#why does he keep saying so much shit though. bro is setting up the red flags himself 😭

[crows-of-buckets]

Why do I feel like varric is still gonna die. That knife wound is taking a suspiciously long time to heal

[weebsinstash]

Ok so I kept procrastinating but I finally finished Masquerade earlier today and just. Oh my fucking god, kicking my feet, twirling my hair around a finger, giggling ,rewinding, smiling like a GOON, I have THOUGHTS

--Val's red coat is his WINGS and they're glorious. And not to mention he wears that like, slutty open chested black v neck underneath where he's lowkey showing off his nipples too, the slut. The gold heart belt buckle and the matching gold accented accessories too. Ugh. You can't say he doesn't dress up, and I really liked getting to see the full reveal of his body so to speak, the way his violet arms become black fingers, also is he, is he wearing like gold manicured claw cap things sometimes, why is he such a diva, he's so extra

--the Addict music video WASN'T just being artistic, Valentino's smoke CAN become physical actual chains and bondage and oh my gooddddddd I'm using this knowledge for EVIL purposes.

Boom! Sudden third eye opening moment, but remember that post I made about "Val who starts dragging you around on a leash because he's too much taller than you to keep leading you by the hand" ? His lower set of arms could totally hold onto you BUT I can totally see him using these chains all the time now, to drag you around and just restrain you and shit. Ugh. Just. Him having you completely immobilized and helpless and shaking like a chihuahua as he can run his fingers along you and whatever else he wants, listening to you gadp and squirm

-- ok I know the whole point of the poison music video was showing the horrible shit Angel is made to do and how he's dehumanized but like.... obviously, from.. a fetish perspective... you know what I think 😩❤️

Like you can't just show me a shot of Valentino having Angel in his arms and he's got all four arms wrapped around him in like almost an embrace, kissing, KISSING while they fuck. maybe I'm so shy but that's so... intimate, like, ok fuck my ass i guess, that's like sex, whatever, but kissing me on the MOUTH, let alone with tongue? you might as well be looking into my soul or something dofnofjfjg, not to mention Val biting his neck while they do it like you CAN'T me all of that and expect me to be normal!!!

--platonic yandere Husker with an alcoholic Reader though. He forces you into these weird little therapy sessions when yeah he still serves you drinks but he cuts you off when you're fucking plastered, like he enables you until you're having TOO much, amd by that point you're yammering with your loose lips and answering ALL His questions. Siiiiigh I can see him seeing how you're down on your luck and burying your worries and sorrows at the bottom of a bottle , getting so drunk you can barely sit up straight, and he starts getting protective of you, secretly following you to bars when you won't just get drunk at the hotel, making sure your drink doesn't get spiked, having to kick some ass to protect you and drag you home more than once

--i was such a fool. If Valentino is such a, quite frankly, perverted fucking idiot that he LICKS CHARLIE, fucking CHARLIE MORNINGSTAR upon first meeting her, he ABSOLUTELY does creepy shit to his darling day ONE. He CLEARLY has ZERO impulse control: he drinks, he smokes, he forces himself onto other people, he throws things when he loses his temper. He uses his power to be a bully and seeking unrestrained self gratification

--this is completely unrelated to everything else here but Zestial is hot in that like, antiquated charming eldritch evil kind of way. He seems like the sort of creature you could encounter deep within an enchanted woods, you're freshly dead and wind up in a bad part of Pentagram City and this TOWERING gentleman says some shit like "turn back child, there is no safety for you here". He's. He's sexy in that Neflix Castlevania Dracula way where there's an appeal in his age and his wisdom and his composure and just his full-on aesthetic and such. Like bro it's so easy to miss it but he's the oldest of the Overlords and he bowed in respect to Carmilla for what she did. He's chivalrous and loyal and just 👀 got my eye on him...

--bro watching Val manipulate Angel to get Charlie to leave fucking HURT and I've thought about Reader being in that exact scenario SO many times! Valentino is manipulating Angel to control you, and he's manipulating YOU to control Angel. Sure, he'll have Angel make you cry and chase you off so you don't get emotional and interfere with a shoot, or so that you don't sabotage whatever manipulated state he has Angel under at the time, but when you're off on your own drinking and crying and sobbing and feeling oh so horrible and pitiful, then Val is sibling up to you, cooing about, oh how MEAN Angel was to you, he didn't have to be so harsh to someone so sweet--

Could you imagine the fucking. Tiered angst and manipulation of Angel hurting Reader because Val pressured him to, and then Reader going off and getting drunk and being self destructive, and then at your emotional weakest Val is popping in to strike some kind of deal with you or fuck you or whatever, and then Angel blames himself, and here's Valentino, "that wouldn't have happened if you just did what you were told :3c" and Angel is even further under his control because now he's terrified he might "fuck up" and get you really hurt

--siiiiiiiigh imagine like drinking with Angel and you've been down there for like two months and you're idly chit chatting and, something something, you offhandedly mention something like "god fuck Val had me so fucking wasted I could barely sign my employee contract" CUE ANGEL IMMEDIATELY DROPPING WHATEVERS IN HIS HAND AND SHAKING YOU, "what do you MEAN you signed something??? You're just waiting tables, what did you SIGN???" And it turns out Val whipped out like ONE OF THE B I G "types" of contracts for you. God I really want some elaboration on how those contracts work and how Val or any Overlord strikes deals and even gains powers because it's very clear not everyone had the same level of abilities, and also lowkey the power scaling in Hazbin is kinda busted like not to be a dweeb but you've got people running around basically having Quirks

--ALSO THIS IS SO DUMB BUT I HAVE A COMPLAINT SIR. Valentino straight up says "no one watches porn for the dialogue" EXTREMELY INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE. When you've watched enough porn or at the very least you're hunting for a specific fetish, dialogue can be Duper important. You can see 20 different actors do the same scene BUT have a specific pair who, maybe used a specific line that stood out to you and made it unique and made it worth watching. You know for a long while there I was writing smut and feeling like I was doing the same descriptions over and over again and it kind of burnt me out and turned me off and that's when I tried to shift towards more emotional and environmental and thematic sorts of stuff

Listen all I'm saying is I have been ENAMORED like straight up with the idea of Reader becoming the fourth V because you become close to all the Vs and you have your own talents and they all like you and shit. You're able to pitch product ideas to Vox, even help him if you're a programmer or a coder or something, Valentino.... maybe you have magic hammer space pockets and can run him errands or you cook drugs or you're like a sexy bodyguard for him or, he just likes getting drunk and doing drugs with you, and Velvette is that #Bitch who you gossip with who likes to design new shit for you and bounce ideas off of you from time to time. Like the gradual slide of "oh we're all hanging out and they think I'm actually kind of cool," to "oh they keep inviting me to hang out. I feel special. I'm one of the cool kids. Maybe I even have fun powers and they encourage me to be mean and evil and its fun" to then "oh you're straight up shoving new clothes in my face and you keep using this one specific V nickname for me instead of my real name and I stg I don't have personal space anymore and I'm always being crowded by at least one of you literally 24/7"

God just. God. Just. GOD I AM SO WELL FED. I saw what Viv was selling and I got in line and I've finally gotten my food and it is FILLING, my craving for controlling obsessive possessive douchebags is sooooo sated right now 😩❤️

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

If requests are currently open, could I ask for Platonic Slashers with a big sibling figure reader? I think it'd be so wholesome!!

I have no idea how long since I posted. Also I'm confused about the big sibling figure, did you mean older sibling or plus size. I'm choosing the first one but anyways here you go!

Slashers with older sibling figure reader!

Michael

He's near you 24/7, you're the closest thing he has to family and that results in him stalking you a lot.

There are a lot of possibilities of how this happened, maybe you met each other when you were kids, maybe he saw your inner older sibling energy while he was stalking you, maybe you just randomly met.

There's a lot. And you're lucky you did because now you have this bigass 5'10ft - 6'9ft killing machine that's protecting you always.

You are a real lucky one, you may also see his "softer" spots occasionally. But he acts little bit of an ass if you bring it up. No need to worry though he's just a bit embarrassed that's all.

And all hell will break loose if anyone hurts you, his skin and jumpsuit will be warm and colourful covered in blood by your attacker unlike his cold dark soul and mindset. No one lays a bad finger on his dear older sibling, everybody knows that.

There are times where you and Michael are sitting on the couch and you're ranting to him sounding like an undertale character and he just looks like my profile pic.

Have you ever felt being watched while walking down the road? Don't worry that's just Michael making sure no danger comes to you, if another set of eyes lay on you that's ok. He'll reduce it by only one pair soon.

Sinclair brothers

You met the brothers, maybe when they were children or young teenagers. Because it'll take a shit long while for them to completely trust you and look at you as their big sibling if they were adults.

Bo never really got affection from his mother so instead he relies on yours as a replacement. Unlike being his s/o where it takes a lot of time for him to show his true feelings and his constant tough act, it won't take long for him to be vulnerable with you. You're basically his older sibling, what does he need to hide? It's not like you'll leave him or degrade him. You never did. He still sometimes keeps the tough act though. Still kinda bitchy sometimes and sometimes (sorry for saying sometimes so much) he gets frustrated at how delicate he can get with you and says some hurtful things for the sake of his pride and dignity but then later regrets it and apologises to you. Also accidentally calls you brother/sister/sibling from time to time and his face turns red.

Vincent got attention from his mother but that was just because he acted like a goodboy, affection.... It's complicated. But there's nothing better than platonic sibling love and affection. When things are getting rusty and agitating he comes to you for comfort and just lays next to you slightly crying. Is also less hesitant to show his face under that mask. Just a bit. You and him sometimes take a stroll on the museum and talk about about so many sibling related things (jk) it's just you praising him for his artworks and him being a happy little artist boy. He's kinda dependent on you and looks for your approval and advice and you have to remind him at times that he can make decisions on his own. Will always try to help you with things even if you insist you don't need his help. (bo yelling at vinny to fuck off while his arm was shot with an arrow and vinny is still trying reference)

Lester wasn't given much attention or affection. So he thrives off of yours like Bo. He calls you sibling too but without shame, you're technically his older sister/brother/sibling. He doesn't need to be ashamed of shit. Although he mostly calls you bro because why not. He comes to you calling you whatever of your preferences and talks about his roadkill to you "look what I ran over!" although carefree he is more cautious, it takes time for him. But when he does your relationship bond gets even bigger than before! If anyone hits on you or degrades you he'll come out of the corner of nowhere and yells "hey! That's my sis/bro/sib you're talking about!" and attacks that little piece of shit. He calls you that a lot more than your actual name. He's dependent too and comes to you for advice alot, wether it's about choosing what color of socks he should wear to dating advice. "hey bro, should I wear this or this?" "hey bro, how to attract some bitc-" you get the idea.

I hate that I'm losing more and more motivation day by day.

[corporatefrog]

꒦‧₊ ꒷ Skateboarding w/ Team Stan [Headcanons] ✧.*

✧.* tags: skateboarding idk man, comedy, college au

✧.* Charactions: stan marsh, kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, butters stotch

a/n: I was writing a different set of headcanons and started thinking about this and it got so long that I decided to just make it another post.

masterlist

Stan

Most skater aesthetic out of them all

even though he doesn't actually know anything

He bought the board because the like the IDEA of being someone who skates

But he’s too scared of falling down to actually do it

Much better at roller blading

but he'll NEVER admit it

mainly because people (cartman) would call him Ken because of the Barbie movie coming out

"Okay but why the fuck do you know that Ken uses roller blades in the Barbie movie?"

"Well actually that's none of your fucking business"

"Yeah okay dickwipe."

"THATS RICH COMING FROM A GAY ASS"

"It's literally pride month bro"

Kenny

Kenny on the other hand is the epitome of “I could do it this morning”

Makes you all sit around for 30 minutes while he tries to do an ollie

“Dude it’s okay if you can’t-”

“NO MAN I CAN! KAREN SAW IT!”

Like okay bro you can do an ollie

Gaming sessions of Tony Hawk Pro Skater where he does a move and says "yeah I could do that"

Gets the most hurt

mainly because he doesn't care

worst cast- and i mean WORST CASE- he dies and he's back the next day

at least now he knows that he can't do a rail grind off the golden gate bridge

Butters

Stan and Kenny try to teach Butters how to skate

turns out he doesn't really need their help

Butters ends up being 100x better than them INSTANTLY

Its the hawaiian blood

paddle boarding translates very well to skateboarding

“Woah! It’s so much easier when there aren’t waves coming at you!”

“I both hate you and idolize you right now”

“Stan close your mouth before a mosquito flies in”

You ask Butters to teach you and Kenny is AGHAST

Granted Butters is a shit teacher 

“Just picture the Hawaiian islands holding your hands to keep you steady.”

“What the fuck did they do to you there.”

“Well for one, we got absolutely plastered so they’re tripping balls 24/7”

Kyle

Kyle skates pretty fine

He and Ike were HUGE zeke and luther watchers fs

It was the only show they could agree on so sheila and gerald let them watch it 

He always wears elbow and knee pads though

The others (cartman) give him shit for it

But he’s the only one going home without any bleeding appendages so who’s laughing now

The only one that can actually do an ollie

Doesn’t brag about it but once everyone else goes home he’ll show you some pretty sick tricks

"So you're like the red head from the gay anime."

"No."

"Now we've just got to find a blue haired canadian- omg wait isn't your brother from Canada-"

"No."

"Planning the road trip right now. If you take your brother's passport I bet you can pass it off as yours."

"I regret telling you anything."

[noxx-33i]

Hello I have come to word vomit RGB trio thoughts and headcanons. Beware some of these will probably be nonsensical and not in order.

I think skate has the worst fashion taste out of the three. I can't say much on this though cause I also have an atrocious sense of fashion/lh

Boombox and to an extent Skate talk in 80's slang. Like radical, bodacious, hella, etc. 80's coded boombox just lives in my head rent free and i can't kick him out/silly

Their alcohol tolerance from lowest to highest goes: Skate, BB, Sling

BB and Skate crash at Slingshot's place ALL the time. At this point even Shuri and Vine are used to them just random showing up

^^continuing this I think they like to enter through anywhere but the window. Most especially Skate. BB at the very least is willing to act like a Normal person and use the door SOMETIMES. Skate however if he uses the door you'll bet that he's going in on his board. Whether or not he immediately crashes and breaks something inside is another thing/lh

Sometimes they'll just have Katy Perry Sessions with Shuriken. Like literally just listening to Katy Parry. Don't. Don't ask why I don't know either/lh

^^they have California Gurlz memorized.

If one of them does a crime none of them are snitching. If one goes down they all go down if one admits to it the other two will admit to it too. No bro left behind/silly

Sling is the smartest academically in their group and is probably the best at math. Not saying he's a prodigy im just saying BB and Skate are probably dumb as shit with math /lh+aaff

Sometimes Skate likes to record his Sick Moves™ and sometimes it would Also be in a place he proooobably shouldnt be in so Sling and BB take turns being on either camera duty or watch duty. Whether either of them are good at it is a different discussion/silly

Skate was caught stealing by the police once but BB was there and somehow he managed to trick them into believing he was Skate's lawyer and that he did not steal anything. Sling watched from the distant absolutely flabbergasted

Sling prices his menu very high and whenever someone asks he's just like "Oh yk, inflation!" and somehow it always works

they like setting fireworks off at night. Sometimes BB can't come cause he's too tired from work or something tho so

Despite Slingshot being the most academically smart in the group Boombox is the one who would hesitate when given a big shiny red button that could nuke Crossroads. Sling and Skate would see a shiny red button and go "ooo shiny" then BOOM!!!! /silly

idk if you want this but I have an au with my friend using the skins ingame (and some we made up for it hehe) where Snowboard and Rainbox were highschool best friends and they would get into shenanigans together like light theft (Rain is the distraction), parties maybe, etc andddd I love them very much

Snow in the au has canonically tried to rizz up a girl (in High School) only to bag her boyfriend AND her brother

^^The au takes place years later when Snowboard is in college (in Blackrock college cause there's no faction wars in this au) and when he comes back he finally meets Cozyshot who is Rain's roommate and erm my friend likes skateshot so I think you can tell what happens next (GAY PEOPLE) /silly

Okay im gonna stop rmabling now have a good day silly muah/p

IM GONNA RAMBLE TOO AND Oh my god ur so right on the first one.

SKATE HAS TERRIBLE FASHION SENse. I can smell it. Hes so sweaty he doesnt care ab his looks too much but bb would say "youre not going out like that

YES I AGREE. Boombox is stuck in the 80s and he doesnt want to leave. Im actually picking up these habits i wanna say rad so bad.

Skate being the lowest is the funniest shit wver bc i love bullying his ass. Did you tell i put NO EFFORT in his stupid hc reveal HEELP

I FEEL LIKE ONE DAY THEY MIGHT GET A SECRET HANGOUT PLACE… like fully furinisjed and with ac and all that fancy shit. How? Idk illegally? They probably have board games and dnd sessions with trusted friends who keep the place a hush

Bro theyre not normal they will never be normal… "GUYS HOW DID YOU GET IN" // "We lock picked your door" // "WHAT THE FUCK"

> lowkey skate would learn lock picking for fun and hed get so good at it he would be tempted to steal more stuff

>> that being said.. rob the bank?/ref

LOWKEY i feel like bb was a nerd in his younger years but grew out of it… he would probably like science facts and everyone thinks hes smart but hes not.. AND YES sling being math smart is so real teehee. Hes the expenses guy but also cant stop himself from spending more than he needs to

Skate n BB would get into so much trouble but no one can ever find them guilty in some fucking way and it makes the authorities so mad

Ironically id like to think Zuka easily catches them doing dumb shit but he doesnt care enough to report it

Sling has probably done tax evasion one or two times.. or more….

Ok cute hcs to vomit out… with ur mention of tired boombox i feel like sling and skate would immediately go to bbs place and crash not in a chaotic way but like ogghd.. ÖIKE THEY MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER BY GIVING SNACKS OR MASSAGES TO HELP HIM LOSE STRESS

Literally any time one of the RGB members get their vibes off its instantly to care land bc bcbc bc 😞😞🙁🙁😞😞😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 *sobbing crying throwing up* theyr besties 😭😭 this xan be both platonic or romantic i legit do not care i love BOTH

With that in mind i feel like whenever skate and bb crash over sling would have a few of their favorite pastries from his cafe saved in his fridge… like dog treats LMAOO

This is likge.. dog-cat-dog relationship… but all are chaotic as fuck /silly

YOUR AU SOUNDS SO SILLY PLEASE I WANT TO SEE!!!! I WANNA DRAW EVEN.

that au makes me think of sling with glasses for some reason… i need to draw so bad….!!!!;!2!

And they were roommates /ref+j

[irishpotato19]

Wylde Brothers Headcanons

because I can and I love them

I got tired of staring at the hands on my sketch and trying to draw them, so here's some headcanons for the bros...they make sense to me, idk about you lol

-Holy hell are these two boys so similar but so so different

-Both are cocky and hotheaded as hell, Kurt's mellowed out a bit, but is still cocky and stubborn

-Get serious ego boosts always

-Kurt's an eye roller, literally all the time. Or has super dry comebacks and snarky remarks ready on the fly and tells the worst dad jokes

-Both don't trust people very easily or willingly, and tend to self doubt themselves...they're kind of insecure (especially Mark when put on the spot)

-Both have really good hygiene, I know we poke fun at Mark for being the type of guy to wash his face and ass with the same rag, but come on, look at how clean they are...they actually both have really good sense in fashion and clothes (whether they try that is)

-Both tend to keep to themselves, quite introverted, unless they have to talk to their teams or do something for work...

