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ohimsummer · 5 months

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BAD HABIT ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

— minors dni, perverted!+bully! satosugu, uh light fluff? (mostly in the bonus?), mostly satoru x reader, fantasizing about smut (gojo), prob inaccurate college rep idc <3, pet names (princess, darling), explicit language, suggestive comments, some recording/photography, one mention of blackmail

summary; suffering exhaustion beneath a pile of college projects and exams wasn’t enough, now you’re stuck tutoring the most annoying men in the world. couldn’t hurt to take a little nap during it

wc 3.1k ??

The last few weeks have been long, nerve-wracking. It seems all your professors have co-conspired together to drop some kind of test or project, all worth a large portion of the grade and all due in the next month. Your nightly 8 hours of sleep have dwindled to a measly four, and of course, to top it all off, now your Bio Chem teacher has donned you the responsibility of tutoring Gojo and Geto indefinitely.

They had to have something to do with this, you just know it. Call it a wild hunch but there’s no way, of all the people in that class, a lot of which have higher grades than yours, that the professor would ask you to tutor Gojo and Geto. Maybe they slipped a few hundreds in the teacher’s hand or appealed to his emotions. Knowing the theatrics of Gojo, he probably gave the man big, puppy-dog eyes and crocodile tears during his fake pleas of ‘please, sir, we really want to pass this class!’.

A light knock on your door drags you out of your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of a white-haired pest. “Knock, knock!”

You’ve been dreading 5PM since yesterday, the time they, and reluctantly you, had agreed on. Demanding they come to your dorm was akin to putting acid on your tongue, but going over to theirs like Geto’d offered would be like walking into the lion’s den.

They await you within the hall, and Gojo perks up immediately at the sight of you. He unwraps himself from Geto’s shoulders, and your suspicions that they don’t really need your knowledge only grow when you notice they’re both empty-handed, not a book or worksheet or even a flash card in sight. Though you can’t dwell on it for too long as Gojo’s immediately barging into the room.

“Princess, good to see ya!,” comes his boisterous greeting. “Nice place ya got here.” Entwined in his teasing compliment is a conniving tone; Gojo examines the various pink decor of your bedroom. “Should come by more often.”

“Negative.,” you snap with furrowed brows, terse and patience already wearing thin at Geto’s languid pace through the door.

He nears Gojo to study the photo album adorning your tack board, leaving you to prepare by getting out the needed textbooks. You ignore their childish whispers, giggles, points at the various pictures that contain you and your friends, though it causes a bout of unease to settle in your stomach. Hopping onto the tall bed, you scoot until your back’s to the wall, placing down a recently-made stack of notes and the class’s assigned textbooks. It’s a short hunt for the page you desire, somewhere lost in the middle because this professor jumped from subject to subject so often.

You clear your throat to signal it’s time to begin. “Okay. So–“

Already you’re off to a bad start as the textbook disappears from your grasp, now suspended above Gojo’s head, far out of your reach. “This looks super bo-oring!”

You spring away from the sheets, landing with a soft ‘thud’ and instantly move to crush his feet, or kick his knees in, or have him hunched over with a punch to the stomach, but your movements are halted by Geto’s sudden grasp on your waist. Head jerking to the side, you shoot him your deadliest stare, nails steadily sinking into his unfortunately clothed forearms.

“Let go.,” you bark and he doesn’t move a muscle.

“Pft. Aren’t you adorable?,” he murmurs into your neck, tone bathed in condescension. “Just relax, he’s joking.” Against your wriggling and squirming, Geto backsteps to the shiny wooden desk in your room, still clinging to your waist. “Have a seat, it’d do you some good to calm down a little.”

And before you know it, he’s descending into the cool comfort of your chair, dragging you with him to rest in his lap. Gojo slams the book shut and approaches your restrained, restless form, grinning wildly the whole time. He pushes you back to recline atop his friend, thoroughly amused at your continuous flailing. A round of delighted laughter leaves Gojo’s lips, especially at the childish kick of your legs that don’t reach the floor from your position.

“Would you let fucking go of me?,” you huff between grunts, only to be met with Geto’s thoughtful hum.

“I might when you relax.,” he finally speaks.

You twist around in Geto’s lap to jab an enraged finger at his broad chest, a disdainful scowl painted across your features. “Did you two come here to play, or did you come here to learn?”

Gojo reaches out to ruffle your hair, smirking when you slap his hand away. The book precariously wobbling on his fingertips begins to fall, caught by him at the last minute before it hits the floor. “Can’t we do a little bit of both?”

Your toes brush the rug as you scramble forward in Geto’s lap, promptly ignoring the growing hardness you feel on your behind. “If you two aren’t gonna take this seriously then get out of my room.”

Geto chuckles as Gojo heaves out a loud sigh, and holds the textbook out to you. “Fine, jeez, you’re such a little buzzkill.”

You leap up from Geto’s lap and snatch it back. “Shut the hell up and sit down.”

Tension seeps away as they obey without question. Geto claims your swiveling desk chair as Gojo flops down on the huge, pink carpet covering majority of the floor, and you settle back onto the bed, flip again to the designated page and begin going over your plans for today’s tutoring session. You can feel two pairs of eyes burning into you, but opt to just concentrate on dumbing down the material for them.

Gojo zones out immediately as you dive into the information. Ocean blue eyes catch onto the curves and dips of your body and admire the cute loungewear you have on. Snug, white shorts that hug your skin and ride up the crease of your plush thighs. He studies the curve of your ass long enough to realize he can spot pink panties barely showing through the translucent fabric. With the way you’re sitting, knees midway pulled to your chest, Gojo can see the outline of your pussy, and blood rushes to his dick as his mind goes haywire. Gojo visualizes a different scenario, one where he spikes that stupid textbook into the floor and fucks you senseless. He can imagine perfectly the look on your face as he pins you to a mattress, voice wavering through false bravado as you whine through plump lips at him to move. Complaining even though your rounded thighs are rubbing together to ease the ache of your cunt, a damp spot forming in the crotch of your shorts as Gojo peppers kisses along your neck. The view of your beautiful tits with perked nipples rubbing against his chest and driving Gojo insane until he rips the thin layers off, both the panties and shorts together to leave your glistening pussy bare for him, ready to be ravaged and abused by his cock–

“Gojo.” He hears his name, but it’s like someone calling him underwater. “Gojo.”

A sharp kick in the ribs and he’s at full attention. Geto snickers at him, still swiveling back and forward in the leather chair, and Gojo looks over to meet your sharp dagger of a glare over the textbook.

“It’d be nice if you could focus on me and not waste my time.,” you sigh in utter annoyance.

Gojo grins that boyish smile, one that makes you want slap it off his face but maybe also makes your heart stutter a tad. “Oh-ho, babe, I‘m always focused on you.”

His statement brings a warmth to your cheeks, but you’re an expert at pretending around Satoru Gojo. Rolling your eyes, you huff and backtrack on a couple paragraphs in an effort to catch him up. Less distractions for him to latch on to.

“I think I’d focus more if I wasn’t so lonely down here.,” he interrupts to sulk in your direction.

The look you give is like one a mother gives a disobeying child. “Okay? No one told you to sit down there.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, especially since Gojo perks up at the sentence. “Oh, inviting me to sit on the throne with you, princess?”

Eyes widening in disbelief, you try to sputter out a ‘no!’, but Gojo’s already sprung up and leaping into bed next to you. “No takebacks!”

You frown, brows knitted as he gets a little too comfy, squishing your favorite stuffed animal in his arms and blinking a wide-eyed look at you. Geto eyes you two and continues slow swirls in the chair, getting slightly dizzier with each rotation, but at least he’s actually been taking in the information you’ve explained. Not that he needs your tutoring, he’s up there with you as one of the top students in this particular class. But it’s hard not to read your lips when he’s been shamelessly ogling them the past ten minutes.

Sighing in defeat, you allow Gojo to curl up next to you. It’s easy to feign his attention and he pretends to read over your shoulder, though his mind is anywhere but in this textbook. If anything, this was far worse. Being in such close proximity, your alluring scent threatens to drag him deeper into your space. Instead of focusing on your body or, you know, the material, now all Gojo can concentrate on is pinpointing the ingredients of your shampoo. It’s so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue…vanilla? Maybe, but he can also catch hints of strawberry in there somewhere. Perhaps if he was a little closer…

“Can you back off a little?,” you snap at him. “Damn, you’re almost on top of me.”

Gojo smirks. “I can be actually on top of y-“

“Anyways you two can look over this.,” you ignore his flirtatiousness and stand up to get away from him. “Since you apparently know this more than me. I don’t even get why y’all asked for tutoring if you weren’t gonna listen.”

And before Gojo can object, you teeter towards the edge of the bed, land on the soft rug, and head towards the mini fridge for a much-needed drink of water. It’s bad enough you were asked to tutor them when they clearly don’t care for it, but for them to actually come and then waste your time, too? Egregious. You have half a mind to kick both of them out and tell the professor they don’t need anyone’s damn help, much less yours.

You bend over for a cold water bottle, and in the few seconds it takes you to grab it, you swear you hear the faint sound of a camera click behind you. Quiet noises follow after, almost like they’re trying to have a conversation without you noticing, but it’s silent as you turn around to continue the lesson. They’re so fucking weird. Whatever.

Drawing near the bed, you steady a hand and make ready to hop back into place, only for a strong pair of hands to hoist you up and set you on the edge. You let out a soft ‘oh!’, sincerely taken aback, and turn to look at Gojo, who’s readjusting back into his original spot like nothing has happened.

“What?,” he asks. Something about the nonchalant upturn of his lips is different than his usual smirk. Something more genuine and less smug.

Doubt clouds your vision, tugs the corners of your lips down as you glance between him and Geto, who’s halted his endless chair twirling to give a curious tilt of his head. They eye eachother, and then you again; Geto has the smallest smile, seemingly unassuming but you’re skeptical of it nonetheless.

“Nothing.,” you decide to dismiss it because you’d only be setting yourself up for failure trying to explain why it was a problem. Besides, addressing it would only serve to fuel Gojo’s numerous efforts to throw everything off track. Maybe he was seriously just trying to help. Fine, no big deal.

You awkwardly flounder backwards, making sure to put a few more inches of space between you and Gojo. All to no avail since the second you settle your laptop upon your bare thighs, he instantly closes the gap. The radiating heat of his body sends warmth throughout your skin, exhaustion catching up to pierce through your bones, and you find yourself wanting to swaddle up within blankets and go to sleep.

“The professor has a few study guides on the website.,” you yawn, keys clicking beneath your fingers until the aforementioned pdf file is loading down the screen. “Hundreds of questions but a lot of this stuff will be on the final, so it’d be helpful to study it all.”

Your eyelids flutter, and next is Gojo’s low voice in your ear. “Tired, princess? I thought you were supposed to be teaching us.”

His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin, and you suddenly notice how cold this room is. “Fuck off.,” you mutter, shortly followed up by both their chuckling.

“Told you to relax.,” Geto voices in the most ‘told ya so’ tone ever. “Get some rest, we can take it from here, and we’ll wake you if we need something.”

It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, but…you can’t help succumbing to a little nap. The past several days have worn you thin, and despite not trusting these two to find a drunk in a bar, let alone have unsupervised access to your room, the promise of a little sleep is tempting. You are exhausted so, against your better judgement, you bank on the fact that they have the potential of grown, mature men who won’t get up to something nefarious while you rest your eyes for a little. Surely it couldn’t hurt to put the slightest amount of trust in them, and you allow your vision to fade.

During your catnap, you have the poor luck to dream of school. Studying, finals, projects, classes, anything related to college, you conjured up an even more miserable version of it in your dream state. Though in one dream you cuddle that stuffed animal Satoru grabbed from your bed, so that’s a plus. In the dream it’s warm, snuggly, fuzzy. You smother it in your arms, bury your face into it to inhale the smell of it, a scent you’re infatuated with. You vaguely recognize it in your sleep, it smells so much like…

You awake to the jostling of your shoulders. Someone, two people actually, are talking, maybe to you? What are your whereabouts, actually?

“Ah, there she is!” The familiar voice sounds vague and foggy, loud but far away. “Have a good nap, princess?”

Harsh light beams into your eyes, tampering with the return of your sight. You hover a hand over your forehead to shield your face, peering around in a hope to get your bearings.

“I think she’s still half-asleep.,” another voice whispers, and then says louder, “Take your time, darling.”

Everything is bleary, but you can just make out the details of your room. There’s your fridge over on the opposite wall, the lamp on your desk, speaking of which, who’s in your chair? You start to sit up, wondering in the back of your mind when you laid down to begin with, utterly bewildered when you feel something, a hand, firm and warm on the bare skin of your hip. Pink bedsheets, white dorm walls, your legs, someone else’s legs stretched out beside yours…A chuckle rings somewhere to your right as you gape at these seemingly disembodied legs. Your gaze trails up to see they’re attached to a waist, a chest, a pair of arms, and then your eyes fall on the face.

“G–!”, you hesitate, stumbling backwards away from Gojo who laughs maniacally. “Get off me, Gojo!”

He scoffs, Geto huffs a laugh somewhere in the room. “You were the one laying all up under me, actually.”

“I was not!”

“You so were,” he argues, giddiness in his voice. “You were allll over me, baby. Hugging my arm, rubbing my chest, all of it. Wanna see the video?”

You gasp out, “Vi–? Video?”

Gojo fiddles around on his phone. “Yeah, check it out, sweet cheeks!”

He holds the phone out to you, and a large, empty feeling plummets to the bottom of your stomach. You, spooning him, a betraying smile spread on your lips as you nuzzle Gojo’s chest, completely oblivious to your surroundings. His hand snaked around your waist, fingers occasionally playing with the hem of your shirt or ducking beneath to pinch your hips. You whine when he does so, and in the video you see the stutter of his body, hear traces of his quiet laughter. The phone currently shakes in Gojo’s grasp from his endless giggling.

“Delete it!,” you stammer in complete disbelief. “Pervert!”

“Pervert?,” Gojo repeats your accusation. “You’re the one feeling me up in the video!”

“Get y’all’s asses out of my room!,” you shout at them, leaping to the floor to immediately escort them out. “Both of you, now!”

Gojo glares, huffs, and does his signature pout, all the while Geto chuckles hysterically behind his palm. “How rude of my tutor to kick me out after falling asleep during the session on top of trying to seduce me!”

Geto chimes in before you can tell his friend to shut the fuck up. “Surely you can spare a few minutes to make up for that time?”

“No.,” you say bluntly. “Out.”

You watch in disapproval as they grab their things, foot tapping impatiently the whole time as you hold the door wide open for them to leave through. They take their time, eventually prompting you to just start shoving them out into the hall.

“So, same time tomorrow?,” Geto teases, stumbling through the doorway.

You grimace, giving them both a last push out of your room. “Absolutely not-“

“And get some rest too, while you’re at it.,” Gojo bids you farewell with one last aggravating comment.

“Whatever.,” and you slam the door in their faces, Satoru poking his tongue out at you with a wink.

bonus!

— It’s the early hours of the morning. Geto has long since passed out, but Satoru can’t seem to get a wink of sleep. The video replays in his mind, and he tries desperately to imagine the sensation of your body laying against him. No teasing, no sex, no filthy, perverted thoughts. Just the feeling of your head on his chest again, limbs haphazardly wrapped around him. The even sounds of your breathing, warm breath brushing over his collar. Such an adorable, peaceful look on your face when you’re not glaring at him and spouting insults in a rage. Yeah, he told Geto he was taking pictures and a video as some kind of future blackmail, but, truth be told, Satoru really just wanted them all for himself.

