before, and you have to admit, it’s quite cute.

There’s a rosy flush to his face, and his eyes are even warmer than usual. He’s incredibly affectionate, clinging to your arm like it’s his only lifeline, kissing your cheek every time there’s an opportunity to. It’s not that the gushing behaviour is unusual—Tom’s always been a flirt, for as long as you’ve known him—but you’ve never seen him act this enamoured. Not around you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whisper into his ear.

Tom looks up at you, movements jerky and tired. You’re sitting beside him on the sofa. You’d been playing a game of truth or dare with the rest of the group, but they’d all scattered as soon as it finished. Now it’s just you and Tom, sitting side by side.

“Definitely,” he mumbles, voice slightly slurred. He yawns loudly, stretching out his arms and giggling when he accidentally hits your shoulder with a soft fist. “S’rry, love.”

You snort, reaching out to pat his arm. You’re tipsy, but you’re nowhere near as trashed as your friend appears to be. He curls into your touch, and you watch, smirking, as he collapses down over the sofa, stretching his legs out along the cushions as he rests his head in your lap. Your fingers move up to find home in his hair, and you stroke his strands softly as he moans.

“God, that feels good,” Tom whines. His eyes flutter shut and you continue to massage his scalp, tugging lightly on his hair when you figure out he likes a bit of pressure. “Fuck… I love you.”

You chuckle, leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. “Love you too,” you reply.

Tom’s eyes shoot open, and his jaw falls slack as he blinks. “Do you?”

A confused smile finds your face as you nod. “Yeah. You’re one of my best friends, Tom.”

A line forms between his brows. “No, no, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” His nose scrunches up as he pouts, and Tom reaches up to grab your hands. He grasps your fingers firmly and stares into your eyes. “I love you.”

You tilt your head to the side, suddenly feeling a little light headed.

“I love you?” You try again.

Tom chuckles, eyes flickering down to your hands intertwined with his. He clumsily kisses your knuckles before sighing.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, voice slanted. “‘M too much of a coward to tell you when I’m sober, but I guess it’s easier when I’m fucked.” He glances up at you, seeming nervous. “It’s um… it’s fine if you don’t feel the same or—“

All of a sudden, Tom breaks off, and he goes very still as he groans. His cheeks pale, and you startle when he sits up suddenly, looking around, startled.

“Don’t be sick,” you warn, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You reach out to the table beside you and pick up your bottle of water, flicking open the cap and passing it into his hands.

Tom downs it quickly, and you soothe your hand over his back as you try to make sense of his confession. You want to believe him—fuck, you’ve been in love with him since the moment you met him—but you also watched him down four shots in a row and do a keg stand, so you don’t know how much you trust his woozy words.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, wiping at his mouth as he passes back the bottle. Tom goes to lie down again, but you gently coax him back up.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” you decide, after a quick glance at his watch to confirm it’s gone three.

Tom pouts, but it’s quick to disappear as you stand

and carefully pull him up with you. “Wait, are you coming too?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust you to climb all those stairs without me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, slumping against you as you slowly lead him towards the grand staircase.

“If you want to come into my bedroom, you could just come out and say it,” he slurs. “No need to tease, baby.”

You scoff. “How are you still such a flirt when you’re drunk?”

“It’s in my DNA. I’m programmed to appreciate pretty things, and you, love…” He reaches up and boops your nose. “You’re very pretty.”

You decide you quite like Tom when he’s drunk like this—affectionate and loving.

“You’re cute,” you reply. You sigh contentedly as you finally finish dragging him up the stairs. “Go brush your teeth,” you urge, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. You’re on the top level of the frat now, reserved for the members of admin. As president of the frat, Tom’s lucky enough to have his own room.

“Come with me,” he whines. He blinks at you with those warm brown eyes, and you find yourself melting.

It takes a while to get Tom ready for bed. First it’s his teeth, then you have to pull him out of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, then convince him to drink some water. By the time you’ve got him back into his room and into bed, he’s dead on his feet, and honestly, so are you.

“Sleep with me,” Tom mumbles, holding out his bare arms. He’s burrowed into his double bed, staring up at you with a boyish smirk on his face.

“I should probably go,” you say, sighing slightly.

“Please stay, Y/N.” His lips roll into a pout. “I want your cuddles. Promise I won’t do anything weird.”

You nod, as a quick balancing of positives versus negatives decides you’d much rather stay with Tom than trudge home in the rain.

After flipping off the lights and pulling off your outfit, you rummage through one of Tom’s drawers and find a large rugby shirt. You slip into it and tend to your makeup as best you can before collapsing into bed beside him, immediately finding his buff arms encircling your waist. Tom curls into you like a koala, and as you gently card your fingers through his hair, you’re reminded of his confession.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

You swallow. “Do you love me?”

Tom peels away from you, and even in the dark, you know he’s looking at you.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Had a crush on you ever since we were partnered together for that study group last semester. Tried to tell you a few times, but couldn’t ever get the words out right.” Tom sighs dramatically, and pulls you closer. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you as a friend, Y/N… Would rather never tell you so you can’t reject me.”

You release a soft breath, then lean down to kiss the top of his curls.

“Go to sleep, Tom,” you mumble. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Night… love you.”

You hope that he’s speaking from the heart, and not from the blend of alcohols swirling through his system.

“Love you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re woken by Tom, when he groans and swears and flings his arms around as he wakes up. When he accidentally bashes you in the side, you curse too, turning over and grumbling incoherently as you try to ignore the ache in your side and the pounding in your head.

“Y/N?” You hear him say, voice confused. “Why are you in my bed?” His words crack with fatigue, and Tom moans again. “Fuck, what did I drink last night? I can’t remember shit.”

You begrudgingly turn back over, the duvet rustling. Tom’s sitting up against the headboard now, glass of water in his hand, and you watch as he downs the pills you’d left out for him last night.

“You had way too much,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. “You wanted me to stay, so… I stayed.”

Tom hums, letting one of his hands come down to rest on the back of your head. His eyes skim your face and a gentle smile works out across his lips.

“You’re in my shirt,” he mumbles. “Looks nice on you.”

You bite back a smile, shrugging bashfully.

“Do you really not remember anything?”

Tom hesitates. He slowly puts the glass of water down before sighing, using that hand to ruffle up his hair.

“I remember bits,” he says. His eyes narrow. “Do you remember everything?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

Tom nods, and you almost hear him swallow. “And… you’re still here.”

You smile softly. “Yeah.”

“So that means…”

“Yeah.”

He hums, and then reaches down to tug you upright. Despite your complaints at being pulled from the warm embrace of his duvet, you can’t find it in yourself to complain when Tom pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his hair lies messily across his forehead, but you think he looks beautiful.

“I meant it,” he admits, voice soft. His fingers gently roll over your waist. “I mean, I would’ve liked to say it more, uh...eloquently, but… it’s true, Y/N. I love you.”

He seems to be holding his breath, and the sight of him so nervous makes your heart race. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, smiling as you bring him in for a very soft, gentle kiss. You feel him grin into it, and you realise this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“I love you too, Tom,” you tell him.

“Oh.” He kisses you again, growing more confident as you pull yourself nearer and nestle further into his arms. “Really?”

“Mmm.” You let your fingers play with his hair as you hum, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes. “You’re really funny when you’re drunk.”

“I’m a disaster,” he complains. “‘M so hungover now, too.”

You hum in agreement, then pull back and yawn.

“Can we go back to sleep now?” You ask, drawing a chuckle from Tom.

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters. He pulls you down with him, and this time, it’s you that curls into him. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, kissing the top of your head with care. “Love you,” he chimes, and despite how unfamiliar the words are, they sound right, filling his accent like that.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, and let your eyes droop closed.

“Love you too.”

[yam-writes]

mine forever  Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Strade x Reader Additional Tags: Sadism, Knifeplay, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Blood and Torture, Torture, Oral Fixation, Biting, Bruises, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Masochism, Stockholm Syndrome, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence here you go :) it’s a little shorter and i wrote it after i got my wisdom teeth out, but i hope you like it anyway! :) you can read it on ao3 or under the cut :)

You didn’t know how long you had been down there, tied to that pole. It was pretty easy to keep track of the days at first, but as the amount of times he came down increased, and the amount of sleep you were getting decreased, the days all blurred together and you didn’t know how long you were out versus how long you were awake. Not that it mattered, anyway. What little sleep you did get wasn’t any better than the horrors of being awake, your dreams poisoned by him along with reality. It seemed like no matter what you did he was always there, stuck in your head, a perfect picture of him carved into your brain.

So your mind was a little fucked. Keeping track of the time wasn’t at the top of your priorities list, but if you had to guess you would’ve said it was a few weeks. But, really, you weren’t even paying much attention. You were far too worried about the grumbling of your stomach, the dryness in your throat, the stickiness of your skin, the smell that you were pretty sure was coming from you, and the pain that crept over every inch of your body. You didn’t know how long it had been, but you hoped that it had been long enough for him to just kill you.

Of course you could never get that lucky, though. “Looks like you belong to me now.” That’s what he had said, and that’s what he kept reminding you every time he fucked you, make you fuck him, came on your face, down your throat, on your back, on your stomach, inside you. Every time he dug his knife into your skin, opened a new wound, reopened old ones. Every time he shoved his fingers in your blood and made you taste it, every time he tasted it himself. “Mine, mine, mine.” That’s all you ever fucking heard.

You thought being kept would be a good thing. That meant you weren’t going to die. But was it really worth it? If you were going to be stuck down in his basement for the rest of your life, no, it wasn’t worth it, but what else were you supposed to do? Just deny yourself any pleasure you might receive because of who was giving it to you? He was already depriving you of everything, why should you do it to yourself? It wasn’t worth it, no, but it was all you had.

You found yourself clinging onto him. When he would untie your wrists and pull you close, you dug your fingers into the back of his shirt and buried your face into the crook of his neck. You stared up at him in wonder, watching him grab tools from shelves, unbutton his belt, clean up your blood from the floor. Your body ached when he was gone, and part of that was for him. It was fucked up how much you had come to want him, to need him. You hated yourself for it, but he was all you had. What else were you supposed to do? Maybe you really were his.

You even found yourself calling out his name. Sometimes it would be in your sleep, but other times you’d be fully awake and calling out for him. It was hard sitting down there, in the dark, for God knows how long, just waiting for him to come back. You longed for any touch, his touch, to feel his fingers on your skin, the warmness of his body pressed against yours. So you called out for him. And he would come.

It was one of those times, sleepiness and blood loss making your head foggy, that you called out for him. You didn’t know how he heard you, considering that you figured the basement was sound proof. It had to be, with the things that went on down there. But you heard thumping come from upstairs anyway as you called out his name again. After a few minutes, the basement door swung open and the light from upstairs flooded in. You flinched, preparing yourself for the bright lights that would turn on next, but they never came. The room was plunged into darkness as the door shut again. You heard fumbling around for a few more seconds, and then a wall light came on, trading the harshness of the white overhead lights for a nice, warm, orange glow.

You looked at the light and then to Strade, who was leaning against a counter, his arms crossed. He was staring at you, a smile on his face, but it wasn’t his usual big, toothy smile. No, this one was more contained. He had a- you leaned in closer, trying to get a better look. You squinted your eyes and, no, yeah, he definitely did have a lollipop stuck between his teeth. He raised his arm and grabbed the stick, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.

“You called?” he asked, amusement dripping from his voice like acid. He waved the lollipop around.

You swallowed and nodded, trying to tear your eyes away from the lollipop. The only thing you had to eat those past few days were granola bars and some jerky. Your mouth was practically watering at the candy. It wasn’t anything with any sustenance, but at least it was something different.

“Do you need something?” he asked, slowing down each word.

“I just-” you heard your voice say. “I just missed you.”

Strade let out a loud laugh. “You missed me?” he asked. He stepped forward and leaned down beside you. “Then we should spend some time together, yeah?”

You stared up at him, your mouth hanging open. His proposition hung in your head and your brain was yelling at you for willingly calling him down there, for participating in his game. You knew you were only egging him on.

“Okay,” you squeaked.

Strade hummed. He stared at you for another moment before pushing himself up. He shoved the lollipop in his mouth again. You saw the stick move as he swirled it around. He walked around until he was standing in front of you.

“So what do you want to do?” he asked, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth again.

You swallowed. Your eyes were still on the lollipop. You were really craving it. “Can I-” you started. You shifted. moving your arms in the ropes slightly. “Do you have another one?” you asked, gesturing your head towards his hand.

Strade’s eyebrows raised and his eyes shifted to the candy in his hand. “Do you want one?” he asked.

You nodded, licking your lips.

Strade let out a laugh and said, “Okay!” He stepped towards you and bent down. “You can have this one!” He reached out and grabbed your chin, pulling your mouth open. He shoved the lollipop in your mouth and you felt the sweetness on your tongue. He pushed your chin up, closing your mouth.

You coughed, the sudden entrance of something in your mouth causing you to choke. You pushed the lollipop to the side of your mouth with your tongue, feeling your saliva and Strade’s covering your mouth. Your hand instinctively raised to move the stick, but you were stopped by the ropes. The pole vibrated, which caused Strade to let out a loud laugh.

“You like it?” he asked.

You moved the lollipop around in your mouth, pushing it to the other side. You looked up at him and nodded. “Thank you,” you said around the lollipop.

Strade smiled. He reached his hand up and cupped your cheek. You leaned into the touch.

“My pet is always so polite,” Strade said. He scooted forward and placed his forehead on yours. “Didn’t even need much training.” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, seemingly in thought. Then, his eyes opened and he smiled. “I think you deserve a reward!”

You looked at him through your lashes. “A reward?” you asked. You could feel drool drip from your lip from the lack of free movement the lollipop had.

Strade hummed and stood up. He stared down hard at you, and you felt your body flush at his gaze. You watched his eyes move as you shifted the lollipop. Then, he moved his feet, walking around until he was behind you. You heard shuffling, and then a thump onto the ground. You saw Strade’s legs appear on either side of you and his body pressed against yours and the pole as he scooted closer. He reached his hand out and ran a finger from your knee to your thigh, making you wince as he scraped over wounds. His finger ran all the way up, rubbing over your hip and your tummy. He went through the middle of your chest and up your neck. The light touch made you shudder, and you let your head fall back against the pole. You shifted the lollipop again as his finger reached under your chin, hooking around until it was running over your lips.

“Is this my reward?” you asked, feeling even more drool dropping out of your mouth.

Strade let out a small laugh as he ran his finger through your spit. He moved his hand away from you and even though you couldn’t see what he was doing, the muffled hum he let out told you that he had shoved his finger in his mouth. You heard a wet pop noise and then Strade’s voice.

“You’re antsy tonight,” he said. He leaned forward and you felt his lips brush against your ear. “You’ll get your reward soon enough.” You felt his hands on your again, slowly gliding down. He rested his chin on your shoulder, in the crook of your neck. You took in a sharp breath as his right hand rested around your neck and his left kept going down.

You bit your lip as his fingers found your clit. He rubbed circles, slowly, drawing out any pleasure you could receive from this. His other hand squeezed lightly against your neck, his thumb rubbing under your jaw. He continued to run circles around your clit, speeding up his pace so that you wouldn't notice his hand traveling up your neck.

When his finger slipped down and plunged inside of you roughly, you completely forgot about the lollipop. Your mouth flew open, the lollipop hanging on by your lip. But Strade’s hand had made its way up, and his fingers grabbed the stick. You didn’t even know what he was doing until you couldn’t breathe.

You leaned forward, letting out a loud cough, candy coated spit dripping from your mouth. You could feel the lollipop down your throat, the stick pressed against the roof of your mouth. Strade let out a loud laugh as you continued to cough, trying to get the lollipop out. His hands left your body and he stood up. You turned your head and watched him walk around until he was standing in front of you. You clenched your throat, feeling the lollipop lodged in there. You leaned forward, letting the spit fall onto the floor.

“What’s the matter?” Strade asked, bending down in front of you. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide at the lack of oxygen. The blood rushing in your ears made it hard to hear anything, but you could just barely catch the sounds of your own wheezing. “You wanted the lollipop, didn’t you?”

You felt tears slide down your face and you thought for sure this was how you were going to die. You gagged around the candy, your arms jerking involuntarily to get the lollipop out of your mouth. You could hear the vague sound of Strade’s laughter as your vision started to go blurry. You went still, not having enough energy to keep trying to cough up the lollipop.

That’s when Strade’s hand found your mouth, pulling it open wide. His fingers dug inside wrapping around the stick. He pulled it out and you gasped, pulling in a raggedy breath of air. You coughed more, finally able to breathe again. You spit, candy and blood hitting the floor. You looked up at Strade, feeling the scratchiness on your throat. You watched him toss the lollipop to the floor, breaking in half and shattering.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said with a small shrug. “You look cute when you’re choking.”

You continued to cough, the tears falling freely. You jerked against the ropes as you rocked your body, trying to find your breath again. You felt the rope burning your wrists, but honestly that pain helped to bring you down as your breaths calmed and got steadier. After a few minutes, you were leaning your head back against the pole and panting at the ceiling.

Strade took a deep breath in and then walked towards the counter. You watched him pull a drawer open and you heard some clanging inside.

“You did so good,” he said. He reached into the drawer and grabbed something. He turned around with a huge smile on his face and held up a knife. “Just one more thing and then you can get your reward!”

You gulped as he stepped towards you. You pulled your legs up, but he bent down and gripped your ankle, pulling your leg back down. He pulled the other one down, too, and then reached his hand out. He ran his fingers across your stomach, causing you to suck in a breath of air. He let out a small noise and then stood back up, walking around behind you. You felt his hands on yours and he tugged up roughly.

“Stand up,” he said.

You pulled your legs up and pushed yourself onto your feet, feeling the sting of the rope on your wrists as they slid up the pole. Strade walked back in front of you and stepped close, pressing as much of himself against you as he could while still having enough room to move the knife around. His right arm leaned against the pole above your head. He looked down and pressed the flat side of the cold blade against your stomach. You took a sharp breath in.

He looked up at you as he twisted the blade and said, “Spell it out for me, okay?”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to be spelling out, but you didn’t have much time to think about it because immediately after you felt a small slash down your stomach, followed by another one and then another one. You let a loud hiss, and felt the tears brimming at your eyes. You turned your head away, trying somehow to get away from the pain.

“S,” Strade said, smiling big at you.

You didn’t say anything, completely forgetting about what he had told you to do only a moment before. You squeezed your eyes shut, but then you felt a sharp pain hit your cheek as Strade slapped you, blood splattering inside your mouth.

“I said spell it out,” he growled, pushing his face into yours.

“S!” you repeated, pushing the letter out through your teeth.

Strade smiled and gave your cheek two pats, then looked back down at your tummy. He moved the knife again, two slashes, one up and one across.

“T,” he said.

“T!” you choked out.

He didn’t waste any time moving his hand slightly and getting started on the next letter. You felt the blood from the other slashes slide down your body, and your vision was starting to get hazy. The tears fell down your face as the next slashes started, four in total, right above your belly button.

“R,” Strade said, his voice getting slower and his breathing getting heavier.

“R,” you said weakly, the dots connecting in your head. You knew what he was spelling. Of course you knew.

He moved his hand and you winced as the knife pushed into your skin and dragged down, then moved slightly, connecting to the top of the cut and dragging down the other side. Then one more slice across the middle.

“A,” you gulped, not even giving him time to speak.

Strade looked up, a huge smile spreading across his face. “Hey!” he said, sounding the happiest you had heard him in a while. “You got it!”

He looked back down and pulled the knife across your stomach again. You squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall freely. Your stomach jerked inward with every slash, but Strade’s right hand had moved from above your head and had gripped your waist.

“D,” you said. You could feel your body getting weaker, begging to just be able to sit down again.

Strade cut into you more, slashing once down and then three times across. You cried out, attempting to kick your legs and move away, but his fingers dug into your side, holding you still.

“E,” you sobbed.

Strade breathed in and dropped the knife to the floor. His right hand dropped and he groped himself through his pants, his other hand reached out and touched the “s” gliding over the letter lightly.

“And what’s that spell?” he asked, looking up at you, smiling.

“Strade!” you choked out. “Strade.” The second time came out more raggedy.

“Right!” he praised. His fingers moved from the “S” and traced over every letter, your body jerking and wincing with every motion. He let his fingers push into the wounds, his fingertips violating you in the worst way. He smeared your blood all over your body and his hand. When he was finished tracing the letter, he raised his hand up and shoved a finger in his mouth. He let out a small groan and then pulled it out. He let out another sigh as he looked at you, a fond smile on his face. “There! Now you really are mine forever.”

You let out a choked sob as the knowledge of what he had just said seeped into your brain. He had carved his name into your stomach, there was nothing you could do. Even if you somehow did manage to get away, he would always be on your body, always be stuck on you. No matter what you did, you were always going to be his.

Strade was on you in an instant, pressing his body against you. The friction from the fabric on his shirt rubbing against your fresh cuts stung, and you whimpered as you felt his face press into your neck. He parted his lips and stuck his tongue out, dragging the flat of it all the way up to your ear. At the same time, his fingers had found their way to his pants, his knuckles intentionally grazing against the wounds as he undid his pants. When he had pushed his pants down slightly, he moved his hand and grabbed your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist.

His cock pressed against your entrance for only a moment before he was pushing himself inside. You let out a small cry at the rough entrance, feeling him stretch you open as he thrust all the way inside. His weight pushed you back, the pole pressing into your spine. He pulled out and then shoved back inside, the force enough to push you up the pole.

You jerked your hands, trying to reach out to grab him, touch him, push him away, pull him closer, just do anything, but the ropes stopped any major movement. He still had his face buried in your neck, and with one particularly hard thrust he bit down, causing you to clench around him. He let out a sharp hiss, sucking in the breath between his teeth at the feeling.

Strade’s fingers dug into your thigh, the tips pushing into wounds from days ago, reopening the barely healed cuts. He continued to fuck into you, his cock going deep enough to reach a spot that rarely ever got touched. The pressure was pain mixed with pleasure, your tummy feeling like it was just punched with every thrust. The bundles inside you were screaming that you should be crying out in pain, but the tears coming from your eyes were because of how good it felt despite the pain hazing out your brain. You pressed your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms.

Strade was grunting and breathing hard, his slobber getting all over your neck. He pushed inside you again, gripping your thigh harder.

“You’re so,” he said against your neck, pausing and raising his head slightly, searching for the right word, “addicting,” he said into your ear.

You let out a small, defeated whine.

“I really am so glad I found you,” he continued, raising his head even more. He smiled down at you, getting rougher with every word, reveling in the way your face twisted. He pressed his forehead against yours, both of your sweat mixing together. “How lucky I am that someone was made to fit me perfectly.”

With that sentence, he pulled all the way out and thrust all the way back inside in one quick motion. You let out a loud cry and threw your head back. You could vaguely hear him laughing, your brain too focused on the pressure building up in your tummy, the way he was filling you up, making it seem like he was the only thing inside of you, the way his fingers were digging into your skin, and the irritation to the fresh cuts on your stomach. You clenched around Strade again, squeezing your leg around his waist tighter, feeling the inevitable about to come.

But then you were empty. Your eyes shot open and you looked at Strade. His eyebrows were pulled together, but he wasn’t looking back at you. He was pumping his dick in his hand, and then a few seconds later you felt the tip press against your stomach. Then a warmness hit your body as he came on you, along with the fresh cuts.

Strade’s fingers unwrapped from around your thigh and your leg dropped. You slumped slightly against the pole, the dizziness making it hard to stand. You fluttered your eyes and watched Strade put himself away, pulling up and buttoning his pants again. He hopped slightly and then straightened out his shirt. His eyes were on you again, your eyes heavy-lidded and your face ruined with tears and sweat and snot and some blood that had somehow made its way up there.

“We should probably clean this before it gets infected,” Strade said, reaching his hand out to run his fingers across your tummy, mixing the blood and cum together. You winced, but your body was too spent to react too much.

“Okay,” you mumbled out. You slid to the floor, rejoicing in the fact that you could finally sit again.

You let your head flop to the side as you watched Strade walk over to a nearby cabinet and pull out a small medical kit. He came back and you let him wipe you down, cleaning the area. When he was finished he put the kit up and then came back over to you. He circled around and you felt his fingers press against your wrists, untying the ropes. Your arms flopped to your sides, finally free. He circled back around.

Strade towered over you. “Time for your reward!” he boomed.

You stared up at him, fear washing over your face. But then he reached his hand out.

“Want to go upstairs?” he asked, his voice softening ever so slightly.

You looked up at him, swallowing. Your eyes flashed to the stairs and then back to his hand. Your eyebrows pulled down, your face shifting to confusion. He was going to let you go upstairs? He had to be joking. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

“What’s that face for?” Strade asked, letting out a loud laugh. “Don’t you trust me?”