-Mark spends a lot of time with friends/the metal maniacs, but has a very low social battery

-Kurt spends time with the Teku or in clubs with other racers and people he knows, but again would rather be by himself. I'd like to say he's a social butterfly, but just naturally, not by choice

-Neither one likes to look stupid or be wrong

-Both are very crafty and hands-on, Mark more so than Kurt, but they are both very creative...it's a good outlet for them

-

-Kurt's at least 6-8 years older than Mark, he called Mark his "kid" brother...I feel like 10 years or more apart would be too much, and 5 years apart would be too close

-But Mark's taller than Kurt by a few inches and holds it over his head

-

-Both can actually sing quite well. Kurt's a little flat here and there, but has a very soothing voice. Definitely a baritone, but also an alto

-Mark is the better of the two, but hates singing in front of others, was caught one time and totally turned beat red...he can sing lullabys like a god and his accent shows through every time

-

-To go off of the accents, they most definitely were raised separately by different parents at times. Kurt somewhere in California or on the west coast, while Mark was stuck in New York or Boston areas

-Explains why they aren't very close and have different accents and mannerisms. But they did try for the longest time to stay close, until it got to be too much...Mark definitely missed Kurt, and looked up to his older brother

-

-Both are softies deep down, very good with kids and pets/animals

-

-Mark sometimes fakes having a really low gravelly voice, it works for his badboy-I don't give a shit-vibe...but he does get kind of high pitched when pressured or scared or self-conscious

-

-Kurt is a really good cook and knows quite a few recipes; Loves fancy restaurants and is a health food fanatic...had a red wine stash

-Mark is the opposite and can't cook to save his life, he has tried though, and somehow set the microwave on fire...lives off of pizza joints and bachelor-like prepped meals

-

-They would both make terrific dad's

-I also feel like they would be good to either a baby girl or boy, but just something about them raising a baby girl would make them ecstatic...they just give off girl-dad vibes

-I feel like Mark would be better at taking care of kids because he still acts like a kid sometimes, and kids like him more, for what reason no one really knows

-

-Kurt can actually dance, like almost any style...a beautiful ballroom dancer

-Mark can not dance, but will do his best, he doesn't care if he embarrasses himself as long as other people/friends are getting second hand embarrassment from him

-

-In a relationship they'd both be very protective and supportive, they hate seeing their SO upset or hurt...loving and affectionate in almost every way, but sometimes don't show it because they don't want to be overbearing

-Kurt uses nicknames/pet names like; baby, darling, love, beautiful, something unique to his SO

-Think of Tramp from "Lady and the Tramp"

-Mark uses nicknames/pet names like; babe, baby cakes, doll, sweetcheeks, sweetheart, cutie, love, a unique joke for his SO

-Think of "Thomas O'Malley" from the Aristocats

-

-Mark would grow a beard at some point

-Kurt would try to grow a beard or mustache, and then immediately shave it off, Markie would definitely laugh at him...Kurt just can't pull off facial hair, maybe stubble but he hates it

-

-Both get nightmares quite frequently thanks to Gelorum, Mark more so than Kurt though

-Kurt hates needles

-Mark gets phantom pains every now and then where his left arm should be

-

-Kurt's a Leo

-Mark's either an Aries or Sagittarius

-

-Mark found a part of SpineBuster that was left over and made a bracelet and necklace out of it, still upset that his favorite car is gone...he put a lot of work into that thing

-He also cuts up his shirts a lot to show off his tattoos, or at least the one side for the metal arm cause otherwise it's kinda uncomfortable

-

-Kurt's an early 2000's club music man...Pitbull, Flo Rida, LMFAO, just something with a lot of bass and talking about pretty/hot women

-Mark's more rock/heavy metal, but has a type of nostalgia or special place in his heart for Linkin Park, FFDP, and Papa Roach

-

-Kurt's a suit and tie kind of guy, or matching track suit. He feels like he always has to look presentable, or like a professional in his element. If home by himself, or with a SO he'll lay back a bit and wear a white T-shirt and jeans or sweatpants

-Mark's in boots and jeans all the time, he sees no point in dressing up (unless you count an excessive amount of belts and gloves "dressed up"). But if a situation calls for it he'll wear a nice pair of pants and dress shirt or try to show up Kurt

-

-Both have put on eyeliner at some point, whether as a dare or joke, or just cause they wanted to see if they could look like Bucky Barnes or Killian Jones at 3am...they just look like they crawled out of an emo cover band

-Both agree no one else can know, this dies with them...someone definitely got a picture though, but they don't know that

-

[outerbankies]

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Patch Me Up

Pairing - Vampire!Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW, Blood kink obviously, marking kink, biting kink, sharp teeth BARK BARK, fingering, semi public sex??? I mean you guys were in a different room but it was still in a public establishment lol,

Word Count - 1.9k

Other Comments - Bro this idea was just way way way too good to pass up shout out to the anon who requested this because you know what's up; you got some good ass taste. And yes this does have Twilight vibes, what about it.

Ask - VAMPIRE DILUC SMUT I FUCKING BEG YOU

Diluc was a very secluded man, always keeping up thick walls, borderline impossible to penetrate; but there was something about you. You enraptured him, always wearing a bright kind smile when you saw him. Most people found his stand off-ish personality jarring, to which they regarded him with side eyes and cold shoulders unless asking for alcohol.

He looked forward to when you would come into his tavern, it was easy to spark up conversation. You quickly became one of his regulars when you first came into the tavern a few months ago. At first he regarded you with the same cold yet professional tone he regarded most of his customers with; but when you weren’t put off by it and asked how his day had been he was surprised to say the least. After that it was always a high point of his day asking you how your adventures were.

Today was different. You strolled into the tavern at your usual time, but when that door opened a strong delicious scent washed over Diluc. It made his mouth water and his throat burn. When he looked up to see what was going on, to see the cause of his bodily reactions, he saw you limping in; bruises and cuts covering your exhausted body. This was bad. You smelled way too good.

Diluc’s hands became clammy under his gloves, and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He wanted- no, needed, to taste you. To drink you. You smelled almost candy-like, similar to when all of the sweet flowers came to bloom; but better. Diluc’s fists curled into tight balls behind the counter as you approached. He wanted to tell you to leave, to stop walking towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Were it anyone else and he would’ve quickly been able to shut down the issue by telling them to go see someone who could patch them up first, but this was you. There was something else too, something in the back of his mind. He was worried for you.

“Hey, how’s my favorite bartender doing?” Your voice was raspy, from what exactly Diluc didn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised from seeing your current state. Something in him warmed when you said that though.

“Uh, fine. More importantly, shouldn’t Barbara be patching you up? Why are you in my tavern bleeding on my floors.” Diluc tried to make his voice harsh, but it came out more sarcastic and joking. You chuckled in response to his statement.

“What, you can’t help me?” Diluc stiffened. You wanted him to help you? Why? He has shown no knowledge of medicine, let alone any real concern for you.

“I have no knowledge of medicine, why would you want me to patch you up?” Diluc was more than confused. There were so many other people you knew who were so much more capable of helping you. He was starting to get irritated, not particularly by you, but by your scent. It was driving him crazy and he was surprised he was able to keep his composure as well as he was right now.

“Listen you need to get help before you come in and drink (y/n). Not only are you obviously tired and hurt, you smell.” Shit. Shit you were gonna get suspicious of him and-

“No shit I smell! I’ve been sweating up a storm fighting things, Master Diluc.” Diluc was taken aback by your words, which seemed to be a running theme tonight. You just wouldn’t stop saying the oddest things.

“You’re not going to leave unless I help you, aren’t you?” You smiled victoriously as you shook your head ‘no’. Diluc sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just had to get through this, then everything would stop. All the saliva, the burning of his throat, the sweating, the desire for you.

It was only when Diluc retrieved a few bandages from the emergency kit he had prepared and he began bandaging up your various cuts, did he notice just how attractive you were. Diluc had removed his gloves, and your skin was so soft under his surprisingly delicate fingers. He wanted to make sure he didn’t cause any discomfort to you, so he treated you like a thin sheet of glass.

There was a softness to him that he didn’t think existed anymore. He didn’t think he was capable of being so gentle with someone. You somehow brought out the best in him, in just the short time you’ve known each other. He never thought he would be able to get so close to someone again. Fuck he really liked you.

“Diluc, you don’t have to be so gentle with me; clearly I can take a beating.” A chuckle rumbled deep in the man’s chest, his crimson eyes never leaving the injury he was dressing.

“Pardon me for wanting you to be comfortable.” You giggled, and it was the most melodic noise he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear you laugh more.

Despite the soft atmosphere, there was still something primal deep within Diluc. He could feel it grow with the more time he spent taking in your delicious scent. If Diluc could blush, he was sure his face would be deep red by now. He wanted to take you right here and now, in the cellar where he kept all his beverages that weren’t needed behind the counter. He delicately moved some of your hair out of your face so he could get to a small scrape on your left cheek. He saw a blush rise to the high points of your cheeks, which only egged on his desire for you. All he could do was stare deep into your eyes. You were breathtaking.

Within seconds both or your lips collided together in a heated kiss. It was fierce and heartfelt. His hands grabbed at your body for purchase, and vice versa. It had the both of you panting, with each intake of oxygen you sent wafted over him stronger than ever before; you were like an addictive perfume. Without thinking Diluc pulled away, staring at your flushed face.

“Let me taste you, fuck I need to mark you up. Make you mine.” You nodded your head feverishly. Diluc’s mouth attacked your neck within seconds of your response, and suddenly his teeth punctured your skin. You blood landed on his tongue and he was addicted. You were his new favourite drug. You tasted exactly like he’d imagine, sweet and light; something he’d never get enough of.

“D..Diluc what-” Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc’s mouth unlatched from your neck, some of your blood smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Shit (y/n) I apologize, you just.. Fuck you taste so good. I mean you smell so sweet but you taste even better I couldn’t control myself.”

“Diluc, are you like a vampire or something?” You chuckled a little, voice still a little breathy. By the tone of your voice, Diluc knew you meant that as a joke but when he didn’t respond the look on your face changed. The silence weighed heavy on top of Diluc, borderline suffocating. Diluc couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Keep going.” Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, as you moved your head to expose your neck even more. Diluc’s gaze snapped back up immediately to yours, then down to your neck. Then his gaze drifted further down. He was hard.

He attacked your neck once more, getting taken away but how good you tasted. After a few moments, a small moan escaped your lips, so quiet that Diluc would’ve missed it were he not have been hyper aware of your breathing. Once again Diluc’s mouth left your neck, but this time his hands started to roam down towards your pants. He stopped just before unbuttoning them.

“Is… is this alright (y/n)?” You didn’t even respond verbally, just nodding enthusiastically before gripping onto his shoulders. Without anymore hesitation Diluc unbuttoned your pants and almost ripped them off of you. He quickly pinned up against the wall of the cellar, as he pulled your panties to the side and rubbed your clit. Your breath hitched in your throat, before a low moan escaped your lips.

Fueled on by your noise, Diluc retracted his hand from your clit and shoved two of his fingers into your already sopping cunt.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already.” His fingers worked you open, as his dick strained against his uncomfortably tight slacks. He was becoming impatient, but he wanted to make sure you were nice and open so he didn’t hurt you. After a few more minutes of fingering, he could tell you were starting to become impatient as well.

“Diluc please, I need you. I need to feel you deep. Ah fuck Diluc please.” The strain in your voice when you said please shot straight to his dick, and who was he to refuse you? A dark smile graced his usually stoic features, and you shivered with anticipation. Diluc pulled his fingers out of you, before he licked his fingers clean. Everything about you was just so fucking delicious. Soon enough Diluc freed his hard cock from his pants. There was precum beading on the tip.

He picked you up, lifting you over his cock, before slowly lowering you down. Once you were finally sat right at the base of his dick, your back was once again pressed up against the wall, as he started to finally thrust in and out of you. It was slow for only a few moments, before he began a punishing pace. His hand had already gone to cover your mouth, muffling your loud moans. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, you were so tight, but it seemed you were in a similar boat, as your walls constricted around him.

Your moans were growing in volume and pitch as you got closer and closer to the edge, and Diluc’s breathing was becoming labored, letting out low groans and growls. Before either of you knew it, both of you were cumming. Before you could finish, Diluc sunk his teeth into your neck one more time. He rocked both of you through your orgasms, before pulling away and setting you back down on the ground. He made sure to keep an arm around you though, just in case your legs decided to give out.

Slowly but surely both of you began to dress yourselves again; attempting to make yourselves presentable. After a few moments of silence, you spoke.

“So you’re a vampire. Do you have any cool powers?” You had a lopsided smile on your face, as Diluc chuckled and softly nudged your shoulder. You really were something else.

[miekasa]

daylight’s wasting (you better kiss me)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genre and warnings: college au, fluff, someone please be gentle with this boy i’m begging you, jean and eren pretending they don’t give a fuck about each other whilst actually being best bros for the win

↯ word count: 2k

↯ summary: based off of that reddit post about some guy talking about his girlfriend washing his hair for the first time + hoping it fills a request for someone asking for reader playing with eren’s hair for the first time :’)

↯ notes: this is cross-posted and edited slightly from another blog in a completely separate fandom, so if you’ve seen it before, no you didn’t </2

Jean can’t say that he immediately noticed a pep in Eren’s step when the green-eyed boy met him in the library, but what he does notice is the stupid, dopey looking grin and starry-eyed gaze in his eyes that he’s sporting while he’s not doing his part for their project. And while Jean considers himself relatively attractive, he knows for sure Eren isn’t shy about making it known that he doesn’t; so the brunette doubts the literal heart eyes Eren has are for him.

“Eren? Eren, bro, are you good?” Jean calls, a dark eyebrow raised above his left eye. Eren barely registers the calls of his name, and it takes Jean waving his hands in front of the shorter’s face for him to wake from his trance, looking up at Jean with that same, longing smile (that’s, admittedly, starting to creep him the fuck out).

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, something reminiscent of a lovelorn cartoon prince, as he rests his elbow atop his notebook and his chin the palm of his hand, “I’m good.”

Jean looks at him, skeptical and confused. He shifts in his seat, but Eren’s eyes don’t follow—he just stares ahead, lost in thought and completely unaware of everything around him. He looks like a lovesick little bitch if you ask Jean. Or completely sloshed.

Slowly, Jean leads forward, eyebrows pinched, looking for streaks of red in Eren’s eyes, “Are you stoned right now?”

“What?” Eren pulls back, almost offended, “No, I’m not high—Jean, what the fuck?”

Jean simply shrugs, leaning back into his seat, “I dunno. Yesterday you were so stressed about your acrobatic salt cycle samples—”

“—Acetylsalicylic acid. It’s basically Asprin, and I wasn’t stressed, they just weren’t crystallizing the they way they’re supposed to—”

“I don’t fucking care. But now you look mellow as hell,” Jean cuts him off, “Just thought maybe you rolled a good one before coming here or something. Not that I’m judging, of course. But you’re much more of a lightweight than you think, so try not to go—”

“‘M not a fucking lightweight,” Eren groans, “You and Reiner are just heavy bodied.”

“Just admit you can’t hold your shit, Jaeger.”

“I’m not admitting shit. Mikasa makes strong drinks, that’s all.”

Jean grits his teeth at Eren’s stubborn antics, but lets it go. It’s not like the conversation was going anywhere, anyways. “If you’re not baked, then what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Eren shifts in his seat now, pulling his hand off the table, and into his lap. Jean’s suspicious eyebrow is quirked again, and that slightly creeped-out feeling is back when he spots Eren’s ears going red.

Jesus Christ, he just asked a simple question.

“Not that I care,” Jean tacks on, feigning disinterest, “But if it’s gonna keep you from doing your half of the project, just spill it already so we can get this shit over with.”

Eren rolls his eyes, but that blush is still there. He looks like he contemplates waving it off for a minute, before he sighs. “(Y/N) and I showered together yesterday,” he finally blurts.

Jean blinks. “Oh. So you got laid—”

“—No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Eren corrects him, the red on his ears spreading to his cheeks slowly, with every word that spills out of his mouth. Eren stutters, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “She just… She washed my hair.”

Eren sighs, flustered and frustrated, and annoyed that he looks like this in front of Jean’s horse-faced ass of all people; but he knows, that no matter how much shit Jean talks, he can rely on him. For better or (often times) for worse.

And Jean, for as hotheaded as he can get, and for as much as Eren annoys the shit of out him, knows how to read a room; and in this moment, he can see that Eren is actually coming to him with genuine emotions, other than masked anger and abrasiveness. So, the both of them concede; pull back from their usual pointed commentary, and listen to what the other has to say. 

“Ah,” Jean comments, lamely; an embarrassed blush of his own growing on his face at his stupidity. The two sit in silence for a moment, before Jean speaks up again, “It’s, uh… It’s nice, right?”

Eren’s eyes snap to him, wide. He almost completely forgot that Jean’s in a committed relationship, too. The two don’t often go to each other for relationship advice, or… relationship venting, but Eren makes a mental note that maybe, just maybe, he should.  

“Yeah,” Eren admits, “I don’t, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. It was just—”

“Relaxing?”

“Yeah. Like all the bullshit from school just melted away all of a sudden,” Eren confesses, “All she fucking did was wash my hair and hum for, like, five minutes, but I feel like… I don’t know. Good.”

Jean hums, acknowledging Eren’s words and mulling them over. “Loved,” he chimes in with an awkward cough, “Pretty sure that’s the word you’re looking for, Jaeger.”

Eren chokes on air, his eyes darting around the room. So, yeah, it’s still a little awkward, talking with Jean of all people about his relationship, and love, and all that gushy stuff; but, even Eren can admit, it’s comforting to know that someone knows what he’s feeling—even if that someone is Jean.

“You should tell her. Girls like that shit, when you tell em what you’re thinking, you know?” Jean comments, picking up his pen to resume scribbling in his notebook. He sounds nonchalant, but from the redness on his face, Eren can tell he’s just as flustered, and probably thinking about his own girlfriend. “Besides, you’ve been together for a long ass time now. Don’t know what you’re waiting for at this point.”

“Yeah,” Eren coughs, pretending to resume his own homework, “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Good,” Jean nods, “Now will you fucking paste your paragraph in the Google Doc so I can rewrite it and make it coherent.”

“Fuck you, it’s coherent as is.”

“As if. I’ve read your shit before, and it sounds like it was written by six year old on meth. You science majors can’t write to save your life.”

“Tough talk from someone who can’t do basic addition.”

“Derivatives and shit aren’t basic addition, they were created by a man who died a virgin. Tells me everything I need to know about them and you.”

Three days later, Eren finds himself alone in your off-campus apartment, laying on your bed, stomach to the mattress, while he tries to convince himself to study for his upcoming biology exam. He finds looking around your room to be much more interesting, though, and takes the time to notice things he hadn’t before.

There’s a small strip of images of the two of your in a clear mason jar on your nightstand—the newest addition to your collection—from the photo booth at the ice-skating rink you went to last week. Eren doesn’t know why you insist on going to every photo booth you come across, but who is he to deny you the pictures.

When he looks to your closet, he isn’t surprised to see two of his hoodies, one of his warm-up soccer uniforms, and last season’s hockey jersey hanging up. What does surprise him, is the way they’re all hung up next to each other, like they have their own little section amongst your clothing; like they were reserved, special almost. He bets they’re all probably washed and clean, too; because you take care of his things like that.

He thinks about how he has a few pairs of sweatpants and pajamas—hell, even a pair of slacks and a button-down from one of your fancier dates—all tucked away in his very own drawer in your dresser. The bucket hats thats you claim are oh-so ugly still have their own place in your room, hanging next to your belts. Even his psychology textbook sits on your desk, clearly set aside for him and taken care of, but still integrated amongst your other belongings. 

You seem to be the only person who thinks Eren and all his baggage can have a place in your life. You seem to always have space for things to fit in, no matter how stupid, or ugly, or tattered they are; no matter how emotional, or lost, or impulsive he is. Nothing is out of place here, himself included. 

Lost in his thoughts, Eren doesn’t register the sound of your front door opening, or your footsteps growing louder. In fact, he doesn’t register that you’re home at all, until you come padding into your bedroom, shaking your backpack off of your shoulders and setting it next to his on the ground.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, almost offhandedly, as you place your coffee down on your desk. He doesn’t mind—actually the element of practiced casualness in your tone brings a kind of warmth to him, and makes his stomach flutter. 

“Hey,” he smiles, a stupidly fond look in his eye as his watched you shimmy your jacket off of your shoulders. 

Eren sits himself upwards, shifting so that his long legs dangle off the edge of your bed as he watching your silhouette move throughout your bedroom. When you’re finished removing all your layers and jewelry, you finally look to him, greeting him a second time as you walk towards him and your bed.

Eren cages you in when you reach him, his ankles wrapped on top of each other as he secures you standing between his legs. He wraps his arms loosely around your waist, while your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s dry,” you hum, your fingers raking through his brown locks as if to make your point, “You didn’t shower yet?”

Eren shakes his head lightly, craning his neck forwards to tuck the cold tip of his nose into your collar. He holds you a little tighter when you smooth his hair down, one of your hands resting against the back of his neck, and lightly scraping at the hairs near his nape.

“How come?” you question innocently, “I thought your classes ended a few hours ago—did your lab go late again? You should tell your TA you have a life outside of trying to culture bacteria in a dish, you know.”

Eren chuckles lightly, but feels the concern in your voice tug heavily at his heart strings. You seem to really hate his lab TA.

“Wasn’t him this time,” Eren mumbles against your skin, “Was waiting for you.”

“Yeah? That gonna be a regular thing, now?”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Eren confesses, words barely audible as he buries his face into your neck. He tries tickle you with his eyelashes, shift the heat towards you, but you move out of reach too quickly; your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit upright.

He has to look up you, just slightly, and he hopes he doesn’t look like a complete blushing idiot. If he does, you don’t seem to mind, if the way you cup his face between your hands is any indication.

“Well then, come on. I bought two new loofahs yesterday.”

Eren follows you to the bathroom with a smile, borderline giggling with excitement all the way to the shower. When it comes down to it, he relishes in the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp, suds of shampoo cascading down his neck as you find amusement in coiling his hair into a bubbly mohawk.

It’s so mundane, so simple, yet overwhelmingly intimate the way you’re taking care of him—the way you always take care of him. It fills Eren to the brim with emotions he can’t even begin to convey with words.

And when you’ve had you’re fun, and made sure his hair is throughly clean and smells like apples, you take your body wash on the ball of his (his! his very own!) loofah, and scrub away at his back, down his shoulders, across his torso; and Eren can’t stop the tears from falling.