#bully!satosugu #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #satosugu x reader

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

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Astarion & Scratch: Compromising for Tav Affection

This idea is entirely from @nairil-daeris and it's so cute!

Despite what some may have believed, Astarion wasn't that against associating with animals. He was actually a fan of a few of them, cats mainly considering their penance for cleanliness and independence. Not to mention they were admittedly adorable. And stood as the one type of beast that Astarion never feasted upon.

So no, he didn't hate animals in principle. He only hated a select few, with reason. Like the type that could rip him apart with their claws and fangs. Or the ones that thought that rolling around in their own filth was a worthwhile pastime. All and all, creatures that Astarion didn't have to deal with on the regular. Or at least not until now.

But here he was, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, with his ragtag group of merry weirdos. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his own acceptance into your little group. He did, immensely. By the look of things out here in this hellscape, he probably would have been murdered ten times over if he had remained alone. Or gods forbid, become a goblin's chew toy.

So while he had no intentions of leaving, he was still frustrated. Especially with the pretty little druid that quickly became their de facto leader. Astarion had been vaguely aware that druids had an intense love for nature and all of its creatures. But that hadn't prepared him for how unreasonable that love could be. It felt as though you would take literally every opportunity you had to speak to any lowly pest on the side of the road.

Not to mention your insistence on taking care of a damned owlbear cub, which was an objectively stupid thing to do. Something that he should have fought you on harder but... he wasn't made of stone. The thing was objectively adorable. Even if it was almost certainly destined to grow up and try to kill you all, Astarion kept his mouth mostly shut.

But then came the dog. That god-damned dog. How a singular mutt could make his life so damn difficult, Astarion wasn't sure. But he did know that he was trying to enact a well-thought out plan. Seduce you, foster a protective affection that was strong enough for you to always want him alive, perhaps use you to defeat Cazador if the parasites proved strong enough, and then effectively abandon you for a new life of freedom.

It was all very simple, and he had gotten a great head start. You had spent the last few weeks flirting with each other, always staying close. You gravitated towards each other, a fact that felt more natural than Astarion would have liked. But... he had found himself enjoying his time with you, genuinely. Not that it mattered, but it was definitely a plus for his plan. Being with you was far from unbearable. You were attractive, sweet, a little angel just begging to be corrupted. A job that Astarion was growing excited to start.

He had been so, so close to fully propositioning you, completely confident that you would agree. And then Scratch happened. He hadn't thought much of it when you came across the little mutt. Maybe it would stay with the corpse of its owner or it would be another hanger-on like the owl bear. He hadn't had a horse in the race either way.

But then he did show up to the camp, looking so sad and dejected that even Astarion couldn't be bothered that his arrival completely interrupted his first attempt at asking you to bed. He had watched you pet and whisper to him for the rest of the night, providing a comfort that only a druid could.

Which was fine. Or at least it had been for that one night. That one night that kept repeating. Because suddenly, that damned dog was everywhere. The quiet nights the two of you had together by the fire, talking about anything and everything with your thighs pressed together now included Scratch squeezing himself into the middle.

The orchestrated moves he would do to make you blush, like removing a non-existent speck from your cheek with his thumb or leaning in close to remove a leaf from your hair, were getting harder and harder to pull off. The damned mongrel was always there, and any attempts Astarion took to get close to you Scratch used as an invitation to jump all over him. If he had it to wash his face of dog slobber one more time from the crime of trying to hold your hand, he was going to go ballistic.

And there was zero reprieve. The thing went with you everywhere, even in the most perilous of situations. Worst of all, it actually proved to be useful. Astarion had no idea where the thing was trained, but it was incredibly smart. Smart enough to serve as a perfect distraction when needed, while being clever and fast enough to never get himself killed. He could even function as a spy, considering how you could make sense of all of his whining and barking. And worst of all, the little beast was amazing at thievery, with nothing more than his mouth. No one suspected the adorable dog to be the one stealing your coin purse right off of your belt. He was completely inconspicuous, perhaps even more so than Astarion. A fact that... was not sitting well.

How on earth was he being outclassed by a fucking dog? One that he had no valid arguments to leave behind at camp.

And to top it all off, you even slept with it. You slept with both animals, usually huddled up in a pile beneath the stars. How you managed to not stink of dog breath and owlbear saliva in the morning, Astarion would never know.

How was he supposed to make you fall for him like this? In the past two weeks since you'd attached yourself completely to the thing, doting on him constantly. He had only managed to sleep with you once. The night of the celebration over the goblin slaughter, and what a lovely night it had been. But that was only because Scratch and the cub had been sufficiently distracted by all of the enamored tiefling children. The next night it was back to the same.

And Astarion was not willing to let the night you had together go as a one night stand. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It had become clear that you cared for him, you cared for all of them. Enough to put yourself in danger for every party member's protection. A strong friendship would probably do him just as good as a romance. But... that didn't feel like enough. He didn't want it to be enough. For reasons that he was not going to start examining now.

No, for now he was just focused on getting past your slobbery bodyguard. But he knew better than to bring it up to you directly. You were far too infatuated with the pup to see his side of things.

Gale had made a singular comment on a slight frustration over having to wait around for Scratch to sniff nearly everything he came into contact with, and that had ended in you giving him a half-hour lecture on the importance of understanding one's surroundings. Shadowheart had mentioned, once, just once, that perhaps it was time to start looking for a more appropriate family for the dog, and that had led to you giving her the cold shoulder for days.

No, if he was going to get more time alone with you Astarion would have to try other means. Which had led him here, swinging back a Potion of Animal Speaking with a grimace. It tasted oddly grassy, like he had just swallowed blended up lawn shavings. But he didn't have time to grouse over the taste, not when you were thoroughly distracted with talking about druid mythology with Halsin, Scratch left conveniently alone to dig holes in the back of camp.

And that was where Astarion was going. Because if he couldn't reason with you, perhaps he could reason with the mutt itself.

Part of him could not quite believe that he had to resort to speaking with a dog to further this relationship, but here he was.

Astarion stopped in front of him, swallowing back a grimace at how the thing was digging dirt directly on his shoes. Instead, he smiled down at it, his voice only slightly strained when he asked, "Can you understand me?"

Scratch stopped his digging, opting to sit and stare up at him, an oddly humanoid voice answering, "Yes."

Huh, so that's how this spell worked. It was a little disconcerting to hear a human voice from a dog's mouth, but he would make do. Astarion cautiously sat next to him, perching on a nearby log as he tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, "Good. How are you?"

Scratch stared at him, his head cocked, "The dirt tastes good here. I like that."

That was... Astarion didn't know. It was his own fault for trying to make small talk with an animal. He cut straight to the point, "That's great to hear. Now, would you mind doing me a favor tonight?"

Astarion had never had a dog narrow its eyes at him before, but that's exactly what Scratch did, "What is it?"

"Nothing serious," Astarion tried to reassure, "I was just hoping that perhaps you and the cub could sneak off for a night so Tav and I could spend some time together-"

"No," Scratch interrupted circling the ground three times before laying down, his eyes still on Astarion.

"Excuse me?" Astarion shot back, his true annoyance shining straight through his voice, "It's not exactly much to ask for! It's one night-"

"I don't trust you around them," The dog said simply, "I think you're going to hurt them."

Well that was just offensive. Ever since this little brat's arrival Astarion had barely had a chance to drink from you. And the times he did he was perfectly in control. Not including the first time of course.

"I'll have you know that not every vampire is some hellish demon with no self-control," Astarion bit out, only the slightest bit amused at himself for being reduced to defending his own disgusting kind, "And why pray tell, would I hurt one of the only reasons I'm still alive."

Scratch shook his head, one eye closed like this conversation was boring him, "Not that kind of hurt. The inside kind, that makes people cry. I don't want them to cry."

That was-Astarion didn't-how in the hells could a dog see through him that easily?

"I have no intention of hurting them," Astarion lied. Or at least he thought it was a lie. It felt... uncomfortably true when spoken allowed, "I just want to have a little fun, that's all. Don't you think they've earned that?"

"Not with you. You don't like them enough," Scratch sighed, "I like Gale more. Or Wyll. Karlach too. They can have fun with them instead."

That was it. Astarion was going to wring this little shit's neck. But before he could give into his more violent impulses, he could hear your voice, calling out to the current root of all of his problems.

Scratch bounded up, his tail already wagging as he started to trot over. But before he fully did he turned around, giving Astarion a once over, "If you can prove you like them, then I'll consider it."

And just like that he was off, running to your side while leaving a stunned Astarion in his wake. Did... did he just get verbally annihilated by a damn dog? How was he supposed to go on after this? Not to mention he was actually thinking about what the creature said. It sounded like a challenge, one that Astarion was suddenly pissed enough to take up.

If the little shithead wanted sincerity, then he would get it. And that's how Astarion found himself willingly opening up more. Even if it had to be in front of the damn dog. He told you more about Cazador, the horrors and tribulations he had endured through centuries. He told you of his regrets, the things he missed the most about being a mortal. He even told you the truth about that first night that you let him drink from your neck. That... that you were the first. How good it had felt to have what he had been denied for so long. And he was rewarded with his honesty. He got to learn more and more about you in turn. Your family, your home, where you incessant love for nature derived from. He was starting to slowly become a Tav-expert, suddenly hungry for every bit of information that he could procure.

They were long conversations, long enough to last well into the night. And for Astarion to be exhausted enough to just... fall asleep in the first available location. Which just so happened to always be in the pile of creatures you liked to sleep with. Though, Astarion had to admit after experiencing it himself, it was oddly pleasant to be surrounded by the warm, furry little headaches.

As for the two of you, things were slowly progressing in regards to his plan. A plan that he continually kept conveniently forgetting about. You were together now at the least, even if Scratch hardly ever let you have a night alone. But you cuddled and kissed, called each other pet names and the like. And... it was nice. Perhaps even too nice. Because Astarion was starting to... feel things that he'd prefer to not.

He was getting too attached, too close. The idea of sex didn't even seem to matter anymore, let alone the idiocy of trying to convince a dog to help him in that department. He was knowing too much of you, and the fact that he seemed to adore everything he saw only made it worse. And then the two of you managed to kill that demon, getting more and more information about Cazador. You risked so much for him, and were willing to risk so much more. He couldn't take it anymore.

He had told you the next night, everything. His plan, his past, how easy it was to revert back into new tricks. But he didn't want that with you. Maybe he never did. He wanted something real, and by the gods above you wanted the same thing. He had half expected you to dump him completely after that little speech. But... you didn't. Instead you hugged him, comforted him for trying and failing to betray your trust. It was a kindness he didn't deserve, but one that he would gladly accept.

Everything felt easier after that. Yes there were still countless horrors hanging over your heads but... he had you. And with you he was starting to think he could get through anything.

Even Halsin's insistent flirting. He was watching you both now as you helped him nurse a dying sapling to health, his eyes tracking Halsin's every move as he pretended to read. While he trusted you more than anything, fully aware that you would never stray, it didn't stop the paranoia. Just one other aspect of being in a real relationship that he hadn't seen coming. Turns out, it involved being terrified of losing it all. Especially to handsome, bulky elf druids.

But before he could fret over it any longer, he felt a tugging on his pant leg. He glanced down, his brow furrowing when he saw Scratch there, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out.

"What the hell do you want?" Astarion asked, his words completely unmatching his actions as he scratched him behind the ears. Don't get him wrong, he still at least semi-loathed the creature but... he's also not quite sure he would have gotten to this point without his intervention. So a reluctant appreciation for his existence it was.

Scratch continued to paw at his leg, a low whine in his throat as he cocked his head to the right. Astarion followed the motion, only getting more confused when he realized he was trying to point to another potion.

Astarion sighed as he picked it up, “What? You want me to understand a new dressing down speech?”

Scratch continued to wag his tail, letting out a happy bark as a confirmation. As much as Astarion would prefer to not spend an evening getting lectured by a dog, he was more than a little curious to see what he had to say.

He swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste as he wiped his mouth, “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

"I like you now," Scratch said excitedly, prancing back and forth in front of him, "And they like you too. Do you like them?"

In moments like this, Astarion really did wish he had the heart of stone that he pretended to carry. Because the unexpected approval from a random pup was suddenly making him feel almost teary eyed. Or it was the bitter taste of the potion, but either way the innocent words were making his heart ache pleasantly.

Astarion swallowed, smiling down at him, “I like them very much. More than anyone before. And I’m starting to think you might not be so bad either.”

Scratch sat in front of him, resting his head in his lap as his tail wagged, a goofy smile on his adorable face, “It’s because I’m a good boy. They tell me so all the time. Are we friends now? We are right?”

“Yeah,” Astarion smiled as he ran a hand through his white coat, his eyes drifting over to you. You were watching them, grinning ear to ear with a hand over your heart, nearly moments away from swooning. He looked back down at the dog, his smile only widening, “We’re going to be great friends.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #scratch #i made him love the dog #how could i not #how can you not #some bitches are just too intense about their animals #it's me #im bitches #i can't believe i made him talk to the dog #goofy #the best boy #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

HII I just wanted to say I simply adore your Alastor headcannons.. ❤️

I unsure if you’re accepting request but if you aren’t you can ignore this one 😅

I was thinking of a pining Alastor with a fem reader who never sings. Like she has always hated musicals, and ever since she’s been in hell she noticed it’s just one big musical. And the moment they finally actually open up and sing.. it’s not with Alastor. But probably Angel to make him feel better.. So he’s all jealous that the reader hasn’t sung with him.

And at the end they share a lil love duet and slow dance .. like, singing at last by Etta James..

I don’t know..I just love how you write Alastor. Your writing is absolutely phenomenal. 💕

I've been avoiding this one because it makes me think of Nix- 😭

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a MENACE, Grumpy!Reader, Mentions of Drunk!Reader

Description: 👆⬆️

You don't sing, you're not the kind of person who's just going to break out into song like everyone else around you

You sang along to music, sometimes sure, or maybe even sang to yourself, but you didn't live life like you're in a musical

You had better things to do with your time than dancing around to mysterious music and making up words on the fly

It was something that annoyed Alastor because no matter how hard he tried to get you to join him in his little song and dance, you just walked away

And left him feeling ridiculous for even trying to make music with you

Good

Your serious demeanor and closed off nature only served to make him want to win you over even more

He doesn't like people being a mystery to him, he wants to know what you're thinking and how you're feeling all the time

For the sake of knowledge, of course, not out of any romantic desire or anything as ridiculous as that

After several failed attempts to get you to sing, Alastor just assumes you've got a bad singing voice and gives up

Only to be PISSED when he's proven wrong because WHY WON'T YOU SING WITH HIM

He finds you holding Angel to your chest and singing to him, the poor spider holding back tears as he relaxes into your arms

Alastor just hides and listens to the sound of your voice more confused than ever as to why you don't sing

You have a BEAUTIFUL VOICE

It reignites his desire to get you to sing with him and he becomes more of a pest than ever for you

He tries to trick you into humming or singing, turning on the radio when you two are alone in hopes that you'll take a liking to a song

"Do you have a particular music preference, my dear?"

"Can't say I do, whatever you pick is fine."

You only roll your eyes and continue looking at your book, the only sign that you like the music is your leg bouncing to the beat

He later catches you humming a little tune with Niffty as the two of you clean up together, the happy look on your face is the most precious thing he's seen

Alastor tries to invite you out to a concert/musical, waving two tickets in front of your face

"What do you say, my dear~? You and I listening to the most wonderful music in hell together?"