You swallowed. You looked towards the stairs again and then your eyes landed back on him. You looked up at him, staring at his outstretched hand. He had to be planning something. He just had to. There was no way that he was going to let you go upstairs. He was going to get to the top and then push you back down, laughing as your crumbled body laid on the floor. He was going to let you stand up and then attack you when your back is to him. He wasn’t being genuine.

But, for some reason, you reached your hand out anyway, taking a hold of his and letting him pull you up. Whatever he was going to do couldn’t be any worse than what he had already done. Besides, you were his now, anyway. You had to do what he said.

[jarofstyles]

SK8ER BOI - Kickflip

A/N: Here is the first installment our take on bad boy harry! It gets into things pretty quick but there is lots of content to come. Skater boy Harry is essentially what you wish every boy with a nicotine addiction was like featuring Timothée Chalamet as the uninterested boyfriend 🤭 We had a lot of fun writing this story so we hope you enjoy! - n+d

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, cheating

word count: 8.5k

Y/N was just an average girl. 

Though some could say she tread on the nerdier side of things, she was neither here nor there as far as social groups at school. No one really bullied her, she sort of just kept to herself and did her work and that was all she needed to get by. Her parents were middle class, working average jobs, and Y/N would likely follow suit. She really wasn’t sure what she wanted to do just yet. Everything was fine in her life, except for the fact that her boyfriend of three years refused to touch her. It was a shame really. She had grown a really strong attachment to him and they used to hang out all the time, but as they got older it seemed like he wanted less and less to do with her. His status as student body president definitely helped her out and well... Everyone had a crush on Timothée. She really wanted to explore with him, wanted to pleasure him and vice versa, bond in a way so many others described. But she just boiled it down to her not being sexy enough for him. She saw the browser history on his computer when he left it out in his bed while showering. He didn’t even try to hide it. Y/N, couldn’t say she didn’t have fantasies about one particular bad boy. Harry. 

Harry was in fact, that skater boy. That one guy that rode his board out of school— until he had gotten his car. He still rode it around the school campus, not at all hiding it. Even at the age of 17, he had gotten tattoos. His parents were wicked cool. They didn’t mind him doing whatever as long as he did well in school, and attended functions like family parties and whatever. They were close, anyways. His father was a well known quantum physicist and his mum, a romance novel author. His group of friends called his home their main hang out area. He had a good head on his shoulder despite what his look may say. He knew people would definitely be judging him and truth be told, he didn’t much care. He was more into what he was working towards versus what high school champs had to say. 

Harry was intrigued when Mr. Beck partnered him with Y/N for a science project, though. She was a very good girl. Known for good grades and dating that class president dude, Timothée. He was pretty sure the dude was 100% gay or at least bi based on the subtle flirting he had initiated with Harry until a few years back when he decided to date Y/N. In his opinion, it was a waste because whenever he saw them, there was no passion. Y/N was hot as fuck— you’d have to be blind to not see it. But he didn’t know what went on behind the scenes. He wasn’t close with her but she seemed chill enough, so he didn’t mind when she was partnered with him. 

“Hey. Come in.” He said politely as he answered the door for Y/N, holding it open and taking her bag. He could hear the little jingle of bells on collars and realized he hadn’t warned her. “Uh— we have a bunch of cats. Is that cool? Or do we need to leave? Sorry, I didn’t think to ask if you were allergic or something.”

“Hi.” Y/N squeaked out, taking a step inside and thanking him for taking her bag. His house was massive! You’d never be able to tell he had a house like this just by looking at him, but the address clearly stated it was his so she didn’t bother leaving and looking for another. The first thing she noticed besides the beautiful interior of the house was the sound of little bells. Y/N turned her head to see about four cats coming towards her and her heart melted. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t know you had kitties!” She quickly dropped down to her knees to greet them, “hi little angels!” She cooed, sticking her hand out for each of them to have a sniff and see if they liked her or not before she went to pet them. She looked up at Harry with a bright smile, “Sorry, my parents never let me have pets after my bunny died in 4th grade because they didn’t want me to go through that emotional trauma again.” She knew it was a bit of an overshare, but that’s just the kind of person she was. Harry looked extremely attractive from this angle, ideas swirling around in her mind about all the things she could do with him. Y/N stood up again, fixing her little overalls before pulling off her shoes and leaving them by the door. She didn’t want to get a nice house like this all messy. She walked up to Harry again, expecting him to lead her towards his room or wherever they wanted to work.

Harry was impressed. All the cats seemed to like her, including Grumpy. He was named that for a reason. His smush face and grumpy look were warnings for how he really didn’t like anyone but Harry and his parents. But he was rubbing against Y/N’s hand and then her leg with a purr. 

“Oh. I’m sorry about your rabbit. It always sucks when they die.” Harry said softly. He wasn’t sure why she told him, but it did make him sad to hear it. He lost a cat a few months back and it did hurt. There was definite emotional trauma in it. “They like you. That’s cool. They’ll probably follow us up. Are you cool with going to my room? That’s where my computer is.” He hadn’t brought it down but his room was his preferred study space. He also didn’t want her to think he was some creep so gave her the option, which she nodded to. “It’s at the top, the attic space so prepare for some steps.” He said sheepishly, picking up her bag again so he could carry it up. “Oof. Are there bricks in ‘ere?” He was teasing.

“I don’t mind.” Y/N felt good about the fact that his cats liked her, she was rather fond of them already so she didn’t mind them coming upstairs with them. She felt herself get all nervous because well... she would be going to Harry’s room. He probably had no idea about the filthy thoughts she had about him, even just watching him walk up the stairs was hot. “No! Just my laptop and notebook... maybe a pencil case... and a water bottle.” Y/N defended, feeling her face get all blushy because she did realize there was quite a lot of stuff in her bag. However, walking up the stairs wasn’t all too difficult. They were perfectly spaced out which was nice, all of the decor in the house was beautiful but still very cozy. The house was definitely lived in. 

His room though? Goodness. 

“Wow...” Y/N mumbled as she stepped up inside. It was amazing. The walls were white but he had a theme of wood and navy, some vintage looking items here and there. Overall she noticed his little reading nook and what seemed to be an astronomy section with bean bags and a telescope. He even had a mini fridge in there and a cupboard... even a microwave! It was a whole little man cave. 

“Yeah, s’nice. It’s my own little place.” He smiled at her reaction, putting her bag down on his bed as he grabbed his laptop and unplugged it from the charger. “Want a water?” He didn’t listen for an answer, rather grabbed her one and handed it to her. His mum had raised him to always give company a drink. “We can work on my bed. The cats will probably come in here and pretend they aren’t looking for attention when they are.” He smirked, going over to his bed and sitting against the headboard like area. She looked shy so he tilted his head, patting the blanket. “C’mon then. Don’t be shy. This isn’t your first time in a boys room, is it?” He couldn’t imagine that Timothée was dating a hot bitch like Y/N and not be tapping it. If she didn’t have a boyfriend he would be trying to get her to know better because she really was gorgeous. But they’d been dating too long and Y/N probably wouldn’t go for that.

Y/N knew that her blush gave away her answer as she went to sit on his bed, not quite next to him though. She was a bit too nervous for that. In her mind she was already sitting on Harry’s lap with his hands gripping at her ass, his perfectly plump lips slotted between her own. Y/N shook her own thoughts out of her head but felt like she needed to answer his question. 

“Maybe it is...” She mumbled, pulling her laptop out of her bag and turning it on. It suddenly got very hot in his room and not just because they were in the attic. Y/N was burning up, his eyes were very obviously on her and she knew he’d ask and she’d definitely confess to him. She’d do anything Harry wanted her to do really, fuck. She just wanted to be touched. Seeing the look of shock and confusion prompted her to explain further despite how anxiety provoking it might have been. “Timmy and I don’t—” Y/N started, looking away feeling all embarrassed. “He won’t...” She couldn’t even say it, she was just that shy and embarrassed.

Oh. Wow. He didn’t.... he didn’t fuck her? Harry thought.

“You’re kidding?” He raised a brow. He understood what she meant. It went from zero to a hundred real quickly but he couldn’t say he was angry about it. He just didn’t understand why. 

Y/N’s face grew incredibly hot, looking up at Harry with a serious but semi spooked expression when he asked if she was kidding. She absolutely wasn’t kidding. If she was kidding she wouldn’t be so damn horny and ravenous. She felt like she could burst all the time, touch starved beyond belief. Sure, he’d kiss her, but never anything too passionate. It would always make him uncomfortable the second they got too hot. 

“How come you’re tellin’ me this? I mean... it’s fine you do, I won’t say shit but, we barely know each other.” He questioned, putting an arm behind his head as he looked expectantly at her for an answer. She was hot. Sexy as fuck, had that innocent good girl appeal and he loved that shit, personally. Timmy. God, the least sexy name to moan in bed. Really. He could only think about the fairy godparents cartoon. Ick. He was surprised though. “You’ve been dating for years, haven’t you?” It definitely wasn’t a Y/N problem. She was blurting things out so if she wanted to, she would have told him.

Y/N’s mouth went dry because well, she had an answer for him, she just wasn’t sure how he’d react. “cause... I know you enough to know you make me really nervous, especially right now.” Y/N was really bad at being sexy, her delivery and flirting was horrible but she hoped he picked up what she was putting down. “Yeah... we’ve been together for three years.” Y/N explained, letting out a deep breath. “It wasn’t so bad at first, but I just—” She was horny. She was so fucking horny it was ridiculous. She’d probably moan if they held hands at this point. “I’ve tried, but he’s not into it I guess.”

Harry could tell she was horny. He could feel it. He just knew. Looking at her, she was a bit antsy. Not able to sit still but most importantly, squeezing her thighs together. No way. She was horny and maybe partly because of him? 

“Not into it? That’s some bullshit.” Harry scoffed. “Not to be weird, but you’re hot as fuck. If he’s not into it he might be gay or is just blind.” He didn’t want to offend her but he had a feeling it was the first. Either way, there had to be a reason for him not wanting to eat the girl alive. Harry had definitely noticed Y/N before. She was cute, kind, had his favorite type of body, and had pretty, full lips. Also, a very cute laugh. She was innocent and he liked that type of vibe. Maybe it was a bit fucked to be aroused by that but hey, he was a teenage boy as well. “Don’t have to be nervous, babe. I don’t bite. Unless asked.” He gave her another smirk. Her blush was cute and her flush reminded him again at how easy it was to work her up. They’d begun working but Harry still had a question of two, and he could feel her hormones— he swore he could. The poor thing. 

Well. There it goes. 

The guy Y/N had been having sexual fantasies about for years calling her hot? Of course she wouldn’t be able to calm down now. Her face hadn’t cooled off, he didn’t really give her a chance to either. She just pulled her hair up into a bun but it didn’t help. Poor girl, you could see it on her neck too. She was just nervous and embarrassed and horny. So so horny. Timmy being gay though? It could be a solid explanation for why he didn’t want to touch her. It’s not like he looked at other girls, he always called her pretty and complimented her looks. Was always okay with cuddling and other platonic stuff.. maybe the kissing was just him trying to make it seem believable. Harry was always around though, sometimes she’d just imagine it was his hair she was carding through, that it was his jaw she was cupping instead of Timmy’s. She loved Timmy, she did, but she wasn’t sexually attracted to him. She tried to be, wanted to be, if he reciprocated maybe she would be? But even having Harry next to her was turning her on. Even hearing him say he didn’t bite unless asked? She could have died, swore she let out a whimper when she shifted. 

“Has he touched you at all?” Harry questioned.

“No, just kissed but like.. nothing crazy.”

“Seriously? He’s holdin’  out on you like that? That’s not fair.” Harry muttered. Fucking crazy. The fact that the guy got one of the hottest girls in school and refused to do anything with her when it was blatantly obvious that she needed a good dicking, more than anything? Negligent, at best. “You said you tried and he’s not into it... what did you try? Was it something weird or just asking?” He was trying to figure this out. “You don’t have to tell me and it’s none of my business but, m’just curious.” He was curious if she was hinting towards Harry taking care of it. Which he would happily do. The poor thing looked like she needed an orgasm more than anything else. He wouldn’t be opposed to a good make out session and finger fuck.

Y/N was surprised by how genuinely shocked he was that nothing was happening between her and Timmy. It made those butterflies spring up in her stomach and go haywire, his tone was suggesting he was curious which was good of course. If he thought she was attractive then... surely she wasn’t the problem. 

“I um...” Y/N was so nervous talking about this stuff, it really wasn’t like her at all. Hearing her say these things out loud made her physically cringe but he did ask. He couldn’t read her mind, could he? “Anytime I’d try to like... grind on him when we kiss and stuff, he’d just stop it.” She explained, feeling her cheeks get all boiling hot again. She regretted wearing a sweater. “I haven’t brought it up to him or anything cause I don’t want him to feel bad.” Y/N was still a sweetheart, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him feel inadequate. She’d been with him for three years, that was quite the long time.

“Jesus. That is either some good control or he can’t get hard. If he can’t, he's definitely not straight, babe.” Harry could be positive about that. Any straight man would be like an eager puppy to get between her legs. Harry included, if that was offered up. “M’sorry. That sucks. So you’ve been sexually frustrated for 3 years then?” He shook his head. “Not to be a dick, but how come you haven’t broken up with him yet? He isn’t meeting your needs. Any good man takes care of their girl. It’s just... how it should be.” Harry couldn’t believe this. “Trust me, you’re hot as fuck. Again, sorry if this is crude but— you’ve got the perfect thighs and probably a gorgeous pussy. Can’t imagine a man not wanting to get his mouth or hands on it. Or your tits. M’sure you’re told that often.” Maybe his vulgar speech would deter her but he had a feeling she would love it.

If someone told Y/N she’d be sitting on a bed with her crush while he told her that she had great thighs, tits, and assumed she had a gorgeous pussy, she would have laughed in their face. Harry looked completely serious too, his own eyes had grown dark and Y/N just felt stuck in shock. 

“Yeah..” She squeaked, swallowing thickly as she tried to focus back on the project but she was just staring at the screen. “He’s my best friend.. I care about him and he’s been there for me through a lot I— I couldn’t just do that.” She didn’t have the heart to break up with him. She needed a proper reason, just so she could feel guilt free. Y/N couldn’t just ask him to help her out could she? He had expressed to her how he felt like any good man took care of their girl's needs and well... she wasn’t his girl but oh did she want to be. As far as Y/N knew, he had slept around quite a lot. He thought she was attractive but he probably thought many girls were attractive. Maybe he’d just fuck anything? 

But she’d been thinking about him for so long.

Harry knew that she was avoiding looking at him because she was aroused by his words. She liked what he had to say and how he said it. It was obvious by her reaction. Which did make him smile a bit. She was flushed and biting her lower lip and he wanted to see just how flustered he could get her. 

“I get that. But how great is he if he’s not taking care of a need you obviously are being deprived of.” Harry muttered. Little French shit. He could fight him for that alone. “Are you horny, Y/N?” He asked. His body shifted so he was properly facing her, closer than before.

She really thought she’d be able to hold it together, but when he asked her flat out if she was horny she knew she couldn’t lie anymore. Y/N has fully shown up to do work and now it was looking like she was going to get an orgasm too? That seemed fake, there’s no way. But he had shifted a bit closer to her, completely forgetting about his laptop. Her eyes snapped to look up at him, swallowing thickly before looking back at her laptop. 

“Maybe.” She offered up shyly. She kept glancing up at him and looking away. She was just that nervous. Y/N couldn’t even pretend she felt bad for liking it either. It wasn’t like she hadn’t given Timmy an option, she was positive he probably would be upset... maybe he would be, but— she couldn’t pass this up, she’d been thinking about it for so long.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” Harry couldn’t pass this opportunity up either. Especially because it was a dream. Y/N was exactly his type and he liked her energy. She wasn’t being treated properly by her boyfriend and that wasn’t okay in his book. He knew she would say yes but the whimper made his stomach clench. She was desperate for it. The look on her eyes showed it. His hand came up to feel her face, immediately feeling her cheek lean into his touch. 

“Poor girl. Have been left to fend for yourself for a while. S’not fair to you. Not at all.” He sighed, truly in awe of how any man could let a wet cunt and a woman eager to use it up. “What would you like me to do?” He wanted to coax something out of her. “How worked up are you?”

Y/N’s heart dropped so far it probably fell out of her ass. Hearing him offer to take care of her sent her into a fit of emotions. Her eyes got all floaty, her cunt creating a second heartbeat, her body was naturally leaning towards his and she could have sworn she was dreaming at this point because it was all too good. Of course she agreed, closing her laptop and casting it aside so she could focus on the task at hand. She was far too focused on how good it felt to have his hand on her cheek that she hadn’t registered that he was asking her about what she wanted him to do. Y/N felt her face warm up all over again because she didn’t want to say it outright. It would sound so dirty, she felt like she couldn’t say. She scanned his eyes, waiting for him to say something but he wasn’t letting up. 

“I—I’m really sticky..” She whispered, already feeling shy and embarrassed about all of this. Y/N knew she wasn’t exactly sexy or anything.

Harry knew that she may be embarrassed of how she said things but to him, it was hot. The fact no one else had touched her before and she was going to let him... it was sexy as fuck. Especially because she has a boyfriend who wasn’t up to par with what she wanted.

“S’okay, love. That’s good. Very normal.” He felt himself harden a bit at the visual. “C’mere. Come on my lap.” He motioned for her to straddle him, which she did eagerly. Fuck, this was going to be fun. He was going to teach her some shit. “Why don’t you show me how you like to kiss, sweetheart? Let me see how you want things. Don’t be embarrassed about it either. I promise I’ll find it hot.” He pulled her face down to his and felt his body warm up, her eyes blow and obviously her face warm and eager to get herself touched. “Just kissing for a bit. Then I’ll touch.”’

She wasn’t sure how she was meant to keep her breathing steady when he had so casually just asked her to straddle his lap. Y/N didn’t really think before she moved, surprising even herself with how easily and comfortably she moved into his lap. She felt like everything had gone into slow motion, nodding when he asked her to show him how she liked to kiss. That she could do. 

Y/N was positive he could feel her clench, cunt throbbing at the idea of finally getting to kiss him. She’d been waiting for so long, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to stop once she started. With her face mere centimeters away from his face, she paused for a moment before letting her eyes flutter shut as she leaned in. 

Fuck. 

The pathetic sounding whimpered she released at the feeling had her blushing even harder. Y/N hadn’t made many sounds or answered many of his questions, but that was mostly because she was used to being quiet. This kiss however? God was it perfect. Y/N felt hungry, kissing him with such a desperate need. There was still passion behind it, but she just really wanted him.

Harry could tell this girl was hungry for it. Literally starved for orgasms and he couldn’t help but think about what a damn shame it was that no one had been giving it to her. When her mouth tasted this good and she was so eager and hot in her kisses, he would give her whatever the fuck she wanted. He kissed deep right back, hand wrapping around her hip and pulling her down on to him. She was pleased at that, Harry showing her it was okay to grind. Which, to be honest, may have been a mistake considering how good she was at it. He groaned into her mouth as she rocked and worked her hips, her lips open as she whimpered. 

“S’it good? Think you’re rubbin’ your clit right against my cock like that.” He murmured into her mouth, wanting to talk dirty and see what she would do. What she would respond with.

She couldn’t have imagined it being this good, him kissing her back as if he too had wanted her for all this time. It didn’t feel like this when she kissed Timmy, as awful as it was to say, she was starting to think that maybe Harry was right about him. She was quickly snapped out of those thoughts when his hand pushed her hips down against him. 

“Mmmm” A long whine fell into his mouth, her hips moving at a pretty eager pace. Y/N really wanted to cum. She wanted it so bad she genuinely thought she’d lose it. Of course, she’s made herself cum before, but it felt so different when someone else was involved. Especially that someone being Harry. Y/N felt her cunt throb at the dirty talk. Another pathetic sounding moan fell from her lips and her eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure. “Feels so good.” She whimpered against his lips, desperate for him to touch her. Y/N wasn’t sure what he would do, but having his hands on her? In any way? She would surely lose her mind. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, sticking to his shoulder cause it just seemed right to steady herself. Y/N needs something more.

“Good. You can touch me.” Harry gave her the go ahead. “Wherever you want.” She obviously didn’t know how to do it and he wasn’t going to shame her or want to make her feel uncomfortable. Rather, he slid a hand up her skirt, gently lifting it up and getting his hands into her panties. It was arousing to say the least. His hands held her ass, grabbing at it and helping her move her hips. Holding the bare skin, he squeezed and licked into her mouth, feeling her work her cunt harder and hump a little faster against him. Obviously it felt good to her. “Such a perfect ass, baby.” He whispered, giving her a sweet pet name. “So eager for me. So sweet.” He chuckled, moving to kiss at her neck. She was going to lose it and he liked that he was the one doing it.

Funny how things unfolded exactly how Y/N pictured it in her mind. The second she sat down on the bed she was thinking about straddling him and having his hands on her ass and now that’s exactly what they were doing. It felt so fucking good too. Y/N was trying to hold back her whimpers, but Harry didn’t let up. He just kept licking into her mouth, rubbing and squeezing at her ass as if she wasn’t completely losing it in his lap. Her hands hand hesitantly traveled up to his hair, the way she’d do it to Timmy except... he seemed to respond in a much more appropriate way. Harry seemed to like it, liked it a lot based on the hard squeeze he gave her ass. Y/N let out shaky moans when his lips attached to her neck, she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Please— I need more.” She pleaded, “feels good, but I need more.. please.” Y/N was begging him to touch her. She wouldn’t tell him explicitly, but if he wanted to lay her down and work his fingers against her she’d like that or even if he wanted to put his mouth to work. Anything, she just needed to cum.

“There we go. Love to hear you ask me.” Harry had been waiting for that begging, and he had gotten it. There was a quick switchover, Harry laying her down and gently moving so he was between her thighs. He would start simple. His finger ran over the soaked through cotton of her pink panties, groaning at the sight. “They’re completely soaked.” He hissed, gently pulling them to the side. He couldn’t stop the deep breath that came when he saw her arousal stringing to the panties when he moved it over. “Fuck me. S’sticky all over your panties. I love that.” He has that effect on her, didn’t he? That was the best part. He had done that. He was going to make her feel the best she ever had. Fingers spread her open, a hum of appreciation coming from his mouth. “Just like I knew it. You’ve got the prettiest pussy... so wet... look how swollen your clit is.” He murmured, thumbing over it. It was visible and his mouth was watering. That pressure on her clit alone had the girl jilting under his touch, making him feel satisfied. His thumb rubbed harder in the sensitive part, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. “So pretty. Fuck. Can’t believe he’s never touched it. Left it for me to play with.”

Thank goodness she was laying down because Y/N was sure she wouldn’t have been able to keep herself up. He had simply lifted her skirt and revealed her panties, he didn’t even think twice. It seemed everything he did just turned her on. She liked that he just took what he wanted but also made sure she was feeling good. Y/N didn’t realize just how wet she was until he started to run his fingers over her and they felt completely slick. Her eyes rolled back, one of her hands gripping at his bed sheets while the other stayed on the nape of his neck tangled into his perfect locks. Her breath hitched, her other hand moving to cover her mouth because she knew she was about to be so fucking loud. Her body practically twitched whenever he rubbed over her swollen clit, his fingers were working magic in her and honestly, she wasn’t even sure if she could do it better herself. 

“Ah!” Y/N whined, her hips bucking up against his touch when she felt herself getting closer. She was so worked up she knew she could cum right then and there if he would let her. Her body was giving it away.

It made Harry all too aware of how stupid Timothée was. He wasn’t touching this cunt? Wasn’t getting these reactions? He had to be gay. There was no other way. 

“You’re so sensitive... fuck.” Harry couldn’t believe she was trusting him. If all people do this to her. It wasn’t like they’d ever been close. They went to each other’s birthday parties in elementary school like all the kids in classes did. But that was about it. Thank god for anatomy. 

“Just relax, love.” He muttered, spreading her legs further as he got comfortable. “This is gonna feel really good. Just do what feels right. Can pull on my hair... be as loud as you want, please. Love to hear I’m going a good job.” He smirked, holding her thighs open as he licked one thick stripe up her cunt.