He realizes his must look bizzare, to be standing the middle of your shower, crying like a baby with soap and suds all over his body, but he can’t help himself.

“Eren? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assures you, hiccuping between his words and sniffling away any more tears that threaten to fall. You don’t seem convinced, and once again, Eren feels his heart swell at just the sheer thought at you’d hold even an ounce of concern for him the way you do.

“You’re crying, Eren,” you point out, voice soft, but clearly concerned, as you reach your hands up to cup his face again, “Did I hurt you? What’s wr—”

Eren cuts you off by wrapping you in a hug, hoping—praying—you know that you could never hurt him. The two of you spend nearly five whole minutes like that, your arms wrapped around each other’s middles, with warm water pouring over your naked skin. Eren can feel you pressing shallow kisses into his chest, and he feels his heart physically swell every time your lips make contact with his skin.

It’s on the fifth, quiet press of your lips that Eren knows he can’t hold it in anymore; pulls away from your embrace to look you in your eyes.

“I love you,” he finally confesses, with wet hair stuck to his forehead, and teary eyes. It’s hardly a picture perfect moment, but Eren can’t bring himself to care; he needs you to know.

But, of course, you already did. “I know, Eren,” you say with a smile, kissing his chin, and then on the tips of your toes, his lips, “And I love you more.”

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[zodiyack]

Being Married To Henry’s Characters Would Include...

Requested by @cuisinequeen​: Hi, I love your work. I was just wondering if you could do a headcanon for being married to Clark Kent/Geralt/Sherlock Holmes/Napoleon Solo

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader, Geralt of Rivia x Reader, Sherlock Holmes x Reader, Napoleon Solo x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, some references, trashy writing lol

Note: This doesn’t include all of his characters, so my apologies if I misled you with the title. Not all that confident in the HCs so sorry about that too

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @simonsbluee​, @darling-i-read-it​, @fandom-puff​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @maan24​, @beckster07890​, @missihart23​

Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

Clark Kent

You know he’s superman, therefore, you gotta expect the unexpected

Kiss: Level 100

helping him keep his identity secret isn’t always easy-

you wanna kiss him even when he’s superman but fuck you need him to remain undetected

but you manage

Little hc of the first few months after getting married:

Clark comes home late after a fight you see on tv

you turned it off before anything else happened, too worried already

he’s beat up

your eyes are red and puffy with tear stained cheeks as you stand and cross your arms.

you bet your ass there were cuddles that night.

Later into the marriage, he still scares you like that, but you’ve grown somewhat used to it and wipe the tears away

He’s protective of you too though

Aight sorry, but the gif is making me addicted to Henry kisses so Imma say it again,

best fucking make out sessions ever

yes, I’m gonna say that for all four.

fuck it, Clark!Kisses HCs

they’re soft half the time, needy the other half

if he comes home from superman duties or you have a run-in with a villain, so on so on, his kisses are rougher, needier, more possessive

bitch, he just needs you to know he’s still alive 🥺😢

Henry in glasses really do be hittin tho.

Stealing his glasses

Calling him a nerd because of the glasses

Probably making it a small joke about superman

Especially with oblivious friends

“I think superman’s a nerd.” “why??” “I just do.”

Having to stifle your laughs every time someone gushes about superman in front of him

Clark has to hold you back so you don’t unleash your wrath of fucking doom upon some oblivious woman who wrote about superman in a news article

She wrote things that would make you jealous, like talking about how she’s curious to his personal life *wink wink* and stuff- you don’t just have a raging fury because someone writes about him

Superman this hoe

You’ve made jokes about how he has to take his ring off when he’s superman, but he’s got a feeling that you’re actually not kidding at all

Exercising with Clark

Cursing him out in breathy pants for being more athletic and cheating with his “alien powers”

he just laughs at you

Ah, the difficulty have having a husband with two identities

When you rant about your husband, it’s so hard not to fuck up and say something about being married to Superman

Forgetting that you’re one of the few who knows his identity

Basking in pride because you’re one of the few who knows his identity

One time, Clark forgot to take his ring off and the person he rescued had known him personally.

He asks where he got the ring-

“What ring?”

“The one on your finger. The wedding ring.”

It felt like his stomach dropped...if that makes sense-

Clark ended up making some random story about finding it on the same plane the guy he rescued was on and that he put it on so he wouldn’t lose it.

The guy still thought he was pretty sus, “why was it on your wedding ring finger then?” but let him off after some time

The guy gave it back to Clark in person, but you had no idea what happened,

so when he gave him the ring, you were watching with the most confused look Clark had ever seen

thankfully, he played it off well and informed you later

He forgot to take off his wedding ring? You “secretly” fist bumped the air- ...he totally saw you though

Geralt Of Rivia

I don’t think Geralt really expected to get married

Jaskier didn’t either-

He’s the only one who stands when the priest asks if anyone doesn’t accept... only to ask how the fuck Geralt got lucky enough to get you

Everyone laughed but Geralt, he just grunted and looked away with a lil’ bit o pink tinting his cheeks

You demand he lets you go on adventures with him

You also wash him after adventures

wink wonk ;)))

Geralt is a stubborn thing

You’re a stubborn thing

Y’all love each other

When I say that Geralt is a confusing husband-

I mean that he confuses the fuck out of you

“don’t do that”

“okay”

few minutes later

“I thought you were doing that-”

“You told me not too...?”

“I don’t recall. Do whatever.”

Minutes later.

“What the fuck!?! Don’t do that!”

He’s hard to read and it bugs you

However, it makes a good game out of it

If he ever introduces you as anything but his spouse, you hold a bitter glare while internally plotting

Before you marry, Jaskier hits on you without realizing that Geralt is interested in you

He gulps nervously as soon as it hits him

You might just use that mistake as a way to get back at Geralt for not saying you’re his spouse

Jaskier pleads you not to

like for real

He’s in tears

CuDdLeS!

Congrats, you have a stubborn manbaby for the rest of however long y’all shall live

Kithes

Geralt is a little distant when it comes to admitting his feelings for you at first

When you’re dating, you’re all over each other

Marriage is that but amplified lmao

Braiding his hair

Teasing him not the wink wonk and getting away with it because you’re his spouse

If Jaskier said anything remotely close to the shit you’ve said, Geralt would probably choke him out

But then resuscitate him cause they’re bros

Seeing the softer side of Geralt

Sure, sex, but getting to know each others bodies? Yes.

Soft!Sleepy!Geralt

His deep n husky morning voice telling you to “get your ass back in bed”

Having the excuse of “because I’m his spouse” anytime you do stuff people are too afraid to do

Jealous bb 1 and jealous bb 2 aka Geralt and Y/n

I think Geralt’s the kind of guy to just pick you up, ignore your flailing limbs, and move you out of the way

He takes shit from no one...well, from you SOMETIMES

Gives in to your requests with a sigh and roll of his eyes most of the time

He was protective of you at first

now he’s PrOtEcTiVe so uh

Basically, number one husband, number two bodyguard

you put yourself first for the bodyguard part, but Geralt doesn’t know that

Sherlock Holmes

He asks your family for their blessing, then asks you-

I can imagine Mycroft just ranting away and Sherlock drops to his knee

“What are you doing?”

He ignores his brother and proposes to you

Mycroft is confused and upset because he wanted to rant about meaningless things and Sherlock decided to change the topic

rude

Being married means constant visits from Enola

Probably being the “second parents” to Enola

Gossip with Enola and Eudoria about Sherlock and him as a kiddo

Kicking Sherlock out of the house for sleepovers with his sister

bet

Helping Sherlock with cases

Dealing with Sherlock telling you it isn’t safe

still being upset when he’s right you know it

Finding Enola and Eudoria with him

Snapping at Mycroft for how he treats the girl and everyone else

Threatening Mycroft by just being a badass bitch and telling him to fuck off every now and then

Long story short, you make Enola laugh and Mycroft scoff as he walks away

He’s a stubborn bean, which now that I think about it- aren’t all Henry’s characters?

While he doesn’t say it much, he loves you

You get paranoid with this character too, as he does work that can be very dangerous as well

When he returns, he doesn’t say much aside from that he’s there now and that he loves you

cuddles with him whispering softly,

“I’m here now.” “I’m safe.” “I’m okay.” “I love you.”

Kisses in public either be quick pecks or minute long for goodbyes, but greetings-

especially after being apart for a while?

HC TIME

He comes home on the train and you’re at the station with his siblings

As soon as he spots you, he sets his stuff down because you’re already running at him

You jump into his arms and kiss him hard, not caring in the slightest about the other people at the station

It makes you smile every time he introduces you as his spouse

You’ve heard it so many times yet it still makes your heart flutter every single time

Napoleon Solo

The amount of times you’ve just dropped everything and walked away because he was being ‘too serious”-

You say something, he takes it seriously, you groan and stomp away

But then you know you can do the same back to him

Napoleon is an all around awesome husband but he’s not going to just pretend to agree with stuff

Will correct you no matter how embarrassed you get 

Makes up with kisses or stuff idk

Let me be honest, I don’t know much about writing for Napoleon but he is an icon...sometimes

He’s protective

by that I mean he’s stubborn but really it’s his way of keeping you safe

Would probably lock you in your room even though you’re a, a grown ass adult, and b, his spouse for fuck’s sake?!??!

Doesn’t tell you when something’s bothering him unless he feels the need to

“I’m not a fucking mind-reader, Solo!”

“Neither am I but I still manage-”

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, he just- emotions and him aren’t the best of friends

Emotions aren’t exactly friends with most of his characters

He’d much rather just speak with actions than admit anything

Sometimes you worry that he’s just fucking with you

When he proposed, it scared the shit out of you ‘cause you thought it was a joke

Never admits to anything willingly...?

Yeah sorry...Idk, that’s all I got :\

[weebswrites]

The Demon Bros: Waking up from their first sex dream about you

Lucifer

• His alarm goes off and he jolts upright in bed, thoughts and images from his dream racing through his mind

• He realizes that he’s very hard, and his face is covered in a deep blush

• He sorts out his little (big) problem, and goes to breakfast, desperately trying to get his mind off the dream

• He’s almost successful, until he opens the doors and sees you sitting alone at the table, wearing a tank top and shorts

• “M-Morning, MC” he stammers

• You look up, “Lucifer? Are you alright?” you ask, never having heard him stutter before

• “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired” he brushes off the question, and you can tell something is up, but don’t want to push him

• “Alright Luce, come sit. I’ll get you tea” you say, pulling back the chair that’s next to yours as you get up, walking over to the table to get him his favorite tea

• You accidentally bump into him, and his face blushes deep red

• “Lucifer, are you sure everything is okay? You know you can always talk to me”

• “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you”

• You can feel his eyes burning into your back as you make his tea

• You walk it to him and set it down in front of him, his eyes staying locked on you the entire time

• “Lucifer…” you start, but he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours

• You’re surprised, but definitely not upset about this, and once the surprise wears off you grip the back of his hair with your fingers

• The two of you get pretty carried away, you’re straddling his hips when Asmo opens the door and gasps

• “Finally!! Congrats, MC!! You finally put the moves on Lucifer, huh”

• You blush, and Lucifer smirks at you, “Oh? So you’ve wanted to do this for a while then?”

• “Oh damn, did Lucifer make the first move? I wasn’t expecting that!” Asmo giggles, “But either way I’m glad you two are finally clearing the sexual tension

• You clear the sexual tension all right, for the rest of the day and into the night oops

Mammon

• It’s the middle of the day when he’s suddenly hit with the memory of his dream

• He’s hanging out with you in his room, you’re doing homework and trying to get mammon to study for a test he has

• He goes silent, and you look over to see a hand over his mouth, like he’s in shock

• “Mammon?”

• “It’s nothing…don’t worry about it human”

• You punch his arm playfully, but he jerks away

• Your heart stings, and it’s clear on your face

• “MC, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that…”

• “Mammon…what was that?”

• He doesn’t want to be honest, but he knows you’ll get the truth out of him one way or another

• So, he tells you

• You blush, like a lot

• He gets a bit rambly at the end, talking about how he hopes this doesn’t change your friendship and that he doesn’t want you to be upset with him

• Only one way to reassure him that you aren’t…

• A kiss!

• He’s !! at first, but then relaxes into the kiss

• “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now, Mammon. This was the perfect excuse”

• He get’s all cute and blushy

• “Awh, you have a crush on the Great Mammon!” he teases

• “Shut up~” you blush, and lean in and kiss him again

• You feel like you could kiss him for hours and not get tired of it, so that’s exactly what you do

Leviathan

• He wakes up covered in sweat, breathing heavily

• It’s 3 in the morning, so he knows you won’t be awake

• Wait, you’re his best friend! He can’t have a sex dream about his best friend!

• That’s when he hears his phone vibrate, and it’s none other than you

• Within a few minutes you’re knocking on his door, wearing the hoodie he leant you no less

• “Levi…I had a nightmare…can we cuddle” you whisper, usually not this forward but it was 3 am and you just wanted to be in your crush’s arms

• He nods, and the two of you walk to his bed

• You notice he’s a bit, well, hard, and don’t know whether or not to mention it

• But it’s 3 am and you’re hit with a wave of horniness, so when he spoons you you push your ass against him

• You feel him tense up, but the quiet moan that escapes his lips is validation enough for you to slowly begin grinding against him

• His hand holds your hip as you grind against him, both of you breathing heavily

• You turn to face him, the two of you locking eyes and silently agreeing that you were going to take your friendship to the next level

• You climb on top of him and resume grinding against him, bringing your lips together in sloppy, hungry kisses

• You have sex, and fall asleep in each other’s arms

• The next morning you’re both 😳, but you confess to having liked him for a while and by the time you’re at breakfast the two of you are officially dating

Satan

• He fell asleep in his chair reading again, but notices the blanket draped over him, bookmark carefully placed in his book that was not placed on the table beside him

• He quickly places that you were reading with him, and blushes at your kindness

• His blush then deepens when he’s hit with the memory of his dream

• Clips of you kissing, grinding against him, him thrusting deep into you in every position he could imagine flying through his mind, and he realizes that he’s very hard because of it

• He turns to look at his bed, and is surprised to find you in it, sitting by the window and reading late into the night

• You notice him stir, and turn to look at him. You’re dressed in just one of his tee shirts and your underwear. “Hey there sleepyhead” you tease, “Want to come lay down?”

• He nods, but realizes he can’t get up without you seeing his ~issue~

• “Satan?”

• “Mmmm…I’m gonna stay here for a minute” he says, and you think you know what’s going on

• You stand up, walking over to him and swaying your hips a bit more than usual, letting his shirt graze your thighs

• You watch as his eyes trail your body, smirking as your heart rate increases

• You stand at the front of the chair and lean over, resting your hands on the arms of his chair and putting your faces close together

• “Satan~ Why won’t you come sleep with me~” you tease, fully accepting that you were basically confessing to him

• He exhales with sexual frustration, and you lean even closer

• “Satan…” you whisper breathily against his lips, and before you know it his hands are holding your face and he’s kissing you deeply

• You spend the rest of the night making his dream come to life

Asmodeus

• He wakes up ~fashionably late~, and is in the middle of picking his outfit when he remembers

• He blushes a bit, but chuckles to himself

• “MC, MC…you’ve got me…huh” he admits to himself, and sends you a quick text asking you to come to his room

• You arrive within a few minutes, and can tell that he has something crazy he’s going to propose

• But you didn’t expect that he was going to confess a sex dream about you !

• It’s not like you hadn’t had them about him, but you didn’t think he’d had them about you

• “So, whaddya say? Care to make my dream come to life~”

• You blush and nod, “It’d be my pleasure~”

• You simultaneously bring your lips together and running your hands up and down each other’s bodies

• You walk to the bed together, falling back on it with him on top of you, rolling his hips perfectly against yours

• He starts kissing down your neck, and you shakily breathe out his name, begging him to keep going

• You go for quite a few rounds, him bringing you to as many climaxes as you bring him

Beelzebub

• He’s surprisingly calm about the whole thing

• That is, until he sees you in the kitchen, still in your pajamas and sleepily eating a bagel

• He quickly checks you out, which you act like you don’t notice

• You heart was warm at the sight of him coming in, and it beat fast when you saw him check you out

• You get up and walk to him at the fridge, slipping your body in front of his and pressing against him

• “Morning Beel” you say, exaggerating the tiredness in your voice because you knew he thought it was cute

• “Morning baby” he responds, not realizing the pet name until after it slipped out

• You smile, turning around to face him and reaching your arms up and wrapping your arms around his neck

• “I like the pet name, honey. You should keep using it”

• He blushes, but nods. He looks into your eyes, trying to read them

• You make it easier for him, “So Beel, does this mean I can call you mine”

• He’s a bit taken aback by how forward you’re being, but leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead

• “Please~”, his voice is soft but confident, and he feels like he’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember, even though he just realized it this morning

• You bring his face down and lightly kiss his lips, smiling against them

• “Good” you say, heart smiling with love for your boyfriend

Belphegor

• He’s woken up from a nap abruptly, eyes shooting open with realization over what just happened

• He can usually control his dreams, which is why he was so surprised by this one

• He knew his heart felt different around you, but he didn’t think anything of it

• Until now, that is

• And he jumps out of his skin when he hears you knock on his door, “Belphegor! We have class, let’s go! Lucifer’s getting pissed!”

• “Uhhhh fuck” he groans, “Gimme a minute”

• “One minute, and then I’m coming in” you warn him, not wanting either of you to face the wrath of Lucifer (and also because you loved how much his room smelled like him)

• You wait about 20 seconds before opening the door, and you freeze and blush when you catch him shirtless, only in boxers

• “Damn, my bad” you say, but don’t move

• You hold eye contact for a moment, neither of you saying anything before you take the move and trace your eyes down his body, stopping on his boxers and tracing the outline of his length, which you note is very hard

• You step in and close the door behind you, locking it

• “Belphie~” you tease, walking towards him as he backed up towards his bed, nervous about what your intentions were

• “You put a hand on his bicep, and squeeze lightly, “I can uh, help you, if you want” He takes a moment to think, but nods and presses his hips to yours

• You miss your first class of the day heh

[avintagekiss24]

WE LOVED WITH A LOVE THAT WAS MORE THAN LOVE || STEVE ROGERS

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!reader ; minor pairings: peter parker x michelle “mj” jones, andy barber x black!reader, sam wilson x black!reader, ransom drysdale x black!reader, bucky barnes x black!reader || word count: 19,080 || warnings: smut, sex, gang bang/multiple sex partners m/m/m/m/m/f, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), biting, marking, anal sex, hand job, nipple play, cult-like gathering, mentions of voodoo, voodoo lore, cult rituals

authors note: it’s here! took me forever. i wanted to post this much earlier, but the election week threw me off my schedule so this got pushed because i had another deadline to meet for another challenge. this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​​ once upon a midnight dreary challenge! i chose “believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see”, an invitation to a stranger’s party, and a cultish gathering for my prompts. again, i got a little help from my girl @tropicalcap​​ in helping me piece together a few plot points.

just a quick note :: steve never goes into the ice and the government doesn’t give him the serum... his transformation is achieved in a different manner. therefore, bucky’s transformation is also a little different than canon.

manip of peter & mj by sidewalk manips (i think they’re on instagram... not sure, i found it on google) // divider by @whimsicalrogers​

MONDAY

The ornate envelope in your hand is heavy. It’s decorated with thin, gold leaf, hand drawn designs, almost resembling the intricate henna leaves. Your name is scrolled across the front in big, black Old English calligraphy— hand written as well; you can just tell. You flip it over in your hand, the weight of it making a soft thud when it rests against the heel of your palm. A red wax seal is pressed against the flap and the back of the envelope, two initials carved deep— S.G.R.

Flipping the envelope back over in your hand, you press your lips together in a hard line. Junk mail is getting really fancy now-a-days. You blink at the front, reading and then rereading your name. A tinge of something— you’re not sure what, pulls at your stomach, making it constrict as your breath deepens harder than before. You even stop walking. You just stare at the envelope, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth as you blink down at it.

It’s just unsettling. The weight of it, the attention to the little details of the writing and the designs. It’s anything but junk mail, but the tiny shards of anxiety that are prickling up against your skin don’t want you to think too much into it.

You shove it to the back of the pile of mail in your hand and continue flipping through it as you walk down the hallway towards your apartment, your purse bouncing against your hip as you move. Once inside, you throw the mail down first, then your keys, before you turn on your heel and move towards your bedroom, already tugging out of your blouse.

-

The TV is nothing more than background noise at this point. You’re curled up on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and a glass of red wine in your left hand as your eyes flit across the screen of your iPad. You scroll slowly with your right index finger, gobbling up a Stucky fic on ao3. Your eyes widen at the written words before you, your mouth dropping open as your heart starts to beat just a little harder— you’d die if anyone at work ever found out that you spend your free time reading about Bucky Barnes getting his back blown out by Captain America— but nobody told them to be so attractive. It’s their fault, really.