Only to watch your face scrunch up at the idea and realize that he's about to be rejected

"That's not really my thing, maybe you can get Charlie to go with you."

He ends up giving the tickets to Charlie and Vaggie, letting the two of them have a date night

You're smiling and singing a little song with Husk later that night, cooking a late night dish with him

He sulks the entire night and glares at you whenever your paths cross because HOW DARE YOU

WITH HUSKER!?

He even tries taking everyone to a karaoke bar and pulling you up on stage, hoping you're drunk enough that you'll sing

Only to be the victim of your drunken rage and get body slammed into a table instead because he startled you

"Alastor!! Are you okay!? Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I will pay for the table!"

Charlie is panicking because everyone is STARING, but you just glare down at him, cheeks flushed from the booze

"Don't... sneak up on me like that..."

He'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on a little, laying there still in shock over what happened

"Understood."

Later, he hears you singing along to a song someone else is singing to. You're so drunk by that point that he doubts you even realize you're doing it

But you still sound so good even when your words are slurred and you're not even singing the right song

It gets to the point where Alastor's mood sours whenever you sing because he wants to sing with you but you always turn him down

You're trying to open up more but it's difficult to open up to someone like Alastor because it's impossible to know if he can be trusted

Your better judgment tells you no, but your heart whispers that you should give him a chance

Alastor just wants a duet with you so badly

You two would kill it, and he knows it

He's playing at the piano one day, singing to himself for entertainment more than anything

It's a song from his childhood, bringing up memories of happier times with his mother

When you suddenly saddle up next to him and begin to play as well, adding another layer to his song

His tail wagging and the way his eyes light up are the only indication he gives that he's excited by your presence

He keeps singing, feeling renewed by your musical accompaniment and really enjoying the music

Only to be graced with the sound of your own voice joining him, your hands briefly crossing over each others to play the right notes

The simple graze is electric for both of you, but neither would admit for years to come

He was right, you two sound better than anything he's ever heard before and he can't help but look at you because surely you feel it too??

Only to be flustered by the blush on your face and the small smile you give him, obviously pushed beyond your comfort zone but trying hard

It's all he can do to swallow the lump in his throat and focus on the song instead of how good you look or how beautiful you sound

Only when the song is over do you two realize how close your faces have gotten, gazing into each other's eyes like lovesick teenagers

You both are leaning in closer, gazes drifting down to lips-

When Alastor suddenly jerks away and walks across the room from you, his face burning from the realization of what almost happened

You deflate a bit and worry that you read him wrong, standing up so you can leave with your pride still intact

"Alastor, I'm so-"

Suddenly, the radio comes to life, Alastor picking a station with a slow romantic song playing before holding his hand out to you

"Care to dance, my dear? It'd be a shame to let such a good song go to waste..!"

You're both blushing and avoiding looking each other in the eye but you take his hand anyways, being pulled flush against him

If anyone were to peek in and see you two, it would certainly look like you two were a couple dancing to a romantic song and having a moment

Alastor has one hand on your hip while the other gently holds your hand, your head resting against him in an attempt to hide how embarrassed you are

His ears are folded back, and the smile on his face is wobbly and awkward, your other hand on his shoulder suddenly seemingly very interesting

Good thing nobody is peeking in on you two, except everyone is peeking in and passing around cash

"Pay up Angel, Husk, Charlie won fair and square."

I hope you guys like it 💓

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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dr3c0mix · 1 year

Note

Could we get a shy sensitive goth boy yandere?

Chemical Romance

Yandere!Male!Goth x GN Reader

CW: stalking, mentions of playing with dead animals,

im so sorry for the awful title its 10 in the morni-

🥀 To most, school was a place to hang out with friends and socialize, a place to mess around after classes and play games.

🥀 However to some, it was dull and loud, filled with the deafening chatter and noise of people with words laced with hate and slander.

🥀 That was how it was for Jasper, he saw people no different to muffled shadows, husks of people who eyed at him everywhere he went, he was used to it at this point in his life, the endless murmurs behind his back by his peers and the questioning stares people would throw at him and his looks.

🥀 He thought this was it, this was the way life would be like for the rest of his life, just a depressing existence filled with people that looked at him like a pest.

🥀 That was until he met you.

🥀 He never noticed you until you bumped into him in the hallway after class. You were no different than everyone else, just another student in his boring school...but then you smiled at him.

🥀 You laughed nervously and rushed to gather up all the things you dropped on the floor after you bumped into him, sputtering out apologies with the dorkiest smile.

🥀 He didn't say anything, he just stared at you as you rushed off to your locker.

🥀 His heart pounded in his chest as he remembers the feeling of your shoulder colliding with his, it was like a flash of color and liveliness came back to him for a brief moment.

🥀 He looked down and saw a pen on the ground, you probably forgot to pick it up when you ran off. He picked it up and smiled a bit at the design it had, it really reminded him of you..

🥀 He turned it around and saw your name on it. He read it over and over again like a prayer, wandering off to his locker to bring it home all the while whispering your name.

🥀 He couldn't get you out of his head, he tried forgetting about you, telling himself you were just pretending to be nice out of politeness or something. He started to believe it..

🥀 But you just had to say good morning to him the next day..

🥀 And the day after that...

🥀 Pretty soon he was able to find you in a crowd with you waving at him like he was an old friend of yours.

🥀 Why? Why were you so nice to him??? Weren't you weirded out by him???

🥀 He would feel his heart race whenever he saw you, his face turning red at the sight of your smile. He can't have feelings for you can he? A person he barely talked to? ...Could he?

🥀 That's when the stalking started, he needed to know why you were so special, surely you wanted something out of him right? There has to be something you were hiding from him. He'd tell himself that, but in reality, he wanted an excuse to see you more, to watch you go about your day as the ball of sunshine you were.

🥀 Then he couldn't take just watching you, he wanted to talk to you, make you laugh, hug you..kiss you maybe...

🥀 After that, he'd try to get close to you and ask you about stuff..only he didn't really know how..

🥀 You'd see him staring at you in class or the cafeteria, quickly turning his head away when you looked at him.

🥀 During lunch periods, he'd approach you only to walk away stiffly, his words piling up in his throat, unable to get out.

🥀 He beat himself up for not having to courage to speak to you. Pacing back and forth in his room while thinking of things to talk to you about, but it always seemed a little weird or too creepy.

🥀 Oh but how you'd smile and laugh at his antics, you weren't weirded out in the slightest. He seemed nice, just a bit shy, so you'd try your best to talk to him too, saying good morning to him when you walk past or asking how his day was. Just little things so he wouldn't get overwhelmed.

🥀 From that he'd grow closer and closer to you, falling harder into his obsession with you. He thought you could do no wrong, an angel in a world of darkness and despair.

🥀 Especially when he'd blurt out something a bit too dark and would make you laugh.

🥀 "You like cats? My cat Jonesy likes bringing in dead rodents and stuff, it's pretty cool..I-I mean uhm! uh...sorry, I didn't mean to say that...it's..fine? ...oh..heh thanks.."

🥀 He could really be himself around you, he felt so comfortable when you were around, thats how you learned about his hyperfixation on dark fairytales.

🥀 "People think it's a little weird of me but I really like Grimm's fairytales..did you know that in the original version of Rapunzel, the prince gets blinded by thorns after falling from the tower ..it's pretty cool I think, we could read it together if you like.."

🥀 Sometimes he feels like you're those lovely maidens or brave lads in his stories, the ones who would find true love and live happily ever after with their lovers, he wanted that for the two of you, but of course, you didn't feel the same love for him.

🥀 So he was content with being friends with you, but soon, he will live a happily ever after with you, even if he had to do things that people find a little extreme..

🥀 Oh yes, he also enjoys rambling about you to Jonesy

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x male reader #yandere goth #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x oc #yandere x willing reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #opossumdoodles

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theostrophywife · 7 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter five.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: me and the devil - soap & skin.

author's note: things are picking up. a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut and a whole lot of theo just being theo.

After three consecutive brewing sessions without any incidents or explosions, Theo was fairly confident that you had mastered Angel’s Trumpet. All thanks to his supreme knowledge. His words, not yours.

“Today’s the day,” Luna announced cheerfully as she hooked her arm through your elbow.

The two of you walked through the sun soaked courtyard, weaving through your fellow loitering students. “Let’s hope to Merlin that I don’t blow up the place.”

“You won’t,” Luna said supportively. “Though if you do, you can always blame it on the wrackspurts.”

“Wait up, Lovegood!”

Luna slowed as Mattheo Riddle and Enzo Berkshire flanked your side. Mattheo smirked at you while Enzo waved politely. The former had a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

You wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Smoking isn’t allowed on campus grounds, you know. I should dock points from your house.”

Mattheo raised a brow. “Go ahead, little miss prefect, but then I’d be inclined to let slip that our studious little Ravenclaw has been sneaking into the Slytherin boy’s dormitory at all hours of the night.” You gaped, turning red as you fought the urge to clobber him right then and there. “The walls are very thin, you know. I could hear you and Theo giggling from across the hall.”

“We were just eating gelato!”

Riddle appeared unconvinced. Even Enzo struggled to hide his grin. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? Anyways, I’m not interested in who's eating whose gelato.”

“You’re a menace and a pest.”

“I’ve been called worse, sweetheart.”

“Anyways,” Enzo interjected. “Pansy wanted to know what snacks you prefer for the quidditch game after party, Luna." The Slytherin boy turned towards you and smiled. "You’re invited too, Y/N.”

You raised a brow at your friend. “You’re going to a Slytherin party? Hosted by Pansy Parkinson? Who is apparently concerned about your snack preferences?”

Luna blushed. “I meant to tell you about it, but I figured Theo had already invited you.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Mattheo said with a grin. “Notty boy probably asked her in between spoonfuls of gelato and pillow fights.”

“Is there an actual point to your existence or are you just here to be a pain in my arse?”

“One would argue that irking you is a purpose all on its own.”

“Tell Pans that I’d love a bag of wotsits,” interjected Luna. Berkshire looked relieved to receive an answer.

“Right, then. Mattheo and I will relay the message.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Let’s go, mate. Before Snape gives you another detention.”

Mattheo blew a kiss as Enzo dragged him away, which you returned with a classy display of your middle finger.

“Pans?” you asked incredulously. Luna flashed you an innocent smile before pushing you towards the potions classroom.

“We’ll talk about it later. After you ace Angel’s Trumpet!”

You watched in astonishment as your best friend’s platinum blonde head disappeared into the crowd, happily bobbing up and down. “This isn’t over, Loons!”

Luna giggled and gave you a cheeky wink as she rounded the corner.

“What was that all about?” Theo asked as you slipped into your usual seat.

“What do you know about this newfound friendship between Pansy Parkinson and my best friend?”

“Oh, I’d say it’s much more than a friendship.”

“Luna…and…Pansy. How is that even possible?”

“Well, when a mommy and mommy love each other…” quipped Theo.

You raised a hand, flashing him a glare. “I mean, I know that it’s possible. Just not between those two. They have virtually nothing in common.”

He shrugged. “Opposites attract.”

“But Luna’s so sweet and nice and thoughtful and Pansy’s…” Theo gave you a warning look. Slytherins could insult each other all they wanted, but the serpents had some twisted code of loyalty to one another. “You know what I mean, Theodore. I know she’s your friend, but if she hurts Luna I swear to Godric I’ll shove a Nimbus so far up—”

“I think I get the gist, diavolina. Why is your first instinct always violence? Aren’t you Ravenclaws supposed to approach things with logic?”

“The logical response to anyone hurting my friends is violence.”

Theo’s mouth quirked. “Is it strange that I’m weirdly turned on by that?” You smacked his arm in response, which he yelped rather dramatically at. “Lovegood’s perfectly capable of holding her own, you know. She wouldn’t have caught Pansy’s eye if she wasn’t.”

“Parkinson’s treating her well, then?”

“Oh, more than well. I haven’t seen her this giddy since she abandoned the straight act.” You bit back a smile at that comment. “I mean, imagine having to pretend to be attracted to Malfoy.”

“I heard that, you twat,” Draco said from a few seats over.

Theo blew his friend a kiss. “You were meant to, Dray.”

You almost let out a snort, but you caught it just in time. Theo grinned from ear to ear as you glared at him. He leaned in, nudging you with his elbow.

“That charming little laugh is supposed to be our little secret, amorina.”

You flushed as he winked at you. Fortunately, all conversations ceased as Professor Slughorn entered the room.

“Good afternoon, students. As you know, we will be brewing Angel’s Trumpet Draught today. You will have ninety minutes to complete the assignment. Whoever brews the best draught will receive a special reward.”

Slughorn clapped his hands, sending the room into a frenzy. “Best of luck, then.”

By now, the steps were so ingrained that you hardly had to think about it. You and Theo had poured over Alessandra’s grimoire for countless hours. The instructions and illustrations floated in your mind as you worked quietly. Your movements were sure and confident, executing each step with an odd sense of calm. Usually, you were tense while you brewed, but it was different this time around.

Across the table, you looked up and found Theo hunched over his cauldron. There was an intense expression on his face as he brewed and his fingers moved with expert precision. It was such a stark contrast to his usual easy breezy attitude that it made you smile. Sensing your gaze, Theo turned and pierced you with those watercolor eyes. Finally, it dawned on you what they reminded you of.

Theo’s eyes were like the Black Lake—deep and full of danger, but beautiful in a strange sort of way.

The intrusive thought nearly broke your focus. You didn’t have time to think about what it meant—you didn’t want to think about what it meant. Instead, you fixed your attention to the task at hand.

After stirring clockwise and then counterclockwise, you watched with bated breath as the draught simmered to a shimmery mauve color. The perfumed aroma wafted from the cauldron, catching the attention of those around you. Theo appeared nearly as anxious as you while the draught bubbled softly.

Then, a puff of smoke billowed to signal your success. You had never felt so relieved and proud. All that hard work had paid off.

“I did it,” you said incredulously. “I fucking did it!”

Before you even realized what was happening, you were leaping into Theo’s arms. He chuckled, spinning you in the air with a huge grin.

“I knew you could,” he declared proudly. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words made you flush all the way to the tips of your ears. Since you were little, you thrived off of praise and recognition. Commendation had always been every Ravenclaw's drug, but with Theo it almost felt like an Achilles heel. The weak spot that may very well provide him with the perfect opening to your steel armor.

Suddenly, you were all too aware of how close you were. Theo seemed to realize this too because he set you down gently and scratched the back of his head like the moment baffled him too. Luckily, your classmates were too engrossed in their own cauldrons to notice the outburst.

Theo cleared his throat. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—just got a bit excited—”

“No—it’s fine—perfectly understandable—” you mumbled, straightening your tie to avoid making eye contact.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here then?”

The two of you leapt apart as if electrocuted. Thankfully, Professor Slughorn was perfectly oblivious to the awkward tension. He peered into your cauldron, scrutinizing the color, smell, and texture of the draught. After a few moments, he gave an approving nod.

“We have our winner,” the older man declared. Slughorn took a few drops of the draught and placed it into a vial. He passed it around your classmates. “This, my dears, is how you brew a perfect potion. When prepared properly, Angel’s Trumpet Draught is known to cause vivid hallucinations. A large enough dose can even result in psychosis. It is a poison commonly used by those who practice the dark arts to drive its consumer into madness, heightening their torture to a sadistic degree. Notably, the Dark Lord’s servants were overly fond of using this particular potion paired with the Cruciatus curse.”