“Oh— oh my god!” Y/N gasped loudly when she felt his wet tongue on her cunt. Her legs twitched from the pleasure that was spiking now that he was focused in her clit. Her hand traveled down to tug at his hair as suggested, her whole body reacting to his actions. She’d never felt anything like this before, felt like she was dreaming. At first she was a bit shy with the noises she was making, but he clearly didn’t like that, immediately increasing the pressure and speed and sticking to it so that she was a moaning mess for him. Y/N knew that if anyone was home they’d think someone was being tortured but god— it was nothing but sweet sweet pleasure. When Y/N played with herself on her own she never pushed her limits like Harry was doing. She was so sensitive and she knew that, but he was purposely working over her most sensitive spots so she was writhing and twitching beneath him. “Ah— mmmm—“ Y/N whined out, “Harry!” She gasped, feeling herself falling over the edge quite rapidly. Her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, it was so incredibly fast she wasn’t ready for that at all. Her moans were high pitched and whiny, her breathing heavy as she tried to get air in her lungs. She held herself back too, felt like she was going to pee on him if he kept going.

Harry kept going. 

If this was her first orgasm by someone else, her first proper orgasm? She was going to get the best one. He knew she was sensitive— could feel it in her shaking thighs, but he was a man of conviction. He went full on, suckling on her clit. The way she was reacting was beautiful, a soundless scream followed by his name and shudders. However— he wasn’t expecting her to squirt. It was the hottest damn thing he had ever experienced in his life. Her first orgasm and she was cumming that hard, Harry pulling back and rubbing her clit hard as she continued to leak. 

“Fuuuuuck, yes. Give it to me, sweetheart.” He groaned. Holy fuck. He hadn’t expected it to turn out like this at all but he wasn’t going to complain.

The sound that escaped her even shocked Y/N. A loud, borderline pained, scream left from her throat and her eyes squeezed shut. Her breathing was shaky, her hands having moved to cover her face because holy fuck was she overwhelmed. It was a lot. Y/N didn’t think it was humanly possible to cum that hard, and he just kept going. She was so sensitive it hurt, especially when he started rubbing on her clit after she seemingly peed on him but, he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she thought he liked it. Y/N was in an endless stream of whimpers and throaty moans, he didn’t seem like he was giving up any time soon and she wasn’t sure if she could handle another. 

“It hurts—” She whimpered out, moving her hands from her face to grip at the pillow behind her. “But it feels so good.” Y/N was completely fucked. So gone for, the hormones and endorphins overcoming her. He seemed to know what he was doing, so she let him continue. She didn’t want him to stop if she was going to keep feeling like this.

“God, you’re so good. Letting me do whatever I want... we’re so deprived before, weren’t you?” Harry was shocked. The fact she was letting him continue, shaking but loving every bit? He was happy. Damn. Finally, a girl who could keep up with him and she had to be taken. “You okay?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over her clit lazily. His mouth had kissed at her thighs, biting down gently on one. “Hm.. can I mark here?” It wasn’t like her boyfriend was gonna see it. “And you don’t mind if I get myself off, do you?” He wanted to cum on her thighs or her stomach. His cock ached in his pants and he had no problem just getting her off, but he needed to cum. Of course he wouldn’t ask her to do anything, though. Despite it all, he respected her. She was a good girl. He was tainting her a bit but, she was happy to be tainted.

Y/N nodded her head to let him know she was okay, but he didn’t seem happy with her nodding, he wanted an answer. “Yes.” She whimpered out an answer to all of the things that he asked, still breathing shakily and twitching whenever the tension built up enough. The slow rubbing on her clit was still bringing her lots of pleasure, it made her want to cum again and that freaked her out. Could she really take that much? She’d never seen a cock in person before. Only even in porn but she didn’t watch that either because it made her feel yucky. Y/N swallowed thickly, seeing just how big he was. Holy shit. That was meant to fit inside someone? She already had trouble sticking her fingers in, but that? However, she was interested in watching him. Y/N watched him with loopy eyes, knowing for a fact she’d worship him after this. If he let her come back for more she happily would. Hell, she’d follow him around like a puppy if he kept making her feel like this.

It was probably the hottest hook up Harry’s ever had. Truth be told. He was in shock that Y/N was so needy for it and the fact she had let him be the one to play with her, to get her off, it was astonishing. There was nothing hotter than watching her legs open and pussy pulsing a bit from the intensity of her orgasms. 

“Mmm... you’re fucking hot.” Harry hissed, stroking himself as he bit down on her thigh. She let out a yelp that turned into a whine as he sucked a mark on to the softness of it, smirking when she rutted into his finger. After that though, he decided to take things up. “M’not gonna go in. Just... relax.” He rested himself against her cunt and rubbed the tip against her clit as he stroked himself heavily, hissing when her slickness covered him. It made it easy to stroke. “Jesus, you’re good. Feels good, hm? Better than your own fingers?” He knew it was. She looked fucked out, hips bucking into his own as he approached his own orgasm. Would it be too far to cum on her cunt? “Can I... fuck, can I cum on your cunt?” He had originally wanted her tummy or her thighs but seeing his cock against her now... he felt a bit primal.

Y/N had never expected this. This was the farthest she’d gone with anyone and the fact that it was with the guy that she’d been fantasizing about for years? It felt so unreal, definitely added to the intensity of her orgasms. Having him mark her? In a place where she’d be the only one to find it? That made her cunt throb. He started rubbing himself on her and she felt like that was a whole other level of horny. He felt so good against her, Y/N didn’t think she was that hot but Harry seemed to think so and that was enough to get her to feel confident enough to answer him with her full voice when he asked to cum on her cunt. 

“Yeah... you can cum on me..” Y/N didn’t have it in her to say cunt yet, but baby steps nonetheless. Harry was so hot, he looked so good above her. They weren’t even naked, just their lower halves, which in a way made it hotter because they were just that needy. His face was still slick with her, and that was something she couldn’t get over. 

It was apparent that Y/N didn’t know just how hot she was and that was a goddamn shame in Harry’s opinion. Because she was. She was so hot and he was sure that this wasn’t going to be the only time they had fun. 

“Fuck.. fuck.” He hissed as he began to cum on her. There was nothing like watching his cum stripe over her, soiling it with the white cream. It only made his orgasm better, a groan leaving him as he ran his cock through the slit and pressed against her clit again. “Fuck me, that’s so hot.” He whispered, mouth open at just how good it looked. When he saw her gawking at it, her tits moving under the fabric of her top, he smirked. “Want to taste it?” He ran two fingers through the mess.

Watching Harry cum was definitely the hottest thing Y/N had ever seen, the sounds he released and his scrunched up face was enough to make her shudder. On top of that, the feeling of hot cum ribboning over her cunt was something that she again couldn’t explain. It felt good, satisfying, especially because he seemed to be dying over it.

“Yes.”

It was a quiet squeak of an answer but it was an answer. Y/N was curious, she wanted to know what he tasted like and had a feeling that he too wanted her to try. If she didn’t like it she’d pretend to like it, but holy fuck she did actually like it. It was salty, a strange texture, but definitely not the worst thing she’d ever had in her mouth. It had its own taste, but she enjoyed that. Her mouth was wrapped around his fingers, gently licking and sucking the cum off his fingers while watching his eyes. He seemed to like this a lot too. Y/N was learning quite a bit, mostly that Timmy was definitely gay. But she didn’t just want to confront him like that that wouldn’t be fair. As soon as she was done, Harry kissed her again. This time it was more gentle than before. A kiss of appreciation. That was some good shit. Harry hadn’t been with someone who was a virgin and didn’t realize how horny they got— maybe it was just Y/N, though. He could have been having this and he didn’t. 

It was a good thing for Harry though. He got to have what he wanted and while he knew that was a lot, he didn’t really care that he could potentially hurt his feelings. He had made Y/N feel inadequate anyways. 

“Let me clean you up.” He murmured, smiling when she pouted when he pulled away. He was gentle with it, wiping her clean with tissues next to his bed. When she jumped, he chuckled. 

“Sensitive, I know.” He was smug about it though. Yes. He had done that. Though it was a shame she was too sensitive to clean it with his tongue. He would have been down.

The kiss was definitely something that Y/N needed. It was a nice little reminder that Harry was a gentleman and that she hadn’t just gone and done stuff with someone who was a complete asshole. Y/N always knew that Harry was a good guy, sure she’d heard rumors about him and knew he had gotten around and did drugs, but never had she heard about him being mean. Even when cleaning her up he was gentle, but of course she felt all shy again because she was laying fully exposed in front of the guy she had a crush on who had just made her cum three times within the span of 20 minutes. It was a lot. She’d completely forgotten about the fact that she was here to do an anatomy project. Y/N stayed quiet for the most part, letting him clean her up. Once she was finished she slipped on her panties again, though it felt quite dirty because they were still soaking wet. She’d need to take a shower when she got home. “Thank you.” She told him, feeling herself blush all over again.

“You’re welcome. Do you want a pair of boxers or something to wear instead of your panties?” Harry didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. At the relieved look on her face, he chuckled and went to his drawer, grabbing his smaller pair. “Here. May be big on you but, better than being uncomfortable.” He threw them to her and grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip before sitting down. “Want to do this project then?” Now that the sexual tension was at least fixed for a bit, he was happy to get to work. He wanted to see her get a good grade too. It didn’t have to be weird. 

“Oh, thanks.” Y/N smiled bashfully and stood up to change into them. There was no need for her to be all shy about it anymore. Y/N put her dirty panties to the side, taking a sip of her water bottle as well because lord knows she needed up. She was definitely a lot looser after their little activities, much more relaxed and open to talking and working. 

It really did feel better after they'd fucked around. Harry noticed that Y/N was more loose and seemed to feel more at ease now that he’s had his mouth on her pussy. They’d done a bit today and he was sure he would be on her mind for a long time after she left, which made him smug. 

----

They were finishing up when he asked for her number. “Put yours in. Dunno if you want to do this again but... I wouldn’t mind.” Harry would love it.

Y/N was already thinking about doing this again. Now that all her initial nerves were out of the way, she felt like I’d be easier for her to do things with him. She’d probably never initiate it again like this until she was this desperate, but whenever he wanted her again, if he did, she’d happily come over. She typed in her number and texted herself.

“The project or?” Y/N was a bit stupid sometimes, she didn’t want to assume he wanted to but based on the look on his face she figured he meant the other thing. “Oh, yeah— I um... I’d like that very much.” She said and finished putting her stuff away. “Thanks again... I’ll see you.” Y/N spoke when he walked her down the stairs and out the door. 

She’d left her panties in his room.

He had come upstairs to find the lovely gift that was left. Sure, it wasn’t on purpose but it was his now. He’d let her know that. They smelled like her and damn, it was good. Stuffed in his side drawer, he sat and absorbed the whole thing. Maybe he should feel guilt for having her cheat. But she needed it. The poor girl was nearly frothing at the mouth with need for sexual release and something about him tickled her. He couldn’t say no to that. Especially when she was so excited to do it and so responsive. 

Later that night he texted her. 

‘Hey, it’s Harry’

‘Did you want to come over again on Friday and work?’ He snickered at that. They’d work but... he knew by Friday she would be wanting more. 

‘Also, appreciate the gift you left. They’re lovely. Xx’ He sent a picture of the waistband of the panties in his hand.

On the bike ride home Y/N felt herself whimper every time she went over a bump. Harry had definitely done a number on her and she couldn’t have been more thankful. She texted Timmy when she got home, asking him about how he was and how his day was as usual though, she was surprised she didn’t feel really guilty. By the time she had showered and freshened up, she saw that she’d received texts back from both of them, but of course she wanted to answer Harry’s first. 

‘Hii! yeah, I can do that!’

‘oh my god 🤭’

She left them at his house? Fuck. She should have just put them in her bag but... she did have his boxers, so it didn’t really matter did it? Timmy had texted her back responding with how his day went saying he was super busy getting ready for his re-election campaign. It was his way of saying they wouldn’t really be able to hang out. She told him that she was sad but that she’d see him at school. Realistically she knew she needed to talk to him, but she wanted him to be able to tell her I’m his own time. She’d stop trying to have sex with him, only if he tried though.

‘I’ll be having fun with them. They’re in great hands. Don’t worry.’

He was smug about it for sure. But still, he couldn’t help but feel beyond happy about it because perhaps he had found a new person to fuck around with. Sure, he liked hook ups at parties but he had wanted a designated person to be around and fuck with. And Y/N was a cool chick. He hadn’t paid too much attention to her before, only to notice she was hot and also questioning why she was dating that kid. But the closer he got, the hotter she was. And fun to be around after she chilled out. She hadn’t mentioned being surprised by his room and the kind of nerdy star stuff in it. So he liked her a bit more for that. 

‘Good. Come over on Friday and we can work late. My dad’s away and my mom is on her book tour shit, so we’ll be alone, if that’s cool w you?’

Was he? He was flirting a bit wasn’t he? Y/N wasn’t exactly sure but him suggesting that his parents would be away and that they would be alone in his house again made butterflies erupt in her stomach. She was really excited to see his cats again and hang out, they’d likely finish another part of their project and likely fuck around a bit and that made her nervous all over again. 

‘Okaaay sounds good :) ’

She set her phone on her stomach and just looked up at the ceiling. Holy shit. Y/N couldn’t wait for Friday now, excited to see what else he’d have in store for her. She was simply excited to get to know him a bit more, he was hiding a lot of stuff from people from school. Of course she noticed all the astronomy shit in his room, saw the tons of books that he had with sticky notes showing they were clearly annotated. There was a lot more to him than met the eye.

---------------------------------------

[part 2]

A/N: Without giving too much away, yes, skater boy harry is bi and is whore for astronomy but we’ll get into that later ;) - n+d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅱ Vol.6 Yuma VS Azusa [TRACK 2]

Original title: 欠ける月を見ながら

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS II Vol. 6 Yuma VS Azusa [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tatsuhisa Suzuki & Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: I have no words. I swear the last few minutes of this track are just Rejet having way too much fun. You cannot convince me that they wrote that without knowing that it could EASILY be taken the wrong way. I mean, the whole situation isn’t exactly ‘innocent’ either way but it sounds even more dirty than it is. I’m not gonna try and hide either ーー my mind went straight to the gutter as soon as Yuma suggested she uses her hands instead of her mouth. If you’re curious what I’m talking about, you’ll have to read the translation. ;)

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 2: While Gazing at the Chipped Moon

Yuma: For a basement, it’s brighter in here than I thought. Is there a window on the ceiling or somethin’? 

You follow suit.

Yuma: Ah? What’s wrong? ...Ahー Ya pissin’ yer pants? ...I don’t mind. Come here.

Yuma hugs you close.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Just stay close to me, ‘kay? ...Take a look! Right above ya! There’s a big hole to look through! ...Aah, seems like this basement is right underneath the garden. 

You look up.

Yuma: They’re a bunch of dried up branches layin’ ‘round the edges of the garden. I had no idea this kinda room was underneath it. I’m surprised. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: ...Well, I guess it helps brighten up this place a lil’ without any lights ‘round, so I don’t see a problem with it. 

Something catches his attention.

Yuma: ...Oh? 

You ask what is wrong.

Yuma: No, it’s just...Ya can see the moon through that hole, right? Take a closer look. It’s slowly bein’ chipped away at. ...What was it called again? A lunar eclipse? Ya don’t see that every day. It’s my first time seein’ one.

You agree.

Yuma: You too? Hm...I see. Well, I guess we got lucky. It’s a rare sight after all. Too bad it’s from inside this creepy room.

You tilt your head to the side.

Yuma: This room just screams ‘creepy’, no? Ya still haven’t noticed? What kind of room this is, I mean. Take a good look around.

You look around.

Yuma: There’s a bunch of strange devices, right? Ya better don’t try and act like ya don’t know what these are. 

You reluctantly answer.

Yuma: Exactly...Hehehe...Seems like this was the pentalty room. In other words, the items lined up here and there are what you’d call torture devices

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Take a look at these handcuffs. It’s still got blood on there. Means these bad boys got used at some point. Seems like the previous owner of this manor was a shitbag who loved pickin’ on the weak. 

*Cling*

Yuma: There’s freaks like that crawlin’ ‘round the surface of this earth, ya see...They either get a kick out of tormentin’ others, or enjoy gettin’ teased themselves. ...Ah, right. Ya love that sorta stuff as well, no? Hehehe...

You quickly deny.

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Now that we discovered this hidden gem, it’d be a shame not to use the room to its fullest potential, right? ーー To start things off. 

*Cling*

Yuma: I’ll put these handcuffs on ya like this. Hehe...

You protest.

Yuma: How does it feel to get robbed of yer freedom?

You beg him to take them off again. 

Yuma: Ah...Lemme think. If ya want me to remove them that badly, don’t ya think ya should adjust yer attitude a lil’? 

*Rustle rustle*

Yuma: Come on...Tell me what to do. Woah there, don’t look away. I’ve taken away yer freedom, so ya better keep yer eyes on me. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: Exactly. Hehe...Nice expression. Bet ya didn’t think I’d do this, right? ...For some reason, I’m in a weird mood right now. Could that moon be to blame? I feel restless...in a different way from usual. I don’t really get it, but it has taken control over me, and I can’t help but have this strong cravin’ for...you. Mmh...”

Yuma kisses you passionately.

Yuma: I want to make you cry, make you submit to me...and have you admit the most obscene things. Mmh...

*Smooch*

Yuma: Hm? ...Hah. Judgin’ by yer face, ya just felt yer heart skip a beat, didn’t ya? Bet ya don’t find this all too bad, huh? Fine by me. I’ll do as ya wish. Come on, brace yerself. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: What do ya want? Should I just leave some kisses here and there? Like this...Mmh...

*Smooch*

You flinch.

Yuma: Or do ya prefer the pain? Ya want these fangs, don’t ya? Haha...Don’t try and hide it. I know that you’re yearnin’ for them. However, I won’t give them to ya ーー not this easily at least. That’d be borin’ as hell, right? We’ve got this convenient room to our disposal after all...

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Makes ya wanna try and push yer boundaries a lil’, no? Hehe...Let’s leave the main course for last and enjoy some stuff we usually never get to do. Nn...

*Rustle*

Yuma: This is a whip, right? No doubt in mind that guy used this to torment those poor little lambs. ...Didn’t I tell ya earlier, there’s people who need that sorta kick. Perhaps I’m one of them as well? When I picture your expression as you fight back the pain...It sends shivers down my spine.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Ahn? I’m not actin’ like myself? Ya think so? Hah. Then this room and the moon might be messin’ with my head. I shouldn’t be interested in lil’ games enjoyed by those disgustin’ noblemen. If anythin’, they used to make me gag...So I wonder why I’m havin’ so much fun right now? ...Could this be my true colors showin’...?

*SMACK*

Yuma: Heh. This bad boy makes quite the sound. ...Wait, what am I doin’? ...Aah, my bad. I felt a lil’ dizzy just now...There really is somethin’ wrong with me, huh? Ugh...

*Rustle*

Yuma: I...

You seem worried. 

Yuma: Hah. ...Haha. Just kidding~ 

You get upset.

Yuma: Ah? I was jokin’ just now. I wanted to see what kind of face you’d make, and just couldn’t help myself.

You protest.

Yuma: It looked convincin’? Don’t be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. I’m not the type of dude who would torment the weak, geez. Ya can’t even tell the difference between the truth and an act? Ya really are an idiot.

*Cling cling*

Yuma: There we go...Oi, lift yer hands a lil’ higher. I’m gonna remove the handcuffs.

You obey.

Yuma: Ahー The hole’s over here, right? ...’Kay. ...Huh?

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Ahn? ...That’s odd...I’m pretty sure this key...Ugh...Ah!

*Clunk*

Yuma: Ah...Fuck! It broke!

You make a fuss.

Yuma: Ah, hold on! Do ya really need to get that upset!? ...Hey! Don’t hit me!

*Thud thud*

Yuma: ...Calm down!! I can just chop off yer wrists and problem solvーー

You continue protesting.

 Yuma: ...I’m just kiddin’! Geez...I’m sure we’ll find a solution if we head upstairs. ...God, yer wrists are bleedin’. It’s ‘cause ya kept on movin’ ‘round. Does it hurt?

You nod.

Yuma: Guess I have no other choice. I’ll apply first aid.

Yuma licks the wound.

Yuma: There. Lil’ better now? ...Let’s say we’re even now, ‘kay?

You puff out your cheeks.

Yuma: Don’t hold it ‘gainst me. I was just curious how it’d feel to step out of my comfort zone for once. Don’t ya ever get that itch to try somethin’ new as well? ...More importantly, drinkin’ yer blood made me thirsty.

*Sluuuurp*

Yuma: After all, you’re like a delicious treat. Just a lil’ taste isn’t enough to satisfy us. ...Ah, yer blood really is nice. ...Say? Won’t ya let me feed off ya now that you’re stuck like this anyway? Ya don’t mind, do ya?

You hesitate. 

Yuma:  Ahー What a pain.I’ll take that silence as a yes. I’m not the most patient fella ‘round.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Now behave. I won’t hurt ya. 

Yuma bites you.

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Mmh...Delicious...I can’t stop...

*Rustle*

Yuma: ...Gimme more...I’ll suck from this hand next. Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Mmh...Nn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: ...Haahー This is bad...I really went to town on ya, huh...Did it hurt? Or maybe it feels good? 

You whimper softly.

Yuma: Hehe...I wonder if it’s ‘cause ya had yer blood sucked while being handcuffed, but ya look as if ya enjoyed it way more than usual.

You seem embarrassed.

Yuma: No need to be ashamed. ...It’s too late for that. I’ve been showin’ ya my pathetic side as well, no? When I see yer blood...or get a wiff of it...I get so turned on, I lose sight of myself. However...

*Rustle*

Yuma: That blood of yers...

He sniffs it.

Yuma: Hmmー How strange, it doesn’t smell as strong as usually...Now that ya mention it, I feel as if it tastes different as well? The fuck’s goin’ on? ...Oi, Sow. Stop spacin’ out and look at me, come on!

He forces your face his way.

Yuma: ...Do ya notice anythin’ off ‘bout me?

You shake your head.

Yuma: Right? But ya know, something’s not right. ...Oi, inspect my body. I’m sure there’s somethin’ wrong with it.

You seem baffled.

Yuma: This time I’m serious. I’m not just teasin’ ya. Come on, hurry up.

You protest.

Yuma: Ahn? Ya can’t use yer hands? ...Well, I guess that’s true. But even without yer hands, you’ve got somethin’ else that’ll work just fine as a replacement, right?

You tilt your head to the side.

Yuma: Whatcha so confused ‘bout? I’m obviously talkin’ ‘bout that mouth of yers.

You seem surprised.

Yuma: Check my body thoroughly with those lips. ーー Oh come on, didn’t I tell you just now? I’m bein’ serious. 100% sincere. So, where ya wanna start? With my neck, perhaps?

*Rustle*

Yuma: Yeah, just start from there and take it nice and slow...What’s wrong? Are ya holdin’ back? ...Ya can be a little more rough, ya know?

*Rustle rustle*

Yuma: Ah...Your lips are so soft...Nn...It’s almost like someone is trailing a feather across a skin...Ah...

You sigh.

Yuma: Hah? Ya won’t be able to tell this way? You’re always so quick to decide without givin’ it a try, huh? How dull. Come on, get on with it already.

*Cling*

Yuma: Nn...Yeah, just like that...See? Ya can do it after all...Or are ya growin’ desperate now? Hahaha...Ya suddenly...picked up the pace...Nn...It tickles. Is this you’re way of takin’ revenge? ...Oh well, whatever.

You continue trailing your lips across his skin.

Yuma: Yeah, just keep goin’ like that...Nn...Carefully slide your lips across...Hah...Nn...Feels good...

*Rustle*

You ask if he’s doing this to tease you again.

Yuma: Hahaha...Guess I’m busted, huh?

*SMACK*

Yuma: ...Ow!! Did ya really need to hit me!? I was just havin’ some fun! For one, we wouldn’t need doctors if we could simply find out what’s wrong with someone’s body this way.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[gagmebucky]

my first steve fic... don’t drag me about the characterization please i did my BEST and that’s all the matters, really 😌

[boxer!steve. size kink. doll.] 

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. 

in which steve can’t resist what he feels for you. (includes boxer!steve x coach’s-daughter!reader, steve’s pov, dirty talk, mild choking, size kink, grinding, unprotected sex, creampie kink, overstimulation.)

—

Steve Rogers has impeccable self control. He knows how to control his emotions, to maintain a clear head amid the mist of commotion, to command his body to follow his head and not the violent, primal instincts that prickle underneath his skin. 

And despite the lifelong effort required to uphold this principle, he’s found great fortune in the endeavor. Most don’t realize it, but in his occupation, there’s a certain level of restraint necessary in order to be successful. He has experienced it on both ends so he’s aware of just how important it is. 

Growing up, he hadn’t known better. In the numerous instances where he’d been provoked and pushed, he gave in; consequently, suffering gravelly. Knuckles split, bones broken and face bloodied, his anger got the better of him, and his opponents always got the benefit. 