There’s a heavy knock at the door, but you don’t budge. You just push back against the pillows and keep your eyes on the illuminated screen as the door opens, “Take your shoes off.” A heavy sigh greets your ears seconds later, drawing a smile onto your lips as you throw your eyes quickly towards your little sister, “House rule.”

She rolls her eyes hard and toes at her sneakers— making sure to kick them up against the wall so the thuds rumble through the apartment— you know, for added drama. She pulls her bag over her head and drops it to the floor before padding across the carpet and plopping down next to you.

“You readin’ the one I sent you?” she asks, grabbing the popcorn out of your lap, “Can we order a pizza?”

“Yes and yes.” You answer absentmindedly as your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at the smut on your screen, “MJ!”

She laughs, scrunching up her nose as she pops some popcorn into her mouth and nods slowly as she focuses on the tv, “I told you it was nasty.”

“You didn’t say it was this nasty, good God.”

The younger woman scoffs as she throws her loose, wavy hair over her shoulder, “But you steady readin’ it though.”

You cut your eyes towards her, “I didn’t say that I don’t like nasty, just that it’s nasty. I think I have a coupon up on the counter for Tony’s if you wanna order now.” MJ is up on her feet as soon as the words leave your mouth, “Get some bread sticks too.”

The rummaging MJ does in the kitchen blurs with the screams from the television as you start to read again, losing yourself quickly back in the BDSM world the author has so vividly painted. You leave a kudos and a quick comment before tossing your iPad to the side and lift your eyes to your sister again, blinking as you find her leaning up against the counter, the weird envelope in her hand.

“The fuck is this?” she asks, her lip snarled, eyes squinted as she turns it over in her hand, “Why’s it so heavy?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh a little, “I got it in the mail today. It gives me the creeps.”

MJ moves around the coffee table and falls next to you again, tossing the coupon at you before sliding her finger underneath the flap. You grab her wrist before she goes to open it, tutting softly, “Don’t. Just leave it.”

“Why?”

“Because! I’m gonna throw it out.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening it.”

“Come on MJ—”

She slides her finger underneath the flap before you can stop her again, breaking the wax seal in two. You huff as she pulls out the 5x7 piece of heavy cardstock, then tips the envelope to lodge whatever was weighing it down free. A brooch falls into her palm, both of you leaning up to inspect the intricate piece of jewelry. It’s floral in design— pearls, or what look like pearls, placed strategically between the little, diamond encrusted, platinum leaves. Three pearls are bunched in the middle—  the center of the flower, with three larger diamonds outlining them.

“Holy shit, is this real?” MJ asks, lifting it up and turning it over, “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

You shake your head, “It can’t be. There’s no way.”

“It looks real.”

“No,” you scoff, waving her off, “It’s costume.”

She shoves it into your palm, “Feel that thing! It’s heavy as fuck, that ain’t costume jewelry.”

You furrow your brow as you let it sit in your palm, feeling it. It looks old— really old, like something that would have been worn back in the 1800s. You flip it over, bringing it up to your face as you spot another set of the S.G.R. initials engraved in the back of one of the small leaves.

“Fuck.”

The word slips out of your mouth effortlessly as you eye the jewelry and lick your bottom lip. You glance over at MJ who stares back at you with wide, hazel eyes, her lips parted, “See? That shit is real.”

You point at the card in her hand, swallowing quickly before you clear your throat, “What does that say?”

She takes a breath as you push your side into hers, your eyes scanning the writing, “We request the honor of your presence this Friday, October 31st, 2020 at 1543 Asher Ln. 8pm. No extra guests. S.G.R.” she slides her eyes towards you, “You know somebody with those initials?”

You blink, racking your brain, “No. I don’t— I don’t think so, at least.”

“Well, he or she obviously knows you.”

You grab the invitation from her, reading it again before you turn it over, hoping to find something else scribbled on the back. You drop your hand to your lap when you don’t and zero your gaze in on the television as it starts to tunnel.

“Bro,” MJ laughs quickly, “This is some freaky deaky shit.”

You eye the white invitation once more, reading it over again and again— as if you’re missing something, “What, um,” you start absentmindedly, “What do you mean?”

“This is some Eyes Wide Shut shit, sis!”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slump, “Stop it MJ.”

“Girl,” she laughs harder, clapping her hands and letting her head fall back against the couch, “You gonna go?”

“No!” you squeal at her audacity, tossing the invitation and brooch on the coffee table, “It’s obviously some kind of joke or something.”

“That is no joke! The brooch has got to be at least ten g’s, easy.”

“It’s not real. That shit’s not worth ten dollars.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, prude.”

You feel anger flushing through your veins, your face heating up as you stand quickly and walk into the kitchen, “I’m not a prude, Mary Jane.”

“Oooh, my full name,” she mocks, “What are you gettin’ mad for?”

“I’m not mad, I told you that thing gave me the creeps. Everything is a joke to you.”

“I’m not jokin’! Somebody obviously went through a lot of trouble to send you that, I’m just callin’ it as I see it.”

You down the rest of the wine in your glass and quickly pour another, bringing it to your lips as you rub the back of your neck with your free hand, “It’s some kind of prank.” you exhale, taking another sip, “I’m throwing it away.”

MJ rolls her eyes again, grabbing your iPad before she props her feet up on the small, square table in front of her, “Sure, sure. Yeah, somebody sends a diamond encrusted brooch and a handwritten invitation just for funsies. Got’cha.”

You close your eyes and take another gulp of wine, using it to stop yourself from saying something that will more than likely dissolve your evening into a fight. You swallow slowly, pushing the smooth alcohol down your throat and letting it settle and warm in your belly.

“1543 Asher Ln. is a real house, just so you know. Pops right up on Zillow.”

You sigh loudly.

“And,” she starts, dragging out the end of the word, “It’s only fifteen minutes from here.”

“Are you gonna order the pizza or what?”

“You should go, I’m just sayin’.”

“I’m not gonna,” you stop yourself as you glare over at her, her eyes and posture taking that MJ tone as your voice gets sharp, “I’m not going to a strangers house. Okay? Drop it.”

“There’s no reason not to go.” You stare at her for a few seconds. You squint your eyes and let your mouth fall open as you scrunch your face, honestly in disbelief, “What?” she shrugs, “I literally met Peter last year at a party of someone who, to this day, I still don’t know. I can’t even remember how I ended up there.”

“MJ—”

“Don’t MJ me. It could be fun!” She smiles big as you sit next to her again, “You need to live a little. Get some dick, man.” You cut your eyes back over at her and lift your middle finger, “I mean it!” she laughs again, “There is nothing more fun than a Halloween party.”

You lean forward, reaching for the brooch. You roll it around in your palm, keeping your eyes on it as MJ babbles on. You eye the invitation as it lays on the table. The anxiety is back— constricting your stomach, making you itchy and jumbling your thoughts. It’s like it’s screaming at you— like something or someone is trying to get your attention.

You reach forward and slide the invitation to the edge of the table with your fingertips. You grab it swiftly and stand again, feeling MJ’s eyes on your back as you move into the kitchen. Shoving the invitation, the envelope, and the brooch in a drawer, you push the notion right out of your mind.

You’ve never entertained MJ’s crap before and you aren’t going to start now. Out of sight, out of mind.

TUESDAY

There’s a flower arrangement sitting on your desk the next morning. It’s lively— all of the flowers a different shade of pink. The stocks are a blush-pink, the roses spanning the pink spectrum. The spray roses are more purple than anything, but they bring the whole thing together.

There’s a small card leaning up against the glass vase, your name scribbled across the front. You pluck it up quickly and flip it over.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

Your purse falls off your shoulder and down your arm as your eyes go wide. You turn quickly, scanning the bullpen as people move about but you’re not exactly sure what or who you’re looking for. You drop your purse into the chair front of your desk and walk out to your assistant.

“Did you sign for these?” you ask, your voice slightly raised and agitated.

Nakia glances up at you slowly over the rims of her glasses, clearly picking up on your demeanor, “Uh, yeah? ‘Bout half an hour ago… everything okay?”

“What flower shop are they from?”

She shrugs, widening her eyes, “I don’t know, it came by delivery service.”

You tug at your suit jacket around your hip and let out a huff, “Don’t accept anymore, okay?”

You turn on your heel before she can answer and stomp back into your office, closing the door behind you. Heat ripples through you as you grab the handset of your phone and bring it to your ear, angrily dialing your sister’s number. You lean against your desk, arms crossed over your chest as it rings, eyes shifting around the room.

“Yo.”

“There are flowers sitting on my desk.”

You’re met with silence for a few seconds, “... okay?”

“There from someone else that I don’t know,” you huff, “The initials are J.B.B. this time.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about that. Okay, so two dudes wanna rail you at this party. That’s my kind of Friday night, sis.”

“Will you cut it out!” you hiss angrily, turning to face the windows behind you, “This is freaking me out!”

“Oh my god,” you hear her moving around, like sheets and pillows being rumpled until a muffled, groggy moan sounds, “Peter… wake up… wake the fuck up… what did you say about that weird party thing?”

You roll your eyes and tap your foot nervously as the two go back and forth. There’s shuffling again on her end, and then a heavy sigh, “I think it’s a masquerade party.”  Peter Parker finally says, his words slurred with sleep, “That’s where—”

“I know what a masquerade party is Peter, thank you.”

“Oh yeah, okay, sorry, so,” he starts, shuffling around again, “I heard for the past couple of years that somebody has been throwing a secret masquerade party at different places around town.”

“How did you hear that?”

“So, there’s this girl I had a class with last year, her name was uh, Liz. She said her older sister was invited to it. And then, there was this other girl, Shuri, she also said that her sister got invited one year too. I didn’t get the full scoop from Shuri though cuz she ended up transferring to Columbia, which, okay, yeah it’s a great school and all, but—”

“Peter,” you say, closing your eyes, “Focus please.”

“Right, sorry. So, yeah, it could be that party. Liz said her sister got the same brooch.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You clear your throat as you shift, cutting your eyes back to the vase of roses sitting in the corner of your glass desk, “Did she go?” you ask trepidatiously, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.

“Uh, yeah. She said it was pretty chill.”

“Pretty chill? The fuck does that mean?”

“Sorry, um, she said her sister said it was fun. Plenty of alcohol, plenty of food. But, because of the whole masquerade thing, she never found out who invited her.”

Put it on speaker, your sister's voice rings, then a sharp, sudden sound of skin on skin followed by a squeal from Peter, “Ow! Okay!”

“So,” you start, your fingers picking at the spiral telephone cord, “They didn’t say anything weird happened or anything? They’re both okay?”

“Liz said that her sister said she talked to some blonde guy for a while. He was asking her a bunch of like, weird, artsy questions but she thought it was all a part of the allure of the party so she just went with it. Other than that,” Peter trails off, and you can practically see him shrugging as if he’s right in front of you, “She said it was fun.”

“See? Everything is on the up and up.” MJ adds, “You should go.”

You don’t answer right away. You slide the small card towards the edge of your desk, picking it up again.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

“Peter, thank you, sorry for waking you up.” You say a few moments later, clearing your throat, “I’ll call you later MJ, okay?”

“Okie,” she purrs into the phone, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your answer is distracted— quiet and airy as you set the handset back into the base. You stare back at the flowers, chewing on the inside of your cheek as something starts to gnaw at you. Something deep. You set the small card back up against the vase and shake your mouse to wake up your computer, forcing yourself into your emails, the small sentiment running circles in your mind.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

WEDNESDAY

You’re barely home from work when there’s a knock at your door— in fact, you only have one shoe off when the thud sounds through your apartment. You sigh, slipping your pump back onto your foot before you stand from the bed and move to the door. Peering out of the peephole, you spot a FedEx driver, his hands full of packages.

“Hi,” you greet as you open the door, “Goodness, these are all for me?”

“As soon as you sign for them they are.” He laughs, handing you the small pen and handheld scanner.

You sign quickly as he places the boxes just inside your door, and wiggle your fingers as he makes his leave, hustling back down to his truck. You keep your eyes on the boxes as you close and lock the door— you didn’t order anything. You haven’t ordered anything in at least a week and when you do, it’s always from Amazon. All of these boxes are unmarked, except for the shipping label, that has no return address.

An envelope is taped to the side of the largest box and based on how your week has been going, you already half know what to expect. You rip it away from the box and slide your finger underneath the flap, pulling out another handwritten, five-by-seven card.

Hope it fits… A.S.B.

You shove the card back into the envelope and toss it aside before grabbing the large box, sitting it on the bar. With the help of your house key, you rip into the box, popping open the flaps once the tape is broken down the middle. You gasp as you pull out a black and gold ball gown, your mouth dropping open as your eyes go wide.

The corset top is strapless and intricately hand woven with small, black beads in a leafy design. A layer of gold tulle spills down an even longer layer of black tulle, all the way to the floor. The dress is thick— heavy, as you hold it up in your hands. You search for a tag, sewn in initials, something to try and place where this could have possibly come from, but find nothing, as if it’s one of a kind. You splay it out over the couch and move to the second box— your interest now suddenly piqued.

You pop open the second box to find a slightly smaller box inside. Tucking your fingers underneath the rim, you pull the top away and gasp again— this time bigger— and take a physical step back. You blink stupidly and you fumble around in your pants pocket, trying to find your phone. You slam your finger down on MJ’s name and bring it to your ear, lifting a gold Giuseppe heel up in the air.

“You need to get your ass over here, now.”

-

There’s total silence in the apartment as you, MJ, and Peter stare at the Giuseppe heels and a handful of jewelry. The most jaw-dropping being a thin rose gold chain adorned with ninety one (Peter counted), different shaped diamonds arranged to resemble the leaves of a vine. At the center, they all meet at a large— museum caliber— yellow diamond.

“So let me get this straight,” MJ starts, placing her hands on her hips, “Those are Giuseppe heels, and not just any Giuseppe heel, the Cruel Crystal Giuseppe heel, that they don’t even make anymore,” she emphasizes with her hands, “A necklace with a diamond that bigger than my goddamn fist, and a, hang on a second,” she closes her eyes, holding up her hands to add to the drama of it all, “A hand stitched ball gown?”

“Don’t forget the mask,” Peter breathes heavily, “That’s, I’m pretty sure that’s made outta pure crystal, so,”

You play with your bottom lip nervously, your left arm thrown over your stomach as you slowly turn your head towards your sister and her boyfriend, “Did your friend's sister get all of this shit too?”

The young, brown haired man scratches his head as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other before shrugging and expelling a breath out of his mouth, “I mean, I…” he shrugs again, completely at a loss, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we can google the initials or something. Where’s your iPad?” MJ asks, turning on her heel and rushing into your bedroom.

“I tried that already,” you call, grabbing the shoes from the counter and slipping your feet into it, “Oh my god, they fit.” You whisper more to yourself than to anyone else in the room.

MJ rolls her eyes, “Well, what came up?”

“Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes,” you answer as you twirl around in a circle, completely enamored with your shoes, “So, nothing.”

Peter gasps and places his hands on his chest as his face fills with a quick fear, “Fuuuckkk, what if it’s them?”

You and MJ both scoff, “Don’t be stupid, Parker.” MJ says.

“It could be! You don’t know!”

“Ok, yes, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are behind this. Sure,” she cuts her eyes towards you, “He has such a crush on them. Did you try the third set of initials?”

You nod as you stare down at your feet, turning your right foot slightly, watching as the gold glints underneath the light, “Yeah, no luck there either. Just random ass dudes— look at how good these look on my feet, sissy.”

She waves you off as she sits on the coffee table, her face being lit up by the light of your iPad, “Okay, A.S.B., Andrew Stephen Barber, assistant district attorney— could be him… he’s cute at least.” she shrugs.

“I doubt it,” you let out a breath, “I should try on the dress, huh? I mean, you know, just to see.” MJ throws you a look while Peter glances between the two of you nervously, “What? I’m still not going, I just want to see how it looks.”

“Uh huh,” MJ squints her eyes, following you as you walk back into your bedroom, already pulling down the zipper on the back of your shirt, “Sure.”

THURSDAY

MJ💕 12:37pm

Lunch? I’m right around the corner from your building

You hear your phone chime, but you don’t tear your eyes away from your screen immediately. Voices come from the speaker on your phone as you type fervorously. You’re only really half listening— this meeting has nothing to do with you, but, you’re the account manager, so you have to at least try and seem interested while you work on another contract with a much more lucrative, expensive company.

The iPhone rattles again against your glass desk and you snap it up this time, your eyes scanning the message. Right on cue, your stomach rumbles.

You 12:40pm

Sure, sure. Chinese?

MJ💕 12:41pm

Yum.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you open your SPARK messenger and tap on Nakia’s name. She knows you and MJ’s order like that back of her hand, and messages you back minutes later to confirm the food will be on it’s way within the hour. You return your attention to the large computer screen before you, pushing your glasses up your nose as you shift your vision to the second monitor slightly to your left.

There’s a small tap a few minutes later, followed by Nakia’s beautiful face peeking in as she mouth’s MJ before opening the door wider to let your lanky sister breeze into the room. You hold your fingers up to your lips as the chorus of voices still speak from your speaker, but keep your eyes on her as she pulls her bag over her shoulder and head and plops down in one of the plush seats in front of your desk.

She makes herself busy on her phone, no doubt texting Peter as you return to your emails and contract, losing twenty or thirty more minutes.

“Okay guys, I’ll talk to you next week right?” You ask, your fingers hovering over the speaker button, “Okay… alrightly, buh-bye.” you slam your finger down on the small, round button and widen your eyes as you let out an audible breath, “Sorry, sissy.”

MJ holds up her hand, her face still buried in her phone, “You’re an important lady, I get it.”

“I thought you had class today?”

“That’s the good thing about having a pregnant Professor,” she smiles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Morning sickness apparently lasts throughout the day.”

Another tap comes at the door before Nakia emerges again, this time her hands full of food, “Here we are ladies,” she smiles as she sits the bags on your desk, “This also just arrived for you too.”

Your face twists in confusion as she hands you something wrapped in plain brown paper. There’s a black ribbing wrapped around it, tied in a neat little bow in the center of the package. It’s light whatever it is. Your eyes drift slowly over to MJ, who sits up in her seat, peering at the package in your hands before she blinks up at you— a knowing look on her face.

“Thanks Nakia,” you smile, trying not to draw her attention to all of the air being sucked out of the room.

MJ’s phone rings just as Nakia exits the room. You hear her mumble a greeting, but your attention is quickly sucked back to your hands. Curiosity gets the best of you. You pull at the ribbon and toss it aside before curling your fingers around the edges to find where it’s taped together.

Just as your fingers find where the edges meet, Peter Parker’s voice fills the room, “Am I on speaker?”

“Yes!” MJ hisses, “Talk.”

“Ok, so, I was talking to Liz about the weirdo party her sister went to last year. She got the same packages throughout the week! Monday, she got the invite, Tuesday she got flowers, Wednesday she got a dress, shoes, and a masquerade mask, and Thursday she got—“

“A book of poems,” you breathe, the sound low and airy, “By Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Exa-Exactly.” Peter stutters.

It’s delicate, this book— the pages. You thumb through them gently, smelling the authenticity of it— the rarity. It’s been kept in pristine condition but it still looks old, the pages a dull brown; crisp and brittle to the touch. Your heart thumps against your chest as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your throat constricts as you swallow hard, nerves filling your body.

“Which one is it?” Peter asks softly, the weight of this affecting him through the phone.

“Tamerlane and other poems.” You recite as you close the small book and run your fingers over the front cover.

MJ scrambles to her feet and scurries around you, her eyes plastered on your computer monitor as she starts to type.

Peter clears his throat, “Liz’s sister got a copy of Al Aaraaf. It was like, a first edition or something.”

“Fuck,” the obscenity falls from MJ’s lips with ease, but with a gentle discomfort, “This says there’s less than twelve copies of this in existence— twelve. I mean, how do you even get your hands on something like this?”

You can’t even speak. You just sit there, feeling the small book in your hands, staring blankly at the cover. Peter and MJ start to bicker back and forth as they try to make heads and tails of all of this. You aren’t taken by the book exactly, yeah, you're holding one of maybe twelve copies left in the entire world, but there’s something else gnawing at you in the pit of your stomach— something that’s been just at the tip of your subconscious all week long.

It’s like—

“Was Liz’s sister into Edgar Allan Poe?” You ask suddenly.

“Not at all,” Peter answers quickly, “She thought it was weird.”

“And the dress and the shoes? Did they um,” you blink up at MJ but avert your eyes just as quickly, “They didn’t fit, did they?”

There’s silence from Peter. You can almost see him, standing there in the middle of the college campus with a dumbfounded look on his face— his fingers threading through his hair, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, “No,” he answers after a slow minute or two, “They were too small.” He goes quiet again before he says, “How did you know that?”

The feeling that’s been gnawing at you all week. You’ve felt like someone’s been looking for you. There’s been this… pull— somewhere deep inside of you— like someone is calling for you.

What scares you is that you want to answer.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting,” MJ recites slowly.

“Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before,” you finish for her, “I used to read that to you when you were a kid.”

“He’s your favorite.”

“My absolute favorite,” you laugh nervously, “I wrote my thesis on Al Aaraaf when I was in school.” You fall back into your chair, “That dress fit me like a glove, MJ—  the shoes too.”