Beside you, Theo stiffened as several of your classmates glanced at him and Draco. You frowned, shooting sharp daggers at anyone who dared to meet your gaze. The lingering prejudice after the final battle still hung over Slytherin house like a malevolent fog, but you would’ve thought that your fellow classmates would have enough sense to realize that not everything was black and white. The world existed in shades of gray. Every Ravenclaw knew that. Still, even your fellow housemates regarded Theo with suspicion.

Your fists curled at your sides. “Didn’t Godric Gryffindor invent the potion?”

“Yes, very good Y/N.”

“I’d say it’s safe to assume that he was aware of the potential damage of the potion. Dark wizard or not, everyone is capable of creating weapons of mass destruction. Either that or good old Godric had a pretty wild acid trip planned with the rest of the founders.”

Behind you, Malfoy snorted while Theo bit his lip to keep from smirking.

Professor Slughorn was taken aback for a moment before continuing his spiel. “Whatever his reasons, Godric created a rather potent potion. Our job is to deconstruct Angel’s Trumpet in order to counter its effects. Next class, each of you will turn in a list of ingredients for a possible anti-potion.” He waved his hand, dismissing the class. “Good luck.”

One by one, students started filtering out of the potions lab. You followed after them until Slughorn called you back.

“Miss Y/N, stay. There’s still the matter of your reward to discuss.”

You walked up to his desk, fidgeting with the strap of your satchel. You were fairly certain that he was about to give you a dressing down for your snarky comment. Instead, Slughorn offered you a kind smile and a scroll of parchment.

“A letter of recommendation,” the Professor explained. “While I am aware that you have already secured a spot at Oxford, I hope that this will help in your pursuits of being recruited by the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It was widely known that Slughorn was a longstanding member of the society. Not only that, but he held sway in which applicants were eventually accepted as well. A letter of recommendation from him was basically a guarantee.

“Thank you, Professor. Since first year, it’s been my dream to join the society.”

“You’re well on your way, Y/N,” he said with an encouraging nod. “I must say, that brew of Angel’s Trumpet was even better than some of my fellow colleagues. You are an exceptionally talented witch and I am very much interested in cultivating talent like yours, which is why I’d like to extend a dinner invitation to you.”

A letter of recommendation and an invitation to an infamous slug club dinner? Seventh year was definitely your year. But still, something niggled at your brain.

“Thank you, professor. I truly appreciate it, but I have to be honest. I didn’t brew that potion on my own. I had a great deal of help from Theodore. He was the one who taught me how to brew it properly. If anyone deserves the credit, it’s him.”

Even as the words were coming out of your mouth, you couldn’t believe you were actually saying them. It went against every instinct as a Ravenclaw to not use this opportunity to get a leg up in your academics, but it wouldn’t have been right. It wouldn’t have been fair.

Slughorn was quiet for a moment. “Ah yes, I have noticed that Theodore is especially talented in potions. As was his father before him.” He gave you a pointed look before continuing, “Be that as it may, I couldn’t very well extend an invitation to Mr. Nott. His father is a convicted Death Eater facing a life sentence in Azkaban.”

“I know,” you proceeded cautiously. “But Theo has been cleared by the ministry. He had nothing to do with his father’s service to the Dark Lord and has never once expressed loyalty to Voldemort or spread his pureblood propaganda.”

“Don’t get me wrong, dear. I am not accusing Theodore of any wrongdoing. Mr. Nott is an exceptional quidditch player and one of the brightest young wizards of your year, but I’m afraid the optics aren’t in his favor.”

The optics aren’t in his favor. As if public opinion and appearances were all Theo amounted to.

You dug your fingers into your palms, embedding crescent shapes within your skin. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

You were so angry that you wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down to find yourself bleeding. You needed to get out of there. To leave before you said something irrational.

“Thank you again, professor. I should get going for my next class.”

“Of course, dear. Do let me know about dinner.”

You gave him a curt nod before departing. The dungeons passed by in a blur as you stomped your way through the crowded halls. Many of your friends called out to you, but you didn’t bother acknowledging any of them. You were too furious to even have a conversation right now.

You didn’t go to class. Instead, you found yourself on the fourth floor of Ravenclaw Tower. The music room—your place of refuge.

Particles of dust floated like snow through the air as you pulled back the piano cover. Your shoulders were tense, your spine ramrod straight as you sank down onto the bench. Without thinking, your fingers flew angrily over the keys. You channeled all your rage and fury into the song, allowing yourself to feel every surge of emotion with each chord.

It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t fair.

The judgment in your classmate’s eyes. The cowardice in Slughorn’s words. The confusing swirl of emotions it made you feel.

You weren’t used to feeling so much. You valued logic above all and yet here you were, taking out your frustrations on this grand piano like it had personally affronted you.

What in the bloody hell was happening to you?

“Beethoven,” a familiar voice drawled, startling you out of your thoughts. “Merlin, you must really be pissed to be playing moonlight.”

Theo slid into the bench beside you. The piece ended on an unpleasant note with a slam of your fingers.

You refused to look at him. “You should be in Charms right now.”

“So should you,” Theo countered. “Instead, you’re here abusing this poor piano.” He turned over, cocking his head. Then, in a gentler voice, he asked, “What happened, Y/N?”

“Slughorn gave me a letter of recommendation and an invitation to a slug club dinner.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about that? It’s literally all you’ve been hoping for since first year.”

“He only did that because of the Angel’s Trumpet.”

“Which you brewed perfectly.”

“With your help,” you said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t have been able to brew it at all if you hadn’t helped me and I told him that. I told him that and he—” you inhaled sharply, feeling a million pinpricks in your lungs.

Theo furrowed his brow. “You told him I helped you? Why would you do that?”

“Because, it’s the truth. We both know I couldn’t have done it without you. I don’t deserve that letter of recommendation or the dinner invitation. You do.” You took a ragged breath. “I know it. You know it. Slughorn knows it, but do you know what he told me? He said he couldn’t offer either to you because the optics aren’t in your favor.”

He remained silent, quietly watching you. Theo didn’t even look angry, which frustrated you even more.

“Did you hear me? Slughorn says that he can’t invite his star pupil to dinner because of how it would look. He can’t reward a student’s hard work because it would tarnish his precious reputation.”

Theo stared at you as though he were trying to work something out. He must have found whatever it was, because a second later, he was smiling.

“My nemesis coming to my defense?” He teased, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t tell me that you’re actually starting to like me, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish, Nott.” As determined as he was to treat the matter lightly, you just couldn’t seem to let go of it. “No, this isn’t about hate or like. Being judged for your father’s actions isn’t fair.”

Theo merely shrugged. “Nothing in life is fair.”

“How are you not angry about this?”

“Experience.”

You paused. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, is it?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” you seethed, baffled that he wasn’t as outraged as you were. “It’s prejudiced bullshit! We’ve been rivals for years and you’ve never once brought up the fact that I’m muggleborn.”

Theo grinned. “There’s plenty of things about you that annoy me that are completely unrelated to your blood status.”

“That’s exactly the point. You don’t buy into this whole blood purity nonsense, but Slughorn is acting like you do.”

“It’s been like this my entire life,” Theo said as if you were merely discussing the weather. “That’s not to say that my existence is some sob story. I am still rich and handsome, after all, but there are stains that even my devastating good looks and trust fund can’t blot out.”

“But you didn’t make those stains.”

Theo smiled sadly. “Neither did Draco or Pansy or Mattheo, but we all pay the price for it anyways.” His hands hovered over your shaking fingers. “It’s alright, Y/N. Since we were old enough to understand, we’ve all known and accepted that our family's reputations will always precede us. For better or for worse. Besides, I much prefer people whispering behind my back than facing a dementor’s kiss.”

“It’s not fair,” you repeated, feeling your heart clench in your chest. “You’re not your father.”

To your surprise, Theo took your face in his hands and kissed you. It was a gentle kiss, his lips pressed softly against yours, noses brushing while he caressed the curve of your jaw. When he pulled away, something heartbreaking flashed through his features.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. “For caring enough to be angry.”

The combination of the look of gratitude on his face and the soft way he said those words wrenched at your heart. Theo was grateful. Grateful to have someone who cared.

You didn’t know why, but it felt like your heart was breaking.

It must have showed on your face because Theo tilted your chin and kissed you again. This time, he didn’t hold back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. The kiss was a conversation—every peck and nip and bite littered with words that you were too afraid to say. His tongue slid against yours and the taste of him was intoxicating. You could’ve kissed him for hours and you would have if you hadn’t realized that the choir was set to be practicing in this exact room in less than ten minutes.

“We have to go,” you murmured against Theo’s mouth.

“Don’t,” Theo whispered, stealing kisses. “Wanna.” His fingers tangled in your braid as he chased your lips.

“We can go to my dorm.”

Theo pulled away and stared at you. “Your dorm?”

You nodded. “Luna’s in class, as are the rest of my housemates. The tower is completely empty. Why shouldn’t we take advantage of it?”

He smirked. “I like the way you think, my devious little Ravenclaw.”

On high alert, the two of you snuck out of the fourth floor and into the fifth. You quickly answered the eagle’s riddle to enter the common room.

“Wait,” you said, turning towards Theo. “How did you get past the knocker downstairs?”

“I offered to grease its hinges,” he replied salaciously. You snorted, which made him smirk. “I’m kidding. I answered the riddle, obviously. Honestly your constant questioning of my abilities would be rather offensive if I wasn’t made aware of your gallant attempt of defending my honor.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him into the common room. As you predicted, the tower was completely empty. Theo surveyed the floor to ceiling windows, the four story bookshelves, and the star flecked glass ceiling with awe and admiration. He whistled, taking his surroundings in.

“No wonder you hate the dungeons. This is—excuse the pun—quite magical.”

“It’s even better at night,” you said, staring up at the domed ceiling. “You can practically touch the stars from this high up. If you’re good, maybe I’ll find a way to sneak you in again.”

Theo smirked. “I haven’t even stepped foot in your dorm yet and you’re already thinking about next time. A bit eager aren’t we, dolcezza?”

You rolled your eyes and dragged him into a narrow hallway. The dorm you shared with Luna sat at the top of the spire, offering you the best view in the castle. With a flick of your wand, you unlocked the door.

“Come in before I change my mind, Nott.”

Theo was just as nosy as you were back at his dorm, if not more. He took in the twin blue and gold canopy beds, the arched bay windows strung with enchanted fairy lights, and the built in bookshelves that lined the walls. Despite this, there were still stacks of books by your bedside table that were set to topple over at any moment. Theo gravitated towards your side of the room and ran his fingers through the spines of your beloved novels.

He peered curiously at the pinboard by your desk, examining the variety of pictures—muggle and magical, the concert tickets, the pressed flowers, and even the framed photo of you with your mum and dad standing on platform 9 ¾ taken right before your very first trip to Hogwarts. Theo’s smile widened as he toyed with the hem of his jumper, which was currently draped over your chair. As much as you hated to admit it, the damned thing was so comfortable that you’d taken to sleeping in it almost every night.

“Are you quite finished snooping?” you asked, flushing.

Theo smirked and stalked over to you. “Why? Do you have other plans for me, diavolina?”

“A few.”

He walked you to the bed until the back of your legs met the edge of your mattress. Theo gripped your waist, dipping his head down so his lips ghosted over the hollow of your throat. You arched against his mouth and the low rumble of his dark laughter skittered over your skin.

“Show me, then.”

You pulled him in by his tie and he grinned, leaning down to kiss you. Theo chuckled darkly as you flipped positions and pushed him onto the bed. He watched with hungry eyes as you crawled over him, his wandering hands roaming up your skirt. You gasped as he gripped your thighs, positioning you over him as his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.

There was so much heat and tension between you that it felt like you might spontaneously combust. His touch was fire against your skin, tracing every curve and dip like he was committing every detail to memory. You unbuttoned his shirt and he watched carefully, those hypnotizing eyes locking you in place while he allowed you to undress him.

The romps with Theo had always been frantic and rushed—stolen moments in cupboards, closets, and classrooms, but this time you took it slow. You traced over every mole and scar and freckle on his torso, feeling the heat of his skin underneath your fingertips. His gaze never left yours as he helped you shrug out of your blouse, watching your reaction as he cupped your breasts over your bra before taking it off in one swift move. Once you stripped out of your layers, Theo leaned down to kiss you again.

His lips moulded perfectly to yours, a perfect mix of give and take. You groaned as he nipped at your bottom lip, teasing at the seam. The pressure of his hand against the base of your throat made you gasp.

Theo’s tongue slid against yours as he gently laid you down on your back. His arms bracketed your head on each side and he kept his eyes on your face as he lined himself up at your entrance. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter and when he pushed inside in one swift move, you nearly clawed at his back. The feel of him was so familiar and yet it left you gasping every time. Theo swallowed your moan as he thrust in slowly and your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms snaked through his neck so you could pull him closer.

The sunlight caught in his eyes, the blues and greens and golds refracting like a kaleidoscope in the golden hour glow. “Keep your eyes on me, bella.”

You opened your eyes, whimpering as Theo linked your fingers together. The kisses he gave you were deep, tender, and his lips caressed yours in a way that made you forget your own name. He groaned as you canted your hips against his, meeting his pace with equal hunger.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re taking it so well for me.” Theo pinned your arms above your head and thrusted deeper. “Breathe, baby. There you go, love. You like that, don’t you?”

Theo pressed his forehead against yours. The hand that wasn’t holding yours crept up your neck, resting at the hollow of your throat. He caressed the side of your neck possessively.

“I need—I need—I,” you stuttered through the words, biting your lip to keep your eyes open. “Deeper, please. I need all of you.”

A stream of curses flowed effortlessly past Theo’s lips. You were already well acquainted with his filthy mouth, but for Godric’s fucking sake, did he have to sound so bloody attractive while swearing in Italian? It was truly, honestly, unfair to the rest of the world. A temptation perfectly crafted to make your knees weak and your heart flutter.

“Oh god, oh fuck, please—“

“You sound so pretty when you beg, but don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Theo hiked your legs over his shoulders and drove into you at a deeper angle. You felt him shudder as your walls clenched around him.

He groaned as you raked your nails across his back. “Feels so good. Don’t stop, please. Just give me all of it.”

“It’s yours, Y/N. All yours.”

Your bodies moved in sync, skin melding against skin until you became a mass of tangled limbs and sex soaked desire. When you locked eyes again, it felt like Theo was peering into your soul.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Are you close, pretty girl? I can feel it.” He kissed your temple as he filled you over and over again. “Come with me. Can you do that, amorina?”

You nodded as Theo’s fingers brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, pushing you to the precipice. Stars exploded behind your eyes as your body shook underneath his. Theo groaned as he finished, his hips stuttering against yours. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and kissed the hollow of your throat gently.

Instinctively, you brushed back his curls and traced soothing circles against his skin. Theo looked up, his gaze filled with loaded emotion. His eyes flickered over you as though he was savoring the rare display of vulnerability. The two of you laid there for a while, content to bask in the afterglow.

“Dinner will be starting soon,” you whispered, half afraid to break the little bubble of bliss.

“I know.”

“We should probably clean up and get ready.”

“Probably.”

You chuckled. “You know that means we both have to get up and out of bed, right?”

Theo sighed. “Fine.”

Slowly, he gathered his clothes and began putting them back on. You walked over to your chair and shrugged on his jumper before redoing your disheveled braid. When you turned around, you found Theo staring at you with an unreadable expression. There was a faint smile on his face as his eyes raked over the huge jumper covering your body.