But that’s where your father came in, and showed him the way to fight back and win every time, to redirect his mania into his fists and funnel them in tactful blows that resulted in trophy after trophy. Once Steve learned how to do that, everything became a breeze. It’s more than a combat style but a way of living. 

Ultimately, he gets what he wants because he can make logic-based decisions and utilize his visceral drive in executing them. And a wallet fat with unmatched winnings, a house for his family and a luxurious apartment of his own, his name on the lips of the masses, it’s a fucking amazing life—for the most part, anyway. 

Except for the one part: you.

The problem with self control, he has come to realize, is that when he truly desires something, he sees the cons of that thing. Usually, if it outweighs the pros, he’ll stop it before it begins. However, in the case of you, that formula isn’t working like it’s supposed to. 

You see, he knows he can’t have you, and he knows why. You are the daughter of his mentor, the only child of the single reason that he’s evolved into the East Coast’s Golden Glove Champion three times in a row, and pursuing you is beyond disrespectful. 

So why the fuck can’t he get you out of his head? 

That’s what he keeps asking himself. Another glorious win, and it won’t stop rattling inside his skull like a hammer on a gong. The crowd is chanting his name but yours is beating a tattoo inside his rib cage. The post-win rush surges through his veins and hits harder than any blows he’s ever received but spotting the proud tilt of your lips amongst the masses is like punch from God themself.

His clean-shaven jaw locks as the referee lifts his right arm and everyone goes wild, losing your face in the fanfare. This is the part where he basks in it, where he loses himself in the victory of sweat and blood slick across his skin; money and recognition, a reminder of the advantages of self-discipline; his reward of what he gets when he uses his brain and not the urges that prickle underneath his skin. 

This time, however, it’s not as gratifying as it’s supposed to be. No, it’s fucking agitating because instead of being the thing that gets him what he wants, it’s the obstacle in his way. 

He can’t pin-point exactly why the desire is striking him this intensely but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that you’ve just returned after a while, and your father is still gone—which means you’ll be upstairs in the gym’s apartment, alone, when he comes to see you (and he will come and see you, what’s the quote about looking and not touching?). 

The tension in his muscles advises his better judgement not to. The wild thump thump thump of his heart to the tune of your name dictates he find some other not-forbidden girl to release the mania coiled inside him before he does; that, it’s not like you’d mind he greet you in the morning—in fact, you’d understand. 

Except, he feels like a live wire right now, and there’s a pull inside him that feels like you’re the only thing that can fray his edges back into stability. 

You’re on the counter when he walks in. Barefoot, you’re kneeling on the flat surface to reach a high shelf in one of the kitchen’s cabinets. One arm stretched above your head, you blindly search for the contents for a cup, palm slapping against wood as you do. After seconds of failure, a cutely disgruntled noise leaves your throat, and you shuffle up to your toes. 

For a moment, he’s entranced by the display. A smile quirks the corner of his lips, running his gaze down the outline of your figure. Adorned in a tank top and ass-hugging jeans, there’s not a flaw in sight; other than his hands not on you, exploring every inch, crushing your body against his. Oh, that and you’re about to fall. 

“Oomph!” expels in a feminine grunt when you flail backwards and collide with the cushion of his embrace. His forearm hooks around your waist like an anchor and packs you against his chest before gently sliding you down his body to the safety of the ground. In doing so, momentarily, he’s caught up in how you feel against him, your back huddled into his front like puzzle pieces.

Everything about him is big, and it occurs to him that everything about you is small. His herculean stature dwarfs yours: six-foot of towering strength versus your soft, shorter frame. You barely require an ounce of strength to be lifted, and his blood rushes to his lower region with what he can do with that knowledge. 

Subconsciously, he tightens his hold until you tilt your head back to blink up at him with those enamoring big eyes. With that, he snaps out of his daze and relinquishes you with a quiet, “Sorry.” Before you can respond, he reaches beyond to grab the item of your desire and hands it over.

Your lashes flutter. “Thanks, killer,” you breathe cheekily as you accept it, the delayed rise and fall of your decolletage slowly regulating. You step out of his space. leaving him cold in your wake, and pad over to the sink with your back to him. “You did good out there, by the way.”

At the praise, his smile restores, and he inches toward you. “Just good?” he echoes after you’ve turned the faucet on and off and crosses his arms in faux offense.

Lips curled around a drink of water, you whirl around and finish a swig. Droplets glisten on your Cupid’s bow, and he swears you’re doing this on purpose when your pink tongue licks the liquid clean. “Do you really need little ‘ole me feeding your ego?” you tease and lean against the counter. 

“You are little,” he agrees with a perfunctory nod. 

You roll your eyes playfully and set the half-full cup down. “No. You - you’re just huge.” You gesture pointedly at his broad, muscle-laden build; dragging your stare down his squared shoulders to his defined abdomen to the tree trunks he has for thighs. An airy quality lingers in your voice, almost high pitched, as you add, “I don’t understand how your competitors don’t go running for the hills when they see you.” 

Taking another stride forth, head cocking, he observes you. There’s something in your expression he can’t quite explain but it pumps confidence into his blood. He glances at himself, white under armor t-shirt and gray sweats, but there’s no downplaying the physical strength he possesses. “You think I’m intimidating?”

You scoff and shake your head vehemently. “To other people, yeah. Me? Not so much.” A devious grin curves into those alluring lips of yours, and you straighten against the counter (not that it helped any with the height difference). “I could take you better than any of those losers you’ve gone against.” 

He laughs, husky and genuine. “Oh? Is that what you think?”

You stand your ground and encroach upon him, stabbing a finger into his chest. “It’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

Alarm bells ring between his ears, but he’s too lost in the beautiful arrogance on your face to listen. “Okay,” he says then backs up to the middle of the room where space is more ample and beckons you over with both hands. “C’mon then.” 

As he expected, you don’t back down. You smooth your hand through your hair and kick off the bottom cupboard. Rolling your shoulder, you enter his orbit; a friendly competitiveness gleams in your dilated pupils, darkening enough for him to notice beneath the kitchen’s warm-toned luminences. 

Your stance is nothing less than perfection (much like the rest of you). Orthodox, you project your right side but spread your weight evenly through both legs; a smidge wider than your shoulders, you bounce on the balls of your feet. Hands in a loose fist, your elbows are drawn together, and your chin tucks, looking up at him through your knitted eyebrows. 

There’s no question about your combative ability but his just more developed—given this is what he does for a living—so while you’re fast and your punches twist like it comes straight out of the textbook, he has the upper hand. 

In a half-hearted demeanor, he humors you. For a moment, the both of you encircle each other, him with a suppressed smile, you with concentrated brows. Like lightning, you advance on him and push through a superlative jab. But as quick as you are, he’s quicker. 

Deftly dodging your knuckles, he catches your dainty wrist. A squeal escapes your throat as he wrenches it behind your lower back. The swift action draws your body against his once again; the dull ridges of your back molds so close to his front that he knows you can feel the hammer of his heart beating an imprint between your shoulder blades. 

You wiggle briefly, and he has to bite down on a groan at the faint jean vibrations against his sweats, but you eventually relax with a long whine of, “No fair!” 

“You said—”

“Not what I meant,” you interject breathlessly, a salacious underlying in the words that he can no longer play oblivious to—dawning on him in a gut-clenching heat. “When I said I could take you, Rogers, I wasn’t talking about in a fight. Though, I won’t mind if we got a little violent. . .”

His breathing hitches. “I knew it.” A truth he long-buried—the strike of realization he avoided confronting in an attempt to hinder his own feelings—hurtles in his rib cage as he unwillingly accepts the reality you want him in the perverse idiosyncrasy he wants you. That beastly part of him roars in ravenous elation while his practiced erudition advises you in a low and pained plead, almost a groan, “You gotta stop.” 

With a breezy laugh, a twinkling song of laughter, you repeat a doubtful, “Stop?” and do the exact opposite. Your body careens into him, specifically your ass grinding encouragement against the hardening bulge in his pants. “Doesn’t feel like you want me to.” 

You’re right. “I don’t.” The reply rumbles through his chest and wrenches out strangled. The grip on your wrist increases before vanishing altogether. “But you’re Coach’s daughter, and out of all the things not to do, you’re number one on that list.” 

Freed, you twirl around and retain the lack of distance. You look up at him with unwavering seduction. “When you’re looking at me like that, does that really matter anymore?” 

Again, you’re right. But that’s not the issue—not the prevailing one, that is. “I’ve thought about you a million different ways but in reality, I’d break you,” he admits in a ragged exhale and licks his bottom lip. Another analytical once-over confirms his deduction; your danity frame clashing with his would be something beastly. “How would your daddy react knowing I ruined his pretty little girl?”

To his pleasure and displeasure, it doesn’t dissuade your attraction. No, it seems to have heightened it instead. “Is that a promise?” you ask, lust scintillating in your eyes like moonlight on the ocean, and he has to recoil away because you’ve got too much power over him with a look like that. “Steve—” 

Your hand grapples his before he can get far, an earnest strength he doesn’t have to bat an eyelash at. But it’s that—another reminder of your size differences and how easily he could bend and fold you to his liking—that has a carnal current torrenting from the depths of his soul, demanding an innate action. 

On impulse, he lurches forward with an inhuman growl and herds you backward until his hips are trapping yours against the counter edge. His hand wraps around the column of your neck, partially spanning your jaw to tilt upwards. 

“In every one of those fantasies, I use you like a rag doll—fast and rough, never gentle. And you wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re fuckin’ small and it’s the only possible way for me to fuck you,” he rasps, strained and serious, imploring you to understand the gravity of his words. “That’s in the case, that I can even fit inside you in the first place. So, you may say you can handle me but the truth is, you wouldn’t be able to take just one of my fingers.”

The speech is to deter you; invoke some common sense in that intelligent brain of yours because all of his is withering by the second. In lieu of his intention, it excites you further. Your pulse races against his palm but the flames in your gaze tell him it isn’t from fear. “You seem so sure about that but. . . but I don’t think so,” you purposely goad that volatile and competitive aspect of him. “Why don’t we try and see who’s right?”

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. 

“No,” you state simply, following after him. “I - I think you’re scared. I think you don’t want to admit that someone as small as me could take you so easily—and I mean easy—where everyone else fell to their knees.” A coy smirk upturns the corner of your lips. “Though I also wouldn’t be opposed to getting on mine right now.” 

That’s it. The last shred of ascetic lessons from the past six years bursts into ash. The fire ignites an unhinged frenzy, tunneling into his veins and coursing through his blood like the water of a previously dammed river now freed of placating obstruction. 

With unrestricted strength, Steve hauls you into his arms, cording underneath your ass and hoisting you high around his abdomen. In a gnashing kiss, he crushes his lips against yours. There’s no delay in your response, returning his passion in a rivaling degree. 

That formerly-leashed, hedonistic entity within him preens from its shackles and livens with unhinged reign. Electricity crackles underneath his skin and tingles violently in feral need. Every filthy imagining he’s conjured of you strobes through his mind, and he feels like a man who hasn’t eaten in years, and you’re the delectable T-bone steak he gets to devour. 

You moan into his mouth, a pretty vibration he swallows, as he laps up your taste. The musical sound, the way you explode on his tongue, it all goes to his head like a hit off a drug and slithers down his spine to the ache in his cock. 

His hips snap forward, and his grasp on you intensifies; clutching your ass, he’s rocking your center into his cotton-clad erection roughly. Shards of pleasure ricochet through him, but it’s not enough—he needs more, needs more of your titillating sounds, more of your body on his, of you coming undone because of him, you making him fall apart. 

As you writhe against him with breathy sounds, he sets you on the counter and goes for your pants. Logic evades him at this point—like the fact it’d be the same amount of time with less effort it’d be if he slipped off—and his hands tear the denim material down the middle. Using little effort, he continues to remove what separates you, doing away with your panties next. All the while, you’re gasping in surprise and possibly outrage but he can’t focus on that right now. 

“You don’t understand,” he speaks laboredly, shoving his sweats to his knees to reveal he’s gone commando. “How bad I’ve wanted you. How hard it was—how hard you make me—to keep from myself taking you in every disgusting way I dreamed about.” 

Slicked with precum, his veined manhood is just as thick as it is long; past lovers have gawked at the formidable steel, shying away immediately after, and he’s always understood that. But you, you look at him starry-eyed, licking your bottom lip like you want him exploding on your tongue. 

And as much as he’d marvel at the sight of your cheeks stuffed like chipmunk with his cock— has thought how hot it’d sound when you’re gagging relentlessly around him—he’s got his attention lasered on that tiny prize between your thighs. 

A teasing triangle of perfection, daring him to completely abuse and batter as he pleases. You’re glistening like diamonds in the sunlight, effectively blinding him in a bind of corporeal desire—there’s no thinking, only action; no right or wrong, just what he wants.

His hands pinch underneath your knees and slide you to the edge. In tandem, he slots himself flat against your weeping heat, squishing the length of his cock between the split of your slit, burrowing himself there as if it’s his new home. 

Mutual moans and shivers expel through you both. It’s better than he’s ever imagined; mentally-created experience has nothing on the raw reality. Soft like silk, the honeyed aperture of your sex is eclipsed by his tanned thickness, barely shrouding a third of him, his tip twitching at your navel, and it’s a snapshot to behold. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he rasps, jaw locking before he reels you tighter and snaps his hips forward, rutting against your throbbing clit. It’s the match that starts the fire, a million sparks prickling all over that has him taking you like a madman. 

“S - Steve!” you cry, music to his ears, as he hooks his elbows under your knees, bending them over his shoulders, and works your divided folds up and down the length of his translucent-white dribbling cock. Your arms shoot around his neck desperately while you bury your face in his neck, mewling into his collarbone; the vibration unmistakably his name. 

“I am going to fuck you, doll,” he promises through gritted teeth, using his hands palming your ass to grind your little pussy into him harshly, at the same time his hips rock into the assault. “I am going to shove every inch of my cock inside you, make it fit if you can’t. But first—first, you’re going to cum on my cock then you’re going cum around it.” 

Your weight is nothing to his hulking strength, bouncing you in undulation like you’re his own personal fuck-toy (somewhere in that darker, aggressive facet of him chides that’s exactly what you are; a wanton toy to use to his desire). 

Every upward thrust is grating over your bundle of nerves, coaxing gush and gush of your essence. Mixed with his own liquid arousal, it further lubricates his slippery anatomy and empowers quicker ministrations—filling the room with your crescendos of whimpers and moans. 

“Y’like it when I make your pretty lil’ pussy grind against my cock? When the tip rubs over your soft clit?” he says, winded, in your ear as you shake like a leaf in the steel cage that is him. “Or d’you like knowing despite how bad I need to be balls-deep inside you I have to wait ‘cause your tiny pussy won’t be able to take it yet?” 

“Oh. God. Steve—” you moan, raking your nails into his flexing back muscles, and he revels in the faint sting. “I - I—it feels good. Fuck, it feels so good.”

Shocks needle down his spine and gnaw in his lower stomach while static nibbles at his limbs; a prelude to a knee-buckling reckoning. “Y’gonna cum for me, beautiful?” He can feel the tautness constricting in your body, the crook of your calves as your toes curl. “Want you to. Wanna know what’s gonna happen when you do?” He doesn’t wait for a response, especially when you’re borderline incoherent. “It’s gonna loosen you up for me. Get your pussy prepared to take all of my big, fat cock. And, you fuckin’ will. Y’hear me?” 

At that point, he’s unsure whether you nodded or not because your head does bob, but so does the rest of you. His neck muffles your cry as you buck wildly against him, and if that isn’t telling enough, he can feel your engorged nub pulsating with euphoria. 

And he can’t resist it. The threat of his violent upcoming orgasm; the fact that he knows your channel is clamping down hallowly; the earlier declaration of being able to handle him easily, it all overwhelms him. 

In a millisecond, before his mind comprehends what his instincts are doing, his hands slip from underneath your bottom to either side of your slit, and his thumbs spread your opening. He heaves you up, and when gravity brings you down, his well-endowed cock drives into your spasming insides. 

With an audible wet slush and slap of skin, he powers through your channel harshly until he’s seated to the hilt. In the throes of your orgasm—before he could stretch you first like he intended—inches that outwardly reached your belly button, width that dwarfed your mound  invades your walls in one blunt movement. 

The orgasm is still flooding you but it’s combined with the convulsions of vanquished hollowness and encompassing fullness. To be perfectly fucking honest, it’s heaven: snug, fervid heaven. And he wastes no time losing himself in you, fucking you through your stimulation while you’re rendered to a babbling mess.

“Oh - oh, my—Steve!” you squeal as your rubber-band-like resistance desperately tries to accommodate the intrusion of his size. “Big—you’re big—I didn’t realize you were so b - big—” 

“But you’re going to take it, aren’t you? Said you could, swore you’d handle me like no other before, right?” he croons and continues to decimate your swollen valley. “I told you you’d cum on my cock and around it, and that’s what you’re gonna do.” The order has your strangling heat fluttering in delight. “Unless you aren’t as big and bad as you claimed to be.” 

You gasp and cling tighter. “I can - I can,” you whimper, and it’s so cute—he can’t wait to fuck you until you pass out. “Just a minute. I can’t cum yet—n - not yet.” 

He laughs huskily because he knows he’s gonna to make you do exactly that. “Yeah, we’ll see about that, doll,” he practically purrs and cinches you closer so with each pass of his hips, your sensitive clit is chafing against his pubic bone; it has the intended effect of forcing your swollen walls to quiver around him.

“Shit,” you choke. “I can’t - I can’t—”

Motivated by your disbelieving insistence, he reaffirms his grip and pistons through your folds quicker. He ebbs deeper and deeper with the combination of his hips ramming in and his hands controlling your body so your channel swallows him all the way. 

Rising sensations pulse within him at an alarming rate, numbness climbing up his toes to cover him completely, encasing his nerves with an escalating bliss. In a minute, he’s going to blow and empty the contents of his balls into your never ending, clamping depths—and he can’t wait to see your reaction when he does, what it’ll look like to have his thick white dribbling out of you. 

That thought spurs him on, and he abruptly props you on the kitchen counter. There’s no break for your used pussy as he slithers a free hand to fist your throat, laying you flat against the cold granite.

“You are gonna cum for me,” he growls, voice unrecognizable with animalistic carnality. The sheening and flushed exertion on your face, the moans vibrating up your esophagus and the wriggle of your body is mesmerizing and provoking. “And you’re going to make me cum while you do it. Your tiny pussy is gonna milk my big cock until I’m flooding you full of me.”

He ruffles your shirt up and out of the way, giving him a glimpse of the single hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. As his hips jut back and forth, the indent of his bulbous tip prods visibly from your stomach; he can see himself bulging low in your belly. 

He releases the unholiest of groans as lightning zaps through him, tactfully shocking his pressure points while his blood pumps to his dick, and he swells bigger inside you. The temperature is boiling to the top, and when your warbling voice breaks into his haze, “Steve—Steve—Steve—!” his eyes snap open. 

His gaze drags further down, he’s greeted with the eyeful of your exploited mound: puffy and swollen from his unyielding, punishing onslaught, your clit peaking through faintly as if beckoning for his touch. Of course, he obliges you—he has zero idea how he managed to deny himself of you in the past. 

The second he thumbs at the little nubbin, you’re sobbing his name and squelching around his cock. In a domino effect, the lava blasts from the bottom of his gut to your enveloping convulsions; sheathed to the hilt, a visual ingrained in his memory of his cockhead pushing up inside your stomach, he pours all the mania he’s kept locked away into you. 

Riding out the wave, he watches how you cream around him when he retreats from you. A ring of clear white contrasts against your bruised sex and his tanned length, the mix of your essences oozing down his balls and onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “That’s hot.” 

There’s a periodic twitch of you, and he glances up to see you staring at him, glossy-eyed but undoubtedly satisfied. “You. . . that was. . . God,” is all you manage, and pride blooms in his chest—at the fact that you kept up, and at the fact he did you good. “You’re amazing.” 

“You did good, doll,” he speaks roughly, the hand around your throat tracing your pulse. “I couldn’t have thought of a better way for this to have gone. . .” Despite his recent orgasm, there’s a hunger clawing back to the surface as he observes the way you’re splayed out like an offering, fucked to the point of limpness. “Or, to be going. . .” 

“S - Steve,” you whimper but it isn’t a protest, far from it, he can tell. 

So he continues to trail his hand to your clit, encircling it while you give a half-hearted bleat. He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and maneuvers his hips until his growing semi is teasing your cum-dripping entrance. “Y’said you could handle me, doll,” he murmurs and promptly glides right back into you, and a wanton cry tears from your lips. “Let’s see how true that is.” 

[masterlist / feedback]

[mlleecrivaine]

The Fred Weasley Experience

Author’s Note:  Had an interesting thought about what people tend to come to each of the twins for in a relationship, wanted to write about it. 

Word Count:  3,454

Pairing:  Fred Weasley x f!reader

Warnings:  Language, but when isn’t that a warning with me. Angst.

Summary:  Fred turned down his shot at happiness because he couldn’t stand to be hurt again. Did he make the right choice?

–

Is it unreasonable to want to punch yourself in the teeth? Fred wondered as he sat crammed into the space between his bed and his dresser.  

If he were to move at all from this stiff-backed position, anyone who wandered in would be able to see him.  Knowing the universe, it would be George who found him, so he stayed at a painful right angle willing his skull to fuse with the stone behind him.

Maybe being used again wouldn’t be so bad, he thought.  Couldn’t be that different this time around…

But it could be that different, and he knew it.  He knew without a doubt that the moment he touched you or, God forbid, kissed you, it would be different.  He would be irrevocably fucked and then the end would hurt that much more than usual.

So this sting, this… this guttural grief that he was feeling now would be all the more worth it in the end.  He’d never have to hear the words from your mouth.

But Merlin, he wished he’d said yes.

---

You sat in the common room with your chin in your palm, scratching notes on your parchment out of your astronomy textbook and trying to ignore the twisting embarrassment in your stomach.

“Y/N?”

You looked up.  Hermione was standing over you with a tentative expression.  She was holding a few books aloft as if she’d been hoping to ask to sit across from you, but now that she saw your face, she was thinking twice.

“You’re welcome to it,” you said, gesturing vaguely with the end of your quill at the chair opposite.

“Thanks,” she said slowly.  She set her books down and added, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you answered, leafing through a few pages in your book.

“You don’t look fine…”

“I said I’m fine,” you reiterated and continued your notes, keeping your eyes firmly off of hers.

Hermione took in a sharp breath and then seemed to think better of it and flipped open a book.

The pair of you worked in silence before you finally laid your quill down.  Your face screwed up as you thought the words before you said them.

“He said no.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Hermione breathed, reaching across the table and putting a hand on your elbow as you leaned it on the table to cover your face with your hands.  “Did he say why?”

You shook your head, trying to take a deep breath to keep more tears from coming than already were.

“He j-just said no and then he walked a-away,” you whispered.

A few deep breaths later, you were able to take your hands off your face and look at Hermione who offered you a handkerchief.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  “I know how much that meant to you.”

“I’m devastated,” you muttered.

“I know,” she said, giving you a pained look.  “Well he’s an idiot for not taking his chance with you.  It’s so clear how much you care about him -”

“Yeah, but if he doesn’t care for me back, what’s the point?” you spat, with more venom than you meant.

Hermione seemed to brush it off.

“Regardless, he’s missed out.  It’s his loss.”

You nodded.  You didn’t believe it, because loss rang so deeply in your chest, you knew it belonged to you.

To your relief, she stopped trying to comfort you and you both fell back into a pace with your reading.  You sniffed occasionally and she kept shooting you sympathetic glances, but you didn’t speak.

“Anyone seen Fred around?”

You felt a stab in your gut just at the sound of his name.  It hurt all the more that the voice was almost his.

Turning around, you saw George wandering over to your table with his hands in his pockets.

“Are you alright, Y/N?  What happened?”  George’s brow creased and he hurried over, crouching beside you.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, turning away from him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing, George,” Hermione said firmly.  “I think Fred’s upstairs.”

“Cheers…” George said slowly, standing and putting a tentative hand on your shoulder that you petulantly wanted to brush off but didn’t.

He went upstairs and you stood, gathering your things.

“Where are you -”

“I’m going outside.  I need some air.”

“Do you want me to -”

“No.  And… if you can, just don’t tell anyone where I am?”

“You’ve barely told me where you’re going.”

You quirked an eyebrow and shoved the last of your things in your bag.  Slinging the strap over your shoulder, you made for the portrait hole.

---

“Fred?”

Fuck.

The dorm door opened and Fred pressed himself back into the wall, hoping his brother would just look around and leave.