She shakes her head quickly, her eyes closed as she slowly comes to the realization that you are. She runs her thin fingers through her wavy hair before she rests her hands on her shoulders, squeezing to comfort herself, “Do you think it’s—”

You shrug, “It could be.”

MJ drops her eyes from yours.

“What’s happening?” Peter’s voice sounds again, “What— what do you mean? Who do you think it is?”

“I’m adopted,” you say slowly, a soft smile on your face as you keep your eyes on MJ, “I was two, maybe three when they took me from my mom. I was placed with our parents, MJ’s biological parents, really quickly— I don’t remember a whole lot, but I remember someone reading Edgar Allan Poe to me, specifically Tamerlane.”

“Fuck,” Peter breathes, “You think it’s her? Your mom?”

You glance towards the floor, a small card catching your eye. You pick it up gingerly and turn it over, your eyes scanning over the handwritten note.

For passionate love is still divine

I lov’d her as an angel might

With ray of the all living light

Which blazes upon Edis’ shrine

See you tomorrow, love — H.R.D.

You drag your eyes back up to MJ’s as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, “It’s definitely someone that knows her.”

FRIDAY

You don’t go into work.

Peter and MJ have been at your apartment all day, helping you piece this crazy story all together. Liz’s sister, Shuri’s sister— they were all you. Same age, all of you born within days of each other. All born at the same hospital. All adopted around the same age.

Someone is looking for you; and has been for years.

You and MJ are now on opposite sides about this party than you were at the beginning of the week. You want to go. You need to; especially if it’ll lead you to your mother. MJ voiced her newfound concerns, to the point where she shed a few tears— but, being the big sister you are, you brushed them away and explained it as best you could. You just need to know if she’s out there—  what these people, S.R.G., J.B.B., A.S.B., H.R.D. know about her.

So, she helps you get ready. She curls your hair and pins it up. She paints your nails and helps you into the dress before she leans against the door jam of the bathroom, watching you do your makeup— just like she used to when you were a teenager. Peter knocks on the bedroom door before he barely opens it and shoves his arm inside, an envelope hanging off his finger tips.

“Hey guys,” he says softly, “This just came.”

“You want me to read it?” MJ asks, tapping it against her fingers. When you nod, she tears the flap and slides out the card, “A chariot will await you at 7:30 sharp… but please take your time. S.T.W.”

“What time is it?”

She glances at her phone, “7:25.”

You let out a shaky breath. You lean into the mirror and dab at your lips, removing any excess lipstick before you push back again and drag your eyes down your reflection.

“You know,” you start, keeping your eyes on your painted nails, “I don’t remember my mom at all. Not her face, not her voice, but I remember a man— my dad, I guess.” You blink back towards your reflection, squinting your eyes as the gears turn in your head, “I just remember blonde hair and a deep voice reading those poems to me. I remember feeling safe when he held me.”

MJ drops her eyes and nods slowly as she rakes her fingernails up and down her forearm, “I get why you wanna go. I do.”

“I just need to make these fragments make sense, you know? I remember these other guys too— which,” you shrug, “Would make sense since mom said that my real mom lived in a commune, but,” your words drift off.

“Remember when you thought Steve Rogers was your dad?”

You laugh wholeheartedly, “I do! I just always felt like I knew him, I don’t know why.”

You still do— feel like you know him.

“So, yeah. I get it, I really do. It’s gotta be hard not knowing where you come from— thinking that every stranger you meet, or every person you see could possibly be someone you used to know.” MJ sighs as she meets your gaze through the mirror, “You look great. You always look great.”

“Thanks, sissy.” You bunch your dress in your hand and lift it gently as you step towards her, “I’ll be fine.”

She nods quickly, pursing her lips as she cuts her eyes away from yours, “I know that.”

You smile and tilt your head towards her gaze to grab her attention again, “I’m your big sister, you know. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, I just—” she shrugs, “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“MJ,” you start, grabbing her elbow when her chin quivers, “This has nothing to do with you or mom or dad. I love you guys, you’re my family, that will never change. I promise you, okay?” you pull her into a tight hug, rubbing her back, “You will always be my sister— no one will ever take that away from us.”

“Guys,” Peter calls, “A red Audi just pulled up out front, like, an expensive one.”

“Your chariot awaits.” MJ laughs as she pulls away from you, wiping the wetness on her cheeks away.

You thread your fingers with hers and walk out into the living room where Peter smiles softly. You hug him too— he’s the best thing that could have ever happened to your sister.

“You guys are staying here for the night, right?” you ask, grabbing your clutch.

“We’re not leaving until you come back.” MJ answers.

“Okay. I’ll um, I’ll stay in touch throughout the night, okay?”

MJ nods, “We’ll stay by our phones.”

You head for the front door, opening it quickly before you step out into the hallway, “Don’t have sex in my bed,” you say suddenly, whipping back around to face the couple, “Please.”

“Oh my god,” Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes as a red tint flushes through his face, “We won’t.”

“Yeah, we’ll have sex on the couch.” Your shoulders slump as you squint at MJ, her laughter rolling off her tongue, “Just joking. Have fun, please text us.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

You have to turn away from them abruptly or you’d never leave. Grasping your phone and the small clutch you borrowed from MJ, and your crystal mask in your hands, you head for the elevator. It’s a slow ride down to the main floor— silent too. Nothing but the sound of your racing thoughts bouncing back and forth in your mind. The metal box slows to a stop, a soft ding fills the air, and then the world slides back into view— a sleek, red Audi visible through the glass front doors.

A man steps out of the driver seat as you walk towards the door and push through, tightening your grip on your dress. He moves around the car, stopping just at the back door. You notice his eyes dip to your chest and you can’t help but follow his gaze. The flower shaped brooch catches the artificial light of the street lights and each little diamond starts to glint and gleam, even the pearls taking on a new shine.

The driver smiles softly, “The invitation you received was handwritten in an Old English font. The initials at the bottom?”

A test.

“Oh, um, S.G.R.”

“Those flowers you received on Tuesday were beautiful—  white carnations, right?”

You shake your head, “Pink roses.”

“I read a poem the other day, I can’t remember what it was called though. It went something like ‘know thou the secret of a spirit bow’d from its wild pride into shame’…”

“O! Yearning heart! I did inherit thy withering portion with the fame, the searing glory which hath shone amid the Jewels of my throne, Halo of Hell! And with a pain not hell shall make me fear again— o craving heart, for the lost flowers and sunshine of my summer hours,” you smile gently, “Tamerlane— the name of the poem.”

He opens the door and holds out his white, gloved hand to you.

-

1543 Asher Lane is lit up like Rockefeller Center during Christmas. Your mouth drops open as you pull up out front, every window glowing with a warm light. The front doors are thrown open with seemingly hundreds of people moving about inside. The driver opens your door and holds out his hand for you, prompting you to slide your palm into his. He keeps a firm grip on your fingers as you step out, and then helps you up the long front steps.

He only releases your hand when you reach the front door, bowing gently before he skips back down the stairs and towards the car. Your heart drums in your ears as you place your crystal, half face mask on your face and adjust it gently before you drop your hand to the necklace nestled in your cleavage. You play with the large yellow diamond as you step inside, your eyes going wide as the lively noise of a full blown party suddenly fills your ears.

An orchestra plays in the middle of the large, open foyer, the sounds bouncing off the walls and rising up into the tall ceiling. Twenty or thirty couples dance to the upbeat tune and you’d swear you’d just stepped into the 1800s. All the men that move about are dressed in black tuxedos, the only distinction between them all being their different masks. The women twirl in their Venetian ball gowns, their jewelry and intricate, flamboyant masks glinting underneath the light.

There’s double staircases winding up walls, leading up to the second floor, more people laughing and talking intimately on them. Waiters in white suits, black ties and white gloves move seamlessly about, slipping in between the bodies with plates of champagne and finger foods— each one bending forward politely and placing their free hand behind their back as party goers pluck the goodies off their silver serving plates.  

The floors are made of marble. A large, ornate chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, spilling a warm, almost golden light over everything and everyone.

“Champagne, ma’am?”

You snap your head towards the voice as it breaks you from your trance, “Thank you,” you smile as you take the thin champagne flute from his tray.

Just as quickly as he arrived, the waiter is gone again, leaving you to admire the scene before you. You take a sip of the bubbly liquid and pull out your phone, taking a quick picture and sending it to MJ with a short message. You’ve barely tucked it away when another voice sounds at your side.

“Would you care to dance?”

You turn towards the calm, deep voice, your lips parting as your eyes bounce between two crystal blue eyes. Blonde hair is swept back neatly, a strong, smooth chin and jawline visible underneath his silver, laser cut Venetian mask. He’s tall— towering almost, his chest and shoulders wide and broad. You’re taken by him almost immediately. You nod quickly, blinking a few times as he takes your champagne flute from you and hands it to a nearby server before he takes your hand and leads you into the middle of the floor.

You gasp as he sweeps you up in his arms, resting his large hand on the small of your back and pulls you into his hard body. You can’t help but stare up at him as he starts to twirl you around the floor, taking complete control of your steps. A laugh bubbles up from your chest as he spins you away from him, extending his long arm until just your fingertips are touching, and then pulls you back into his chest.

He’s a confident man— you can tell by the way he spins you around the dance floor. Even as the tempo of the music changes, from upbeat and fun, to slow and somewhat sad, he stays right in rhythm. You’ve always been a sucker for a man that can dance.

A slow smile creeps onto your face as your eyes bounce back and forth between his while the orchestra plays, “What is this song?” you ask suddenly, breaking the ice between the two of you.

“Sicilienne in E flat major, do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” You laugh a little, turning your head to watch the young cellist, “He’s so young, is he local?”

“He isn’t, no. That’s Sheku Kanneh-Mason of Britain, you may—”

You snap your head back towards him, “He played at the Royal Wedding! Oh my god!”

He chuckles as he gently tightens his hold around your waist, “The very one.”

You turn your head to watch the young man as he plays, completely in awe of his raw talent and bask in it, knowing you’ll never be in such company again, “My God, this is incredible. I have no idea what I’m doing here.” You laugh.

“Well, you were invited, yes?”

“Yeah but I—” you stop yourself, shaking your head gently before you smile again, “I had a crazy thought about this party. I thought someone from my past was trying to reach out to me.” He tilts his head a little, his eyes scanning your face. You laugh again, “Don’t mind me, I’m just imagining things apparently.”

“Someone from your past?” He nudges gently.

You’re not sure if it's the champagne you’ve been sipping all evening, or just because for some reason you feel like you’ve known this man your whole life, but you start to spill your guts, “I thought, God, this is going to sound stupid. I thought my mom, or someone who knew my mom was trying to reach out to me through this party, which sounds insane now that I think about it. I was adopted, so,” you shrug, “I dunno, I was kinda hoping that she’d be here or that someone could get me in touch with her. Sounds crazy, right?”

He spins you again, this time slow, his eyes dragging down your body. He pulls you back into him and you rest your hand on his chest as you watch the orchestra, a soft smile on your face, “You are young yet, my friend, but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world, without trusting to the gossip of others,” you recite, “Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see.”

His steps hitch ever so lightly.

You turn back to face him, blinking up at him as another smile spreads on your lips, “I didn’t catch your name?”

He blinks at you, something new in his eyes— something like relief? You can’t tell. His lips part and he takes a breath, trying but failing to get his mouth to move, “I’m sorry,” he finally says, laughing gently as he shakes his head, “Um, I’m Steven— Steve. Um, Edgar Allan Poe?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “He’s one of my favorite poets. That last line just kind of describes my thoughts over the past few days is all.”

“It’s strange for a young girl like yourself to be an Edgar Allan Poe aficionado.”

You shrug again, nodding, “I know. I just, I’ve always had an affinity for him, it’s one of the few memories of my father that I have. He used to read Poe’s poems to me as a child.”

He stops dancing abruptly, “May you excuse me? I’m sorry, I have to um, I have to go see someone very quickly. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can even answer, he brushes past you, dipping in and out of the people still filling the dance floor. You blink in confusion, watching as he jogs up the stairs and stops at the very top step, leaning into a dark haired man. They both turn in your direction after a few minutes, catching your eye before they turn back to one another, the dark haired man grabbing Steven’s arm in… surprise, maybe?

They break apart seconds later, Steven jogging back down the stairs, the dark haired man walking briskly along the long catwalk, stopping only to tap three other men on the back before they too follow quickly behind him and disappear. You grab another champagne glass from a waiter and take a gulp as heat flushes through you— nerves suddenly racking your body.

You keep your eyes on Steve as he pushes through the people again, making a line straight towards you. Tilting your head back, you finish off the rest of your glass as he approaches you again, “I’m sorry,” he smiles, “That was rude of me.”

“Oh, it’s, it’s no problem,” you laugh nervously, clearing your throat as you glance around the crowded room.

He holds out his hand to you, “Would you come with me? Please?”

You shake your head as fear strikes you, “Oh, you know, I actually have to get going, I—”

“I know your mother,” your eyes widen at his words, stopping you dead in your tracks, “And your father. Please, come with me.”

You aren’t crazy.

Someone is really trying to contact you.

You grab his hand and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. He steps aside and lets you lead, placing his hands on your waist as the two of you move up the long staircase. Once you reach the top, he grabs your hand again and pulls you along the catwalk until you disappear down the hallway. You pass by a series of doors before you stop at the last one, Steve stopping to knock.

The door pops open seconds later and Steve steps aside again, dropping your hand to hold his out towards the door. You remove your mask and sweep your hair out of your face as your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at Steve.

“It’s okay,” he reassures, his voice soft and calm.

You take a step, and then another, your heart beating hard and fast, goosebumps popping up on your skin. You step into the room but stop dead in your tracks as the air is sucked right out of your body. Four men sit at a long, antique, baroque style table. Their hands are placed flat on the dark marble top, heads bowed. The room is dark except for the flickering candles that sit in their ornate holders in the middle of the table, the light accentuating the mens’ black and gold scaramouche masks.

Fear rolls through you in waves, your breaths shaky and heavy as it falls from your lips. The door clicks behind you and you feel a hand on the small of your back again, another one on your elbow, “It’s alright darling,” he whispers in your ear, “I’ll help you to your seat, okay?”

“Steve,” your voice trembling, “I don’t, I don’t understand, I—”

“It’s alright, I promise you. We are not going to hurt you. That goes against everything we stand for. Come.”

You blink wildly at the men at the table as Steve pushes you past them slowly. They don’t flinch— no one makes a move to glance up at you or even breathe harder than what they already are. You were so busy staring at the men occupying four of the five chairs at the table, that you didn’t even notice the hand carved chair sitting against the wall at the back of the room.

The frame is golden, the upholstery teal in color and covered with floral embroidery, the back designed with a diamond tuft. It sits up a little higher than the table— propped up on a small, hand built stage with three steps leading up to it. Steve helps you up the small steps, keeping your hand in his until you’re seated.

As soon as you're settled, the four seated men pull a candle from the center of the table and place it right in front of them. The golden flames dance at the tips of the long, white candles, casting shadows over the dark walls.

“You may begin.”

You snap your head towards Steve as he speaks, your mouth hanging open, your eyes wide, breath shaky. The dark haired man that Steve first spoke to stands, his chair scuffing against the floor as he pushes away from the table. He grasps the candle holder in both hands as he approaches you slowly, his eyes cast down towards the floor.

Your breath quickens as he nears you. You squeeze Steve’s hand as you push back into the chair, starting to draw your feet up as he kneels before you, “Wait, wait, wait, wait! What are you—”

“It’s okay, darling.” Steve purrs, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hands, “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you. Just relax.”

A hot tear streaks down your cheek as your whimper, your chin trembling as you push a hard, focused breath out of your mouth. The man in front of you mumbles something— in French you think, but you aren’t sure— before he reaches into his pocket. Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts to sprinkle rose petals at your feet, chanting as he does.

You feel his fingers brush over your exposed toes before he lifts your right foot and slips off your gold shoe— tracing a cross with the tip of his finger on the top of your foot. He repeats his actions to the left and stands, keeping his head down as he makes a cross over his face and chest and then turns and returns to his seat.

The next man stands, a thick beard covering his chin, his candle in hand as he approaches you, never making eye contact. Instead of rose petals, he lays money at your feet— a single dollar bill— before he traces the cross into your skin while he speaks in French.

The third man is clean shaven, like Steve, but his hair dark— some falling over his mask and onto his forehead. He leaves a handful of herbs and one white egg at your feet before sweeping his fingertips over your toes and branding each foot with an imaginary cross.

The fourth man that kneels before you repeats everything to a T. He’s tall, his skin a deep, smooth walnut brown. He leaves behind a handful of wheat grain and what looks like raw sugarcane before he blesses your feet and rises again. He taps his forehead and chest before each shoulder and moves away, retaking his seat at the table.

Tears still trickle down your cheeks as you blink furiously— your stomach churning, your palms clammy. You snap your eyes towards Steve as he finally releases your hand and grabs a bowl from the small table tucked into the corner of the room. He steps in front of you and kneels, setting the hand painted bowl at your feet. He lifts your feet gently, placing them in the bowl with care, massaging your ankles and lower calves to calm you.

It works— your voice trembles as you push out a gentle hum, focusing on his hands on your skin. He starts to speak in French, his voice low and calm, much like most of the evening. He pulls a small flask out of his jacket pocket and pops the lid before he pours the unusually cool liquid over your feet. You flinch instinctively but focus again on his soft hands, kneading your feet as he washes them.

Steve pulls the white silk pocket square from his suit jacket and dabs at your feet, wiping away the moisture. He traces a cross on the tops of your feet before standing again and cups your face with his hands. You’re drawn into him— resting your forehead to his as he continues to chant, his lips so close they brush against yours as he speaks.

“Bless this missing child,” he whispers, the only part of his chant in english, “She is home at last.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, every burning candle is suddenly extinguished by some force now filling the room. You blink in the darkness, your breath quickening as you grab Steve’s forearms.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he coos, stroking your bottom lip with his thumbs, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

The room is full— so full of energy; power. It whips around you, electrifying your skin and blood, rattling your bones. It’s foreign— anomalous— but yet feels so comforting and warm. Like love. Like you're surrounded by family. You loosen your grip on Steve’s forearms as the fear drains from your body, a voice— a soft whisper in your ears. A voice you’ve never heard before but have somehow heard your whole life. It’s a language you don’t understand, but yet you know exactly what it’s saying.

Your eyes pop open suddenly and the room is washed in a warm light as the candles are suddenly lit again. Steve smiles at you softly as your eyes, now full of wonder and a new sacred knowledge, bounce back and forth between his deep blues. There’s a new electricity between the two of you, something unspoken, but written in the stars all the same.

The blood in your veins rushes hard, the sound of your thumping heart beating in your ears as goosebumps pop up over your skin again. Your stomach tightens as the molten of your ardor starts to pool and spread through your body, blazing a quick path. Steve’s thumbs still sweep over your lips, underneath your eyes, over your nose as you hold loosely onto his wrists. You grab your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes fall to his mouth before you inhale sharply— soft and pink, his lips.

His large palms spread warmth through your face, his thumbs still circling— still pushing along your smooth skin. Blue eyes dart around your face, continually meeting your deep brown eyes before dipping to your expectant lips. He pushes closer— so close that his pillowy lips rest against yours, but he doesn’t rush it— doesn’t press any harder.

He leaves it all up to you.

The energy is back in the room, swirling, filling you up with the power and presence with each breath you take. You press your lips to his as the sweet sirens start to whisper to you again. A moan slips from your mouth and into Steve’s, where he gobbles it up, exchanging a deep, pleased groan of his own.  

His lips start to travel, moving down to your chin and jaw. He nuzzles into the soft, warm crook of your neck where he sucks lightly— his velvet tongue sneaking out and slipping along your skin. You push your chest into his as your back straightens, a gasp filling your lungs with the sweet air that surrounds you.

The emotion takes over in the heat of the moment— the fire of his lips and hands setting you a flame. Your leg hooks around his waist as you curl your fingers over his broad shoulders, digging your black painted nails into his shoulder blades. His teeth nip at your taut flesh and you lurch forward, your head tilting towards the ceiling as a choked moan strains in your throat.

You feel his deft fingertips on your naked calf, slipping along the length— over and around your knee, up your thigh— where he kneads and gropes, pulling heavier, louder sounds from you as his lips caress your flesh. A shiver rolls down your spine when his thick digits brush over your sticky panties. He doesn’t shy away, he sweeps the pads of his fingers over you again and again, finding a sweet little rhythm as he applies a gentle pressure.

Hips roll. Chests swell. Grips tighten as your head rolls back. Your mouth falls open as you drag in a breath, pushing it out with a husky groan. Your teeth grab your bottom lip again as you slide your hand around his wide back, hooking your arm around his neck. Humming, you open your eyes, blinking slowly back at four sets of hungry eyes trained on you and Steve. You inhale again, letting your lips part as you link eyes with each man at the table.

The men sit stark still— not moving a muscle as the flame from the candles light your bodies. Shadows dance across their masked faces as they watch in silence, but you can feel each and every one of them. Each energy is slightly different but acutely masculine, acutely tuned into you.