“Come to my game.”

You blinked. “What?”

“That’s what I want in exchange for helping you with the draught.”

“I’m not going to cheer for you. In fact, I might cheer against you.”

Theo smirked. “You really know how to deflate a bloke’s ego, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Good. I don’t need your head getting bigger than it already is.”

“That’s strange. You seemed to be enjoying my impressive size just a second ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed Theo’s shirt at his bare torso. “Goodbye, Theodore.”

“I’ll see you on the pitch, princess.”

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#lskjdfkljsdf hey man i'm totally so chill about theo like its so casual #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

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chasingpj · 1 year

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𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞

"Hi, my name's Nico!"

pairing: platonic!nico di angelo x older sister reader

summary: you found your pugsley addams

warnings: brief mention of injury, grieving a family member

category: one-shot but not really

a/n: this is probably awful but do i need to fulfil my big sister urge to protect our beloved nico? yes. yes i do. i got this idea listening to Here With Me by d4vd, if you want something to listen while reading <3

“Hi, my name is Nico!”

Tousled dark brown hair, big brown eyes, a toothless grin, and a squeaky voice. Strangely, he doesn’t cower at your eyes, sizing him up. Either he doesn’t care or he’s clueless to your judgment. You're sure it’s the latter.

How could this tiny boy, with too much life in his eyes, and too much excitement in his voice be a child of Hades? Considering your father’s exciting track record with children, this wasn’t what you were expecting when Chiron mentioned you had a brother moving in soon.

He’s just so… lively.

The blinding daylight outside poured through your agape curtains and it surrounded his small frame like a giant halo.

The sight was violent.

It gave you a headache.

“What’s your name?” He waits antsy for your answer and you debate on even giving him one.

Father told you he didn’t have any living children besides you. Considering the boy in front of you, it was a lie, or he had forgotten about him. Either way, you plan on arguing about it later.

How dare he give you a roommate. Let alone a roommate barely in the double digits. This boy could have a tantrum today, and you didn’t sign up for babysitting.

“My side.” Your fingers point to the left of the cabin which is furnished with a bed, shelves, a desk, and a nightstand you got shipped to camp. “Your side.”

Lazily, you point to the right. The lone bunk bed that initially occupied the space is tucked there, ready for the roommate you never thought would arrive.

After three years, you had debated on getting rid of it, maybe donating it to the Hermes cabin. Gods know they need it but you guess keeping it was the right choice.

“Inside voice only. No laughing, no whining, no groaning, no screaming, and especially, no crying.”

The boy’s face falters into a slight frown. Your unblinking, emotionless face had settled into his awareness. For the first time since he’s arrived, he looks down at his feet. “Okay.”

Your vision follows his movements as the boy retreats to his side of the room. His suitcase drags across the floor, making a wretched sound and it shoots irritation straight into your chest.

Harsh words threaten to spill from your lips but they get caught at the back of your throat.

At least he’s compliant, you consider. Better bubbly and compliant than bubbly and stubborn.

★・・・・・・★

“Psst.”

Did you imagine it? The sound was so faint and quick, you weren’t sure if it even happened.

Voices in passing weren’t foreign to you. The occasional energy likes to linger around.

If it was that, you refused to spare a single movement to signal you heard anything at all. A bothersome ghost wasn’t really in your plans tonight.

There wasn’t a twitch in your face or a pause in your breathing that gave you away. And as you do every night, you remain laid on your back, hands lightly folded and rested in the middle of your stomach.

“PSST.”

Great.

The second time was filled with so much urgency you couldn’t conclude it as a trick of the ear. Suddenly, you’re filled with dread. And it wasn’t from the possibility that when opening your eyes, you may find an entity looming over you. Honestly, you wished that’s what you were expecting. At least then, you’d be more interested.

But no, you knew the sound came from no one other than the pest who sleeps across the room. Even now, you are fully aware of his small presence beside your bed.

You had to give him credit. At no point did you hear him approach.

A silent stride just like yours? Maybe you actually are related.

“What?”

Nico tenses up, his hand flings back to his side. He was just questioning if you were even alive, judging from your barely rising chest. Not sure what to do after your lack of response, he thought giving you a little poke would get a reaction but from your tone just now, he was glad he didn’t get to test that out. “T-the statue…” Nico didn’t dare look over, gaze set on your blank face. “What about it?” “It blinked.”

Nico rubs his sweaty palms on his pajama pants, feeling the looming presence of Hades's statue.

The past few nights, while lying in his bed, he kept returning to the same conclusion. He couldn’t be the only one who thought sleeping in a room with a giant statue was kinda creepy.

Sure, it was just stone, but at times, it felt like it was looking at him. He thought he was just imagining it at first. Bianca did say he had a habit of spooking himself out but it didn’t stop him from sleeping with the sheets over his head.

Tonight, however, amongst the deliriousness of waking up, he made the mistake of looking over. His vision was hazy, but he was sure of what he saw. The statue had blinked. Clean and quick as if it was supposed to do that. It was more than he’s ever seen you blink, and he’s been with you for almost a week.

“It does that sometimes.”

“What?” Nico’s voice was laced with so much emotion you could imagine what face he was making. Behind your eyelids, you envisioned the scared face Mr. D made you identify recently in therapy. It was so comedic to you, you almost smiled.

“Go back to sleep.” A whine immediately leaves Nico’s lips, and your hand moves up, arm bent at the elbow, your pointer finger in the air. “No whining.” “But—” “Still whining,” you point out, and Nico remains quiet for a moment. Taking consideration of his silent movements earlier, you assumed he retreated to bed, but as he cleared his throat, you wished you could roll your eyes with them closed.

“I’m scared.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

“I don’t know. When I’m scared, my sister—”

“I’m not your sister.”

Nico frowns but remains in his spot unmoving. As the seconds passed, your awareness of his presence started to irk you.

“Ugh.”

The tired glare on your face makes Nico cower, and you sling your legs to the side. Another sigh leaves you and you march over to his side of the room. He waits as you rip the fitted sheet from the top bunk and throw it over the statue.

“There. Happy? He can’t stare at you if he can’t see you.”

“Now it just looks like a ghost,” Nico shifts, fear still on his face.

There’s a smack as your palm meets your forehead. A child of Hades scared of a ghost? You were about to tell him to get used to it but before you can nag him an idea graces your mind.

Quickly, you walk over to your desk, hands searching for a black marker. Once in your grasp, you drag a chair to the stone and stand on it.

Two circles for the eyes and one smiling open mouth.

Moving away to see your drawings, you decide it was a refreshing sight compared to the usually stoic face of the god.

“Better?” you ask, tone still bored as you cap the marker.

Nico’s eyes light up, a smile growing wide on his face. Who would be scared of a happy ghost? He nods brightly, and you make your way down, eyes rolling at the entire situation. “Go to sleep,” you command, and Nico nods, more willing than he was a few minutes ago. As you both return to the covers, the boy glances across the room one more time. “Good night,” he calls, and you stare at him for a moment.

He always says it despite you never saying it back. Under your gaze, he waits expectantly, but it never returns. Just as every night, you lie down without a word.

★・・・・・・★

Capture the flag isn’t your cup of tea.

In the summers, you never participated. The bright sun, the humidity, it all made you want to claw your skin off.

Usually, you get out of it but Mr. D pointed out there was no reason not to participate since most of what you hate about it isn’t a problem this time of year. One comment from him and Chiron takes it upon himself to ensure you attend.

You hated it.

Forced to strategize with Thalia and Percy, you are reminded the weather wasn’t the only thing you despised. It was dealing with everyone else too.

"I'll take the offense," Thalia volunteered. "You take defense."

"Oh." Percy hesitated. "Don't you think with your shield and all, you'd be better defense?"

"Well, I was thinking it would make better offense," Thalia said. "Besides, you've had more

practice at defense. What do you think, Y/n?”

Your gaze flickers between the two waiting expectantly for your opinion.

The tension between them has been something else since they’ve come back from retrieving Nico and losing Annabeth in the process. It’s not like there wasn’t any tension before but right now, you can smell the power struggle and it stinks.

“I don’t care. Argue amongst yourselves.”

With that, you turn on your heels, looking for the boy who surprisingly isn’t standing behind you like a shadow. Your eyes search the crowd for a few seconds until you spot what looks like a pile of floating armor next to the Stoll’s.

A small sigh leaves your lips. Whoever gave him that definitely is setting him up and judging by the poorly contained laughs of the Stoll’s, you can guess who’s rooting for Nico’s downfall.

The boy, painfully unaware of this, just beams at you, too excited for the game ahead. Lazily, you make your way towards him and immediately, he’s bouncing happily, his mouth ready to bombard you with questions.

Your palm rises before he could and he freezes, obeying your silent command. “You need to tighten that.”

He looks down at himself, his helmet swinging down into his eyes and he struggles to pull it away. “Which part?”

“All of it,” you snap. The sadness that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t have affected you but you straightened up, closing your eyes to recollect yourself. “We’ll get you better armor afterward.”

Nico nods, gaze softening as you adjust the straps of his armor. You tug on them as much as you can, jerking the boy left to right with the movement.

Once every strap couldn’t be tightened anymore, you step back to take a look. It didn’t do much but at least his plate is snug against his chest.

“Okay kid, stay out of the way and be careful with that thing.” Nico looks down at his sword, which is probably too heavy for him. “We need to get you another weapon too. Gods, who did your orientation?”

Nico points over at the Stoll’s who are occupied with other campers. Sending a glare in their direction you huff, “Of course.”

"Heroes!" Chiron calls, swiftly getting everyone’s attention. "You know the rules! The creek is the boundary line. Blue team—Camp Half-Blood—shall take the west woods. Hunters of Artemis—red team—shall take the east woods. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. No intentional maiming, please! All magic items are allowed. To your positions!"

“Do I get magic items!?” Nico screeches causing you to cringe. Whipping your gaze in his direction, he cowers sheepishly, his eyes filled with hesitant apology. “No. Remember what I said. Stay—” “Stay out of the way and be careful with my sword.” Nico finishes your sentence and he smiles at the evident distaste in your expression.

Your eyes flicker along his frame. “And don’t get hurt.”

★・・・・・・★

Nico, to no one’s surprise, got hurt.

Honestly, you couldn’t be upset at him, it’s not his fault he got caught in a spell cast.

A certain Circe camper did a fine job at missing her every target, leaving Nico standing in the outfield like a giant bullseye. The force alone sent him back a few feet and he slid across the field like a rag doll for a few more feet afterward.

As he lay there limp in shock, you genuinely thought he died. Before you could wield the ground to swallow up his attacker, he groaned and stumbled back on his feet.

Lucky for her, disappointing for you. You haven’t gotten around to doing that trick in a while.

“Well, you definitely have blunt force trauma injuries, everywhere,” Fletcher says, removing his hands from Nico’s abdomen. The boy reclined in the cot flinches at the bruises already forming along his ribs.

It looked pretty bad. So much so that you decided it would be cruel to tell him to stop crying.

“But you don’t have internal bleeding in your lungs so at least you won’t drown in your own life source.”

Despite the smile Fletcher flashes at Nico, it doesn’t affect the look of horror on his face.

“Nothing Ambrosia and Nectar can’t fix. You’ll be fine in a couple of days.” Fletcher helps the small boy sit up in the cot. He passes him a small cup of Nectar and orders him to drink up while he gets what he needs for the sling Nico’s arm will be in for a little bit.

A sniffle leaves the boy as he observes the drink he’s left with. “What does it taste like?” “It depends on the person,” you sit back in your chair. “Usually tastes like something nostalgic, a favorite food or drink. You won’t know until you try it.”

Nico nods, hesitantly taking a sip. As the flavors settle on his tongue, his eyes progressively widen. Next thing you know, he’s swallowing it like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“It tastes like the almond cookies they had at the Lotus Casino!”

You nod in response, having some memory of Nico telling you about the Casino he and his sister lived at for a while. He’s told you plenty about it, you just weren’t listening most of the time.

“I liked those the most because it reminded me of the cookies my mom would buy us.”

Nico looks down at the cup, his smile faltering by the second. There’s a shadow clouding over his orbs and you quirk an eyebrow. The sadness overtaking his features looked strange. Sure you’ve seen him upset but you knew enough to recognize this expression as anguish.

“What is it?” Your words came out more monotone than you intended. Shifting in your seat, you wondered why you even asked. Vulnerability wasn’t really something you sought after. It puts a bad taste in your mouth.

“I was just wondering if Bianca would taste the same thing… but she never ate the cookies with me.”

A hum leaves your lips. You don’t know much about that sister of his but you knew two things: first, you were here while he was hurt and she wasn’t. Second, her absence made Nico upset.

“I understand.” Your vision is set on the small window beside you. Set on the fields of campers ahead, you ignore Nico’s burning stare. “I don’t like the taste of my nectar or ambrosia.” “Why?” “The flavors remind me too much of things I want to forget. Your sister probably didn’t eat those cookies for the same reason. It’s too much. Too many things tied to the things you like the most.”

Nico’s silent, staring at the paper cup in his hands as if he was searching for something.

“Nico, there’s one thing you need to know.” He averts his gaze over to you. “You’ll make friends, you’ll have lovers, you’ll have family but at the end of the day, the only person you truly have is yourself.”

The boy shifts in his place, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t let people steal parts of yourself from you. They’re going to disappoint you, expect it, and don’t be sad about it.”

Silence followed somber and stuffy silence. For once, you were glad Fletcher returned in all of his child of Apollo gleam. He was better at cheering Nico up than you were, that’s for sure.

★・・・・・・★

“What do you mean ‘He’s gone?’” Percy slowly retreats from your advances. Twice already, he’s stared at the glowing eyes of a child of Hades and the second time was even more intimidating.

“He just disappeared,” Percy stutters out. “It looked like shadows took him, and then he was gone.”

Schist. You didn’t even know the little rat could shadow travel. By now, he could be anywhere. You’ve been on him about training, but he still had that childish clumsiness to him. His chances of survival would be out of pure luck.

A groan leaves your lips, knowing you’d have to go find him. If it were anyone else, you would have let them be, but this unfamiliar urgency in your chest wouldn’t allow it. You had to find and drag him back by his ear if you had to.

Your eyes roll at the son of Poseidon, and you turn on your heels without a word. So much drama because of that sister of his.

Rushing down the stairs of the pavilion, you conjure the shadows to form a portal that’ll lead you straight into the forest.

Di Angelo, you better be alive when I find you.

★・・・・・・★

How does a 10-year-old with short legs get so much distance?

After hours of searching and instigating some fights with monsters, he was nowhere to be found. Concluding that, maybe, hopefully, he found his way out of the forest, you have to settle with waiting for him to return. If he returns.

Tired legs take you up the porch steps and you shrug off your coat the moment you step through the door. As the warmth graces your chilled skin, a floorboard creaks.

“Nico?”

“Y/n?” Your name comes out of his mouth like a desperate plea as he reveals himself out of the shadows. With rosy, tear-stained cheeks, and watery eyes, Nico bolts in your direction, and for a moment, you think he’s going to attack you.

It would be a bold move. Though, with his speed, he could get a good hit but he ended up doing something much worse.

He hugged you.

His small frame flings into you, short arms grasping your waist as if his life depended on it.

“Percy broke his promise,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks and dampening your shirt. “Bianca,” he shutters. “He told me she died.” His frame shivers harder, the action almost too violent for his frame. You weren’t sure how but his grip tightened, “What am I going to do?” Get over it.