“Fred, are you in here?”

“Down here,” Fred grunted.

George appeared a moment later, clearly confused about where Fred’s voice had come from.

“Blimey, you too?”

Fred curled his lip.

“What do you mean, ‘me too’?”

“I just left Y/N downstairs in a state, do you know… what happened?”  Realization finally dawned on George’s face.

“Nothing,” Fred grumbled.

“Well I’d say it’s not nothing, considering the two of you look like you just had a row.”

“We didn’t row.”

“Well then what… okay, that’s enough, get out of there, come on.  That can’t be comfortable.”

“S’not.”

“All the more reason to get up, then.”

George stood himself and stuck his hand out, waiting for Fred to take it.

“Come on!” he urged.

Fred sighed loudly and took his brother’s hand, letting him pull him up.  About four things in Fred’s back cracked as he stood.

“How long have you been down there, mate?”

Fred just shrugged as the pair of them sat on the edge of his bed.

“What the hell happened?”  George asked.

Fred just shook his head and looked down at his hands.

“Did you ask her out?”

“No,” Fred mumbled.

George made a noise and shook his head, looking out the window as he considered his response.

“Listen mate, I can’t read your mind,” he finally said.  “Y/N looked like… like someone just died and you’re up here doing whatever you’re doing… ‘m not stupid, something happened.”

“Y/N asked me out,” Fred mumbled.

George raised his eyebrows and laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

“No! That’s a good thing, isn’t it?  Freddie, that’s what you’ve always wanted!”  George exclaimed.

“I said no,” Fred breathed.

George stared deadpan at his brother before letting out a sarcastic laugh.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said.  “What possessed you to say no?  Fred you haven’t shut up about Y/N since fourth year -”

“George people don’t stay with me,” Fred snapped angrily.  “I want Y/N, more than anything, so much, and what happens when she eventually gets sick of me too?”

George gaped at his twin.

“People stay with you, George.  You’re… we’re different.  I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like…”

“It’s like what Alicia said, isn’t it?” George said, cluing in.  “Fred, that’s one opinion, it’s not -”

“But it’s not one opinion!” Fred said.  “I’ve been with how many people now?  Not a single one has lasted more than a few months.  And Alicia just hit the nail on the head, didn’t she.  Everyone just wants to experience me.  I’m like some kind of… side-show attraction or something, you come, you have your fun, you leave.

“And what happens to me, then?  I just end up bruised and lonely, meanwhile everyone wants to have their first real ‘thing’ with you…

“And what about Y/N?  We start something, I’ll get invested because of course I will with her, and then she’ll leave once she’s had enough of the show.  And I’ll be crushed, George.”

George’s heart twisted in his chest and he reached out and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Fred -”

“Don’t try to make me feel better, George,” Fred groaned, shaking his head.  “I don’t want to hear it.”

George bit the inside of his cheek.

“I won’t, then,” he said tentatively, “but if you ask me, the look on Y/N’s face tells me that you’re not alone in how you’re feeling right now.”

Fred met his brother’s gaze.

“Fred, she’s been moony over you for ages.  Longer than any of the other birds I’ve ever seen you date.”  George licked his lips.  “I’m sure you noticed I took her to the Yule Ball at Christmas?”

Fred grit his teeth.

“Couldn’t miss it, mate.”

“Yeah, well, I promise you it wasn’t me she wanted to be there with.”

Fred narrowed his eyes.

“She was looking at you all night.  Swear on my life.”

Fred felt his heart start to shatter all over again.

“Fred, I don’t know what people see in you versus me and I don’t care.  Both of us deserve to have what makes us happy, and you’re letting the person who can give you that slip between your fingers.”  George grinned.  “Remember the stupid stories dad used to tell us about chasing mum around?”

Fred let out a laugh.

“That could be you, you tosspot.  Now you march your arse downstairs and you say yes to that girl.”

“Alright,” Fred said with a real grin on his face.

He launched himself off the bed and ran for the stairs.

He bounded down the stairs and stopped dead on the last one, turning his head from side to side, but you weren’t anywhere he could see.

“Looking for Y/N?”

He whipped his head around to find Hermione looking at him with pursed lips.

“Yes!  Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Oh Merlin, Hermione, please.” Fred got down on his knees next to her chair.  “I messed up.”

“I’d say!”

“Is she okay?”

“No, she’s not okay!” Hermione shouted and then lowered her voice.  “You can’t just go around playing with people’s hearts like this.”

“I didn’t mean to play, honestly,” Fred said, feeling the emotions start to spill over.  “I was terrified.  I made the wrong choice and I need to find her.  I need to take it back.  Please, Granger, where is she?”

Hermione side-eyed him intensely before she finally sighed.

“I don’t know.  She just said she was going outside.”

“I owe you,” he said.  “Anything you need, anytime.”  He scrambled to his feet.  “Thank you!”

He bolted out the portrait hole before Hermione could respond.

---

You laid out on the grass between the forest and Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.  You’d seen the gamekeeper wandering off into the Forbidden Forest when you came down this way, and decided to use the opportunity to hide down here.  It was the least obvious place anyone could look for you.

And yet still, just as the sun was starting to go down, Fred’s voice came over the hill.

“Y/N!” he shouted.

You held your breath and counted like you were listening to thunder instead of the voice that put air into your lungs.

“Y/N!” he yelled again, this time much closer, like he’d gotten to the dip in the path.

With every ounce of energy you had, you tried to sink back into the dirt.

“Y/N!” he screamed, his voice breaking.

A tear rolled down the side of your face into your hair as you heard his footsteps retreating back up the path.

---

You stopped at the top of the stairs before the portrait of the fat lady just at the strike of curfew.

“Password?” she asked.

“Whirligig,” you muttered.

He’d be on the other side of the portrait waiting for you.  Always so obstinate.  So head-strong.  So not the person you needed to see right now.  You’d give your leg for an invisibility cloak.

The fat lady swung open and you wandered in.

The common room was mostly empty but for a handful of fifth-years panicking over OWLs revision.

You crept past them and started up your stairs when you heard voices coming down the boys’ stairs.  Pressing your back to the wall, you watched as George, Lee and Ken Towler all barged down the stairs talking excitedly with one another.

They disappeared out the portrait hole together, earning grumbles from the fifth-years.

Fred was the only one upstairs at the moment, you realized.

No.  No, no, no.  Let it go.  But the sound of his voice breaking outside knotted your insides again and your heart pulled for him.

Before you could really make up your mind, you were already halfway up the boys’ stairs.

You stopped with your hand on the knob and half-opened the door, knocking.

“Why are you knocking?  I’m not in a state just ‘cause you left,” he growled.

You almost closed the door, but you pushed it open further.

Fred sat on the edge of his bed, back to the door, looking out the window.  The duvet was fisted in his hands and he was kneading it between his tight fingers.

Quietly, you closed the door behind you.

“What did you forget?” he asked.

“It’s me.”

He whipped his head around so fast he cricked something and you watched the pain flood over his face for a split second before he scrambled up to standing.

You swallowed.

He stood there stupidly with his hands hanging useless at his sides.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he said.

“I know,” you admitted.  “I… I was in the pumpkin patch.”

He fisted his hands and looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s okay; I didn’t want you to find me,” you muttered.

“I was right there,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes and pressed the pads of your fingers to one of them.

“What did you want?” you murmured.

Fred snapped into action.  He stepped right up to you with his arms outstretched -

You held up your hands to keep him away.

“Don’t… don’t touch me.  Just answer my question.”  You took a step back for emphasis.

“I made a mistake,” he whispered.  “I shouldn’t’ve told you no.  I… Y/N, I was scared.  I was scared you wouldn’t care about me like I care about you.  I didn’t want to get hurt…”

“So you hurt me instead?” you asked.

Fred made a noise.

“When you say it like that, of course it was a terrible idea.  I shouldn’t’ve.  I should’ve said yes; I want to say yes.  Please let me say yes…”

“Fred…” you started.  “I gave you my heart and you threw it back at me.”

He pressed his lips together, opening and closing his fists by his hips.  He just nodded.

“I don’t want to put my heart back out there,” you admitted.  “I can’t let you do that to me again.  It hurts so much.”

He nodded again.  You could hear clipped puffs of air coming from his nose, but he didn’t take any real breaths.

“I don’t… I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”

His lips trembled but he nodded again.

“You’re probably right.  You always are.”

You looked down at his shins and nodded.

Without a word, you left.

---

“‘S with you?”  Angelina asked at Saturday breakfast a few days later.

You looked up at her and just shook your head, looking back down at your cereal.

“Boy trouble?” Katie asked.

You didn’t respond, but you chewed your lip.  Fred took Angelina to the Yule Ball and you’d never forget the all consuming jealousy you felt watching them dance together.  She had something you never would, and she didn’t even want it like you did.  That memory.  A memory you’d hold close for your whole life if he only gave you a breath of a chance like he’d given her.  That is, it would’ve only counted before this.  You couldn’t take his pity offers now.  He was selfish.  And stubborn.  And just as broken as you, from the looks of it.

“I heard you asked Fred out,” Alicia said slowly.

“You didn’t!” Angelina exclaimed.  “Good for you!”

You sneered and looked away.

“Didn’t you?” she went on.  “Well you should do if you haven’t, you two’d actually be alright I think.”

“‘Alright’?” you scoffed.  “Thanks.”

“No one’s alright with him,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Oh come on, you know he blows through partners like they’re going out of style,” Alicia said.  “Of course, I’m pretty sure he’s just waiting around for you, but it’s good practice for the rest of us in the meantime.”

She and Katie exchanged a grin.

“What?”

“Ever heard of the ‘Fred Weasley Experience’?” Katie joked, although you didn’t find the concept funny.  “He’ll date anyone for a few weeks, no hard feelings.”

You furrowed your brow.

“No hard feelings?” you repeated.

“Yeah!  It’s like a ride, you get on, have your fun, get off when you’re done,” Alicia said with a wide smile.  Angelina snorted.

“You can’t possibly think that’s what he wants?” you demanded.

“He doesn’t say no?” Alicia said with a shrug.  “I mean, it’s clearly not ideal, but -”

“But nothing, that’s his heart you’re messing with!”

“Hey, I’ve never done it!” Alicia said, throwing her hands up.

“And for me it was just the ball, nothing else,” Angelina said.

“Yeah, it’s more of a joke among the other houses, I think,” Katie said.

“That’s not a bloody joke,” you breathed, getting up from the table.  It’s no wonder he said no.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?” Angelina asked.  “Did you really ask him out?”

“It’s none of your-”

“Just listen to me for a moment?”

You paused and looked at her.

“I tried asking him out after the ball, but he told me there was someone else,” she said.  “It’s you.  Just about everyone knows it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Angelina said.  “That’s why no one’s felt as bad as they should.  They all know he’s holding out for you.”

“Thanks, Angie,” you said, breaking into a sprint and running back to the common room.

You burst through the portrait hole and George and Lee were sitting on the couch playing exploding snap.  They looked up as you came panting in.

“Is he upstairs?” you asked, doubling over and cupping the stitch in your ribs.

“No, he went down to the lake,” George said.

You heaved one great breath and nearly collapsed, but you waved a thank you and turned back out the portrait hole.

“You gonna listen to him this time?” George called after you.

“Yes!” you hollered back before launching yourself down the stairs.

It was a perfect day to be outside.  Not so hot that you wanted to throw yourself in the lake, but not too breezy that you couldn’t read comfortably.

You ran straight down to the lake and at first you had a flash of deja vu.  He was nowhere in sight.

Just as you were about to call his name, you spotted him reclined under a beech tree, his hands clasped on his lap and his eyes closed.

You wanted to let him doze but you also desperately needed to talk to him.

You settled for a slow approach and you sat down next to him, leaning back against the tree.

He was really beautiful.  The way his hair fell softly over his face.  The way his lips just looked perfect when he had no expression.  The long, lean line of his body, carved out by quidditch and mischief in equal measure.  The beautiful deep hazel of his eyes which you now realized were watching you watch him.

“Good morning,” he said.  There was no tone to his voice.

“Morning, Fred,” you murmured in response.

He watched you, waiting for something.

“Have you ever heard of the ‘Fred Weasley Experience’?”

He nodded.

“I hadn’t until this morning,” you said, licking your lips.  “It’s awful.”

“Lot of fun on my end.”

“That’s not what I wanted,” you said.

“You sure?  I understand that I’m a good way to get your feet wet.”

“I don’t want to wet my feet, Fred.  I want… I want so much more than that.  With you.  Or not at all.”

His eyes searched yours.

“You sure?”

“I am.”

“Will you let me say yes then?  Because Y/N, I’m miserable without you.”

“Only if you let me promise that I’m not going to let you go,” you said.

He cracked a smile.

“I’m holding you to that.”

You smiled back.

“Can I touch you now?”

“Please do,” you said.

Very slowly, like he was going to scare you away, he sat up a little straighter and turned on his hip so he could wrap you in a hug.  He was warm and he smelled so good.  His hair tickled your cheek.  He sighed into your neck.

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?” he murmured.

“Yes.”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Bumblebee (Blake x Yang)

Word Count: 1,923 Words

Summary: Discussion and go time.

Warnings: Fighting Mention, Cursing, Weapon Mention, Death Mention, Blood Mention, Amputation Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Shadows Are Made Of Light: Chapter 5

Dinner was lively to say the least. Terra and Saphron seemingly decided that eating at the table in their kitchen was their best bet while the group was discussing. Terra and Saphron had long since gone up to their bedroom to sleep.

The plans were talked through and they were about to wrap up the conversation when Mercury sighed. Now was a better time than ever for the little plans he'd overheard details from.

"I actually have something to say." Mercury didn't like all this attention once all their eyes were on him.

"What's wrong?" Jaune asked, looking over his tension-filled expression.

"There were some things Salem would relay through Cinder. There was always a plan behind the fall of Beacon. Salem's plans are to create a divide and unrest amongst the people of Remnant and gather the relics so, when the gods come back, they'll destroy Remnant, everyone on it, and she will no longer be immortal. Salem's goal is to free herself from eternity by taking everyone with her." Mercury told them.

"So she'll be looking for the Lamp." Oscar asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"For all the relics. Last I heard, Emerald told me that Ozpin had apparently hidden the Crown even better than the other three and Cinder still hadn't found it. Now that we have the Lamp, they know they need to get the others before we can so our goal is a ticking clock." Mercury took a deep breath, hoping nobody was disappointed.

"A time crunch isn't anything new. We can still do this." Ruby assured him.

"We should get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be interesting." Maria laughed on her way upstairs. Mercury was going to end up asleep on the couch again because Oscar was half asleep against him again.

"I have a feeling Nora is taking pictures." Mercury told them.

"Good instincts." Nora told him, obviously taking another picture. "I've never passed up an opportunity for Cute Farm Son pictures." Nora alerted him.

"Good to know, crop me out of them." Mercury told her.

"Ehhh, I think I'll leave you in since you're looking particularly Dad-like." Mercury laughed while frowning at her.

"I hate you." Mercury smiled at her.

"Yeah, sure, Dad-cury." Nora snorted.

"Go sleep or something." He laughed, smiling as everyone filed from the room and shut the lights off. Mercury's heart stopped at the darkness. As childish as it may be, the dark was something he couldn't deal with.

"Nora?" He asked, she'd been the last one to go up the stairs due to her need for pictures of Mercury and Oscar.

"What's up Dad-cury?" Nora asked, coming downstairs and turning the lights on.

"Could you leave a light on?" Mercury asked.

"Oh yeah, sure. You scared of the dark too?" She asked.

"More of an instinct. Can't sleep with lights off. My dad told me too many stories of monsters in the dark." Mercury admitted.

"You're good, I'll leave the lamp over here on." She told him and patted the lamp before turning it on and turning the main light off. "Night, Dad-cury." She told him.

"Night, Nora." He called after her as she went upstairs. Mercury sighed at Oscar asleep on him.

"I hope you realize I'm not a pillow." He told the sleeping boy only to receive a small snore. "Fine, but it's because you're a kid and you remind me of Chrome." Mercury grumbled.

He went about pulling Oscar's excess clothing off as well as his own. They didn't need to wake up in puddles of sweat in warm, heavy clothing meant for much colder weather than this.

Then he laid down and then he smiled holding the bear from inside his jacket that he had kept, Chrome's favorite teddy bear. It was the piece of her he had left. He had kept it with him since he left his father's house. He fell asleep holding it close, Oscar deciding to cuddle up against him and he smiled. He guessed he would be a father figure to a pre-teen now too.

In the morning, the plan was running smoothly, Weiss was on the Atlesian aircraft to Atlas with Maria in her luggage as the only small person who could fit who could also fly a plane with Saphron and Adrian as her distraction to get Maria onboard. It was up to him and Blake to turn off the radar for Weiss.

Mercury was sure that three people riding on a two person motorcycle probably wasn't safe, he was aware. He was acutely aware of the conversation Blake and Terra were having about the comms equipment for the city versus the radar box.

"Are you two sure I shouldn't come with?" Yang asked as the bike stopped about a half mile from the tower.

"More intruders means we're more likely to be seen." Blake told her. "Besides, stealth isn't exactly your, um...I mean, you're great and we'll hurry back!" Blake told her.

"Go." Yang smiled at her. They went running off toward the tower together, Mercury feeling that bear close in his jacket, snuggly secured to his front so he couldn't possibly lose it.

"Heading in on foot, won't be long." Blake told the others on the comms.

"You know, you two flirting couldn't be more apparent." He told her.

"Hey!" She snapped.

"I just say what I see." He smirked.

"Sure, 'Dad-cury'." Blake teased.

"I won't deny my fatherly title. And don't make me adopt you all." He taunted back.

Their run to the tower was largely uneventful until they got to the tower itself. When they got there, there was a red-haired man he vaguely recognized as having maybe met once or possibly twice. Adam Taurus, a White Fang operative whom Emerald had informed him about two weeks ago that he'd taken reigns as the head of the organization before its eventual fall at Haven not long after.

"Blake. And you. Salem heard of your betrayal at Beacon, Mercury Black." Mercury felt a rush of both helpless and rage. This guy had the guts to practically threaten him?

"Merc, don't rush him." She warned quietly.

"Protecting your friend? Or are you travelling with an enemy, Belladonna? He could betray any of you at any moment while claiming to be a friend. He's probably not even with you to help, he's just running away like he ran away from his dear old daughter two years ago." Adam taunted.

"Don't you talk about my daughter!" Mercury snapped at him.

"Is Dad mad I brought up his abandoned baby? Mad because I'm right or because you're sad she won't have a Dad after I'm done with you?" Adam asked.

"I'm mad because some asshole is talking shit about me protecting my daughter!" Mercury shot at him with the gun-scythe, which he'd named Caduceus, Qrow got him that morning.

"Merc!" Blake snapped, pulling him away.

"Get to the radar." He whispered to her, rushing into the fight with Adam and distracted him while Blake tried to get up the relay tower. Unfortunately, that fight didn't quite favor Mercury as Adam grabbed his leg during a kick and pulled. Hard, so much Mercury went flying to the ground. The lock popped from the pin and he felt the lock break as the pin wasn't undone properly.

"Looks like Silver Black did a good job making his son easily controlled." Adam snapped. Mercury couldn't move, he knew Adam was looming over him, he knew it was so easy for him to die like this if he didn't attack but he felt a crushing weight of shock hit him that he would never see Chrome again.

She would never have a Dad, at least not one that was him. He'd never see her grow up. It made the breath catch in his lungs and tears build in his eyes. But the strike never came and, when he opened his eyes, Adam was gone, going after Blake.

He had to had to help Blake. He heard them tumbling in the trees, he shoved a twig into the the broken lock and put the pin back in. The stupid thing didn't move his stupid knee. Thankfully, he didn't need the use of it, he had a weapon still and another leg.

He could do this. He wouldn't stop fighting until he at least saw Chrome again. Blake was fighting Adam. He could hear it. he followed them to a waterfall nearby. he could tell by the sound of their swords clashing.

"You're delusional." Blake sounded shaken as he stood hidden in the forest before the opening. He saw their blades clash once more as he ran forward to save her. He wouldn't let him kill her.

Gambol Shroud was broken in half and his ears rang with Blake's scream as Mercury saw the blood on her wrist and was now getting on the ground. Her hand still on the grip of Gambol Shroud as it skittered away from her.

Adam simply shoved Mercury down and went about his bullshit speech about how she hurt him, showing off a brand on his left eye, one of the Schnee Dust Company's for their mineworkers. Blake's ears tuned back.

"I don't fucking care much for your pity me speech." Mercury spat and took him onto the ground, knocking Wilt from his hand and bringing the staff of Caduceus down on the bastard's head to try to just knock him out but he got kicked off and landed on top of Blake.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be alone?" Adam was picking up Wilt. He was holding that blade up, yelling as his intent was to bring it down but the blade didn't come a second time, Blake had taken him as she used her semblance to shadow them a few feet away.

"I'm not alone." She grit out as she held her holster for Gambol Shroud in her left hand.

"Yang." Blake grunted, holding her bleeding right wrist.

"It's okay, Blake, catch your breath for a second. Me and Merc can hold him off." Yang assured her.

"She's right, Blake. It's okay, we have unfinished business." And man if he actually needed to help her, he would have but Yang was amazing fighting him. He aided helping Blake stem the blood flow before she bled out by having grabbed her jacket, which he tied part of around her forearm and made a makeshift tourniquet.

"You'll be okay. Don't let yourself get dizzy and don't fall asleep, it might be severe blood loss." He warned her.

"His semblance is like yours! He absorbs energy through his sword, stores it up, and then sends it back when he's ready." Blake told Yang.

"He gets to dish out damage without having to feel it? That's just cheap." Yang scoffed before going after him again. Before he knew it, Blake was yelling for Yang and he was grabbing for her.

"Leave us alone. This is your last chance." Yang told Adam.

"Do you really believe that? Or are you just trying to scare me away so you won't have to die to protect her? Like your good metal buddy, Mercury over there, tried to." Adam asked.

"She's not protecting me, Adam. Neither is Mercury." He felt Blake's stump in his hand, she put it there. She was holding Yang's hand and trying to hold his in the only way she could with her right hand now gone. "And I'm not protecting them. We're protecting each other."

[emmys-grimoire]

Cosmology blurb

Mulling over ideas for a fanfic series set in the Celestial Realm and realizing I may need to make some educated guesses about how things work. I figure I’d share my observations. Spoilers ahead.

I’m thinking the realms aren’t sandwiched/stratified on top of each other but are arranged more like this...

... if Lilith didn’t have to fall through the human realm to get to the Devildom and if the heavenly gates are accessible from the Devildom (implied when MC is transported there from the Devildom). There are obviously Celestial-Human and Devildom-Human access points in the story, too.

Traditionally, Heaven is upstairs and Hell is downstairs. But, while clearly inspired by these places, the Devildom is not actually Hell and the Celestial Realm is not actually Heaven. I mean, they’re not even named that.

They each have their own seperate skies with different constellations/celestial bodies (Devildom doesn’t have a sun and the other two realms do, and they have Belphie’s/Beel’s stars). Clearly the act of falling from the Celestial Realm to the Devildom is at least a metaphorical thing, but it’s implied to be literal, too.

I don’t think it matters a whole heckuvalot, but it’s interesting to think about.

Angel versus Devil society

Looking at what small details we have, the way these two realms have evolved and currently function is also very interesting.

The Devildom is a monarchy while the Celestial Realm may be an autocracy with a caste system (I think the Devildom probably does, too, just by the nature of feudalism but it may not be officially acknowledged). Previous Demon Kings have lived and died (there’s a tomb and a line of succession) while the Celestial Realm presumably remained ruled by the same entity throughout time. 

That’s pretty interesting, too. Demon Kings are not immortal. Diavolo, however, is likely stronger than Lucifer -- it makes sense that he has to be if he’s actually meant to replace his father.

The Celestial Realm’s caste system has Luke at the lowest rank, some kind of middle or multiple ranks, and Michael at the top rank. Lucifer used to occupy the same rank alongside him.

Christian angelology has multiple very detailed and convoluted hierarchies regarding angels, and for that reason it's probably much more simplified in the game. It already deviates from the typical choir arrangement by having archangels be the top rank when they're normally near the bottom, and giving them the six wings of the seraphim (the top choir).

We're not given much insight as to whether or not angels are born into these ranks or if they ascend them through good works and valor in battle or something. Lucifer being so utterly flawless seems to suggest he was born with it, but Luke complaining about being in the lowest rank suggests that there may be some way for him to change that arrangement and it may simply be a consequence of his (lack of) age and experience. Simeon also mentioning Michael may be of higher rank but he's still "a normal angel" may also allude to that. It could be a variation, where everyone starts at the same level but Lucifer and Michael were specifically given a greater share of angelic power so they were meant to get to the top and that inevitably happened. Or maybe angels gain xp and levels in fights with the demons and they managed to become head and shoulders above the rest by being better gamers.