You don’t mind them watching. The scene salacious— vulgar.

Wrapped up in two large, muscly arms, you’re hoisted from the chair as Steve grabs your lips again with his own. He walks you to the table and sits you on the edge, right between two of the four men occupying it. The marble top is cool to the touch as he helps you up onto your feet, holding the tips of your fingers with his hand. He leads you into the center of the table, five heads all tilted up towards you as you stand there, the bottom of your dress dragging behind you as you move.

You feel like a princess with all of their eyes on you, hanging on to your every move, drinking in every inch of you. You twirl— a giggle falling from your lips before you sink down to your knees, peeking over your shoulder at the only brown eyed man in the room. You place your thin fingers over your lips, playing with them gently as you bat your eyes at him and sweep your hair over your shoulder— exposing the zipper of your dress.

He obliges without hesitation. Standing to his feet, he reaches for you— a warm hand on your bare shoulder, another grasping the zipper. You nuzzle your chin and cheek against his long fingers before brushing your lips over them quickly. His warm brown skin melts into yours as he pulls on your zipper, exposing more and more of your naked back as he goes.

The soft smile on your face grows wider as he centers his large palm in the middle of your back. Warm skin to warm skin. His eyes are ablaze— dark, blown pupils against a lighter brown iris— set dead on you as his lips part, showing off a distinctive gap in his teeth as his fingers whisk across your back and shoulder.

You turn to face him, still kneeling in the center of the table, and reach for his mask— pulling gently on the black tie until the bow falls away. He lets you remove it from him, a soft smile playing on his lips as you reveal the handsome face underneath.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Steve offers softly.

Samuel tips his head towards you as you run the tips of your fingers along his softly bearded jaw, “S.T.W.” you say easy, recalling the last of your calling cards, “Hi Sam.”

You lean forward and place your lips on his— one gentle, chaste kiss before you break away from him with a soft smack.

You follow Steve with your eyes as he moves to the man seated next to Sam. Steve places his hand on his shoulder, “Andrew Stephen Barber.”

You bat your eyes at Andrew as he stands and takes your hand, bringing the backs of your fingers to his lips, “Andy.” He supplies as he removes his mask and sits it gently on the table.

“A.S.B., thank you for the dress.”

His presence is calm— gentle, matching the softness of his beard and dark hair. You press your free hand into the halter top of your dress to keep it from falling, but all the modesty you once had is evaporating quickly. You feel like you’ve known them all forever.

The next pair of blue eyes bring a forceful energy, one of entitlement and defiance. Before Steve can get his name out, he’s standing, his mask in his hand revealing his boyish, clean face, “Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” He winks at you suggestively, “Ransom.”

He wraps his long arm around your waist and pulls you close, crashing his lips to yours in a fury. You giggle against him before accepting his velvety tongue into your mouth, letting it sweep along your bottom lip and then slide along yours. Steve taps his shoulder and after a beat… or two, Ransom releases you from his grip, a smirk on his face, a twinkle in his eye.

You turn to the fourth man— the dark haired man that Steve initially spoke to on the stairs. He’s standing, with Steve behind him, the tips of his fingers resting on the edge of the long table. He’s the only one wearing gloves. His breathing is controlled, his eyes set on you as you inch towards him, sitting up on your knees in front of him.

You walk your fingers up his chest seductively, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you smile at him, “You must be J.B.B.”

He tilts his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I could be S.G.R.”

“While the guy named Steven stands behind you?” you squint playfully, reaching for his mask.

He grabs your wrist with his left hand, making you gasp. It’s a firm grip, but it excites something deep in you. You drop your hands into your lap, flattening them on your thighs as you take a deep breath and push it out of your nose. He glances over his shoulder at Steve, who nods just once before he turns back to face you and starts to pull at the fingers of his gloves. He removes the right hand first, tucking the black glove into his pocket before he starts on the left, pulling slowly— finger by finger.

Your mouth drops open as he pulls the nylon material away, your eyes going wide as he stretches out his digits, the candle light glinting off of the dark metal. The breath in your throat hitches as you watch him reach for his mask and untie it, pulling it away from his face to reveal a familiar one.

J.B.B.

James Buchanan Barnes.

So that means—

You blink towards Steve, whose mask is now off and sitting on the table. He rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he exhales deeply, “James Buchanan Barnes,” he then points at himself, “Steven Grant Rogers.”

You blink rapidly— completely dumbfounded as the two super soldiers stand before you. Bucky takes your hand, brushing his lips over your fingers before he pops them into his mouth, sucking gently on your digits as he flicks his eyes back up to yours. Your stomach tightens. A hum accompanies the breath that vibrates through your chest as he drags his left hand up and down your arm.

Steve cups your cheek and turns your head towards him before he traces your jaw and chin with his index finger, “We’re gonna take care of you baby girl,” he whispers as he places his fingertips on your forehead and brushes them down your face, “We’ve searched for you for so long.”

You believe him— you don’t know what he’s talking about, but you believe every word.

You push in and kiss Bucky, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and squeeze gently before you turn towards Steve, pulling him into another deep kiss, “Get this dress off of me.” You whisper.

Hands— so many hands, each pair distinctively different, are on your body within seconds, tugging and pulling at the heavy dress until you’re free of it. The only piece of clothing left on you is your thin thong as you lay back on the table, your hands over your bare breasts, covering them. You gaze up at the five men peering at you, their eyes wide and hungry.

Steve slips his hand down your sternum, the pads of his fingers sliding down your stomach to your hips, where he traces the thin band of your underwear— his touch making you raise your hips from the table. Sam drags his thumb along your chin and bottom lip before he pushes the tip just inside your all too eager mouth. You suck gently, running your tongue the length of his digit as Ransom pries your hands away from your breasts.

You moan softly, arching your back into Ransom’s hands as he starts to tweak your taut nipples, rolling them both between his fingers before he leans down and sucks your right breast into his mouth. Hands grab your thighs, kneading your flesh and pull them apart as Andy licks into your mouth, his tongue massaging the roof as he holds your chin.

The energy is back in the room— the power swirling as the men start to devour you. There’s tongues over your toes, hands on your tight nipples and abundant breasts, lips on your shoulders and neck. Fingernails scrape against your skin as they slink underneath the band of your panties, pulling them down your thighs and calves before they slide over your ankle and are discarded to the floor.

You feel the warm metal and flesh hand of Bucky around your ankles, drawing your legs up so they’re bent at the knee. He crawls onto the table, his heavy blue eyes drinking you in as he lets his metal fingers dance up and down the inside of your thigh. You start to shiver at his touch— your back arching away from the table as you gasp and hiss from the hands and mouths and tongues all over you.

Bucky sinks down— low, onto his belly— his eyes still trained on yours as he wraps his arms around your thighs. He starts to blow warm air against your sticky, hot sex, his eyes finally dipping away from yours and to your lower half as your hips jerk and whine. His metal fingers push through your folds gently, rubbing the sensitive nub at the center of you, then teasing your slit and opening.

Steve presses his balmy lips right in the valley of your breasts and peppers kisses along your jiggling flesh. The tip of his tongue circles your nipples before his teeth nip and bite. You gasp loud as a metal finger, and then a second push into your cunt— a thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips jut upward as you mewl, the sound quickly being covered up by Sam’s mouth as he kisses you hard.

Bucky blinks up at you as he withdrawals his fingers and waits— waits for you to make eye contact with him before he sucks them into his mouth, wiping them clean of your slick. He moans— heavy and hard as he closes his eyes, savoring your taste.

Your hips start to roll into his hand as he dips his fingers back into you, his breath washing over your quivering thighs. Ransom tickles your right knee, then skips his hand down the inside of your thigh, where he cups your sex around Bucky’s pushing fingers. Ransom starts to rub your clit, pressing firm circles into your wet flesh as Bucky curls his fingers to massage your muscles.

Andy sinks his teeth into your side before his tongue glances out over your stomach, circling your belly button before he sucks on your skin. He presses his hand into your lower stomach to add some pressure— Sam and Steve each taking a breast into their wet mouths, their tongues swishing and swirling.

You dig a hand into Steve’s hair and cup Sam’s head as they tease your nipples, a sharp yelp bursting through your lips as Sam bites down gently. Ransom spreads your folds with his index and middle fingers and suddenly, there’s a tongue— a warm, velvety tongue flattening against your clit. You push your head up to watch as Bucky sucks on your nub, his eyes searing into yours as he releases you with a smack, and then dives back in, the tip of his tongue flirting with your opening, his fingers still pumping.

Your head and hips roll as unrestrained groans rumble through your chest and fill the room, mingling with the deep moans and growls of the five men pleasing you. The sound of a zipper bounces off the walls— your hand then grabbed and pulled to your left. You gasp at the heavy warmth that fills your palm as your fingers wrap around Sam’s length. You roll your head towards him, biting your bottom lip as you watch your hand slide up and down his impressive girth.

You grab Steve’s hip with your free hand, digging your fingers into him as you lean up, beckoning him to come closer. You kiss him hard once he’s within distance, smacking your lips against his before you sound into his mouth as Ransom slaps your pussy, the gold band around his ring finger adding a heaviness to the strikes.

Bucky kisses up your thigh, sinking his teeth into your flesh every now and again until he reaches your ankle and foot. He thumbs at your black painted nails before he pulls your toes into his mouth as he massages your calf, “These are cute, these toes.” He murmurs, a light chuckle vibrating through him.

A chorus of zips start to sound, one right after the other. Their jackets soon hit the floor, the crisp, white sleeves of their button downs are rolled up their forearms before they all descend on you again. You’re lifted from the table into Andy’s arms as Sam slides into the space you once occupied on the table, his pants riding low on his hips. Andy kisses you deeply before placing you back on your feet on the top of the table, keeping a hold of your hand as you traipse along Sam’s side.

You throw your leg over Sam’s body and sit slowly, wiggling your hips as you position yourself on his lower stomach. You reach back, dragging your fingers through the curly patch of hair covering his lower half, tickling his skin. You slip your fingers into his unzipped pants and pull him free, stroking and squeezing him slowly before you swipe your fingers over his wet tip.

Two strong hands grip your waist— Ransom— as you slip your hand down to Sam’s base and lift upward, guiding him towards your entrance. Ransom holds you steady as you sit down on Sam, your cunt swallowing every delicious inch of Sam’s cock until he’s completely disappeared. You lean forward, splaying your fingers out on his wide, thick chest as he grabs hold of your thighs. You pull up, hissing as his cock slides out of the tight grasp of your pussy and then sit back down, moaning as he fills you again.

Ransom slips his hand up your spine and wraps his fingers over your shoulder as you start a slow rhythm, up and down, up and down, up and down. Your hips roll as Sam starts to buck his hips up into you, each stroke a little harder, a little sharper than the one before it. There’s a chest to your back and then teeth nibbling at your earlobe as you lean back into the body and rest your head on a shoulder. Ransom’s mouth then covers yours as he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight as you ride Sam, your nails digging into his rich brown skin.

You gasp as a tongue teases your thick nipple, and then a hand closes over your left breast, squeezing and kneading gently. You slide your hand into Ransom’s hair as you watch Steve flick the tip of his tongue against your nipple before he sucks your breast into his mouth, moaning as his tongue swirls.

Andy slips his hand down your stomach and starts to work your clit, grabbing your chin with his free hand and tilting your head towards his. His head is tilted upwards, his eyes hooded as he peers down at you through his long, thick eye lashes. You whine as Sam’s pace quickens, fucking up into you hard as he grips your hips so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks behind. Andy snarls his lip as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open, as your hips falter, as you get louder and less restrained. He licks into your mouth before he lays a filthy kiss on you— demanding and sloppy.

Ransom squeezes your shoulder before he pushes you forward with his other hand, nearly crushing you against Sam’s chest. You shiver when you feel his cock slide through your ass cheeks, leaving a wetness behind. He pulls back and the backs of his fingers glance over your ass, deep hisses and a grunt coming from him as he strokes his cock— a drop of his cum dribbling onto your skin.

He suddenly pushes his fingers into your mouth— index, middle, and ring— wetting them with your saliva before he drags them back through your ass, the tips circling your hole. There’s a tangy taste left in your mouth, some of you, some of him, as he slaps his dick against your ass and then spreads you apart. Sam slows beneath you and then stops as he drags his large hands up and down your forearms, grabbing your hand and sucking your fingers into his warm mouth.

You slam your eyes closed, tensing as Ransom starts to push the head of his cock against your asshole. He places his hand against the center of your back, Bucky cups your face in his palms, sweeping his thumbs over your cheeks as he pecks your lips with his, singing gentle praise to help relax you.

“You can do it baby,” Bucky whispers, rubbing his nose against yours, smiling softly, “You can take him baby, I know you can. Can’t she Steve?”

Steve sinks his teeth into your shoulder, humming as he drags his red, swollen lips down your arm, “This pretty girl sure can,” he reassures, his voice smooth and low, “And it’s gonna feel so good, baby. You’re gonna feel so full, so stretched.”

You whimper loudly. You grab Bucky’s shoulder as Ransom’s dick finally breaks through your threshold. Ransom lets out a breath, the warm splashing over your back as he stills, a shuddering groan vibrating through his chest. Ransom squeezes your shoulder again, leaning forward to place sloppy kisses on your back, “More?”

Steve kisses your temple before he nuzzles into the side of your face, “You can do it sweet girl. You can take him all.”

Bucky kisses your lips again. Sam nibbles on the tips of your fingers as he nudges his hips into yours, burying deeper into you. You nod quickly— you do want more. More, more, more.

Ransom starts to push again, spreading your tight muscles as he forges, filling you right up. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out— his stomach now pressing into your ass as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck.

“Such a good girl,” Bucky purrs as he reaches between you and Sam’s bodies, starting to play with your nub, “Such a sweet, pretty girl.”

Sam is the first to move, pressing up into you before he withdrawals slowly. Ransom counters his actions, pulling out when Sam pushes in, delving in when Sam drags out. It’s hypnotizing— the rhythm, the push and pull. Your mouth goes slack as Steve rolls your nipples in his hands, his tongue and teeth nipping and licking at your damp skin. You roll your hips, pushing back into Ransom as Sam fucks up into you as electricity flows through your veins.

“That’s it baby girl,” Bucky praises through impassioned kisses, his tongue slipping along your lips and the roof of your mouth, “Stuffed full, aren’t you sweetie?”

Your stomach tightens at the words, your heart beat pounding against your chest and in your ears as a tingle rushing up your spine. There’s a pull deep in your belly, a molten heat and the raw emotions spreading through you as your body tightens hard.  Your hips jerk as a sudden current strikes you— your cunt closing around Sam. He shudders and you feel it, feel it rumble through his chest as his own hips get desperate.

Ransom fucks your ass with fluid motions, his enormous hands and long fingers digging into the supple flesh of your waist. He grunts, hard and grainy as the warmth of your insides caress his cock. Ransom gets loud, Sam gets loud, you get whimpery— needy, almost to the point of tears as the waves roll harder and faster through you. Each stroke, each thrust, each plow of their hips driving you closer and closer to your demise.

A moan chokes in your throat as your orgasm blooms across your skin, but soon the sounds are pouring out of you. Loud, desperate, relieved as the waves finally crash. Bucky bites his bottom lip hard as his fingers slap against your jumping clit. Steve pinches your nipples as he rests his forehead against the side of your face, his hot breath sticking to your skin.

Sam drives his hips into yours once more and digs his thumbs into the creases of your thighs as his cock starts to spit, over and over again, spilling into you. Ransom fucks through it all, keeping a firm grip on your shoulder until he too comes undone in your ass. He pushes deep, deep, deep inside as he spurts, watching as your hole spasms around him.

Ransom pulls out of you as soon as he’s milked and you feel his cum bubble out of you, slipping down the inside of your thigh. You’re lifted off of Sam— brought to the edge of the table, on your hands and knees, your feet hanging over the end. A massive hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest and head down onto the cool surface as you try and catch your breath. You jump when a pair of warm lips connect where your ass ends and your thigh begins, a soft beard brushing against your skin.

Andy drags his finger up the inside of your thigh, collecting the cum that’s spilled from you and pushes two fingers into your hot cunt— your muscles still quaking, still constricting. He fingers you slowly, skimming his fingertips up and down your thigh as he pushes his digits, cramming Sam and Ransom’s cum deep.

You hum with each stroke, lunging forward softly, your nipples grazing over the marble table top as you move. You blink slowly as you lift your head, watching as Bucky climbs onto the table, spreading his legs as they slide around you. He slides his flesh hand into his pants and starts to stroke his cock— long, languid pulls as his metal fingers pull on his tight balls. You wrap your hands around his thighs, the excitement bubbling up in your chest once more as you watch him.

Andy replaces his fingers with his dick in one fell swoop. You mewl, your tits bouncing as he starts a brisk pace. The sound of his skin slapping against yours bouncing off the walls as Ransom, Sam, and Steve watch on, chests rising and falling hard as they tug their hands up and down their cocks at the sight.

You rock forward, your face inches from Bucky’s cock as he jerks himself, peering down his long body at you. Keeping your eyes on his, you push your tongue out from behind your teeth and lick at his shaft quickly before puckering your lips to kiss the thick vein running the length of him. You push your hands over his hips and up over his abs as your mouth slides over his wet, red mushroom tip.

Bucky moans deep, his back arching from the table as he pushes his hips up into your mouth, sending his cock right to the back of your throat. You pull upward as his hips sink back to the table, releasing him with a pop and smiling as his cock sways back and forth. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, wiggling him a little before you lower your mouth over his tip, sucking lightly as you swirl your tongue over his slit.

Your plump lips go slack around Bucky as Andy presses into a spot— sending a jolt right to your heart. Andy lets his hands roam along your back and sides as he fucks you, gripping and squeezing, groping and kneading your thick, soft flesh. He’ll push deep, and then just stay there for a few seconds, savoring the warmth, the tightness of your slick muscles before he wiggles his hips and withdrawals from you, just to plunge back in.

You release Bucky quickly to swallow the piquant spunk left on your tongue before you cram him back into your mouth. You suck on his cock head as you pump him up and down, twisting and turning your hand as you go. A muffled moan seeps from your mouth, vibrating around Bucky’s cock as you slam your eyes closed, feeling Andy’s strokes in your stomach.

The tingles are back— the pull in your belly. Your pussy tightens as the electricity within you starts to bounce around, synapses firing. Andy feels it, Bucky too, their hips pushing harder and faster. Your nails scratch at Bucky’s skin, squeezing uncontrollably as your heart beats in your ears, heat flushing your face.

Andy fucks into you good, hard and deep, sending you right over the edge once more. Your release spreads through you, warming every inch of flesh, every pore, every follicle. Andy thumbs your clit as he continues to pump his hips, fucking your right through your orgasm until your contracting muscles and slick coax his climax. Bucky erupts at nearly the same time— long, hot ribbons of his cum shooting from him, splattering on his stomach and dribbling down his cock.

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, Steve standing from one of the chairs to grab your chin, pushing your head and face up towards him. He kisses you hard— sloppy, sucking on your bottom lip before he tongues the roof of your mouth. He pulls away, cupping your face in his hands gently as he rubs his thumbs along your cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of affection.

“Such a good girl.” he whispers.

He pulls you into another kiss, but this time it’s softer— sweeter. Slower.

Andy pulls out of you, his hands still sweeping over your back and ass and thighs. He presses another kiss right into the creases of each cheek before he falls into a chair next to Sam. Bucky slides off of the table and sits next to Ransom, resting his head on the back of the chair and lets his mouth go slack as he lets out a breath.

Steve crawls onto the table as the four other men drag their chairs to the edges of the table, sitting up straighter once they get situated. Steve grabs your lips with his, a soft hum wavering in his throat. He separates from you but doesn’t go far— resting his forehead on yours as he nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. He starts to guide you back, his hand behind your head, as he lays you down flat on the table, your knees drawn up, your feet flat against the cool surface.

You sweep your hands up and down your thighs in anticipation as you watch him unbutton his shirt slowly, his blue eyes wandering the length of your body as his fingers move. You push up onto your elbows, tilting your head as you blink at him when he pulls the material away from his buff torso.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you dip your eyes to his broad chest, his skin tanned and tight. There are faint scars littered along his skin— a few tiger stripes on his biceps and sides. His stomach is firm and flat, six perfect abs carved out, and the cutest belly button you think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. You sit up, placing your hand in the middle of his chest, right in the middle of those hard pecs and watch your hand move with each breath he takes. Your fingers fall, down his sternum, over those abs, and slightly into the dark blonde patch of hair that peeks out of his open pants.

You draw your bottom lip into your mouth and send your eyes up to his as your hand digs deeper— your dainty fingers wrapping around his hard, hot cock. His chest tightens at your touch. You inch your body closer to his, throwing your legs open and around either side of his body as you start to pump him slowly. You draw your hand up his shaft, sweeping your palm over his sensitive, weeping tip before you push back down, squeezing him gently— feeling him.