The hostile thought was a knee-jerk reaction. Your mouth was about to relay the message but you stopped yourself, the words getting caught in your throat.

The logical answer didn’t feel right. Why didn’t it feel right?

Suddenly you’re aware of the sunken feeling in your chest. Its foreign nature made it hard to distinguish whether it hurt or if it was discomfort.

This is odd.

Nico cries and cries, and by now, the clothing of your shirt is sticking damp to your skin. The longer you stood there, stuck on what to say next, you felt an urgency as if your response was timed.

Rarely were you lost for words. Actually, you can’t recall a time when you have but right now you stood with your mouth open like a fish out of water. “You stay here,” you say abruptly. Nico pulls away, eyes glistening in the ray of moonlight seeping into the room. He’s so small.

Not that he’s not small on any other day. His narrow shoulders droop and turn into themselves from the weight of the news. He looked fragile, searching for something other than his grief and he’s searching for it in you.

It wasn’t often someone came to confide in you. Your advice was always too abrasive, and cold, and never did you have the urge to give something different.

That’s what made this moment so strange. As Nico waits expectantly, you can’t find it in yourself to disregard him.

“You stay here,” you repeat, the words delivered before your brain could process them.“And you train, and make friends, and find your own way around life.” Nico frowns, sleeve wiping his nose. Amongst his sadness, something flickers in his eyes. “Stay here with you?” With you.

You couldn’t begin to decipher what that question made you feel. Forget the question, its delivery was hopeful and that surprised you the most.

The feelings were almost overwhelming and before it completely flooded your senses, you shoved it to the side.

“Who else?” You clear your throat in an effort to get yourself together. “Is there anyone else who lives here besides me? Does the statue count too?” The question was genuine but something about it made Nico crack a smile.

“Anyways, you’ll see her again.” You shrug, stepping out of his loose embrace.

“I will?” “We’re the children of the dead. We can just find her.” Find her so I can kill her again.

Nico sniffles, the sound snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Stop crying,” you blurt out, and the boy blinks, face pink. “Crying doesn’t fix anything,” is all you say before returning to your side of the room.

Nico swallows, trying to suppress the tears.

You were right. Crying doesn’t fix anything but even though it was true, his emotions were all too much for him. Sniffling softly and wiping his face with his sleeve, he retreats to bed. “Good night,” he says, voice quivering.

Nico crawls into the covers, the fatigue hitting him the moment he rests against the spring mattress. Unexpecting, he wraps himself up, eyes shut tight in hopes he’ll be asleep soon. “Good night.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrow. He finds some strength to lift his head just enough for you to be in his line of vision. Blinking in surprise, he swears he saw a smile on your face. It wasn’t teasing, or happy. It was comforting, as slight as it was. It wasn’t much but to Nico, it made him feel like he’d be okay.

Without another word, you slid into your covers and went to sleep.

★・・・・・・★

“Where’s the brat?” With crossed arms and a look of determination, you stood authoritatively at the double doors of your father’s dining room.

The god sits at the very end of the grand table, skeleton butlers wait on either end of the room to serve him. On the polished mahogany wood, the bulbs of the many crystal chandeliers lined up across the ceiling reflect like ornaments. As Hades wipes the sides of his lips with a cloth napkin, the side of his mouth quirks as he catches Nico peeking behind your back like a child behind a mother’s skirt.

Since when have you been maternal?

“I’m sorry, who?” Your father asks with fake confusion. The smile on his face already gave you a headache. You weren’t here to play games, you meant business.

“You know who.”

Hades clears his throat and his eyes flicker over to Nico. Quickly, the small boy retreats nervously, eyes set on your back. “I don’t know where your sister is, boy.”

“I don’t believe you,” you cut in. Nico wasn’t going to speak, the boy practically shivering in his father’s presence. Even as he refrains from confrontation, he’s in awe at your comfort towards the god.

“There’s dead people in and out of this place. You think I would know?” Hades asks and a hum leaves your lips.

“I would think you’d at least keep track of your kids but if you’re going to be this useless to me, I’ll find her myself.”

“Wait.”

You halt turning on your heels and raise an eyebrow. There was a moment of disbelief, your father helping and not making everything so difficult for you, for once? You wonder who could have possibly granted this miracle.

“She’s somewhere down here,” Hades says and you wish your expression could get straighter. “Wow, I would have never figured that out. Thanks.” Grabbing Nico’s sleeve, you begin dragging him out of the room.

“She’s not in the meadows, I checked. I don’t think her life has been judged either but Charon said he rowed her in. I can feel she’s close.”

You sigh. Finding her is proving to be more of a challenge than you thought. By now, you would think she’d be judged and categorized wherever the judges saw fit. However, from the dead ends, you’ve stumbled upon so far, you consider that she doesn’t want to be found. As annoying as it is, the chance to prove you can find her was enough to get you to keep going, “Noted,” you mumble, already deciding where you will look next. “Close the door on your way out!” “No.”

★・・・・・・★

“Okay, listen here…” You move a little closer, eyeing the name tag on the frightened guard. “Atrius. Have you seen Bianca? She looks like this kid.” Pointing at Nico, the ghost peers over your shoulder.

“No, I haven’t seen her.” As definitive as that statement was, he didn’t sound so definitive. His bones clinked together as he shivered in your presence.

“I don’t like when people lie to me.” You stare into his empty eye sockets. One moment passes and then two and then three and still he hasn’t budged. Irritation buzzed at the back of your skull. You had the time but none of the patience to play hide and seek.

Nico stands a short way behind you, partially concerned for your victim. He wasn’t sure what you were going to do if you didn’t get what you wanted. The skeleton flashed him a look and even with no skin on his face, he could tell it was pleading.

“Help me!” He was saying without a word.

The boy doesn’t move from his spot though, instead looking away sheepishly. Pleading or not, he looked scary. That and Nico really wants to find his sister. “I’m not lying!” He insists and it annoys you even more. Quickly, in one movement, you grab his leg and tug so hard it comes straight out the socket. Tossing it to the side, your eyes don’t leave him as he yelps, falling straight to the ground. “Tell me where she is, or I’m tossing both of your legs into Tarturus. Last chance.”

Atrius wails at your threat, the sound was so hysteric you almost missed his confession. “She’s hiding in Lady Persephone’s garden, amongst the pomegranate trees!”

Nico flinches when you whip around. Already he was unsettled by your interrogation methods but nothing prepared him for your face.

You were smiling. Your eyes looked lit up.

Not gracing him a look, you walked right past him. From his surprise, his brain never gave his body the signal to move. Instead, he averts his attention to a distraught Atrius whose more than relieved he finally got you out of his bones.

Right as he’s about to look away, Nico jumps in his skin as the skeleton looks right at him once again. It was only then did he find the courage to move. Walking backward, he smiles sheepishly. “Um… thank you,” Nico’s tone is apologetic. Across the courtyard laid Atrius’s leg and the boy takes a step in that direction but is halted by the sound of his name. “You’re coming or not?” You ask him, foot tapping with impatience.

Not wanting to keep you waiting, Nico forgets about retrieving the guard's limb. “Sorry about your leg!” He shouts behind him, hoping the apology was soothing enough as he joins your side.

The young boy stares at the back of your sneakers as you make your way through the underworld. Already he’s seen some things that spooked him out too much. This was like walking through a horror maze for him.

For you though, he notices you’re more comfortable around here than you did at camp. Your usually confident stride had purpose and authority. He wonders if he’ll ever walk through here the same way you do one day. A part of him hopes he does.

“Alright.” Nico halts, almost bumping right into you as you stop in your tracks. “We walk through here silently. Watch where you’re stepping, if you crush one of Persephone’s plants, I can’t help you.”

The boy’s face contorted with fear. “What do you mean you can’t help me?” He couldn’t decipher the look you flashed in his direction but it sent your message well enough. Don’t step on one of her flowers and you won’t find out.

Nico’s small nod is enough to get you moving. With silent and slow steps, you walk along the paved pathway toward the cluster of trees in the back.

It hadn’t settled into Nico’s awareness that his sister was hiding. You could tell. He was still hopeful and excited to see her and you can imagine if he knew, he wouldn’t be happy about it.

You’re not happy about it, that’s for sure. What even was her problem? If there was anything Nico deserved, it was to see her before she gets sent to the meadows or decides to reincarnate.

Once you approach the trees, you shuffle through them. You’re thankful Nico’s naturally taken the role of your shadow because he mimics your sneaking, staying out of sight with you.

He probably thinks your caution is due to Persephone arriving at any minute. You feel this strange tightness in your chest, he really has no idea you’re trying to sneak up on his sister so she doesn’t have the chance to run.

Right as the thought passes, you catch sight of something moving in the trees. Locks of brown hair wisp through them and the pulse in your neck picks up. It seems you’re not going to avoid a chase.

Nico barely had time to catch up as you bolt through a straight diagonal through the trees. You admire her audacity to try and get away. The smile that stretches across your face is from amusement alone.

As Bianca makes a sharp right, you gather the shadows at the tree's stumps and will them to consume your body. Nico blinks and suddenly you’re gone. His quick steps come to a stop as he looks around, trying to catch any sight of you. Then he hears a cry of pain and he moves fast in that direction.

The only thing on his mind was the possibility you got hurt. Even if you were in your father’s territory, were there still monsters that could attack you? Even worse, what if you stepped on Lady Persephone’s plants? If you can’t help him in the scenario he did, what was he gonna do?

His pace quickens as he hears another cry and finally, he bursts through a wall of vines.

Still clouded by his concern, his brain barely processes what he stumbled upon. There you were, fingers grasping tight at his sister’s ear. Bianca groans and struggles in your pinching grasp and you look up at Nico with a gleam, like a fisherman who just got his catch of the day. “Got her.”

“Nico?”

Bianca freezes at the sight of her brother. There’s a silence that follows and you’re surprised Nico didn’t immediately bombard her with questions.

The girl straightens up once you let go of her and as your arm returns to your side, you catch the tears brimming Nico’s waterline.

Yeah, this is when you clock out. Your work here is done.

“I’ll… wait for you over there,” you point through the trees and at the meadow of flowers that wasn’t too far. It’s enough distance to be an earshot away.

Nico nods, his eyes unmoving from his sister.

Once you’ve shadow traveled to your spot, you didn’t dare look in their direction. With your eyes planted on the flowers, you wait for Nico to return.

The boy didn’t take too long which left you lost for words. He didn’t look happy when he met you in the garden. His eyes held a feeling a part of you understood.

“I want to go home.” He frowns.

Home. You didn’t even consider camp a home and you’ve been there for three years.

“Okay.” Your voice was right above a whisper.

Whatever happened back there was the end for him, the last time he would see her. Knowing how that felt, you waited. Just a moment, maybe two. If Nico had any reservations or second thoughts, you gave him time. When nothing came, you hoped whatever happened, he’ll find peace in it.

The shadow gathered slowly, first at your feet then at your legs and soon the two of you were traveling through blurred shadows and harsh winds.

★・・・・・・★

“Who did this?” You weren’t sure if the streaks of water on Nico’s face were from his eyes or the toilet water soaked in his hair.

The boy sniffles, cheeks and nose flushed from his embarrassment. After the incident, he rushed back to the Hades Cabin to wallow in self-pity but his assumption you wouldn’t be there was wrong. He didn’t want to admit what happened, scared he would disappoint you for clearly losing this battle.

His mouth opens to answer but nothing comes out. He considers lying but as you raise an eyebrow, he grows too anxious to come up with one.

“Nico,” you say his name firmly and the frown on his face deepens. “It was Clarisse and her siblings, they-” he gurgles out through his watery whines and you sigh. “They…, I-”

“Breathe.” You kneel to his height and take a deep breath, waiting for him to follow. He does, his chest filling with air and he releases it shakily.

“They surrounded me in the bathroom and Clarisse shoved my face in the toilet.”

His lip quivers as he recalls the memory. Nico’s eyes flicker across your hardening features and you rise from your spot. “Go clean up,” you demand, already heading to the door.

“What are you gonna do?” “I’m going to fix it.”

★・・・・・・★

Gravel crunches under your shoes, without a single weapon you persist into the camp’s arena. Clangs of swords and grunts could be heard from outside of the entrance and as you made your way through the doors, there were the Ares’s campers sweating and panting from their already hard day of training.

Clarisse stands there authoritatively, the swing of the grand door grabbing her attention and the snug look on her face had set off a slight rage in your chest.

You were ready to wipe it off. If only she knew what she had coming. “Did Nico tell on us?” One of her brothers asks mockingly, your presence already known to the entire group. They stood, waiting for a fight as they make no effort to sheath their swords.

A smile almost graces your lips before you could even execute your plan.

“His big sister is fighting his battles for him.” They laugh and joke at your brother’s expense and something snaps in your mind.

The ground suddenly sinks into itself, and Clarisse and her siblings stumble to the side in confusion. Before they realized what was happening, there was no chance to run.

A sinkhole, perfectly round and deep enough to trap them forms right under their feet. They roll and drop to the bottom, coughing at the gravel waterfall surrounding them.

You hear their shouts and complaints and you make your way to the edge. Looking down at them, you ignore their demands to be let out.

“No one messes with my little brother.”

As if on cue, there’s a screech in the distance and it immediately fills their expressions with dread. A lopsided smirk appears on your lips and soon the shadows of massive wings appear overhead.

You whisper a demand to attack in ancient greek and the harpies swoop down with a call like a battle cry. There’s a collective panic of your victims and a laugh leaves you, watching as they spear their swords in the air at every charge towards them.

Calmly leaving the chaos you’ve caused behind, you find an audience. Unaware of their bewildered expressions, not because of the scene but at the joyful smile on your face, you hoped you’ve sent a message.

Be nice my brother or else.

masterlists

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympian fanfic #nico di angelo #nico di angelo fanfic #nico di angelo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympian fic

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 23 days

Text

HAZBIN CHARACTERS IF YOU GOT A CAT

This is a follow up to my aninal lover post.

Alastor

Confused as to where you got an actual cat in Hell.

At least it's not a dog.

Will say he doesn't like cats and complain about it getting fur everywhere but constantly has the cat near him while he's boradcasting, idly petting it.

If the cat is a menace and knocks things over a lot, especially while he's broadcasting he's using his shadows to restrain it or throw it out.

He literally makes a shadow cage for it sometimes when it has zoomies and attacks his feet.

Is annoyed with you for laughing and calling it "baby jail".

The cat better be useful and actually hunt the pests around the hotel.

He's feeding it flesh as a treat guys. Just accept it.

Charlie

OMG YOU HAVE A CAT!!! AN ACTUAL CAT!

She wants your cat and Kiki to be best friends.

Buys all of the cat toys. Expensive multi level cat trees. She cooks for it.

If it's not a cuddler, she's willing to suffer dozens of scratches just to hold it.

Has dozens of nicknames for your cat and spoils it all the time with treats.

Vox

Prefers dogs probably, but won't complain about the cat because it's more practical for people who are as busy as you all are.

He's mildly annoyed by all the cat hair everywhere, especially if it gets in his wiring or joints. Is also annoyed because he generates heat and hums from his mechanical parts, so the little shit literally won't leave him alone. It's hard to be an intimidating Overlord when there's a ball of floof on your lap/chest, and it purrs really loud to match your humming.

He swears he doesn't enjoy it, and you can hear him scolding the cat like it's a child whenever it does something, it shouldn't. Also has a kennel/cat carrier made to put the child, he means cat, in timeout. Threatens to feed it to his sharks while he watches it bap the tank glass for hours.