Also, the legion of angels. 

A legion is a military or semimilitary unit. That is an interesting term to call what may also double as your governing body outside of daddy. The game mentions Michael was in charge of Mammon’s “training” before he was handed over to Lucifer, and well...

Michael is usually depicted and referred to as a protector and the leader of the army of God against the forces of evil, and it seems he reprises that role in this universe. Lucifer once did, too.

A fundamental part of “angel training” may revolve around warfare and training for it. We know the angels and demons have had a long, bloody history, but fighting doesn’t seem to be a part of RAD’s curriculum. The Celestial Realm may have changed it’s course now that they’ve entered a period of relative peace, but I’m not entirely sure.

So far the only in-game lore detail we have related to the actual fighting is the colosseum being destroyed in a battle before the creation of RAD, but it’s proof that the angels have invaded the Devildom at some point. It might have went vice-versa, too, and we simply haven’t observed it because we haven’t been in the Celestial Realm for more than two minutes. 

In spite of all this, it doesn’t seem like angel society is wholly bad. It’s likely rigid and hierarchical, but it is also strangely communal. The brothers have all fostered close bonds with each other within the Celestial Realm -- not the Devildom -- and the angels in the story seem to maintain their positive opinion of Lucifer and his brothers in spite of him sparking a civil war and them now being demons. How the angels treat each other is also noteworthy: Simeon and Luke clearly love each other and have a healthy relationship, by all accounts Michael wholeheartedly supports Luke and gives him positive feedback, and in spite of Luke’s obvious (though changing) prejudice towards all things demon they’re comparatively even-keeled. They generally operate on the assumption that they should help each other and others and that’s a good thing.

They also seem to be onboard with the intent behind exchange program. Luke isn’t sent there to be a spy like Simeon probably was, because he’s pretty terrible at subterfuge. 

A tacit admission that Luke’s perspective is one commonly held by the denizens of the Celestial Realm. Simeon points out that it’s not entirely bad, and I’m inclined to agree.

And also an acknowledgement that the thinking is flawed and they’re willing to make an effort to expand their horizons (considered a good thing). So something has changed, and it’s probably connected to... well... Lucifer and his brothers falling. Or the Celestial Realm just isn’t a monolith and there’s competing viewpoints even with how their society is structured. It’d be interesting to hear what the brothers thought about demons before they became demons themselves, and how they adjusted to that transformation (we get insight on how Lucifer viewed them via Glory Days, but that’s it.)

The Devildom, in contrast, uh... still has problems in this area outside of Diavolo.

This is disregarding all the soul devouring, torture, and casual murder that goes on between demons -- including the brothers. Diavolo is well regarded, but he’s also been unofficially in charge for quite awhile and it doesn’t appear he thinks this is a problem, even though he himself doesn’t treat his subjects poorly (as far as I know, anyway).

Which brings me to this...

There’s a reason he doesn’t really have any close bonds beyond Barbatos and Lucifer, in spite of being universally beloved. And I’m not sure how well he knows Barbatos, honestly. He’s isolated, and it’s not entirely related to his position; Lucifer has been in a high status position in both realms and doesn’t have this problem and never really did in spite of being prickly and anal-retentive af. There’s been quite a bit of commentary in these lessons about how he’s changed and may be reverting back to his angelic tendencies, with Barbatos implying that while it may be good for him and his family, it may not be what’s best for the Devildom... and I think that’s a mindset carried over from his tenure serving under Diavolo’s dad and helping enforce the current state of the Devildom for a specific purpose. MC somehow turning Lucifer and his brothers back into good people (or better people, at least), and Diavolo being envious of their closeness, may interfere with that: the demons around them may start getting ideas, and Diavolo may make more changes.

So not all is well in the Devildom, either, and Diavolo may not be cognizant of how or why. While the Celestial Realm may be a militant society with authoritarian impulses and bigotry, the Devildom sounds like a corrupt monarchy with a dog-eat-dog world underneath that makes trust and love liabilities to survival and keeps the peasants where they are forever. It’s simply another brand of dysfunction.

Hoomans and MC

The Human Realm is probably meant to be some kind of middleground in the dark/bad - light/good spectrum, with its inhabitants having no impulses skewed one way or the other and thus possessing the ability to slide back and forth. 

Demons interact with the human world via being summoned, pacts, or simply travelling there. Manipulating them and preying on them involves magical speechcraft. The angels aren’t allowed to reveal their angel forms to humans, travel there without permission (though it seems the punishment for this wasn’t enough to deter Belphie/Beel/Lilith/Mammon), or magically extend their lifespans -- it seems they prefer to meddle in their affairs indirectly, and revolves around shepherding them towards certain (presumably good) decisions. Ironically enough, Michael himself seems to violate these tenets with Solomon, who is evidently aware of who gave him the demon-controlling ring and was invited to chill with him in the Celestial Realm. It’s do as I say but not as I do, apparently.  

The game seems to imply that it’s possible that MC inherited Lilith’s angelic tendencies/abilities/memories/whatever after the big reveal, which makes me think she may not have turned into a demon before she was reborn. There’s no reason to think she would have retained her angelic abilities as a demon when her brothers haven’t -- she presumably would have lost them before being reborn, if she was turned into a demon first. Diavolo might have just skipped that step altogether for simplicity’s sake.

But she did technically fall, so ???? Maybe it’s just literally falling from the sky.

tl;dr version: they’re all fucked up and the exchange program is a good way for them to try to get their shit together. And I like how it’s set up.

[bigolyikesthings]

Alternative uses for pillows

((More smut and with a female reader, but that can be edited on request!))

It was the perfect timing. You were downstairs watching a tv show and thought he was still away scaring breathers. Little did you know, Beetlejuice was not only back from his occasional work, but he was in your room. And he was overwhelmed.

He’d been gone for a few days and the memory of your scent had been beginning to fade. But now he was here. In your room. Where everything smelt like you. There was laundry in the basket covered in you and the bed was still unmade. He knew you unaware he was back, and that meant he had free reign in here. But he couldn’t be too loud. Normally, he liked to dig around in the drawers or your laundry basket. Maybe find a little bit of fabric to take as a souvenir for later on when you slept and the house was silent, when he could let his thoughts and hopes run wild. BJ had the biggest crush on you. In both a soft and romantic cuddles in the evening while laughing together kind of way, and in a how would your moans sound with his cock in your mouth kind of way. There were times when you nearly broke his restraint. Touches, movements, clothing choices, some days those added up and Beej had to excuse himself to another room because his barely noticeable semi was becoming all the more noticeable. You never seemed to be the wiser to the fact that sometimes when he disappeared while hanging out, later on your room would smell a little must and a pair of panties might be missing.

Right now though, it was your bed that called to him. Smelling so strongly of you and being messy enough that he knew you had only just left. Hell, what are the chances the sheets were still warm? With only one way to find out and his shirt and pants already gone, BJ dove face first onto your bed. And fuck if he didn’t finish right then. The sheets still had a lingering warmth and burying his face in-between two of your pillows was nearly the same as burying his head between your neck and shoulder. Unconsciously he began to rut against the mattress, breathing in hard. It felt so good having you all around him and the idea of you making little pants and sounds as he pushed against you was driving him up the wall. BUT. It wasn’t enough. His fantasy needed more. Humping a bed, as much as it smelt like you, wasn’t quite doing it. He could get off like this, but it had been a long time and an opportunity like this may not present itself again for a while. Thankfully, Beetlejuice is nothing if not a problem solver. He was quick to roll over, now laying with his back flat on your mattress and his erection curving up to nearly face him. The two pillows on either side of his head were taken, one in each hand, and were cupped around his dick. A micromovement of the hips to test out the feeling, and he was off. He was fucking up into your pillows, your pillows were every night you rest your pretty head, and it was amazing. Now his imagination was free to truly roam and he could dwell on every fantasy. He could picture you riding him right now, starting off doing the movements all on your own. Bouncing up and down, looking so pretty for him while he groped your chest. That is until he took control, slamming up into you. And your sounds building up to screaming his name and his praises because he made you feel so good. Fuck, he was a mess right now. Pink hair everywhere and muttering to himself. “You like that? You like me stretching you out like this? Fucking so wet for me babes.”

If your bedsheets were bad before, they were a true mess now. One corner of a sheet bunched up against his face and the rest of your blankets thrown to the floor.

Right as BJ was trying to think how long it’d take to make you cum, and just what face you’d make, he heard it. The first creak of the stairs. You were coming upstairs. He panicked. What if you caught him? There’s no way you’d still want him around after this. After he was a massive pervert, fucking your pillows in your bed. You’d catch him, be horrified, and send him away. This would ruin everything.

Or.

Or what if you were into it. Maybe you might find it flattering. Or hot. Maybe getting caught could be good. Maybe you’d want to watch, or even join in. You’d throw the pillows to the side and immediately replace them with your lips, making eye contact as you removed your shirt and then licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft. Give him a cocky little wink before fully engulfing him in your mouth. And with that thought he came. His hips stuttered into the pillows right as your feet hit the landing. He wanted to lie there, bask in what he had done and wait for you, see his fantasy come to life. But his post-nut brain came through, telling him that either a) it wouldn’t happen and all the bad things would happen instead, or b) it’s not exactly a good look for you to walk in on him having cum all over two of your pillows, even if you are into him.

As quick as he could, Beetlejuice picked himself up off the bed, grabbed the pillows he’d sullied and should probably wash (though leaving them for you to lie on would be hot as fuck), and made a dash for your wardrobe. You were at the door so it was too late for him to make a normal escape, and he was kind of curious to see if you’d notice two of your many pillows missing. Maybe he could keep them. At least the pillow cases could totally join his collection.

The wardrobe door quietly closed over right as your bedroom door opened, BJ watching though the slats in the door as you closed your bedroom door behind you and stood for a moment to face your bed. You’d left it a mess when you got out of bed this morning, this is true, but you didn’t think it was this bad.

“Wow, I’m a bit of a pig sometimes.” Was all you muttered under your breath as you became to put the bed back together. He didn’t need to, but the act of letting out a quiet sigh of relief was cathartic for Beej, immediately enjoying watching you bend to tuck in your sheets. He was just weighing the pros and cons of trying to make a sneaking escape versus hanging around and maybe giving those pillows another run for their money when you did something that made him freeze.

Once the bed was made, a few pillows missing but those were usually strewn around the house and could likely be found later, you flopped on to the bed. And from your back pocket you pulled a lump of material. You had been about to do laundry downstairs, some towels needed to be run through, when you found a little black and white something in the pile. Beetlejuice had been convinced to wash some items of clothing, at least for hygiene sake. These were usually just socks and underwear, with the occasional shirt. And wouldn’t you know it, buried in with the towels was a pair of boxer briefs. Boxer briefs that when you picked them up immediately reminded you of Beej and of his scent and of the fact that he had been gone a few days now. And he would probably be gone a few more.

Unbeknownst to the demon, you too harboured a crush. One that ached for sweet kisses and dumb inside jokes. One that craved his touch, his smell, his lips, and everything hidden below that suit.

It took some mental convincing, but less than you’d be willing to admit, to pocket the underwear. The washing was put on and you made moves for your bedroom to put the striped cloth to use.

You placed the garment on your chest, right below your chin. Where you could see it and smell him. Next, your pants were quickly shimmied down your ankles and kicked to the side of the bed. Finally, you reached for the tool you kept hidden in your bedside drawer. All that you needed was in place.

And Beetlejuice watched this. Watched as you scrunched the material and held it to your nose, taking a deep breath and clicking the vibrator on. He didn’t know you had a vibrator. He’d searched every inch of your room, certain he’d heard buzzing late at night, but he’d never found it. If he had, well that thing would have a nice coating of saliva by now.

Watching intently, he saw you trail it down to graze over your panties you were still wearing and blocking his view with, he realised what you were holding in your hand. He was rocking a semi already because holy shit you were about to jack it to him. Explicitly to him, and no one else, there was no way you were thinking of any other guy while breathing in his scent so obviously. He had to bite his lip to stop from moaning out loud. Any thoughts of leaving were gone from his head. You couldn’t get him to leave this show for anything.

Alternating between just breathing and taking deep breaths of the boxers, you pushed your panties to the side, over the tease and ready for a little more. You didn’t hear the quiet whine when you did this. Or the slightly louder, but still quiet, moan when you let your legs fall open and you slid the vibrator in. Pausing for just a moment, and one more deep inhale, you began to pump the vibe in and out of yourself. In the closet Beetlejuice began to once again fuck the pillows, but this time making sure to match your pace. He couldn’t decide if it was hotter how it was now, or if it was him fucking you and not that piece of silicon. He definitely envied it but loved the show it was providing. And the noises it was drawing from you.

You needed just a little more. The smell was definitely helping your imagination, and you could just imagine BJ was with you, driving his cock into you again and again. But it wasn’t quite enough. You gave up on scrunching his underwear and elected to just leave it on your face as your now unoccupied hand headed toward the action. Now, being able to fuck yourself with the vibrator, and give attention to your clit, you could fully let yourself go.

“Oh my god BJ, so good, yes, please, fucking oh my god I want you to…Beetlejuice fuck…”

He was almost there. Hearing you calling for him was better than he ever could’ve imagined. Trying to keep the pace you had set for yourself was growing too hard. He needed to go harder and faster. So he focused on your face and your hands and your calls. But he needed you to finish. He didn’t want to cum until he saw what you looked like when you reached ecstasy. That needed to be carved into his brain. Thankfully, Beej is good at edging, and keeping himself there wasn’t too hard. It certainly wasn’t easy, especially not while watching you writhe, but he could do it.

You were almost there too. You could imagine him there, biting your neck and pushing you into the mattress. All the things he’d be saying and all the things he’d be doing with his hands. It felt wrong to think of your friend like this, but it felt so damn good right now that you could feel awkward about it later. And this wasn’t anything new. Hell, you once found yourself nearly grinding against the couch cushion after he’d reached over you for snacks and winked at you. And now you were imagining if you had reached for him like you’d wanted, if you’d pulled him against you and encouraged him to fuck you on the couch. Or hell, even on the floor. You just wanted him. And this thought was enough to send you sky high. Your back arched and threw the cloth from your face and with a final stuttering call of “Be-beetlejuiice!” you came.

Briefly muffled by his underwear, BJ heard you cry his name and his gaze bounced between your clenched eyes and stuttering hips. With the sound of his name on your lips permanently burned into his brain, he came once again into your pillows.

The pair of you drew gasping breaths for a moment.

You lay basking in the afterglow, gathering your thoughts and wondering when BJ might be back from his trip. The man himself had made a quick escape, appearing in the laundry room with the sullied and glowing pillow cases which he tossed in the washing machine with the towels. He lent back against the wall and grinned. Well now he knew the feeling was mutual. He wouldn’t push anything too hard, you clearly weren’t ready just yet and he still felt nervous despite all he’d seen. But he was going to push. He knew what he knew and he knew what you both wanted.

The house was about to get a whole lot more dangerous.

((shoutout to @softbeej and their top tier asks for inspiring this thing))

[livesincerely]

it’s written in bold letters, ch. 1

(aka, the letterman jacket fic. Also on Ao3)

00000

Jack had thought this would go without saying, but apparently not. “You are not wearing that to the game tonight.”

Davey looks down at himself, visibly confused. “Why not?”

Jack points out the obvious problem. “It’s green.”

“So?”

“Green is Westpoint’s color.”

Davey looks at him, nonplussed.

“Dave, you can’t wear the other team’s color to our first home game of the season,” Jack explains with a sigh. “Especially not when we’re going up against  Westpoint.”

“But I like this hoodie,” Davey says with a pout. “It’s comfortable.”

Jack shakes his head. “You gotta change into something else. Don’t you have anything red?”

“Yeah, sure, in my closet. At home.” Davey retorts. “This is all I brought with me, and no,” Davey amends quickly when Jack starts to interject, "I can’t just wear my t-shirt. It’s supposed to be cold later and I am not sitting out on the bleachers all night without at least a jacket.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” Jack counters.

Davey huffs out a breath, “Do I really have to?” 

“Just go upstairs and change,” Jack says, shooing Davey towards the stairwell.

“But I’m comfortable,” Davey grumbles, but he obediently trudges up the stairs.

“Pick something red!” Jack calls after him. “Oh, and tell Racetrack to move his ass! I’ve gotta be in the locker room in half an hour and we still have to pick up Crutchie from the library.”

“Calm your shit, Jack, I’m coming!” Racetrack shouts back from somewhere above him before Davey can respond. “Give a man a second to piss, will ya!”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Just hurry up!”

He finishes gathering his things together while he waits, grabbing a few bottles of Gatorade and a handful of granola bars and stuffing them into his bag. He’s just lacing up his sneakers when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Jack, Katherine’s just texted me—she wants to know where we’re eating after the game,” Davey says as he wanders back into the living room.

“I dunno Davey, anywhere is fine… by…” Jack trails off, suddenly speechless. Davey is wearing his letterman jacket.  Davey is wearing his—

Jack’s mouth goes dry. It feels like someone’s hit him, hard, right between the eyes.

“Jack?” Davey absently  prompts when Jack doesn’t continue, looking at his phone. “Did you hear what I said?”

Jack doesn’t answer, can’t answer. His eyes rake over Davey’s form: red is a fantastic color on him—it stands out against his dark hair and emphasizes the blue of his eyes. They’re nearly the same height but Davey isn’t as broad as Jack is, so the jacket is just the slightest bit too big for him, hanging down to the tops of his thighs and dwarfing his shoulders.

Davey chooses this moment to notice Jack’s staring; a delicious flush of pink blooms across his face. “You said I could wear anything red!” he says defensively. “This is red!”

“You’re wearing my letterman jacket,” Jack says, and his voice comes out low and raspy.

“You said something red!” Davey insists, somehow mistaking Jack’s tone for disapproval, his blush deepening further. “But all you had was t-shirts and I didn’t want to be cold and—and Racetrack said you wouldn’t mind!”

He fiddles with the sleeves as he rambles, and fucking hell, they’re so long on him that only the tips of his fingers are visible. “He said you wouldn’t mind, but, uh, I can put on something else if you want me t-“

“No!” Jack growls, startling them both. He takes a deep breath and tries to get a hold of himself before he does something drastic. “No, Dave, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Davey asks, still a little hesitant.

“Positive,” Jack assures him, though he’s anything but. “We can’t have you out there in just anything, now can we? Gotta make sure you’re repping for the team. Besides, you look-“

Fucking amazing. Goddamn perfect. Like you’re mine.

“-good.”

“Go team,” Davey says with a wry grin, looking at Jack through his fringe. His eyes are very, very blue. Jack is abruptly aware of how utterly screwed he is.

“That’s the spirit, Dave.” Fingers suddenly numb, Jack digs out his keys and tosses them over, then manages to to say in a somewhat normal tone of voice, “go start the car, will ya? I’m gonna go drag Racer away from the bathroom mirror—Coach will bench me if I’m late again.”  

Davey shrugs and heads out the door, blind as ever to the havoc he wreaks on Jack just by existing. Jack stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Davey as he walks by, biting back the groan that threatens to tear its way out of his throat when he catches sight of his back: KELLY is stamped across Davey’s shoulders in bold, white letters.

Fuck.

Fuck.

 He’s gonna murder Racetrack.

00000

The drive to the school is an exercise in self-restraint.

Jack is incredibly aware of Davey in the passenger seat, playing with his phone and thumbing idly at the buttons on his—Jack’s—jacket. Racetrack is absolutely no help, the shithead, smirking and wagging his eyebrows suggestively at Jack whenever their gazes meet in the rear-view mirror and just generally relishing in Jack’s pain. Things only get worse when they swing by the library. Crutchie clambers into the backseat with a suspiciously wide grin—it’s clear that Race has already roped him into this latest episode of “Let’s-Fuck-With-Jack!" The two of them settle into a quiet, intense discussion, peppered with bursts of snickering and oh-so-deliberate glances at Jack.

By the time he turns into the student parking lot, Jack’s feeling thoroughly hunted, driving with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and his shoulders hunched up around his ears. He pulls into a space a touch more abruptly than he means to, but you know what? He’s fucking entitled, seeing as how he’s caught in a goddamn conspiracy. 

He leaves the others to get settled in the bleachers, making his way to the locker room with his eyes trained carefully on the ground, where it’s safe and boring and unstimulating. Once there, Jack can distract himself by talking with the other guys on the team or working through some pre-game warm ups. 

It also helps that Davey’s not within arms’ reach or his direct line of sight anymore.

Spot arrives a little after Jack does, tossing his duffle down on the bench with a thud. He takes one look at Jack’s face and snorts.

“So you’re the reason Racetrack’s blowing up my phone?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “I haven’t hadda chance to check my messages yet—what’s he harassing you about now?”

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna spoil the surprise,” Jack grouses.

“Oh, so, it’s about Davey,” Spot surmises. “What is this, the third time this week? Christ, Kelly, get a hobby. Or fuck, just grow a pair and makeout with the guy, put the rest of us outta our misery.”

“Shuddup,” Jack says, even as a flush creeps up the back of his neck. He can tell the exact moment that Spot starts looking through his missed texts because he lets out a bark of laughter.

“I take it back: keep on being a moron because this shit is hilarious,” Spot says. He’s scrolling avidly through his messages. “Jesus, this is funniest thing that’s happened in months.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Jack mutters. He considers slapping the phone out of Spot’s hand but quickly dismisses the idea—he likes his fingers arranged just the way they are, thanks.

Spot pauses on a particular message, then starts cracking up. Jack briefly debates the merits of knowing what’s being said about him versus remaining blissfully ignorant; unable to resist, he glances over and regrets it immediately. Racetrack has managed to sneak of picture of Jack’s initial reaction to The Incident, and it’s just as bad as Jack had imagined. Racetrack has captioned the picture with LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a bunch of cry-laughing faces because he’s the fucking worst.

“Channel some of that sexual frustration into tonight’s game and we’ll send Westpoint home cryin,’” Spot manages to choke out between laughs.

“I fucking hate all of you,” Jack says. 

00000

There’s only seconds left on the clock. 

Jack steadies himself, throws....

  The pass connects.

  The crowd explodes into motion almost before Jack can process what’s happened, but they’ve done it. They’ve won.

Jack rips off his helmet and lifts it over his head, both arms thrown up in triumph. They’re all shouting and laughing and cheering, a victory anthem playing over the loudspeaker. He happens to turn back towards the stands and somehow manages to pick Davey out of the mass of people. 

Jack’s arm falls back to his side, his helmet thunking hollowly against his leg. This is what they mean by tunnel vision, he realizes suddenly, but it’s a distant thought. The roar of the crowd, the jostling and screaming of the team celebrating their win, it all fades away. There’s nothing to hear but the deafening sound of his pulse beating in his ears, nothing to see except Davey steadily fighting his way through the sea of cheering spectators that have flooded the field.

He’s still wearing Jack’s letterman.

“Oh my god, Jack, you were amazing! That was—” Davey’s already talking a mile a minute, but it’s like Jack doesn’t have the brain cells to listen to Davey and look at Davey at the same time, and the looking must take priority. His face is flushed pink from the cold but his eyes are all but sparkling in his excitement. His hair is a disaster—Jack imagines him sitting in the stands, raking his hands anxiously through his hair as the game rocked through its final minutes. Someone, probably Katherine or Crutchie, has drawn a #12 on his cheek in black marker.

He’s very pretty. He’s very close.

 He’s still wearing Jack’s letterman.

Davey’s hand lands on Jack’s arm, and it breaks through the haze.

“-ck? Jack are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” Davey asks, peering at Jack worriedly. “Your pupils are dilated—I mean, really dilated. Are you okay?”

Jack swallows, licks his lips, blinks. 

He starts to answer, but he’s honestly afraid of what’ll come out of his mouth, so he decides a tactical retreat is in order: he murmurs something unintelligible, then turns on his heel and all but runs back to the locker room.

When Spot comes to find him some fifteen minutes later, he’s toweling his hair dry after a very cold shower.

“Are you actually hurt or are you just freaking out again?” Spot asks, “because whatever you did has got Davey all concerned.”

“I’m not gonna make it,” Jack says frankly, staring into the middle distance. “I literally can’t look at him directly, he’s too fucking pretty. My heart’s gonna give out. I’m gonna keel over and die. My dick is gonna swell up and—”

“Jesus,” Spot mutters. He digs Jack’s clean t-shirt out of his bag and lobs it at his head. Jack doesn’t even make an attempt at catching it: it hits him in the chest and falls into his lap with a soft fuwmp.