His breathing gets deeper, his chest and stomach constricting, his lips parting and quivering ever so lightly as you massage him. All five pairs of eyes are on you— unwavering, barely blinking as they consume you and only you. The power swells in your chest. You feel like a goddamn queen. Captivating. Strong.

You pull him free of his dark slacks and have to take a breath at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Thick and long, his tip shiny and wet and red— eager— his dick jumping every now and again as cum dribbles out of his slit. You sweep the pads of your fingers over the tip again, collecting the warm, cloudy spunk and push it down his shaft, along the thick vein that runs down him, wetting every inch of him.

He pulls you into his lap in one swift move, like you’re absolutely weightless. His cock settles against your pussy and clit, resting against your stomach as he wraps his arm around your back and waist. You instantly start to roll your hips, sliding your skin along his dick— coping a feel— letting it radiate through you.

The current in the room picks up. The flames of the candles start to flicker as if there’s a strong breeze that threatens to extinguish them. You push up with the help of Steve’s strength, your mouth hanging open as you guide him towards your entrance. You push his flesh through your folds, teasing yourself a little before you align him with you, starting to sink your hips down.

You dig your fingertips into his shoulders, let your head fall back as he opens you up inch by inch. A growl scratches at the back of your throat when you feel his hot lips on your neck, peppering kisses, tongue lapping, teeth nipping as you take him. The candles flicker hard as Steve bottoms out in you— hip to hip; flesh to flesh.

Throwing an arm around his neck, you really start to move, pulling up on that towering dick before sinking back down on it. Your tits bounce as your hips roll, a delicious burn starting to spread through your thighs. Steve’s hips fuck into yours, meeting you halfway as you crash down. There’s hands on you again— on your shoulders and arms, on your thighs, wrapping around your ankles— Andy, Ransom, Sam, and Bucky— grabbing, kneading, gripping, groping.

The electricity in the room bounces off the walls, energizing you, drawing you into Steve more and more with each passing second. The wind even kicks up outside, slamming against the sprawling house, shaking the lush trees. The warm moonlight cascades into the room and over your bodies as you fuck Steve unmercifully on top of the old table. You gasp and moan and pant— the sounds bitten off, choked, and heavy as your pussy constricts around him.

He appeases each whim of your hips, driving into you deep and hard, taking control when your hips jerk and shudder. He encourages you— they all do— sweet, tiny whispers, filthy, low declamations. Their voices rattle your brain and your bones as the candle light trembles again.

You’re slamming into each other, Steve bottoming out with each thrust. Your stomach is tight, your body warm and prickly, your clit stinging as another orgasm looms in the distance. Steve’s hips are rolling and pushing, his fingernails scratching your skin as he rakes them down your naked back. There’s teeth on your shoulders and neck, lips over your nipples, fingers prodding against your clit until you come undone, shouting and pleading to every God you know.

A sudden burst of warmth explodes inside of you— Steve’s strangled groans growing loud as he comes. Your face breaks with passion, tears threatening to spill as ungodly, high-pitched sounds spill from your lips. You’re all shrouded in darkness. The candle light whipped away, suddenly extinguished by the invisible forces in the room.

The candles relight again out of nowhere as you collapse against Steve as your body finally gives out after the thorough fuck session. You’re heavy and limp, air rushing out of your mouth, sticking to his damp, humid skin. You can’t even keep your eyes open. You hum intermittently as their hands brush over your skin before they pull you away from him, laying you back down on the table.

Their voices ring out, all in sink, chanting again in French. Sam sprinkles your body with the flask, from your head to your toes— Steve traces a cross on your chest. They all flatten your hands on you as their chorus finishes, and you hear the soft voices again. They’re warm and happy, the feminine voices, as the love— the familial undercurrent— fills the room again.

You’re lifted into arms, pressed against a chest before one of their discarded jackets is thrown over your shoulders. Your head is foggy, thoughts slow as someone carries you out of the room. You feel their protection, the fierce safeguard of you as suddenly you’re the center of attention. It feels as if hundreds of eyes are on you— because there are as they walk you right through the center of the party.

“Our missing child is home.” Steve announces, smiling softly down on you, sweeping his large hand over your forehead, “The family is complete once more.”

An exuberant applause erupts.

You’re moving again, slowly the eyes on you disappearing as the fivesome moves you through the house. A door clicks, the sound of the bottom of it sweeping across the carpet filling your ears. A warmth surrounds you as you’re laid down onto a bed, a large, full comforter covering your naked body. You squirm, your head rolling against the pillow as you murmur and whimper.

“Shh shh shh, little one,” Sam purrs, stroking your face with his thick fingers, “You’re safe.”

“We’re all here sweet girl. Just rest.” Andy says calmly, brushing his lips over the backs of your fingers.

Naked bodies surround you— cram you right in the middle of them. Arms and legs are thrown over you, fingers thread with yours, lips and beards glance over your skin as they whisper and blether. You roll into a body, you’re not even sure who’s, and you hold onto them tight, letting the sleep seep in, letting it pull you away into the deep.

SATURDAY

There’s an intrusive light burning into your face. You shift, rolling your head away from it before rolling your entire body over onto your side. You stretch your arms out and sigh slowly, wanting nothing more than to melt back into the soft, deep slumber that had been disturbed— but your brain has other plans. It slowly starts to awaken, the fog lifting, memories and visions of the night before playing before your eyes. Hands on your skin, lips locked on yours, eyes following your every move.

You spring upwards.

Your eyes pop open as you inhale sharply. You snap your head to the right and then the left before you scan the room, finding it completely empty. You turn back towards the windows, squinting and blinking as the sun belts into the room, the light spilling over the floor and bed. Voices float towards you— warm, male laughter— before it dies away again and all you hear are the random chirps of birds and the soft swish of the breeze against the trees and house.

That’s when the soreness seeps in. You roll your shoulders as you recognize the subtle pain, roll your neck before stretching your arms above your head. There’s laughter again, the clatter of pans and dishes and you blink at the closed bedroom door. Questions start to populate and swarm, pushing away the rest of the sleepy fog in your mind.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed and stand, but throw your hands back on the mattress as you stumble, having to steady yourself. Your legs are jelly. A hum vibrates in your chest and throat as you take a step after a few sobering seconds. The muscles of your sex scream at you— achy and tight— used. It’s sharp but also dull, nagging and deep— the soreness. It feels good. Feels right.

Spotting an egg shaped floor length mirror leaning up against the far wall, you pad towards it, squinting and hissing as pangs of the delicious pain prickle along your skin and muscles. You peer at your body, twisting and turning. You’re marked beyond belief— suck marks on your neck and shoulders, red raised welts on your sides and thighs, deep bruises and teeth marks scattered along your body like a map.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

You spot a small bench in front of the bed, a pink satin tank top and matching shorts tossed over it. You slip the tank top over your arms to cover your bare torso and pull the shorts up your legs, your ample behind poking out of the bottom of them. You start for the door and move into a long hallway, following the laughter and voices emanating from deep in the house.

This is a really big house. It takes a while, well, you’re nosey so you peek into each room you pass and stop to eye the paintings on the wall, but you finally find the source of all the noise. You turn into the vast kitchen, finding five men placed throughout it. Sam is over the stove, cracking eggs and flipping potatoes and fresh vegetables. Andy sits at the bar, his nose buried in the Saturday paper as he sips on a black coffee. Bucky and Steve sit at the table, talking hushly over some old papers, and Ransom leans against the fridge, thumbing through his phone.

Bucky’s the first to notice you. He greets you with a wide, bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides, his nose scrunching, “Good morning beautiful.”

The rest of the men all blink at you and a warmth flushes through your face as you play with your fingers. Before you can respond, Ransom sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, kissing you hard and deep before he sits you back down and swats your behind, “Mornin’ doll.”

“Don’t be so rough with her,” Andy chides the slightly younger man. He grabs your wrist, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, “Sleep well, baby?”

“I did, thank you.” You smile, nervous but flattered by the attention.

“Hope you’re hungry sweetie,” Sam says, leaning into you to peck your lips as you move towards him.

“I’m starving.”

“I bet. You slept hard last night.” He winks, nudging you with his shoulder, “Ransom, plates.”

“I’m not the help, Wilson.”

“Well you are to-fuckin-day. Get the plates, trust fund baby.”

You laugh as you move towards the table, getting swept up into another breathless kiss by Bucky before Steve pulls you into his lap, brushing his nose over the back of your shoulder. Ransom and Sam hand out the plates one by one, taking drink orders and handing them out before they take their seats at the long table. You stay in Steve’s lap as you eat, listening as they all chat and cut up a little, teasing the youngest of them, Ransom, and listening intently as Andy talks about his latest case.

“I bet baby girl over here has some questions, hmm?” Bucky says after a while, cutting into his sausage and popping a small piece into his mouth.

You nod as you chew and swallow, before your eyes go wide, “Oh shit! My sister MJ! I bet she’s—”

Ransom slides your phone towards you, “I texted her for you last night and again this morning. Convinced her not to call the cops— she’s a feisty one.”

“Oh God, thank you.” You sigh, glancing over the texts.

“You can call her if you’d like. We can step out.” Steve offers, peering at you over your shoulder.

“No, no. She seems to be pacified for the moment. I’ll call her in a little while. So,” you lead in, “How, um, what is all of this? How do you guys know me, or my mom, to be more specific?”

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him before he takes a breath, “This is going to sound really strange and it’s a really long story.”

“I got time,” you laugh, “It’s the only reason I came last night. Didn’t expect to get fucked by five dudes, but, you know,” you giggle, “Shit happens.”

“Steve and I,” Bucky starts, “We knew your great-grandmother, Marie-Angelie Paris Laveau of New Orleans. Steve was… sickly.” You nod quickly, having read everything there is to know about the great Steve Rogers, “I had heard that there was this new religion, down south. A woman that claimed to be a healer and Steve was my best friend, so, we decided to check it out in the early forties— wanted to see if she could help him.”

“When we finally got to Louisiana and tracked Marie-Angelie down, it was nothing that Bucky and I had ever seen before.” Steve chuckles, “Your great-grandmother was a beautiful woman, had thousands of followers, just like her mother, and her mother before her.”

“Followers?” You ask, furrowing your brow.

Bucky shifts his eyes to Steve before they land back on you, “You’re a direct descendant of Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen of the French quarter.”

Your eyes widen at the words.

“The elder Marie was a very powerful woman, passed down her knowledge and her gift to her daughters who kept her spirit and her craft alive. Marie-Angelie took one look at Steve and knew she could help. So,” Bucky takes a breath, holding it in his chest for a second before he pushes it out, “We made our offerings, appeased the spirits and we had Steve stay with her for the night.”

“She prayed over me all night. Chanted, offered the spirits many gifts, had me drink this potion that she’d made,” Steve says slowly, “I’m not too sure what happened. I just remember waking up and looking like this. It came with conditions of course, one of which she told us about, the other she didn’t.”

“What were they?” you breathe, engrossed in the story.

“The condition we knew about was that Bucky and I had to join the society.” You raise your eyebrows, prompting Steve to smile, “The elder Marie, your great-great-great-great grandmother entered into a pact with Sam’s great-great-great-great grandfather.”

“He was a farmer,” Sam says after he takes a sip of his coffee, taking over the story, “My great-great-great-great granddaddy went to Marie for a little advice and to have her pray for his crops. He was flat broke, about to lose the farm, Louisiana was going through a terrible drought— he offered Marie the last dollar he had in his pocket. His crop came in more bountiful than ever, in fact, it was the only farm that yielded that season. Made him a millionaire overnight. So, in exchange for her prayers, he offered her and her offspring protection. As long as there's a Laveau bloodline, the Wilson’s will watch over them.”

Silence falls over the room as you blink back at Sam, unable to speak. Bucky leans forward, placing his flesh hand over yours and rubs gently as concern fills his blue eyes, “You okay, honey?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you swallow, “Yeah, I, um, so… okay, so Sam, Steve and you are bound to protect me? Because of this society that was formed?”

“Us too,” Andy adds, “My great-great-great-great grandfather, Reginald Barber was a politician, went to Marie for some help around the same time as Sam’s granddad did, and when she fulfilled his request, he also joined.”

“My grandad is a writer, he too ended up joining the society in the early sixties with your grandmother when his first novel blew up.” Ransom says, “Harland Thrombey.”

“Harland Thrombey, the mystery writer, right? I thought he had a daughter?”

“That’s my mom. When I was born, I took her place in the order.”

You lift your eyebrows, nodding your head, “Wow.” you laugh a little, “So, what exactly do you guys do for me?”

“We just keep you safe. Watch over you, try to fulfill all of your… needs.” Sam answers with a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye, “Keep the bloodline going, if need be.”

You squint suddenly as the wheels and gears in your brain turn, “Wait so, this is passed down? From generation to generation?”

“Yes.” Andy answers simply.

“So, that means that all of your fathers, had sex with my mother? Am I.. oh my god,” your hands fly to your face, “Am I related to you one you?”

“No, oh my god!” Ransom recoils, his face screwed up in disgust, “The fuck do you think we are, weirdos? No.”

Steve laughs, rubbing your stomach with his large hand, “Your father is James Rhodes. He’s part of the congregation, the followers of your grandmothers. He was chosen for your mother, just like your partner will be chosen for you.”

You blink, your mind empty, “Chosen?”

“It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation.” Steve nods, “Either way, your partner will be someone who will understand our debt to you and your family. If your partner is indeed someone in the society, that person is then removed, so there’s no impropriety, and someone in the congregation will take his place to keep the society full. Once you’re paired with whoever, we all then have a duty to reproduce so our children can take care of yours— again, with women in the congregation who understand our duty, and so on and so forth.”

You fall back against Steve’s chest, slumping a little at all of the information, “It’s a lot,” Sam reassures, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Insane is what it is, you think, rubbing your forehead with your manicured fingers. Somehow though, it all just kind of makes sense, “You said there was another condition? After you and Bucky went to Louisiana? What was it?”

“Me.” Bucky smiles, leaning back into his seat as his eyes fall into his lap.

You glance back at Steve, “I don’t understand.”

“In order for me to achieve this,” Steve motions towards his body, “Something had to be sacrificed, “The spirits chose Bucky. Some years later, after we joined the army—”

You gasp, covering your mouth again, “When he fell from the train.” You finish for him.

Steve just nods, “I put two and two together after a while. I went back to Marie and told her I was done— I wanted out and I didn’t care what happened to me for it. So I ended up just kind of floating through life. Threw myself into my work and saving the world. I didn’t know at the time that some of my blood had gotten into the hands of the Germans during the war. They studied it— noticed that my enzymes were nearly indestructible. They created the super soldier serum to replicate my strength and healing abilities.”

“Hydra, is what they were called. They found me and started experimenting.” A sad smile covers Bucky’s face. You lean forward, cupping his cheek in your hand and rub your thumb just under his eye. His smile turns upward as he nuzzles into your warm palm, “I’m alright.”

“I got wind of Bucky in the eighties, he had assassinated this researcher, they actually got a picture of him. I had to bring him home,” Steve shrugs, “But he was tricky— elusive. I tracked him for a few years but I couldn’t ever get close, and I knew I only had one option at that point.” Steve rests his lips against your shoulder, brushing them back and forth slowly against your warm skin, “I tracked down your grandmother and your mom for help.”

You feel him smile against you and you turn, throwing your arms around his neck as he continues his story, “You were barely walking when I met you the first time. You were so cute, so little. Even though I was still pissed, you stole my heart as soon as I saw you. You were the only innocence in this craziness.”

A tear slips down your cheek. He wipes it away with his fingers, smiling softly at you as you’re overcome with emotion, “Did you used to read to me?” you ask with a shaky voice, the early, fragmented memories you have of a blonde, blue eyed man suddenly making sense.

“Tamerlane by Edgar Allan Poe was your favorite.” he smiles, “That’s how I knew it was you last night. Poe was your favorite, even back then.”

You hug him tightly and feel hands on your back and shoulders, a pair of lips on the top of your head and the side of your face as Andy, Bucky, Ransom, and Sam crowd around you, “We brought you home now.” Sam voices gently, “We’ll take care of you baby. From now until the end of days.”

You let them soothe you. Let them stroke your hair and whisper their sweet nothings. Let them kiss your skin and wipe away the tears as the sun cutting into the room through the windows washes you in warmth. You lean back after what seems like forever, sniffling gently as Steve brushes those fingers underneath your eyes, “I want to meet my mom.”

“Of course. We’ll take you to her whenever you’re ready. She was supposed to be here but, she couldn’t deal with the heartbreak again if it wasn’t you. She’s been looking for you for so long— they both have.”

You exhale deeply, closing your eyes as you rest your head against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him, “Why was I taken?”

“Somebody sent a tip to the police that your mother was living in a commune—” you feel him tense, his tone going harsh, “Just a nosey ass woman who didn’t have anything better to do with her time. Made up some shit about drug trafficking coming out of the house. It was raided while I was in Europe— they took you, put you up for adoption. I should have been there. I should have protected you.”

“You're protecting me now. That’s all that matters.” You whisper, “But,” your voice drops away as you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Ransom’s massive hand runs up and down your back, “What is it, honey?”

“My sister. My mom and my dad— the people that raised me. I love them.”

“We are not going to take you away from them,” Bucky answers quickly, “They’re a part of you. We understand that.”

“Can’t wait to meet that sister of yours,” Ransom adds, “She seems fun.”

You laugh through the fresh wave of tears that have wetted your face, “She is fun. She has a boyfriend named Peter, he loves you two,” you smile, gesturing towards Steve and Bucky, “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You close your eyes again, your head starting to pound from all of the information that’s been placed at your feet. Your stomach churns and you shiver, causing Steve to tighten his grip, “Let’s lay you down, huh? That was a lot to take in.”

They all follow you and Steve back into the bedroom where you first woke up that morning. You’re stripped naked again, crowded in the middle of their hulky bodies. They let you cry. They let you talk aimlessly. They let you get angry, and then sad, and then content as you work through your sordid history. One by one, their lips are on yours again. Hands dig into your sides and grip your thighs. Languid thrusts, hot breaths, short whimpers, and long cries fill the room as they make love to you over and over.

Your bones are liquid. Your body, your cunt stretched and used— so sore you’re not even sure your limbs are connected anymore. You come, time and time again, from their mouths, their fingers, their wet, hard cocks. You take it all— two of them stuffing you full while a third occupies your mouth, the other two not-so-patiently waiting for their turn at you.

Sleep tugs at you from every angle after a while and you fade in and out as the day drags on. Women come to you in your dreams— the women of your family. They whisper to you, the great secrets of your long lineage. They smile and lay their hands on you, filling you with their spirits, their love.

You’re suddenly at a large body of water—  Bayou St. John. A woman perches by the bank, her hand swishing back and forth in the cool water. You traipse towards her through the tall grass, your feet sinking into the wet ground. You kneel next to her as she sings a native song. She’s wrapped in a red, white, and blue shawl, her eyes sparkling as she turns towards you. She cups your face, running her hand down your cheek and jaw before she reaches into the water and pulls out a large, multicolored fish.

You spring forward, gasping hard and deep as you wake from the vivid dream. You cover your face with your hands as a chill runs down your spine, your forehead covered in a cold sweat. Without thinking, you splay your hand over your stomach as your heart stills. There’s movement behind you— Steve slinks his hand around your middle, settling his hand over your much smaller one.

You peek over your shoulder and he’s staring at you, his lips parted slightly, his blue eyes wide and full of knowing. His words from earlier coming back to you. Your partner will be chosen for you. It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation. You lay back down, curling into him, tracing his nose and jaw, his chin and eyes with your fingers as he blinks back at you.

“Did you see her too?” You breathe. Great-great-great-great grandmother Marie Laveau.

He nods, “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers as Sam, Andy, Ransom, and Bucky all sprawl out around the two of you, “I promise.”

You nod, smiling slowly, “I know.”

You mean it. You know he will— that they all will.

[stressy-enby]

Hello! So here's my request:

The 1-A girls including reader are having a girls night in one of their dorms playing Minecraft (teaching Momo how to play for the first time), giving out study tips, eating snacks and watching movies, etc... When their in a topic about their crushes and reader shyly tells them it is Tenya Iida... While the girls are shocked and ask a lot of questions why iida much to reader whos not really liking the questions, the girls decided to help reader out by setting both iida and reader on a date by grabbing readers phone and texting iida, much to readers protest and what the girls don't know is that the boys are having a boy night at the common room too and doing the exact same thing, helping iida out to finally ask reader on a date.

so yeah, haha that's all and you can add your own ideas there and can this be a oneshot? I also want to see the perspective of iida if that't possible? I hope this is okay? thank you!! ☺

Took a few liberties, included some personal touches, I’m really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too!

Risks

Masterlist

Weekend nights in Heights Alliance were arguably the best. 

Mr. Aizawa was more flexible about curfew on Friday and Saturday nights, so the class took those nights as opportunities to have slumber parties and late night get-togethers. 

This was one such night. You, Ochaco, Tsu, Momo, Toru and Kyoka had gone to Mina’s dorm room with snacks and games in hand. Your hostess had offered up her wide selection of video games and her Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ accounts. Toru had even come through with an impressive assortment of face masks, nail polish, and hair accessories. Needless to say, everyone was more than set for a night of careless fun.