Buys it little ties and suits with his colors and logo on it since the damn thing wants to be with him at all times. If the child (cat) wants to come to meetings it's gonna dress the part. The cat is literally your child with him he just refuses to acknowledge it.

Valentino

Let's go with him not being the type of guy to shoot a pet for being annoying.

At first, Valentino doesn't like it because he just isn't an animal person. Like I said before he likes the idea of them more than actually having one. He does get annoyed with cat hair on everything and the little shit knocking things over.

However, let's say this cat is very sweet and snuggly. I think overtime he'd get used to it and begin to enjoy petting it and snuggling it. Maybe you, him, and the cat, all cuddled up to watch a movie. It helps him relax, especially if the cat is purring. He's also the type to dress it up and take photos with it.

Overall, I definitely think it's still more your pet than his, but he doesn’t hate it, and it does help him a lot, and he enjoys seeing you happy.

Lucifer

Cat dad. Immediately commits to that being your first child together. Like Charlie he will suffer unholy amounts of scratches to pet and cuddle it. Buys it fancy clothes and collars. Cooks homemade food for it. That's how I view it going down no matter where or how you acquired the cat.

However,

Honestly, he's probably the only one where you suggest outright getting a pet and pick out the cat together. You didn't even know an actual normal cat was an option for a pet in Hell, but he surprises you by taking you to some fancy ass place where high ranking demons have collected things from the mortal world and sell them. Running an actual high class, well documented, and strictly maintained cat breeding business, is a cat demon, and you two spend days meeting different litters of kittens and interacting with them in various scenarios to get a feel for their personality.

You guys definitely get a snuggler, because Lucifer really needs as much extra love as he can get. He excitedly tells Charlie she and Kiki are big siblings now and posts dozens of pictures on day one of owning it. You guys have a family portrait with the cat, Charlie, Vaggie, Razzle, and Kiki.

Refers to it as his child when speaking and calls himself dad and you mom (regardless of gender. You're mom)

Alternatively, he's mom and you're the father. He thinks gender norms are bullshit anyway. He can be a mom, he can shapeshift. (Also ya know, he apparently birthed Charlie).

Charlie loves her new feline sibling and brings Kiki and Razzle over to play all the time. It helps her spend more time with her dad too.

Angel Dust

He's a pet mom too! Will bring Fat Nuggets with him to play with your cat.

You guys dress them up and do photo shoots with your cats. Angel has an entire social media account now dedicated just to your cat and Fat Nuggets and eventually the other Hotel Pets.

He likes that both your cat and Nuggets can tell when he's had a bad day, and therefore you can tell. He likes that you can just sit with him in quiet solidarity, or play music, or a podcast, or just talk shit to distract him. He loves Cherri, but her method of getting through stuff is kind of exhausting for him sometimes.

Your voice, a kitty purring (if only it was Husk), Nuggets nuzzling his floof, that's kind of all he needs right now.

Husk

He and the cat just stare at each other, sometimes for hours, just staring. The cat will make little chirps, and he'll do it back if he's not thinking about it.

If the cat hisses at him he hisses back.

Skippity baps. The cat started it, he swears, and he just bapped it back.

Both of them high and catnip with zoomies. So much shit gets knocked down. Alastor strictly forbids Husk to ever get near the stuff again afterwards.

Alternatively, he, Kiki, and your cat, sprawled in a patch of sunlight, and all purring as they doze.

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #vox x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

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The ways they like to tease you during sex | JJK Men

ft. gojo satoru, geto suguru, sukuna, toji fushiguro, nanami kento

content: NSFW, afab reader, m! pen, smut, cowgirl position, doggy, backshots, cumshots, orgasm denial

💠 gojo 💠

loves a good long intentional stroke to piss you off. he knows your usual pace and what angles quickest alight you but when hes trying to play with you — to make you grapple at his back and whine for him to do it properly — he’ll pretend that he’s trying to savour the time.

“I just want to make love to you.”

lies. literally all lies, because this wasn’t love making in the slightest. this was gojo being a pest and purposely missing that squidgy spot that will get you clawing at his skin and crying his name for all neighbouring walls to hear.

it’s only when things get too much that you start to rut yourself down on the man, aiming to get your own high and in the end that always sets gojo off. teasing you is fun, but succumbing to your lust is better.

💠 geto 💠

being the control freak he is, geto would make sure he denies you any room to push him around or demand something from him. he’d have you; ass in the air, face down into the pillow and hands held behind your back.

“gu-guru!”

he’d fuck into you, backshots sounding like assaults on skin as he denies you any form of movement. he knows you’re itching to hang off of him or take him into your arms but geto denies you all forms of contact. he can hear you mumble detest into the pillow but the smile on his face is sick as he teases you.

“can’t hear you. speak up.”

geto changes up pace and quality every now and then but knowing you cant do anything about it, all you do is moan and whimper in retaliation.

💠 sukuna 💠

he’ll refuse to touch you in sensitive places. sukuna isn’t much of a passionate lover — he likes things harsh and full of pure lust. but he knows your wants and desires, maybe a bit more than you do, yet he’ll deny you them perks simply because he wants to be a pain.

“kuna, come on…”

he could easily fuck you and not pinch at your nipples, swipe at your clit or kiss at your neck. sukuna’s go to is to be selfish. it doesn’t matter if your whining at him to touch you. the man will only wear a wicked smile as he uses you as a personal fleshlight. easily, he can be finish inside of you and not give you any sort of relief.

but sukuna knows that you dont allow him to stay that way for long. you’ll hiss and spit curses at him for attempting to leave you hanging but the de-man seems privy only to your reprimand. he doesn’t fear you, but he’ll be very sure not to get on your bad side and therefore finish what he started.

💠 toji 💠

being a pain is something hes doing more of than not but if toji wants to tease you because he thinks you’re on too much of a high horse, he’ll appear bored in front of you as you ride his cock.

“Who the fuck are you texting?”

the blue light of his mobile phone will illuminate over his stout face, completely disregarding your intentions to bounce over his dick. what’s even more amusing is the fact that you know he’s probably not even texting anyone because the fuckers such a loner — he literally only hangs out with you. you’ll end up swivelling on him, never allowing him to exit you but you lean forward so you could witness what he was playing at. it was only candy crush.

“so lame…” you’ll mumble, because you know he’s only doing it to fuck with you.

having no phone in his hand, toji rolls his eyes but ends up placing his hands onto the dips of your hips.

“maybe dont be such a bitch next time.” he’ll grumble

💠 nanami 💠

kento isnt usually one for teasing but when he does it’s because he’s trying to get a rise out of you. mostly if it’s because you dont keep to schedule or do something overtime — kento hates having to wait and so in turn, he’ll make you wait.

“ken, please. just touch me.”

the man will sit on the edge of the bed, cock standing tall, red and leaking at the tip but he’d still deny you, even at the expense of himself.

“I’ve told you about making me wait.”

he’d look to his watch on his hands.

“five minutes.”

“kento, please!”

he’s already have given you a taste, wet his cock within you — only a handful of strokes — before dutifully pulling out and moving himself away from you. he wasnt one to play with when it came to time keeping. the man kept a tight schedule and anything over the threshold was detrimental and so here you were, learning that lesson.

you’d pander your own hand down to your leaking cunt, the juices already puddling at the base of your folds but nanami would slap your hand away.

“I said wait.”

yes, he made you wait, but it only meant the reward was a lot better and definitely worth it.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x black reader #sukuna x black reader #toji x black reader #nanami x black reader #geto x black reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #nanami kento #ryomen sukuna #toji fushiguro

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thefiery-phoenix · 2 months

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yandere dg hcs if u havent yet?? ty❤️

YANDERE JAMES LEE (DG) HEADCANONS

He's an unpredictable ticking time bomb to say the least. It doesn't matter if he's James Lee or DG, they're STILL the same person. As soon as his eyes land on you, that's when your entire life belongs to him now. He's borderline possessive, obsessive, manipulative and not above gaslighting you emotionally to make you stay with him. There are 2 instances when you could have met him, as James Lee or as DG but it doesn't make the situation any better since they're both the same obsessive psychotic person when it comes to you

If you met him as James Lee, it would probably be when you'd be in school with him or something. You were the sort of person who'd never get involved in fights and always kept yourself under the radar. Your only concern was to just pass the freaking math test this week with a decent score. While you were returning home from school, you spotted James hitting a few people like they were nothing and you glared at him disapprovingly. He spotted you glaring at him and he was amused by your pouty glare. "Aww...don't worry princess, you don't need to worry about bad men anymore" he said in a slightly patronizing condescending tone with a smirk on his face. You just grumbled under your breath and walked away as his eyes never left your figure till you vanished from his sight. He couldn't help but softly chuckle to himself, you were quite intriguing

He'd spend time getting to know more about you which will also involve smacking people around to give him the information he needs regarding you. He won't even be discreet about following you or stalking you at this point, he just has this arrogant cocky grin on his face and thinks he's protecting you and comes up with a number of reasons on why you need him to be around you. He despises it when you pay attention to other people though, they're just mere pests in his eyes. Why would you waste your time with them? Why would you waste your time with those silly little annoying pests you call your friends? You're clearly a naive one if you think they don't have ulterior motives towards you, he's certain they have ulterior motives towards you

Or you could either meet him when he's DG. You could be an assistant of his or a dancer, catching his attention as DG would he slightly more difficult compared to him as James Lee because he's so used to people throwing themselves at him and he just doesn't even bother to react to them anymore. Miraculously if you do end up catching his attention at some point, within the next 10 minutes he'll have every single nitty gritty detail about you one way or another and reads about you like you're some kind of fascinating specimen in his free time

As time progresses by, he'll start growing more possessive and obsessive towards you. It'll get even worse if you're going out with him and in a relationship with him. He'll want to know about every single thing going on in your life and who you're with and what sort of pest he'll have to get rid of to ensure you're his. I wouldn't put it past him to not resorting to installing cameras in your house either because he really would do something like that. What? It's just to ensure your safety, that's all. You'll always have someone stalking you from behind the shadows and you'll never have your moment of privacy again. Say goodbye to your much cherished privacy since it'll go out the window and down the drain and he's the reason for it

He likes you for being yourself. He's met plenty of superficial people and people who's personality changes even faster than the colors of a chameleon but your presence is like a breath of fresh air compared to the usual people he interacts with. You could be plain and simple and he'd still love you. In his own twisted manic way. He's drawn to your humble down to earth nature. He loves it when he gifts you something and you start blushing and turn flustered, he's now made it his personal mission in life to see you get flustered more often since he finds you rather adorable and endearing when you do that. Your cheeks puff out slightly whenever you're feeling embarrassed about something so he'll teasingly caress your cheek with his hand to watch you squirm even more. Your reactions are too cute and entertaining for him. Sadistic MF

He loves to spoil you. Whatever you want, just say the word and you'll have it in the blink of an eye with a shiny packaging wrap around it just for you. However a while later his behavior will start getting much worse. He'll slowly start distancing you from your friends since he wants your attention to be only on him. There's a reason he's called one of the 10 geniuses you know. He'll do it in a calculating manner you won't know and realize he's isolating you from people before it's too late. He won't even deny it when you confront him about it, the way he sees it is he's just doing this for your own good. He's fought against gang members and yakuza leaders and whatnot, there's a reason he's one of the feared skilled fighters around. He doesn't want you going through the same thing as him so just be a good little spouse for him and accept his love for you. Will take you out on bike rides on his bike as well. He loves it when you hold him and rest your head on his shoulder. Night bike rides with him are quite romantic, he'll take you out to a place where the stars are visible and he'll hold you in his arms and you both will enjoy the peace and serenity of the night atmosphere, looking at the stars

Oh,you'll report him to the authorities? Darling, you're just making him laugh with your naivety at this point. He has the power and authority to buy the entire police department or whoever he wants. He's an IDOL admired by the people. When the faith in him is strong, no one can bring him down. It's not like someone would even believe you anyway and even if you do find the one sane enough person to believe you, DG will get rid of them quickly. Don't bother trying to escape from him either, he has all the resources and power to locate you and trace your location in mere seconds. You'll be dragged back to 'your home' and he'll just scold you like you're a child. And all escape routes for you will be destroyed, you'll lose your internet privilege for a month and the security system will be more improved and he'll change the locks too. Look, he might be a ruthless fighter but that doesn't mean he's a monster at heart. He genuinely does love you and care for you, he doesn't want to hurt you. He'd never get physical or raise his voice at you even when he's mad

Will control everything you do. Whatever do you need a job for? It's strenuous to work these days, he doesn't want you getting tired and gaining the attention of some random undeserving scumbag who doesn't have the right to look at you. He's more than enough to provide for the two of you. Let him just spoil you and take care of you

Don't even get me started on what he does to people who hurt you. Now it depends on the sort of person who's hurt you. If it's just some random jealous fangirl or fanboy, he'll use his popularity to his advantage and that person's account will get suspended and they'll have an fanbase hurling curses towards them. Fanbases can be quite scary at times. If it's some gang member or some jerk of a gang leader he will not go easy on them. He'll ensure they live, sure but live a painful torturous life. He'll either make them blind in one eye or both, or cut one of their fingers off or something for daring to hurt you. He'll finish the job quickly and he'll do it by himself. If it's Charles Choi trying to hunt you down for some reason....well, it's been long enough since that old man's been in a position of power and he'll bring him down. It's best if you don't ask where the blood is from

He likes holding you in his arms and having you on his lap. It doesn't matter what you say, you're sitting on his lap one way or another. He'll give you soft kisses on your lips every now and then and loves it when you do basic chores around the house even though you don't need to since there are people to take care of that for him. He likes seeing you in that cute little apron of yours, cooking something or doing laundry or whatever. He'll envelope you in a hug from the back and press soft kisses to your neck as his arms will be wrapped around your waist tightly so you won't be able to escape from his grasp

Overall, he's a good guy with a psychotic hidden personality inside. Just don't leave him and things will be all right

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alaskasmonsters · 1 year

Text

𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (michael kaiser)

pairing: michael kaiser x gn!reader

contents: flirting, foreign language (german), teasing, petnames, enemies to lovers, mistaking attraction for hatred, reader has anger issues

w/c: 2.486 (istg this was meant to be short,,,)

summary: kaiser is infuriating. there is just something about him that made your blood boil. and when the boy started teasing you in german, knowing damn well you had no idea what he was saying you could only imagine what type of things he was saying about you.

a/n: oh look it’s my favourite trope. mistaking attraction for hatred. <3 kaiser speaks german in this one because *looks at hand* i do what i want :)) you’ll find the translations for what he says at the bottom of the post. they are pulled from my own brain (this is me trying to say i am in fact fluent in german shshshhs) also writing some of kaiser’s lines made me cringe bdhdh ngl he thinks he’s so hot 🙄🙄 and he is also the title is lowkey highkey misleading hahaha

Kaiser got under your skin like no one else did. He always had that particular skill. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, the boy infuriated you to no end.

Everything about him down to his stupid smirk, his playful tone, his insufferable confidence and sometimes even just the way he would look at you… there was nothing in the world that managed to rile you up as much as being stuck in the same room as that boy.

Unfortunately, this was something that happened quite often. Kaiser and you being forced upon each other, like the universe was playing some twisted game, waiting to see who of you would break first and go at each other’s throat.

And you were pretty sure you were losing.