“Not that this ain’t funny as shit, but I’m gonna need you to put aside your bisexual yearning for, like, two seconds and get dressed,” Spot says, rolling his eyes. “I want onion rings and you’re holding us up.”

Jack looks at him. "I'm in distress," he laments. "Does no one care that I'm in distress?"

"Onion rings, Kelly," Spot says, ignoring Jack completely. "Hurry the fuck up."

Jack sighs, but does as he's told. Guess it's time for round three.

Rest in fucking pieces.

[grimmseye]

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Two

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: T

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual)

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Nonsexual Nudity, Hair Brushing

---------

The chalk in his hand dragged smooth over the ground, leaving shimmering lines and rounds just above the surface they were marked against. Fifty gold pieces and a fifth level slot was entirely too much to make a trip home from within the city, but Mollymauk was in no condition to be walking there and Essek did not want to hire someone to take them.

The last line connected, the circle broke into solid, glowing violet. Essek stood and took Mollymauk by the wrist to pull him through. There was a sensation of dropping, falling forward and then being suddenly upright again and in another space, on the wooden floor of the small room he’d designated to his teleportation circle.

Molly staggered at his side, bracing one hand against the wall. “A little warning next time,” he breathed, shaking his head.

“My apologies,” Essek said, without remorse. “It can take some getting used to, if you haven’t done it before.”

Mollymauk only grumbled, taking a moment to catch his balance and his breath. Essek opened the door that lead out to a sitting room, designed for playing host to the formal gatherings his position sometimes sprang upon him. It connected from there to a dining room, and then a rarely-used kitchen. The dishes from Caduceus’ cooking remained, and abruptly Essek felt a warmth touch his cheeks. He was never messy, not where it could be seen, and yet Mollymauk’s first impression of him would be slobbish if the tiefling were to take just ten paces into the next room and peer through the entryway.

“You need a bedroom,” he declared, half a realization, half a distraction. Then he repeated, quieter, “You need a bedroom,” with all the weight such a statement carried.

He had bedrooms. They had never been used, but caution kept him prepared. Should he ever need to play host overnight, best to have something already in place rather than be caught off guard. Essek had not been off guard since he was a child learning his first spell.

Caught in his musings, Essek blinked and found Mollymauk startlingly close and staring up into his face. He drifted back on instinct, schooling his face into an affronted scowl. “Yes?” He said, pointed.

“Nothing,” Molly replied, eyebrows lifting. “You were just staring for a few seconds there, I was worried something came loose up top.” He tapped the side of his head twice and grinned. “So lemme ask you this, friend: how much of a guest versus a prisoner am I here?”

“You are not a prisoner,” Essek said, which wasn’t quite truthful. “For the time being, we want you under escort should you be outside of my property. This is standard procedure for released prisoners, even if I am vouching for you. It has the additional benefit of ensuring you won’t get lost.”

“Uh-huh,” Mollymauk nodded, his blasé tone of voice vexatious at best. “Lots of pretty words that translate to me still being a prisoner. I got that already, you don’t need to explain it again. I’m referring to my position within your property.” He paused, and then gave a slow smile that Essek couldn’t quite translate. “Am I your property?”

The meaning clicked into place. Essek’s ears folded back as he fought the urge to recoil. That look implied scandal, but mischief danced behind the eyes. Mollymauk was fucking with him.

He had certainly been a member of the Nein.

“No,” he said, his voice short and final. “You are free to explore anything within this house. There are towers outside which are designated to my own business, but you would be unable to enter them even if you should try. Please clean up any messes you make, and feel free to ask me any questions you may have.”

“Fantastic. So, first request: could I get a hairbrush?” Molly ran his fingers through his hair — or attempted to, at least. It was nearly matted. “I did end up losing mine on my way here, and then got arrested before I could purchase a new one.”

“Of course,” Essek nodded. After a beat, he realized he needed to show Mollymauk the way. “There is a guest bedroom — this way, upstairs — with a shower as well if you’d like to wash up.”

“Oh I would.”

“And I can clean whatever clothes you brought with you.”

“Excellent. I’ve only got two pairs. I’ll just leave this one outside the door then?” Molly motioned to himself. He wore traveler’s clothes, but even such sturdy material was wearing thin. Essek frowned, thinking of the other set he’d found, colorful and audacious and faring far worse. He would need new clothes, then. He would be needing many things.

That was what Essek pondered as he waited outside the bathroom door, until it cracked open for Molly to set his badly folded clothes out in the hall. He conjured an invisible servant to take care of the washing, and then immediately moved for the study to find a pen and a pad of paper.

Shopping List (Guest):

New clothes for Mollymauk

Make appointment

Ensure: warm/winter, rain, fine, sleep, and casual wear. Multiple pairs of shoes (hooves? Check this)

Groceries

Breakfasts:

Essek immediately paused. He could cook. He often chose not to. He certainly didn’t cook for other people.

Groceries — determine later

Luxuries? Ask Mollymauk his preferences.

Extra bedsets (2?)

He was going to be housing Mollymauk for the foreseeable future. He was going to have a full-time guest until the Nein returned, and last they left Xhorhas, they vanished without a trace for into a device named the Happy Fun Ball Slash The Archmage Bane and returned with their formerly-brainwashed friend. Essek was learning to expect the unexpected with that odd group.

Needless to say, he could not rely on an expedient return. So. A guest. Essek would need to entertain him. Ensure he was taken care of, and staying out of trouble. He would likely have to put aside his work to babysit this tiefling, who allegedly had amnesia and did not even know who the Nein truly were.

He didn’t realize he was wringing his hands until he felt the bite of his own nails. Essek took a breath. He could do this. He’d worn a facade since childhood, he could keep it up, full-time, in his own home, without breaks, indefinitely. Essek bowed his head and considered breaking into the fine wines.

The spiral was interrupted by the sound of clicking steps. Hooves, Mollymauk had hooves. Not all tieflings did.

Mollymauk was also naked in the doorway.

“How do you turn on the shower,” he asked, as Essek nearly threw his pen in his haste to turn away. He braced his elbow against the desk, a hand swinging up to shield his peripheral vision.

“You’re naked,” he stated, with false cheer.

Mollymauk clicked his tongue. “There weren’t any towels either.”

Essek very nearly slammed his head down into the desk. He stood up, unclasping his mantle in a rush and shifting towards Mollymauk to hold out the garment, waiting until he was certain through the corner of his eye that the tiefling was covered up to look at him. A dangerously polite smile was affixed to his face. “I will show you how to work the shower,” he said, ever helpful, ever calm.

“It’s appreciated.” Molly trotted back down the hall, somehow perfectly unbothered that Essek had seen exactly how far those tattoos reached. His ears flickered madly with the tiefling’s gaze off of him, trying to bat the embarrassed heat away.

It was a little gratifying when Molly nearly tripped on the length of his mantle.

Essek wrestled himself back into composure before he moved ahead, showing Mollymauk the individual crystals embedded in his shower wall and how they worked. “The large gemstone in the center here turns it on. Press it once for the faucet,” he demonstrated, a stream of water pouring out from the lower faucet at his touch. “And again for the shower. The one beneath it turns the water off. Here, this crystal is for temperature —”

It was all relatively simple. The crystal turned in place, its color flowing through a gradient of blue to purple to red depending on the water’s temperature. Even with the simplicity of the system, he was pleased to turn around and find Mollymauk wide-eyed and beaming up at him, tail curling with excitement.

“I could kiss you,” he declared. “You, sir, have just given me the greatest of gifts. I mean, there’s room for improvement. If you happen to have something more in the line of a spa, please let me know what I need to do to get that, but this? This will do just fine!”

Essek did, in fact, have something akin to a spa, but it was connected to his bedroom, and he was not about to offer up that space. “I am pleased that it’s to your liking,” he smiled. Then, serious again, “Please just leave my clothes outside the door, after I have left. I will bring a towel and a robe for you. Before I leave, is there anything else?”

Mollymauk poked his head into the shower with a hum. “Soap, shampoo, conditioner, check check and check. I am golden, my friend. You’re free to go.”

Thank the Luxon, Essek didn’t say, only dipping his head to drift back out of the bathroom. He stalled his servant from its task to bring a towel and robe up, returning to his study. Once he tackled a grocery list, he could hire someone to collect it all for him.

Essek found his statuette of an ivory raven, running a finger down its beak to bring it into flesh and feathers. It stood, attentive as he cleared his throat and dictated: “Seamstress Brirr, this is Shadowhand Essek Thelyss. I need to commission a full wardrobe for a guest, a tiefling. Do you have a slot tomorrow?”

Once the message was given and the recipient described, the bird took wing through a window and out into the city.

Down the hall, Essek heard the pattering of water stop. The door opened some minutes later, the sound of hooves announcing Molly wherever he went. At least Essek knew he could find him.

There was a short knock at the doorway. Essek turned, not without trepidation, and nearly sagged with relief to find Mollymauk wrapped in his robe, hair bound in a towel. “That was wonderful,” Mollymauk sighed, leaning against the frame. “I would have stayed longer but my hair is unforgivable.”

“A hairbrush,” Essek remembered, nodding. “Of course, let me get that for you. Just, ah, make yourself comfortable.” He’d evidently forgotten to stock the guest chambers properly. Embarrassment seized him again, something he tried to shake off with the reminder that at least it wasn’t Kryn nobility he was scorning. It could be far worse.

When he returned from his own quarters, Mollymauk had indeed made himself quite comfortable. He was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his robe falling open around the scarred chest, modesty protected by the tie that bound it shut. Molly’s eyes flicked up to him from where he’d been idly examining the bookcase, and he sat up with a grin. “Excellent, thank you,” he said, lifting both arms to curl his fingers in a way that said gimme.

Did Essek catch a wince, there? He frowned, noting that along with the scars there were fresh bruises on Mollymauk’s chest, creeping under the sleeve of his robe. As Molly began to pull his hair over one shoulder, there was a definite tension that pulled into his shoulders. His tail lay perfectly still, betraying nothing — and its quiet said far more about Mollymauk’s current state than if it had been lashing.

“You’re staring again,” Molly pointed out lightly. This time, Essek didn’t back down.

“You’re hurt,” he returned.

Molly widened his eyes in mock surprise, mouth opening as he breathed, “No, really?” He smirked at Essek’s flat expression. “Your friends were a bit rough with me. It wasn’t like they just frogmarched me to your prison, no, they had to get a good beating in first. Your little trick in the cell certainly didn’t help.” He snorted.

Essek’s ears folded down. He grimaced to himself, a pang of not guilt so much as regret needling at him. The Nein would not be happy with him. As much as they seemed willing to beat each other up, the moment another person laid a hand on them they were staring down a pack of snarling Moorbounders.

On an impulse, maybe pity, maybe a distant hope that Molly just won’t tell, Essek extended a hand. Molly furrowed his brow, slowly offering the hairbrush. With then, Essek dragged a footrest over with a beckoning motion, patting it and saying, “Sit here. Back to the chair, please.”

“You mind explaining?” Molly asked, but did as he was told. Essek took the seat he’d just occupied, frowning at the mess of hair. He’d once worn his own long, when he was younger. It had just been a very long time since he’d had to do more than tidy it upon waking.

Essek scooped a section of hair to his back again, holding it as he began to work the brush through the tips. Molly’s tail flicked, sitting up straight for a moment before the tension loosed from his shoulders. “Oh so you do know how to treat a guest right,” he purred.

“Was I treating you wrong before?” Essek demanded. He got to the first matted section, glad that Molly had wet his hair before this as he began to tease it apart with quick motions of the brush. “For the sake of my sanity, let’s judge my service as a host only from the point where you entered the property.”

“Wise decision,” Molly drawled. “... Mmmm, but for the most part I was only fucking with you. And believe me, with this all previous criticisms have been rescinded.”

“I would still like to know the criticisms,” Essek muttered, and only got a breathy laugh in response.

It was slow going, working through each mass of tangles without ripping his hair. It needed to be trimmed as well, uneven and broken at the tips. A shower had done him well, but a single wash hadn’t been enough to undo neglecting it for so long, oil still streaking the roots of his hair as Essek ran the brush through them. Mollymauk tipped his head into it, an angle were Essek could see his face, eyes shut and lips parted.

“Do you prefer your hair loose?” Essek asked, setting the brush down. He took up his notepad again, adding haircut to the list.

Mollymauk hummed as he ran his fingers through it. “I think so. Let’s try it. Where’s the rest of my stuff, by the way?”

As Essek halted his servant’s work again to bring Molly’s belongings up, he laid out tomorrow’s itinerary. The raven returned, delivering Brirr’s response. They would get Mollymauk’s measurements taken care of, purchase some sets of casual clothing until the new outfits were finished, visit a place to get Mollymauk a haircut.

The bag was brought up partway through the conversation. Molly frowned, his hands pausing as he dug through it. Tarnished jewelry, a pouch of incense, a brooch depicting a draconic god. He produced a rusted metal helmet that made Essek blurt out, “Why do you have that?” and Molly tip his head back, shrug his shoulders, and say, “I have no fucking idea.”

His snickering nearly made Essek join in, smiling faintly at this… bemusing creature. He knew very little of this person from the Nein’s brief allusions to him. Assuming he was even the same person, memories of his companions gone but still understanding facts of the world. Had Mollymauk Tealeaf been this to them, someone who could make you bristle as easily as laugh, a disarming union between sincerity and utter bullshit.

He was frowning, now, staring at the emptied bag and all the little trinkets he’d removed from it. Essek cleared his throat, asked, “Is something missing?”

“My scimitars,” Mollymauk said, immediately. Tiefling ears weren’t as expressive as elven, but they flexed backwards in a familiar manner. “I was buried with two scimitars, I had them when I was arrested, and now I don’t have them.” His tail curled and then lashed to the other side of his body, the spaded tip brandished like a knife.

Essek made a private note: inquire about Mollymauk apparently waking up in his grave. He was beginning to understand now why the Nein connected talk of the Beacons to this person.

“What if we do this,” he started, weighing his chin on his fist. “I will drop you off at a local spa tomorrow, and while you get cleaned up, I can return to the Shadowspire to reclaim your weapons.” And examine them for any odd enchantments.

Molly turned his head back, an odd sort of smile on his face. “That will do,” he said, simply. Then he rose to his feet, stretching, and turned to fully face Essek. “Now then. Why don’t you show me to my bedroom, good sir. You would think after waking in the dirt I’d be done with sleeping.”

“A bed is superior to a grave, I would think,” Essek murmured, standing with him. “Not that I have the experience to compare.”

Mollymauk barked out a laugh. Essek showed him to one of the spare bedrooms, promising to have his clothes clean and dry by morning. As he was turning to move back down the corridor, hoping to get some work done before settling down for his own meditation, he was stopped by a touch to his arm.

Essek shifted away from it, finding Mollymauk’s hand outstretched. He was still smiling, a softer thing now that it was weighed with exhaustion. “Thank you,” Molly said, emphasizing each word. Then he shut the door.

Essek stared at it for a long moment before nodding to himself. He drew a deep breath, moving down the hallway and outside, towards his laboratory. As much as Caleb and Nott assured him the mishap had been a result of a curse, Essek wasn’t satisfied. Perhaps he could find a way to make the spell dig deeper.

And perhaps he could take a breath and prepare himself for his next day playing host to Mollymauk Tealeaf.

[kawaiikichi]

The Words “I Love You” (BKDK)

Hello, you guys! I have come with another one-shot for BKDK! This one is a little longer than the rest that I’ve done up to this point and is based off the 5 + 1 Things (I’m late to the party, I know). It’s five instances where Izuku tells Katsuki he loves him and the one time Katsuki says it back.

I hope you guys like it! :D

Title: The Words “I Love You”

Summary: A 5 + 1 Things documenting the five times Izuku told Katsuki “I love you” and the one time Katsuki said it back.

One-Shot Notes: Everything is pretty much the same except it diverges from canon after the Deku vs Kacchan battle in S3; they start dating about two and a half months after the fight; their relationship is a “secret” (everyone knows they’re dating, but they choose not to say anything)

One-shot is under the cut! 

Instance #1 - The Dorms (Afternoon)

“Godfucking dammit! I fucking hate cleaning! It fucking sucks!” Katsuki snarled, shaking the broom that Aizawa handed him earlier.

“But somebody’s gotta do it, don’t you think, Kacchan...?” Izuku spoke hesitantly, hoping to assuage his fuming boyfriend.

“Fuck that shit!” Katsuki roared, explosions erupting from his hand as he blew the broom into smithereens.

Izuku let out a horrified shout as he gaped at the remains of the broom that laid before Katsuki.

“Kacchan! We do not make the brooms explode!” he scolded. 

“Huh?! What are you, my fucking mom?! Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Deku!” Katsuki roared, more explosions erupting from his hand.

“I can do whatever I please, Kacchan! So stop trying to pick fights every chance you get!”

“So you think I’m trying to pick fights, huh...well, I’ll show you what a real fight looks like—”

“Yo, Bakugou! Stop picking fights with Midoriya and get back to work! Here, I even brought you an extra broom!”

Katsuki whirled around to glare daggers at Eijirou, who entered the common area along with Denki.

“Fuck off, Shitty Hair! This is between me and Deku!” he then marched over to Eijirou. “Also, gimme that fucking broom!” he shouted, swiping it out of Eijirou’s hand.

“Alright, alright, bro! Well, Kaminari and I are going to go upstairs for a tutoring session with Yaoyorozu!” Eijirou declared.

“Okay, then! We fucking get it, so go to your goddamn tutoring session before I blast you and Pikachu out of this fucking dorm!” Katsuki snapped.

“Whoa-ho! Chillax, Fireball! We’re going now, alright?” Denki said.

“Huh?! Who the fuck you calling a goddamn Fireball—”

“Kacchan, just let it go!” Izuku wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s torso as he shot looks at Eijirou and Denki. “Kirishima, Kaminari, hurry upstairs while I still have him restrained!” he called out.

“Alright!” Eijirou replied as he and Denki scampered away.

Katsuki let out a growl.

“Goddammit...!” he bit out.

“Kacchan, if you try to struggle any more than you already are, I will literally slam you down onto the floor! You know I will!” Izuku shouted.

“Oh, fucking fine!” Katsuki shouted back in response.

Izuku released Katsuki as the blond released a sigh, reaching up to run a hand through his spiky hair.

“Ugh, those two fucking piss me off sometimes...” he then shot a side glance at Izuku. “Also, sorry for yelling at you. It’s gonna take me a while before I can stop doing that.” he said.

“Oh no, there’s no need for you to apologize, Kacchan! I completely understand!” Izuku nodded at the broom that Katsuki held in his hand. “Let’s just get to cleaning, yeah?” he suggested.

Katsuki glared at the broom in his hand and then at the vacuum that Izuku was holding before sighing.

“Fucking fine...” he grumbled as he proceeded to sweep the rug.

Izuku watched his boyfriend huffily sweep the rug as an idea came to him.

“Hey, Kacchan. I have an idea.” he said.

“Huh? Am idea?” Katsuki answered.

“Yeah! To make cleaning duty a little more fun for you.”

“Okay...I’m listening...”

“So, how about we compete to see who can finish cleaning the fastest? The winner can get the loser to do whatever they want for the rest of the day.” Izuku explained.

“Hm...sounds interesting enough. I’m in.” Katsuki eyed Izuku curiously. “But why do all this? You know, come up with the competition and stuff.” he asked.

“Hm, I wonder...” Izuku made his way over to Katsuki and leaned in so that he could whisper in his ear. “Maybe it’s because I love you and I want my boyfriend to stop being so grumpy?” he replied.

He watched as Katsuki’s cheeks turned pink. He couldn't’ help but giggle.

How cute, he thought to himself.

“Oh, by the way, the competition starts now. Try and catch me if you can.” Izuku said before turning on the vacuum and dashing off with it.

Katsuki blinked, trying to process what just happened. Then, a wide smirk pulled his lips upward.

“Oh, now you’re asking for it, Deku!” he hollered as he took off after Izuku, using his Quirk to help him gain some speed.

Izuku whirled around, his eyes growing wide upon seeing Katsuki using his Quirk.

“Kacchan, wait! You shouldn’t be using your Quirk in here!” he shouted.

“Don’t worry, Deku. I’ll make sure that I don’t damage anything!” Katsuki shouted back.

“That’s not the point here!” Izuku whined.

They came around a corner and raced past Shouto, who was exiting the kitchen with a cup of green tea in his hand.

Shouto could only stare in mild surprise as Katsuki tackled Izuku and the two of them went tumbling to the floor. He watched Katsuki proceed to tickle Izuku, the sounds of high-pitched squeals and pleas for mercy accompanied by the blond’s raucous laughter reaching his ears.

Shouto let out a sigh as he took a sip from his cup.

What a couple of lovebirds.

🧡💚🧡💚

Instance #2 - Training Grounds (Afternoon)

After being told of their one-on-one training battles for today along with drawing lots for who was battling who, everyone went to the locker room to change into their hero costumes.

Izuku pulled his shirt over his head as Eijirou spoke.

“So the first battle will be Bakugou versus Todoroki, huh...that’s gonna be just as intense as when they battled during the school festival.” he commented.

“And this time, you better not hold the fuck back, Half n’ Half Bastard!” explosions erupted from Katsuki’s palms. “Come at me so I can blast you out of the damn arena!” he roared.

“The same goes for you too.” Shouto shot a look at Katsuki. “I’ll try my best to defeat you, as well.” he stated.

“You better fucking mean it!” Katsuki snapped as he began to hurl expletives at Shouto.

Denki shuddered.

“Geez, they’re so intense already...” he released a sigh. “Well, my battle’s against Jirou, so that’ll be interesting.” he said as he threw his jacket on.

“And mines is against Yaoyorozu! Ah, I’m really looking forward to that battle...” Mineta trailed off, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth as his mind began to wander.

“Mineta! Stop it with your filthy fantasies right this instant! We are in a school environment!” Tenya shouted from across the room, moving his hand up and down in his signature chopping motion.

Izuku laughed as he proceeded to put on his hero costume. As he did, he managed to catch a glimpse of Katsuki’s toned chest as he took off his shirt. Izuku swallowed as he watched Katsuki’s muscles flex with each movement he made.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Shirtless Kacchan, shirtless Kacchan! I mean, I’ve seen him shirtless countless times already, but now that we’re dating, it’s enough to make my heart flutter, he thought to himself.

He didn’t realize that he was still staring at Katsuki until a familiar voice pulled him back into reality.

“Oi, Deku! The hell are you looking at?!” Katsuki barked out.

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!” Izuku shouted in response, his cheeks a fiery red as he quickly snapped his gaze away from the blond.

He quickly got dressed and left the locker room before anyone could ask him any questions. As he walked down the hall, he heard a voice call out to him.

“Hey, Deku.”

Izuku let out a small yelp as an arm wrapped itself around his waist and he was pulled into a side embrace, the familiar scent of cinnamon and cologne flooding his senses.

“You see something you like back there?” Katsuki asked.

“H-Huh?! No!” Izuku exclaimed, the tips of his ears burning as Katsuki chuckled.

“Really now? Because I’m pretty sure I saw you staring at me intently as I was changing my clothes.” Katsuki teased, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

Izuku pouted.

“Kacchan—”

“Deku!”

At that moment, Katsuki withdrew his arm from around Izuku’s waist, shouted “Die!” in a loud voice, and blasted Izuku into the wall. He watched Ochaco gasp out of the corner of his eye.

“Deku!” she raced over to him. “Deku, are you okay?” she asked.

“Y-Yeah, I’m alright.” he replied as she helped him up.

Katsuki let out a “hmph” before whirling around and marching off. Ochaco shot a look at Katsuki’s retreating back.

“Bakugou! Why would you do that—” Izuku cut her off before she could continue.

“Don’t worry about it, Uraraka. I think I went too far with my teasing this time around...” he trailed off.

There’s no way I could tell her that he did it so that he could cover up how close we were just now. If she ever finds out that Kacchan and I are dating, she’ll pass out from the shock, he thought to himself.

“Is that so...” Ochaco trailed off.

“Y-Yeah! Kacchan’ll cool off eventually. We should get going.” Izuku said.

“Yeah!” Ochaco chirped in response.

The two of them made conversation as they headed to the training ground, discussing their upcoming battles with Tsuyu and Aoyama. Eventually, everyone else arrived at the training ground, Aizawa along with some of the other teachers waiting for them.

“Now that everyone is here, we will begin the battles with the first one being Todoroki versus Bakugou. The two of you, make your way up to the battle stage. I’m starting to get sleepy already.” Aizawa grumbled, zipping himself up in his yellow sleeping bag and laying down on the ground.