“Wait, how do I craft something?” Mom held her controller out to Kyoka, brows pinched together.

“This button, here,” she took the controller, demonstrating by crafting an axe.

Upon realization that Momo had next to no knowledge of Minecraft, the party had abandoned its Super Smash Bros. tournament in favor of showing her the ropes. You’d vowed to help her make a simple house by the end of the night.

“Pro tip: make sure you collect all the same type of wood.” You suggested, eyes focused on the white stripes you were attempting to paint onto Tsuyu’s light green nails with some success. 

“Yeah, unless it’s on purpose, like if you use a different wood for the roof or floor, it’s just gonna look like you hobbled it together in less than a minute.” Mina agreed, before promptly shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Ochaco gasped playfully, swiping the bowl away. “Don’t eat all of it!”

“I’ll eat whatever I damn well please!” Mina retorted, making a grab for the snack as Ochaco floated it over to Toru.

“Okay guys, I can’t take it anymore.” The invisible girl grabbed the bowl out of the air. “We’re all together, hanging out with zero stress for the first time in months! Does anyone have anything juicy to share? Someone’s gotta have something!”

Kyoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t come to gossip.”

“This class is a pretty tight-knit group, ribbit. Nothing really happens that we don’t all know about.” Tsu pointed out.

“Okay then. Crushes.” Mina prompted.

“What about them?” Momo asked.

“Who’s got ‘em?”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed how a few pairs of eyes flicked to Ochaco, who had gonna very red and very quiet. You sighed, musing to yourself about the things you did for friendship.

“I, uh, I kinda like Iida?”

You hated how you phrased it like a question. You hated how you mitigated the confession with the word “kinda”. You hated that silly, totally inadequate word “like”. Your feelings for Iida went beyond a simple crush. You’d had them for him for months now, you were long past the “like” phase. You were head-over-heels in love.

Toru gasped dramatically. “Really? Iida?”

Ochaco smiled at you, gratitude evident in her eyes. “You two would make a sweet couple.”

“What do you like about him?” Mina asked excitedly. “When did you fall for him? Are you gonna confess?”

“Take it easy,” Kyoka chuckled lightly.

You also laughed, albeit uneasily. You were beginning to regret not keeping your mouth shut. “Okay, I’ll take those one at a time. He’s kind and attentive, and he’s very loyal. I think I realized that I liked him a few weeks after the sports fest, and absolutely not.”

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Momo asked, pursing her lips. “I think he’d appreciate the honesty.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wanna make things weird between us or potentially ruin our friendship.” You explained “I don’t wanna jeopardize what we have now by confessing.”

“Plus, Iida doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s want to date someone, ribbit.” Tsu put in, examining her newly painted nails. “He’s very serious. He’d probably see it as a distraction, these are really pretty, (Y/N), thank you.”

You smiled weakly at your frog-like friend as Toru threw a piece of popcorn at her head. “Tsu!”

“No, she’s right.” You sighed heavily, motioning for the popcorn bowl, intending to drown your sorrows and maybe yourself in it.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Momo patted your back sympathetically as she passed the bowl down. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it is.”

You hummed in agreement as you shoveled the snack into your mouth. “Whatever. It sucks, bur I’ll get over it.”

“Like hell you will!” Mina snapped “Ochaco: our romantically challenged friend’s phone, if you please?”

Ochaco dutifully and bemusedly took your phone from Mina’s bedside table and handed it over to her.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, suddenly on high alert.

You were ignored. Mina instead took your hand, and placed your thumb over the home button on your phone, unlocking it.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Kyoka asked.

“Texting Iida.”

It took you a few seconds to process her words and what they meant. Once you had, though, you made a sudden grab for the phone. “Oh no you’re not!”

“Chillax, I’m not gonna send him anything embarrassing.” Mina swatted your hand away as she scooted safely out of your reach. “I’m just gonna suggest that you two go out sometime and heavily imply that it’ll be a date.”

“Now hold on,” Momo cut in, setting down her controller. “We shouldn’t be interfering. This is between (Y/N) and Iida.”

“Yeah, if (Y/N) wants to ask him out, they’ll do it themselves, ribbit.” Tsu chimed in.

Mina sighed, slumping. “I know you’re both right, but I can’t just let them wallow! Iida really likes you, (Y/N)!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised both eyebrows.

“Yeah! He’s a lot softer with you then with anyone else!”

“He does tend to let you get away with things,” Kyoka admitted. “Remember the other day when you were sitting on your desk? The guy didn’t even bat an eye.”

“He also seems like he talks to you more than he does the rest of us!” Toru pointed out.

“Plus he worries about you more than the rest of us!” Ochaco added on.

“He looks more relaxed around you.” Tsuyu threw in.

“Sometimes when we have class representative meetings, he’ll offhandedly mention you.” Momo reported thoughtfully. “He’ll tell me about something you said or did that he found funny or endearing. It’s actually pretty adorable the way he talks about you. It’s like his whole face lights up.”

You were quiet for a very long moment. It was too good to be true. You liked playing it safe. You kept your cards close to your chest until you were absolutely sure you had the wining hand. And if you’d learnt anything in your hero education, it was that sometimes you needed to take a risk.

“Can I have my phone, please?”

Mina tossed it to you. Without another word, you navigated to your messages, and typed something out quickly. Before you could reconsider, you took a risk.

You hit send.

. . . 

This isn’t actually all that bad.

When Kirishima and Kaminari had suggested a “boys’ night”, Tenya had been apprehensive at best. He was all for class bonding activities, but what was the point if it was only a fraction of their group?

“(L/N) and the girls are having a sleepover, so we may as well something ourselves.” Sero had pointed out.

Despite his skepticism, Tenya found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. After admitting he’d never seen a Marvel movie, Midoriya had immediately logged the common room TV into his Disney+ account and began the first ever 1-A Marvel movie marathon.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to watch Age of Ultron?” Ojiro groaned “That one sucks.”

“Yeah, but at some point I’m going to make Iida watch Wandavision.” Midoriya replied “Ultron is important to understanding it, sucky as it may be.”

“That’s not gonna be for a while if we’re watching every single Marvel movie, though.” Sato chuckled. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need more than one night for this shit,” Kaminari chortled “Wandavision not withstanding.”

Tenya smiled, not quite following but listening all the same. He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(L/N): Random question. Want to go out and get dinner tomorrow, just the two of us?

It was indeed a random question. He had no qualms about spending time with (L/N) though. Even if it was just the two us them. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Tenya quickly shook the thought away though, feeling he’s cheeks flare.

Me: That would be great! Do  you have a time and place in mind?

(L/N): Would 6 be ok? As for the place… would you be up for a surprise?

Tenya hesitated. Usually he’s say no. He liked everything to be perfectly planed to a T. But something about (L/N) made him want to be spontaneous. They made him want to take risks. So he decided to do precisely that. He threw caution into the wind as he sent his response.

Me: 6 is more than ok, and I’m always up for a surprise if it’s with you.

Tenya cringed immediately after hitting send. The instant regret was crushing and depressing. He wished he could be honest about his feelings, about (L/N) without overthinking every move he made.

Oh well. What’s done is done. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, praying you wouldn’t respond. However, his plea went ignored a minute later when he felt his phone vibrate yet again.

Biting back a groan, Tenya opened his texts, inwardly bracing himself.

(L/N): Awesome! I’ll meet you at 6 in the common room tomorrow, then. Can’t wait! ❤️

He gaped. That tiny red emoji wormed not his brain and burned itself behind his eyes until that was all he could see. He barely even registered the rest of the message.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Iida?” Kaminari, never one to understand personal space, leaned over to glance at the class rep’s phone phone before he could angle it away. “You sly little- IIDA HAS A DATE!”

“No I- that’s not- Kaminari!” Tenya sputtered incoherently, arms flailing. “That was entirely inappropriate. You shouldn’t look at other people’s devices without their permission. It’s rude, demeaning, and an invasion of privacy!”

“Forget that, what’s this about a date?” Sero leaned in on Kaminari’s other side.

“Iida and (L/N) were texting,” Kaminari announced “They asked him out to dinner, he said yes, and they send a heart emoji.”

“What color?” Aoyama demanded, squinting.

“Red.”

“Oh my,” Aoyama leaned back in his seat, a coy smirk playing across his lips.

Sero chuckled, leaning across Kaminari’s lap to pat Tenya on the arm. “You lucky bastard.”

The blue haired boy brushed his hand away, bristling. “Not that my personal activities are any of your concern, but it’s not a date. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t think many people go out one-on-one for dinner if it’s platonic.” Midoriya pointed out. 

“Yeah, plus, that emoji says a lot.” Kirishima added “(L/N) clearly means this to be a date. If you don’t feel the same way about them, you need to tell them.”

“You don’t want to go on a date with (L/N)?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow “I would’ve thought you’d be happy for an opportunity like that.”

“See! Even Todoroki can see you’ve got it bad for them!” Sato exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the confused heterochromic boy.

Tenya ignored his overly-excited classmates. He flipped back through his conversation with (L/N), staring at every text until he’d inadvertently memorized them all.

Me: Is this a date?

. . .

“So much for subtly, I guess.” Kyoka remarked.

“Subtly gets you nowhere with Iida!” Ochaco insisted “You have to be upfront with him!”

“But I sent him a heart,” You groaned for the fourth time.

“Well, there’s no sense in bemoaning it now.” Momo reasoned.

“It was a calculated risk.” Toru admitted, an undercut of worry in her voice.

“A risk, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly “I seem to be taking a lot of those tonight.”

Ding!

Seven pairs of eyes darted to your overturned phone at the same moment. No one moved an inch.

“Well,” Tsu nudged you “are you going to look at it?”

You gulped, shakily taking the device. The girl’s gathered around you. As you opened your text messages.

Iida: Is this a date?

“No backing down now!” Ochaco squealed, gripping your shoulders tightly and shaking you.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Mina bounced on her knees like it was a sporting event.

You took a deep breath, then texted back.

. . .

(L/N): That was the idea, lol. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, tho

Tenya pursed his lips, showing the response to Midoriya.

“C’mon, Iida.” His friend chuckled lightly “Just tell them the truth.”

The truth. He did want it to be a date, but a simple “I want to go on a date with you” didn’t seem sufficient. It wouldn’t do justice to how he really felt.

Tenya had already taken a risk tonight, so what was one more? But knowing what he now knew about your feelings, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

Me: I’d love nothing more than to go on a date with you, (L/N). Truth be told, I’ve wanted to for a while now, I just haven’t had the courage to ask you myself. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ❤️

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 297: We’re Bustin’ Outta This Joint

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi did his best to undo all of the good vibes from the Girl Power arc by killing off Midnight. It sucks and I still don’t like it, but it is what it is. Unfortunately, Not Killing Off Your One Female Teacher Character With Any Character Development was worth 30% of his grade for the semester, so it brought his average down all the way to a C-, and so he and his report card will just have to live with that. Meanwhile Ochako did some rescuing, and the other U.A. kids lay around unconscious and/or traumatized. The chapter ended with an abrupt cut to Tartarus, where AFO is apparently just chilling and waiting for the Nearly High Ends to come bust him free. What kind of a cliffhanger is that to leave your fans hanging on for three whole weeks. Who’s suffering more here, the characters or the readers.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “okay I know you all want to know what happens to Deku and Shouto and the rest, but have you considered finding out what happens to Overhaul and Muscular and Moonfish and New Girl Character instead?” Fandom is all, “you had us at New Girl Character.” Seiji’s dad is all, “I’m just going to say a bunch of stuff to help make sure none of the readers feel conflicted about cheering on a bunch of mass murderers escaping from prison.” Tomura is all, “dammit AFO why are you still here.” AFO is all, “shhh, Tomura, go back to sleep.” Tomura is all, “wtf but you’re literally hijacking my body and continuing to shred it to bits while we break into BnHA Alcatraz to recruit your own personal Suicide Squad.” AFO is all, “:).” Real!AFO is all, “HERE I AM, EVERYONE, SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.” And then the chapter ends. Geez.

oh shit lol it’s a whole big fucking page all about Tartarus

my very first thought was “that’s a long-ass fucking bridge”, and then I went to go google “longest bridges”, and Wikipedia was all “son there are literally a hundred and fifty bridges in the real world longer than 5km, and the longest one is actually 165km”, and I was all “oh shit I really don’t know jack shit about bridges.” then I looked at the list for a few more minutes and realized that the super-long bridges were all built over land, and that the longest bridge over water is only 38km. which is way more reasonable, but also still really fucking long though?? ngl I would freak the fuck out on that bridge. what does any of this have to do with Tartarus you ask?? absolutely nothing, I literally forgot I was reading a chapter for a sec lol uh

anyway, my parting thought on the bridge is that it kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a giant island fortress prison, but whatever. moving on

and the six levels thing is straight out of One Piece lol. something tells me BnHA’s prison break arc isn’t going to be quite as fun. hmm

so now we’re cutting to “the Bronze Gate”, which is the main entrance off of the bridge, and some goat-looking motherfucker is out here trying to become my new favorite character. bro

SON OF A BITCH WHAT’S WITH THE BULLETS FLYING IN THE BACKGROUND. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE SHOOTING AT GYGES. THEY CAN’T KILL OFF MY FRESHEST HOMIE GYGES. SURELY THEY WOULDN’T

ooh and now, giant robots!

giant robots with machine guns. “I’m very sorry I killed off Midnight, makeste” you know what, fuck you Horikoshi. thinking you can buy my affections back so easily

does Gyges have six arms??? look how fucking calm he is announcing the code red security lockdown, holy shit. GYGES

NOOOO

NO NOT BRIAREUS. THIS DAY EXACTS A HEAVY TOLL

YO, WHAT

he came there himself?? so much for making the Noumus do his dirty work. and based on the speech bubble shape and font, this is still AFO talking

uh oh what’s happening

is he using Decay or is his arm just sort of crumbling to pieces because he hasn’t had time to heal up yet? if it’s the former this prison break is going to set a record for shortest arc yet isn’t it

now we’re cutting to B10 which is apparently the lowest level. but do they mean lowest as in the least security, or lowest as in the deepest underground, a.k.a. the most security? idk it’s confusing and I think they should be more specific. is it B like in basement?? are there six levels or ten?? stupid Tartarus

anyway so the guards are talking about how Gigantomachia is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning. heh. will there even be a Tartarus tomorrow morning

(ETA: WELL, UH.)

wow they’re talking about just killing him outright. damn

I kinda feel like “prison guard” is one of those jobs that just sort of naturally attracts shitty people. anyways yeah, Seiji your dad is a real piece of work

and he’s even doubling down on it after the other guy repeatedly keeps trying to hush him up. dude we get it, you’re an asshole

ooh and now we’re getting an interesting look at the various prisoners, some of whom look suspiciously familiar!

for starters, that’s definitely Moonfish in the upper left corner, I’m like 99% sure. not quite clear who that is across from him in the upper right, but it’s been a hot minute since we saw Muscular, so maybe?

and could that be Overhaul in the panel beneath him?? they’re not showing his face so I assume it’s someone we’d recognize, and he’s the only currently-incarcerated villain with that haircut as far as I can recall. though it seems weird that he’s not restrained more given his quirk. I thought Horikoshi mentioned in Ultra Analysis that he’d gotten it back somehow. eh well we will wait for answers

I don’t recognize the person to his left either (though she has an oddly familiar look to her?). but the person on the bottom right, next to Kurogiri... is it Stain?? the hair and body language are sure giving off Stain vibes. if someone had told the me from two years ago that I’d actually be excited to see Stain again I would have said you were full of shit. and yet here we are. these sure are interesting times

anyway so now the Code Red intruder alarm is blaring. and I gotta say, that one scene sure was effective at killing any sympathy I might have been inclined to feel for these guards lol. bring on the imminent massacre

“what horrible timing” lol yes. it’s almost as if they planned it that way

uh oh

is he omae wa shindeiruing. watch your six, Mr. Prison Guard

oh shit

WHAT DID I SAY. WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY. but nooo, you all were all, “but a bridge is more convenient!” VERY WELL THEN, LIE IN THE BED THAT YOU HAVE MADE

anyway so it’s the High Ends lol. I mean we already knew it was them. let’s just get on with it

omfg Tomura ARE YOU RIDING ONE

WHAT ARE YOU, A NAZGUL. WHY IS THIS MY FAVORITE THING

and it looks like it actually is Tomura again, too (as opposed to AFOmura)

-- is he using Decay on himself?? is that what it is?? or no wait, is this just more of the weird side effect shit that’s been happening since he Awakened. actually yeah never mind that’s clearly what it is

y’all this man is out here having a full blown argument with himself

so this is equal parts compelling and hilarious to me right now lol. like I feel so bad for Tomura, but I also lowkey want to see how far this escalates. like do you think he’d go as far as to punch himself in the face. where will this journey lead us

fucking look at this shit

other people have already mentioned this, but with this scene especially it makes me really curious how they’re going to show this in the anime. will it be AFO’s voice coming out of Tomura’s mouth? or Tomura’s voice using AFO’s speech patterns? more importantly, will it be cool and dramatic, or will it actually wind up being hilarious? or both?? never count out both

also he’s looking pretty good there in that bottom panel with his one eye just barely visible. that doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but here I am, pointing it out

also also, lol at Tomura being all, “the fuck do you mean, ‘rest’, you’re the one that dragged my body out here to raid a fucking prison,” and AFO being all, “oh yeah, lol, true true, but I meant rest after that.” yes, this man clearly has nothing but the purest intentions, Tomura. trustworthy af

this fucking guy. Tomura is your bullshit radar finally operational yet?? can you see yet that it was always his intention to use you right from the very start?? oh man I am starting to get fidgety now listening to this

so Tomura’s saying he doesn’t just want to be used as a chess piece. and AFO is all, “well okay but what if it’s a VERY NICE AND IMPORTANT chess piece.” bro DID HE STUTTER

-- AHH BUT NEVER MIND THAT, HERE IT IS, THIS IS WHERE THE FUN STARTS OMG

GO ON AND ACQUIRE THEM THEN! omg. why am I so fucking excited. it seriously makes no sense. like seriously, ‘hooray, our old buddies, Overhaul and Stain!!’ -- come again now?? who is this person that I have become

meanwhile AFO is making all this fuss and I really don’t understand it though

why would you need to plow directly through the building. why can’t you just use doors like a normal person. it’s not like they can lock you out, like hello, you can literally turn anything you touch into dust, what’s with all the melodrama

anyway so he’s apparently hitting the prison with some sort of EMP attack now and shutting down all their systems

omg the suspense is killing me. this is going to be so badass once it’s animated, but right now all I keep thinking is “YES, GREAT, CAN WE PLEASE JUST MOVE IT ALONG”

the doors are opening ahhhhhhh come on come on come on let’s go let’s get to the excitement already

now the guards are running over to try and regain control. but, like

yeah that’s pretty much how I’m expecting the rest of this to go basically

so now they’re shooting at the dust cloud lol. well if there’s one thing movies have taught me, it’s that bad guys who wait inside clouds of dust while panicked cops blindly rain bullets at them until they run out of ammo are basically invincible lol. soooooo

OHHHHH SHIT

AHAHAHAHAHAHA. THEY ARE SO FUCKED LOL, SHIT

YEP, AND HERE’S ANOTHER ONE

is this the first time we’ve seen Moonfish’s face? I feel like we might have caught a glimpse of it before on an omake page or something. either way, it wasn’t anything I actually needed to see again. thanks...?? I guess??

okay but seriously, are we supposed to actually know who this badass lady is?? like I don’t know her but I feel like I know her, you feel?

(ETA: lol there are already like 60 different theories about how she’s related to every single character in the series. will be interesting to see if anything comes of this. although we did just get three “this villain was secretly related to [insert character(s) here] all along” reveals just in the last arc, so idk, it might be better if we pass on it this time lol.)

girl who are you. please stick around. for the love of god don’t let this man kill you off too

????

wait so is this Overhaul? boy sure has seen better days huh. but the floppy sleeves... yeah, it’s gotta be him

anyway so then the only ones missing are Stain and Kurogiri, yes?? omg. and one page left to go

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO CONVINCE ME HE COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS SHIT RIGHT FROM THE VERY BEGINNING. FUCKING TIME-BIDING DRAMA QUEEN

AND HE’S JUST FLOATING HIS LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM ALONG BEHIND HIM SOB. THIS FUCKING GUY

AND IS HE JUST ABSENTMINDEDLY DRAGGING SOME POOR SCHLUB’S CORPSE ALONG BESIDE HIM LIKE A SLEEPY TODDLER CARRYING THEIR TEDDY BEAR. I FUCKING CAN’T. REST IN PEACE, FRIEND. GIVE MY REGARDS TO GOOD OLD BRIAREUS

so that’s it! and we still don’t have any idea what AFO is actually planning to do now, after all of that. are they going to merge bodies?? or is he going to try to switch with him?? either way Tomura’s body has to be part of the plan somehow since he keeps making so much of a fuss over it. flkhglkhlk. dammit I need answers lol