“Hah! It’s “Blasting Icy-Hot Outta This Fucking Arena” time!” Katsuki roared as he bumped his fist against his palm, creating a small explosion in the process.

As he was about to head onto the stage, Izuku called out to him.

“Wait, Kacchan! I need to say something before you go!” he shouted as he raced over to Katsuki.

“Huh? What is it now, Deku?” Katsuki asked as Izuku approached him.

Izuku motioned for him to lean down so that he could whisper in his ear. Katsuki hesitated for a moment before complying. Izuku cupped his hands around Katsuki’s ear and a part of his cheek before whispering to him.

“Go show Todoroki what you’re made of. I love you, Kacchan.” he said.

He then delivered a quick peck to Katsuki’s cheek before pulling away. He watched Katsuki’s face flush a light red and he had to stop himself from grinning at the sight.

It seems like Kacchan.exe has stopped working, he thought to himself.

“You...You don’t need to tell me twice! I know you fucking do! And I’ll blast that Half n’ Half bastard into smithereens! Just you wait!” Katsuki shouted before marching over to the stage.

Izuku laughed nervously as Ochaco and Tsuyu walked over to him.

“Deku! What did you tell Bakugou?” Ochacho asked.

“I am curious as well, Midoriya. What did you tell him? He seemed pretty flustered, which is rare for him.” Tsuyu commented.

“Oh, that? Nothing much. It’s just...” Izuku watched as Katsuki launched his first attack on Todoroki. “Something to boost his ego a little, maybe?”

🧡💚🧡💚

Instance #3 - Grocery Shopping (Late Afternoon/Early Evening)

“Now, let’s see here...” Katsuki burned holes into the shopping list that Momo handed him when he left the dorm with Izuku earlier today. “We got the cabbage, so let’s go get the fucking soba noodles.” he said.

“Okay!” Izuku chirped as he pushed the cart, following Katsuki around like a puppy would follow its owner.

Katsuki eyed Izuku, silently noting how eager he looked.

Class 1-A decided to draw lots in order to see who would go grocery shopping this time around. Katsuki and Izuku ended up being selected and Momo handed them a list she wrote up before ushering them out of the dorm. As much as Katsuki was annoyed that he got chosen to do the task, he didn’t hate it, either.

Not when Izuku had such a damn adorable look on his face. 

They made their way down the noodle aisle and picked up some packets of soba, udon, and somen noodles along with some instant cup ramen. Placing them in the cart, Katsuki checked them off the list.

“Alright, now let’s go get those fucking baking ingredients for Satou and then that green tea Half n’ Half bastard likes. Ponytail said that this store also carries her favorite tea from some place called Harrod’s, so we’ll also go and fucking pick that up—” he stopped, feeling Izuku’s arms wrap around his own.

He stared at Izuku in mild surprise.

“Oi, Deku, just what is it that you’re doing?” he asked.

“Hugging your arm.” Izuku replied.

“I can fucking see that. Why are you doing it, though?”

“This feels nice. You know, the two of us going grocery shopping together. Don’t you think this is nice, Kacchan?”

Katsuki looked over at Izuku and was nearly sucker-punched by the wide, doe-like eyes that Izuku was shooting him.

Fucking shit, I can’t not answer him when he looks at me like that, he thought to himself.

“Yeah...it does feel nice.” he said.

Izuku beamed up at the blond, rubbing his cheek against his arm as Katsuki began to push the cart.

They picked up the ingredients that Satou needed and quickly made a detour to the candy aisle to pick up some sweets that Mina and Tooru said they wanted to try.

As Katsuki put (read: chucked) a package of sakura-themed Kit Kats into the cart, Izuku spotted a large milk chocolate bar. His eyes sparkled in swe as he picked it up.

“Whoa, this is super big...” he looked over at Katsuki. “Hey, Kacchan! Look at what I found!” he called out, waving the chocolate bar around for him to see.

“Huh? What is it?” Katsuki answered as he looked at Izuku, frowning upon seeing the chocolate bar in his hands.

“Fuck no.” he said almost immediately.

“Huh?” Izuku blinked his eyes twice in surprise. “Wha—”

“Fuck no.”

“But—”

“I said. Fuck. No! If it ain’t on the damn list, we ain’t picking it up!”

“But Kacchan—”

“Fuck no means fuuuuuuuck noooooooo! Put it back, Deku.”

“Kacchan—”

“Put it back or else I’ll blast it right out of your hands.”

“But then you’ll have to buy it, anyway.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Deku! Now, put the chocolate bar back where you found it.”

Izuku’s lips curled into a pout.

“Fine...” he mumbled.

He shot Katsuki a dejected look as he turned to put the chocolate bar back. As soon as the bar hit the shelf, Katsuki let out a groan.

“Aaaaaaargh, fine! Fine! Put it in the cart! I’ll buy it for you!” he shouted.

Izuku immediately picked the bar back up and whirled around to face Katsuki, his eyes sparkling with glee.

“Really?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, really. Now, hurry it up and put it in the cart before I change my fucking mind. Just know that we’re sharing that because there is no way in hell you’ll end up with a gazillion cavities in your teeth—” Izuku tossed the bar into the cart and threw his arms around Katsuki before the blond could finish his sentence.

“Thank you, Kacchan! I love you, I love you, I love yooooooooooooou!” he gushed excitedly.

“Whoa, slow down there!” Katsuki blushed a little. “You do realize that we’re in fucking public, right?” he asked.

“Oh.” Izuku replied, his eyes wide as a boy’s voice reached their ears.

“Mama! Those two guys are holding each other!” he shouted.

“Shhh! Honey, don’t look!” his mother chided.

A bright red blush spread across Izuku’s face as he withdrew from Katsuki.

“Sorry for suddenly hugging you like that...” he murmured.

“Shit, don’t apologize, just...” Katsuki sighed, running a finger through his hair. “Let’s just get the rest of the groceries and get the fuck out of this store.” he said.

Izuku nodded.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” he said.

The two of them exited the candy aisle and they went to get the tea for Momo and Shouto, an awkward silence hanging over them all the while.

🧡💚🧡💚

Instance #4 - The Dorms, Katsuki’s Room (Evening)

Katsuki was seated at his desk, working on his homework when there was a knock at the door. He looked over at the door, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes?” he called out.

“Um, Kacchan? It’s me...”

Katsuki felt the tension in his body seep out of him the minute he heard Izuku’s voice on the other side of the door.

Oh, thank god. I can distract myself for the time being, he thought to himself.

“The door’s open.” he said.

The door opened moments later to reveal Izuku, who poked his head inside.

“Hi, Kacchan.” he spoke sheepishly, his cheeks tinted a light red.

It felt like Cupid had struck him through the heart.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—!

Oh goddamn it all, why does Deku have to be so cute, he asked himself.

Izuku stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He had on a simple navy blue v-neck shirt and blue pajama pants that had red stars, white stars, and All Might on them. Katsuki resisted the urge to snort. The pajama pants were ridiculously dorky, but they definitely suited him.

He looked down and noticed that Izuku was holding a piece of paper and a pen in his hand.

“Is that for me?” he asked.

“Oh, this? Yeah, it is. I’m stuck on this problem and I need you to help me solve it.” Izuku explained.

“Is that so...well, come sit on the bed. Make yourself comfortable.” Katsuki said.

Izuku nodded as he crawled onto Katsuki’s bed and leaned against the pillow Katsuki climbed on as well and sat down beside Izuku.

Immediately, the scent of eucalyptus mint hit the blond’s nostrils. Looking at Izuku’s slightly damp hair and his glowing skin, it was clear to him that he just came out of the shower. This made his heart hammer against his ribcage.

Shit, he smells so good. I wanna nuzzle my face into his neck and just inhale his scent, he thought to himself.

He shooed that thought away before it could fully manifest into an action.

“So? What’s the problem?” Katsuki asked.

“It’s this one.” Izuku showed him the paper. “I don’t know how to go about simplifying it...” he trailed off.

Katsuki took the piece of paper from him and he scanned it over.

“2i<6u...? Oh come on, Deku, this shit is so fucking easy. You just divide two from both sides and you get i<3u.” he said, taking Izuku’s pen from him and outlining teach step for him.

“I see...” Izuku peered down at the paper. “You know, that looks like it could be read a different way.” he pointed out.

“Huh? Read a different way?” Katsuki eyed the sheet of paper quizzically. “The only way that this can be read is i<3u.” he stated.

“No, there’s another way.” Izuku stated.

Katsuki furrowed his brows.

“I don’t follow.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

“I thought you were smart, Kacchan.”

“Huh?! Don’t test me, Deku! I’m fucking intelligent, I’ll have you know!”

“Then what is the other way you can read that?”

“Like hell if I know.”

“Would you like me to tell you?”

Katsuki shot a look at Izuku, who looking right back at him. This lasted for a few minutes before Izuku began to giggle.

“Alright, since it seems like you want me to tell you, then I might as well.” he said.

That was when Izuku leaned in closer, which caught Katsuki by surprise.

“Oi Deku, just what is it that you’re doing?” he asked.

“I’m going to tell you the answer.” Izuku replied.

Yeah, I figured that much, but do you have to be so close? It’s bad for my heart, Katsuki thought to himself.

Izuku leaned in even closer, his breath hitting Katsuki’s ear.

“The less than three makes a heart. So in other words, it can also be read as “I love you,” Kacchan.” he whispered.

Katsuki sat there for a few minutes, trying to comprehend what Izuku said. Then, it clicked.

“So in other words, it can also be read as “I love you,” Kacchan.” Izuku’s words played in his mind like a broken record as a blush crawled onto his cheeks.

Then, it began to spread to his ears the moment plush, warm lips connected with his cheek.

Oh, goddamn it all, he sure knows how to drive me wild, Katsuki thought to himself.

Before he could grab Izuku and show him what a real kiss is like, Izuku pulled away and he climbed off of the bed.

“Thanks for helping me solve that problem, I do appreciate it.” Izuku made his way over to the door. “Goodnight, Kacchan.” he said.

Then, Izuku winked at him (which, by the way, Katsuki thought was the cutest thing on Earth) before slipping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Placing the paper and pen off to one side, Katsuki flopped down onto the covers, burying his face in them.

Deku...he knew what the answer to that problem was all along, didn’t he? He only came up here to have me solve the problem so that he could tell me that he loves me, he thought to himself.

He did it on purpose.

Katsuki chuckled as a giddy feeling filled his chest.

“Damn.”

🧡💚🧡💚

Instance #5 - The Dorms, Katsuki’s Room (Morning)

Katsuki stirred from his slumber that morning to feel something warm pressed against him. Peeking under the covers, he saw Izuku curled up against him, his head resting on his chest over his heart.

Katsuki grinned.

Gosh, he’s so cute when he’s asleep, he thought to himself.

He slung an arm around Izuku’s torso and began to rub his back soothingly as he recalled what happened last night.

Izuku came to his room at around eleven-thirty last night in tears, saying that he had a dream where the League of Villains had taken Katsuki custody and in the end, he didn’t make it out alive. Izuku had been so shaken up that his first thought was to go upstairs and see for himself that the blond was alive and well. Katsuki took him into his room without a second thought and they ended up sleeping together in his bed with Katsuki rubbing circles into his back and whispering sweet nothings and reassurances before drifting off to sleep.

Izuku smiled in his sleep as he curled up closer to Katsuki. The blond rested his head atop Izuku’s, inhaling the scent of lavender shampoo in his curly, dark green locks.

Everything about this moment is just so fucking perfect. I wish I could wake up with him in my arms every morning, Katsuki thought to himself.

He moved his head down and began peppering Izuku’s face with chaste kisses. As he left one on his right eyelid, Izuku’s eyes fluttered open. He released a yawn.

“Mmmm...Kacchan...?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Katsuki felt like he got shot in the heart by Cupid as Izuku reached up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Fuuuuuuuuck, he’s so fucking cute! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Holy shit! Oh my god! Damn, now I really hope this moment can just last forever, he thought to himself.

Katsuki grinned down at him.

“Damn right, it’s me. Morning, Deku.” he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I take it you slept well last night?” he asked.

“I did! And it was all because I was in your arms the whole night, Kacchan.” Izuku replied, beaming up at him happily.

Katsuki laughed.

“You’re damn right. I’m your boyfriend, so I gotta make sure you’re getting enough sleep and shit.” he said.

Izuku couldn’t help but giggle.

“I know, I know.” he looked at Katsuki. “So, what were you doing before I woke up?” he asked.

“Looking at you. Thinking about how fucking cute you were as you slept. Showering your fucking cute face with kisses.” Katsuki replied.

Izuku blushed.

“So that’s what you were doing...”

“What, so you were actually awake the whole time?”

“No. It was only when I felt something pressing gently against my eyelid that I woke up.”

“Is that so...”

Izuku smiled.

“You know, I love you so much, Kacchan.” he said.

A blush dusted Katsuki’s cheeks pink as Izuku continued.

“You know what would make me love you even more than I already do?” he tapped a finger against his lips. “If you kiss me right here.” he said.

Katsuki chuckled.

“I like that.” he wrapped his arms around Izuku’s waist. “I really like the sound of that.” he said as he began to lean in towards Izuku.

Before their lips could touch, however, there was loud knocking at the door.

“Hey, Bakugou! You up yet?!”

Katsuki glared daggers at the door, hoping that it would slice through and stab whoever the fuck was at the door (most likely Eijirou).

“Fuck.” he bit out.

Way to ruin my alone time with Deku, dipshit.

🧡💚🧡💚

Bonus Instance (+1) - The Dorms, Near Izuku’s Room (Night)

“Kacchan, you know you didn’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Walk me back to my room.”

“Well, I’m doing it because I want to.”

“But—”

“Shut up and let me fucking walk you back to your room, Deku.”

Izuku and Katsuki stepped into the dorm after spending two hours doing practice battles at the training ground (with permission from Aizawa, of course). They walked side by side, the only light in the dorm being the beams of moonlight that shone through the windows.

“Oi, Deku, you sure you don’t wanna shower before you go and sleep? You reek.” Katsuki said.

“Well, you reek, too.” Izuku responded with a huff.

“Huh, don’t you have a smart mouth, Deku.” Katsuki commented as he tickled Izuku’s side, causing him to dissolve into barely stifled giggles.

Flicking on the lights, they headed down the hall to Izuku’s room. Once they stopped, Izuku turned to smile at Katsuki.

“Well, thanks for walking me back to my room even though I told you numerous times that you didn’t have to. I appreciate it.” he leaned in towards Katsuki. “I love you, Kacchan.” he said before pressing a kiss to Katsuki’s cheek.

Katsuki looked at Izuku with a stunned look on his face as Izuku pulled away.

“Good night.” Izuku said as he turned to open the door.

Before he could step inside, Katsuki called out to him.

“Oi, wait just a fucking minute.”

Izuku turned as Katsuki grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him towards him, cupping his cheek as their lips crashed together in a kiss. Izuku was taken aback, but it only lasted for a short moment before melting, kissing Katsuki back.

The kiss lasted for a couple more minutes before Katsuki pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. Red bore into green as Katsuki spoke, his cheeks turning red.

“I...fucking love you too.” he said.

Immediately, Izuku blushed bright red. His heart soared and giddiness began to bubble up from within him like soda at Katsuki’s words. He grinned from ear to ear.

“I know, Kacchan.” he pecked him on the lips. “Good night.” he said.

“Yeah, good night.” Katsuki said as Izuku pulled away and he headed inside.

Before closing the door, Izuku turned and flashed Katsuki one last smile. “I love you, Kacchan. I really do.” he said.

“I know you fucking do. Now, go and catch some fucking zzz’s.” Katsuki said with the wave of his hand.

Izuku laughed before turning and closing the door behind him. Almost instantly, Katsuki dissolved into a blushing, flustered mess. He facepalmed as he let out a loud groan.

Oh my god, why am I acting like some fucking high school girl who just got her kiss?! My heart won’t stop fucking racing, my cheeks are fucking red, and my lips feel like they’re on fucking fire! It was just a fucking kiss and a simple “I fucking love you too,” so why the fuck am I like this, Katsuki asked himself.

He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart and to get rid of the raging blush on his cheeks. It worked in a matter of minutes.

“Now that’s more fucking like it.” he said.

He turned to start walking back to his room only to come face to face with a widely smiling Eijirou. This caught Katsuki off-guard.

“The fuck—”

“Man, Bakugou, you’re such a smooth operator!” Eijirou gushed.

“Huh? The fuck are you going on about, Shitty Hair?” Katsuki asked.

“Obviously when you pulled Midoriya to you and kissed him! And then you were all like, “I...fucking love you too” with really red cheeks and this really soft look on your face! Like, soft Bakugou is some good quality stuff right there!” Eijirou said.

Katsuki glared at Eijirou.

“You saw that?!”

“Uh, yeah? I mean, there’s nothing to be afraid of, since everyone else knows you two are dating.”

“What?! Everyone knows?!”

“Oh shit, I promised Yaoyorozu that I wouldn’t say anything—”

“Die!”

[fics-not-tragedies]

One Day in December: Chapter 10 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

That’s a wrap folks! I’m so happy when I can finally finish something I was writing. Also look out for epilogue tomorrow 👀

Words: 1480; Warnings: few mentions of previous sexual innuendos and some alcohol drinking; Summary: This year the pair hosts their own Christmas party.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​​​​​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​​​​​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​​​​​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​​​​​​​​;

December 2019 

“Festive” Andrew commented, a smirk on his lips as he rounded the kitchen island, moving closer to her, two glasses of champagne in his hands.

Bianca laughed, glancing down at her dress covered in sparkly red sequins,  “Listen, it’s the occasion, okay!” 

They made good on their vows to never go back to that holiday party again, and decided that this year, they were going to throw their own. At Andrew’s… and Bianca’s. It still took some time getting used to saying it, but… she’d moved in.

It was official.

After visiting him last December to celebrate the New Year; they both realized they wanted her to stay. It wasn’t easy. She had to leave her job in L.A. and the only place she’d known for almost a decade… but by the end of March; Dublin was her new home.

“All the guys are coming, yeah?” Andrew called to her from the hall, his lean body wrapped in a suit.

Bianca stood on tiptoes, struggling with the holiday lights she was stringing around the bar. They were excited to be hosting. Andrew loved it so much.

“Yes! Everyone’s coming!” Bianca called to him over her shoulder, balancing precariously on the bar stool. 

She nearly screamed when she felt his hand on her back, the both of them laughing. “Thought you could use some help.” 

“If you were a few inches smaller I could…” she teased, and he shouted at her, eyes twinkling before he playfully bit at her waist, “Just kidding.” 

*

“Gotta hurry up and do this quick…” Alex shifted his weight back and forth, holding the flask between the five of them. 

“Why’s that?” Rory looked at him, taking the flask, and bringing it to his mouth to knock it back.

Alex gave him a funny look, shoving the toy whistle he’d received in his cracker back between his lips, “Because this is our thing. No one else.”

“Not even your wives…” Bianca tsk-tsked him with a small smirk, as the flask was passed from Rory to Cormac to her, “Our little tradition.”

“Damn right. Yous were there from the beginning Bianca.”

Alex chuckled and wiped his mouth, “She was even once the honorary crew member the year you couldn’t make it.”

Cormac winked at her, “And I bet she did me proud.” 

Bianca laughed, holding her chest, the holiday spirits burning on their way down as always. Andrew choked on his sip beside her when Alex made an inappropriate comment, “God, I missed you guys.”

“Me too” Andrew murmured, handing the flask back to Ryan and busying himself with his own paper crown. He slowly unfolded the thin purple piece of paper, remembering the very first party. 

“Remember how pissed you  were, Andy? That first year? Didn’t shut the fuck up about Bianca that whole tour.”

Andrew’s face flushed, and he looked down, nodding, “I do, yeah. Of course I do.”

“Now look at you two!” Rory teased them, reaching over to pinch Andrew’s cheek.

“Alright, alright!!” Andrew yelled, his arm sliding around Bianca’s waist, “Let’s have some fun then, yeah?”

*

“Have you been waiting here long?” she asked him, her voice soft, shy. Andrew glanced up, grinning at Bianca’s perfect smile and those eyes of hers he’d fallen in love with ten years ago.

“Em… not too long… a minute or so” he glanced up towards the front, seeing another person leave the room and three girls go in together, “Well… looks like it’s moving fast, eh?” Andrew assured her, feeling like he was experiencing a very strong sense of deja vu. 

She nodded, seemingly relieved, “Good.”

Andrew chuckled, suddenly remembering the woman standing across from him back when she was a girl he had a crush on in a cute little dress and blinking reindeer antlers. Now it was a striped red and white towel wrapped around her waist, a red sequin dress, and a sprig of mistletoe on a bouncy spring on her head. 

Still the cutest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Too many ales, then?” He teased, his voice deep and slightly intoxicated as he looked her up and down.

She snorted, “Partying with you guys? Of course too many ales. You know that.” 

Andrew grinned, leaning in to her conspiratorially, “Could always skip the line and go upstairs to ours.”

“We could, couldn’t we?” she pressed her forehead to his and pecked at his lips. 

“Mmm…” he moaned, tasting the mintiness of her ice cold drink on her lip, “Putting that thing to good use for once, are you?”

Bianca scrunched her nose up, the facial hair Andrew was attempting to grow again tickling her lips, “Yeah… finally” she teased him, “You’re the only guy I’m kissing tonight, though… don’t worry” she assured him as the mistletoe sprung back and forth on her head. 

“Wasn’t worried” he told her softly, pecking at her lips a few more times, “Only took us… almost ten years now, didn’t it?”

“Mmm… almost whole decade of pining for you” Bianca hummed against his mouth, “Come on…” she held her hand out, gesturing towards the staircase. Andrew’s hand slipped into hers, squeezing tight.

*

“Oh, the weather outside is fright-ful…”

Bianca smiled, tightening her hold on his hand, fingers laced together, cheek pressed to his chest. With Andrew’s arm wound around her, they swayed back and forth to the very familiar opening notes of a song they both loved quite fondly.

The party was nearly completely fizzled out in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve; but still they danced on over the debris on the floor of their living room. Andrew had silver tinsel wrapped around his neck, and each time they turned it tickled Bianca’s nose. 

“What is your favorite memory? From the parties?” He asked, his lips brushing the top of her tawny-colored hair.

“I was quite fond of you in that maroon sweater, serenading me…” she murmured with a little smile, quickly swallowing back the lump in her throat that always followed shortly after she was reminded the events that followed directly after the karaoke serenade that particular year.

“You mean the year you broke my heart?” Andrew asked coolly, and when her head whipped up, mouth open ready to protest, he grabbed her chin and kissed her quiet, “Just kidding, love. The one time you broke my heart versus the countless years I broke yours…”

“I’m not taking this trip down memory lane if you’re just gonna keep a tally of who was more destructive each year…” Bianca warned, the colors from the Christmas lights reflecting in her bright hazel eyes. 

“Promise, I’m not” he assured her. His eyes swept over her, the same girl he’d fallen in love so long ago now a permanent part of his life. If someone had told him back when he was twenty… “Thought you were gonna say, em, that one year in the coat room.”

“Oh” she breathed, eyes widening, “Ohhh…” her pretty pink lips curved into a smirk, “Well… that year was… God, I couldn’t believe how fucking hot you were when I saw you that year.”

Andrew chuckled, remembering the exact look on her face when she entered the room, fur coat half-unbuttoned, “That skin tight dress you wore…”

She nodded slowly, in a trance remembering Every. Single. Detail. Especially the after-party in her flat directly after that.

“I think it was a good year for both of us, huh?”

“Yeah except for when you came the instant you were inside me.” 

“HEY!” Andrew shouted, drawing the attention of a few people still smoking on the patio. He laughed, his cheeks blazing a bright ruddy red as the embarrassment crept up his neck. Bianca couldn’t stop giggling, “In my defense… I’d waited an awfully long time for that to happen.”

“That’s very true. C’mere… ” she wound her hand around the tinsel, pulling him down for a kiss, “And if I recall properly… you more than made up for it-”

He’d crushed his lips against hers before she could even finish her thought, “Now that’s one of me favorite memories…” they smiled and laughed as they kissed, “Not my absolute favorite but… it’s up there.”

The tension that had built up between them over the years hadn’t disappeared; and the honeymoon phase was seemingly infinite. Bianca always wanted to adorn his perfectly sweet face with endless amounts of kisses, “My favorite memory has always been the look on your face the moment we spotted each other at the party each year.”

“Mine too” he confessed, his muddy green eyes dancing in the light from the fireplace. “Didn’t thought that, we, em, we’d ever make it here.”

“Me neither. But here we are.” 

Andrew took her hand and spun her away from him, the two of them laughing as he pulled her in real close again, “How are we gonna manage to top this next year?”