If getting the chance to choke Kaiser could be classified as a loss, that was. Maybe it would be a blessing. Maybe you shouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. Maybe you should just wipe that arrogant smirk off his smug face forever and call it a day. Then you’d be rid of the pest called Michael Kaiser.

The boy who managed to bring out the ugliest side of you. An angry side, a spiteful side, a childish side. A side you did not like about yourself. A side you’d rather ignore, push deep deep down to the depths of your subconsciousness and never let see the light of day again.

You had no idea what you did to deserve this. Why the universe decided to punish you specifically was beyond your comprehension. Haven’t you always been an upstanding citizen? Haven’t you always tried your best to not be an asshole, to not let your anger get the best of you? And yet, and yet, here you were once again, standing in front of Kaiser, who was regarding you with one of his trademark smirks, while you were struggling to keep your cool.

The boy knew exactly how to push your buttons and he never held back. No, he seemed to bathe in your attention, all satisfied smirks and gleaming eyes, and your anger only spurring him on in his mission to be the most infuriating man on the planet.

You didn’t even know who started it this time but you were blaming Kaiser anyway. After all he was usually the one breaking the unspoken rule that was put in place for the two of you that said you were not allowed to interact. Because of how little you got along you were also advised to avoid each other as much as possible.

Regardless of who was the initiator today, it didn’t matter. The damage was already done. The “damage” being you, standing here, chest swirling with burning hot anger and Kaiser, who had nothing better to do than make it worse.

Like fucking always.

You hated Kaiser, and most days you were sure he hated you, too. Still, it was always you who got upset with him and it was always he who liked to make a joke out of the whole situation. Probably because he knew it would only infuriate you more.

The boy loved pushing your buttons.

“Weißt du, du bist echt süß,” Kaiser purred, tilting his head to the side as he regarded you, “Einfach zum Anbeißen.”

You frowned, jaw clenching in irritation as you glared at his smug face, the mocking tone of his voice not going past you.

Even when he was speaking another language. Despite knowing full well you couldn’t understand him and that you hated it. He loved it, though. Speaking German when you were already angry, knowing it only made it worse.

Whatever insults he spout at you or names he called you in the other language, with a fake smile in place, you couldn’t possibly know. But you expected the worst.

“Michael,” you warned.

His eyebrow ticked up at the usage of his first name.

That was only a small triumph. He preferred being called by his last name, especially by you. He was a weirdo who got off being addressed with the title of an emperor, and you weren’t an exception. You knew it made his skin buzz, could see it in the way he’d lit up.

Kaiser nodded, seemingly to himself as he leaned his shoulder against one of the lockers of the dressing room. Why you were even in here was beyond you. Maybe today was the day of bad decisions.

“Und dann ist es noch so einfach, dich sauer zu machen, fast schon witzig,” he continued, not dropping his smirk.

His eyes narrowed at you mockingly, hands pushed deep into his pants pockets. He seemed to look relaxed but you knew he was watching you like a hawk, waiting for what you’d do next. If you’d leave, like you did many times, storm out and slam the door shut behind you or if you’d talk back, something you often couldn’t resist either.

Your jaw ticked. Knowing that Kaiser was well aware of how easy you were to anger and provoking you anyways was something that got your blood boiling like nothing else. Your heart was already thumping wildly in your chest, the sound of it rushing to your ears. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, spurting you to act, to run or to argue or maybe to punch him. And worst of all, you could already feel the onset of shivers.

It was such a nasty betrayal of your body.

Whenever you got upset, you started shaking. It was most likely the adrenaline but if driven to a certain point of anger it’s something you couldn’t help. Your hands and your shoulders and your legs would start shaking and you’d stand there looking like a stupid chihuahua — at least Kaiser loved to compare you to one of those.

He loved to make fun of you for it. He loved to make fun of you for a lot of things…

Your body moved before you could think.

“You’re a fucking jerk,” you hissed, stepping closer until you were stood right in front of him and digging your finger into his chest.

Kaiser didn’t appear appalled or the slightest bit worried about your trembling form. His grin was sharp, eyes narrowed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Your anger, like so often, only seemed to spur him on.

He leant forward, pushing off the wall, weight against your finger on his chest increasing as he came face to face with you. Before you knew it his hand was on your face. His fingers found your chin, pointer finger gently lifting it as his thumbs graced your cheeks.

You froze, heart skipping a beat in disbelief at the audacity of this man. Your face flushed, you could feel the anger in your cheeks now.

“Wenn du meinst, Schatz,” Kaiser mused, emphasizing the last word and leant closer, your noses barely a breath apart.

Your hands tightened into fists by your side. You should move. You should push him away, maybe slap him while you were at it but you found yourself frozen, completely shocked by the intrusion of personal space. That was unfair. He couldn’t do that when you were angry.

Wait, no! He couldn’t do that at all!

Kaiser hummed, watching the conflict wash across your face with interest, lifting your chin up higher and dipping his head lower.

That was the moment your brain decided to bid its goodbye, your brain cells frying with its departure.

You had no idea what was happening. Whether Kaiser had just seen something on your face and gracefully decided to take it upon himself to remove it with his lips, or if he had finally thrown his last bit of dignity out of the window and was planning to bite you.

Which didn’t make much sense, because out of the two of you you were certainly the one struggling to keep yourself from being violent with him. He had never even come close, unless he was as good at hiding it as you would like to hope you were.

Kaiser’s face was still moving closer.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what the only logical follow up to this action was and you stopped, not moving away when you easily could have, waiting for Kaiser to seal your lips with his.

But before it could come to that Kaiser stopped, waiting a moment, before drawing back, observing you out of hooded eyes and taking in your…whatever expression you must be making that moment.

If you had to guess it was probably similar to whatever a crashing Windows would be looking like.

“You look like you really want this ‘jerk’ to kiss you, though,” he murmured, still only centimeters away from your lips.

Before you could decide to do anything, like actually push him away or maybe pull him closer or any other insane thing, Kaiser giggled, fucking giggled, before pulling back. He didn’t withdraw without planting a kiss against your forehead, though, making you flinch.

What the-

You gaped at him, blinking. Then you realized what just happened.

You had almost let Kaiser kiss you.

You. had. almost. let. Kaiser. kiss. you.

You had almost let Kaiser kiss you!

No, wait, this wasn’t even all there was.

Kaiser had almost kissed you!

Kaiser, the most infuriating man on the planet, the asshole that got off on fighting with you, had almost kissed you. No, he did kiss you! On the forehead. He had planted his lips there, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. Which it wasn’t!

Who even did that? Who kissed their…their…enemy anywhere?

Your hand touched the space above your brows his lips had touched, as you stared at him. He gave you a challenging look.

“You’re….you’re so? You’re unbelievable!” You stuttered, completely out of your depth.

The both of you had entered new territory with this action of his and you had no idea how to act.

“Oh? Am I?” he asked unconcerned.

You glared at him, raising your finger then changed your mind. Instead you turned around and started stomping towards the door. You could not be dealing with this right now.

You simply refused.

Kaiser chuckled, snatching your wrist. “Come on, don’t be like that. If you wanted me to kiss you you should have just said so.”

You clenched your jaw, somehow managed to talk yourself out of actually hitting him and instead only ripped your wrist from his grip.

“I didn’t !”

“Mh?”

“I didn’t want you to kiss me, you asshole,” you bit out, turning to look back at him over your shoulder, face lowered and eyes narrowed to give him your best glare.

Kaiser looked unimpressed.

“Is that so?” He tilted his head to the side, grin cheeky.

“Oh now you can speak a language I understand,” you growled, winning the inner fight against your voice of reason and facing him again.

“Magst du es nicht, wenn ich deutsch für dich spreche?” He feigned hurt, placing his hand over his heart. “Das verletzt mich echt.”

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. Because you were strong. So, so strong. And so brave about it.

“You know I hate that. Stop being so fucking infuriating.”

He snickered. “Why are you even so mad at me all the time?“

“Because you’re infuriating!” You deadpanned.

“And yet you find me irresistible.”

“Irresistible not to beat up.”

“How crude.”

“Shut up, already?”

With every moment the urge to wipe that self-satisfied grin from his face became stronger and with it your resolve to hold back slowly started to crumble.

Kaiser seemed to notice. Just like a shark who smelt blood he could always detect your weaknesses.

“Or what?” The challenged, stepping closer, voice lowering into a murmur, “You know, if you don’t stop being so rude I might actually have to kiss you to shut you up.”

You gaped at him, trying to step back and gain more distance between you when he took another step forward but your feet were rooted to the spot.

Was it really so easy to catch you off guard? Was Kaiser really capable of reducing you to such a mess with the threat of a kiss?

The boy laughed softly, enjoying whatever expression you must be making with your face right now. Maybe this time it was similar to a cornered animal.

“I said shut up,” you repeated, but your words had lost their heat and your face wasn’t just flushed from anger anymore.

A few moments ago you had fantasized of punching Kaiser in the face, and now…now he was saying those confusing things like they had been on his mind for a while now and you were unable to shift your focus anywhere but his slowly approaching lips.

Why did he even think of kissing you? You hated him. He hated you. What kind of fucked up game was this?

Kaiser bent forward again, suddenly directly in front of your face. How he had managed to get so close again was a mystery to you.

“Make me,” he murmured, a challenge visible in his eye.

You snarled, your anger finally taking the upper hand as your arm shot forward, fingers burying themselves in the fabric of Kaiser’s collar. You considered pushing him away, forcing him to give you space. Instead, and for no reason you were able to understand you pulled, yanking him down. Then you pressed your lips to his.

Kaiser‘s mouth felt warm against yours, lips both chapped and soft, the hand now on your waist firm. He pulled you closer, returning the kiss with fierce

You shouldn‘t question this. Not right now…maybe never. Yeah, never was probably for the best.

“Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you pretend you do,” Kaiser hummed against your lips.

The words managed to bring you back to your senses. At least partly. At least enough for you to realize what you were doing. And what you were doing was kissing Kaiser, you, who had been given a chance and still chose.

Had you actually just done this?

“You! I- Fuck you!” You hissed.

This was…You hated Kaiser. You hated him. He made you angry. On purpose! What were you doing here…kissing him?

You loosened your grip around Kaiser‘s shirt and used your flat palm to push him away. The boy didn‘t stumble, barely took a step back when you had already turned around, ready to run off.

Kaiser‘s amused laughter followed you as you pushed through the door and rushed down the corridor. His last shouted words, “Bye Schatz!” accompanying you as you disappeared behind the next corner.

You couldn‘t believe what had just happened.

You had kissed Kaiser. And the worst part about it? You kinda wanted to do it again.

translations:

“You know, you’re really cute. I could eat you right up.”

“Not to mention how easy it is to rile you up, it’s almost funny.”

“If you say so, honey (=verbatim ‘treasure’).”

“Don’t you like it when i speak german for you? That hurts me.”

“Bye honey (=verbatim ‘treasure’)”

taglist: @crystal-lilac @duf3h6237 @hufflefluffslytherin @chucky-26o1 @lordbugs

#bllk #blue lock #kaiser blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk oneshot #blue lock oneshot #kaiser oneshot

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indouloureux · 2 years

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄

summary: in frenzied expeditions, eddie lets his anger snap and indulges in something... new.

content warnings: ghostface!eddie. character death (no one major), murder, eddie and reader being lovesick psychopaths, kinda shitty writing, gore, graphic depictions of violence. SMUT (18+ MDNI), (a warning that's a spoiler), knife play, blood kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m receiving), ball play, gagging, facefucking, overstimulation, kitchen sex??

a/n: in honor of halloween; idk how to explain this. i hope u guys like it. i wrote it within two days. this was kinda rushed. reblogs and comments are appreciated. thank u my girls @mysticmunson and @lilacletter for beta-reading!!

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,”

Funny how that baritone dulcetness of a voice was easily recognizable. But it was probably because you’ve heard it in many different ways possible that this experimentation seemed familiar to you. Even with his speech choppy from the static of the RT.

“Hey, Eddie,” RT balanced between your ear and shoulder, you take the popcorn out from the microwave, the hot bowl seethes on your poor fingers but you could care less; the burning feeling felt good. “Where are you?”

“On my way,” his voice is slightly garbled. “Just got held up from the drive thru, babe. Don’t start the film without me,”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “Andy’s right here. He’s, uh, out by the pool smoking. The others are on their way though,”

He spits out an obscenity at what you think is an unforeseen speed bump, then a clutter that probably meant his RT fell to the ground. Then his voice is faint next: “I don’t understand why we invited these dickheads,”

“It’s for a truce,” you place the bowl on the countertop, crossing your arms over your white linen sweater, the soft cotton tickling your wrists. “I mean, baby, come on. You graduated! And so did they and, y’know, they want to fix things before they head off to college. And- Eddie, come on, you agreed!”

“I did. But, I just don’t know why we have to watch a movie at your place. You’re alone with Andy right now and I’m still twenty minutes away,”

You hear something slam in the background over his side. You frown, eyes scanning for Andy’s figure out in the backyard; a silver mist hovers over the teal pool, dark green grass almost black, the moon glinting its sharp tips.

And then there’s Andy, with his hands in his hips and a cigarette in his mouth. He turns and waves at you. You wave back.

“Andy’s not here with me. He’s outside, remember?” you pop a popcorn into your mouth, bending over the counter with your elbow on the marbled gloss. “You gotta relax, Eds. I’m fine. If he touches me, I could just… stab him,”

"You wouldn't,"

“I would,”

“You caught a rat and sent it away. You didn’t even drown it, or gut it. Or chop its head off,”

Laughing softly, you take the bowl into your hands and head over to the living room, placing it on the coffee table, aligning the stack of movies properly. “Doing that is, like, practically murder. Why don’t they include those cute little rats in the anti-animal abuse law? They’re still animals!”

“They’re pests, sweetheart.”

“Still an animal. And they're cute. Rodents are cute,” you plop down on the couch in a small bounce, not before you give Andy one last glance who seems to be staring at something across the fence. It’s probably just a squirrel. “What about you? Are you brave enough to kill a rat?”

“Oh, princess,” you can imagine him shaking his head, RT resting on the vacant seat beside him, replacing you. “You know I can do so much more than just kill a rat,”

“Spooky,” flipping your hair behind you, you giggle into the microphone. “Make it quick, please? I’m starving and popcorn’s not gonna suffice this hunger. I could eat a horse, or- I dunno, a person’s arm.”

“Sure thing, Your Majesty,” his voice deepens over a border of a mock British accent that hides his normal, American one well. Then he grunts, and another faint slam of something that catches you off guard and even makes you flinch.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Eddie questions.

You sit forward. “That- slam. Where are you?”

“Oh! That. It’s just the shit at the back, babe.” Eddie explains. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Sit tight and look pretty,”

The RT crackles and there’s nothing but silence left. An ephemeral smile makes its way towards your heated face; conversations with Eddie, no matter the topic or its duration, never fails to make itself linger around your berserk mind.

Your heart belabors your ribcage expectantly, your crimson bottom lip tucked between your pearls. With your thoughts suddenly wrapped around Andy, who makes you wonder how long does it take for someone to finish smoking, makes you jump from your seat and wander away from your bright living room.

By the time you reach the sliding doors that lead you to the backyard, you’ve no sight of the man in the bright green and orange Hawkins High jersey. You frown a little, looking around the expanse of your backyard.

Finally, you slide the doors open. You worry he’s on his little schemes again, like Eddie had warned you about. Despite the truce they offered, you still put them on a pedestal and remained cautious of their actions. Inviting Andy into your home when you were still alone wasn’t exactly one of your brightest decisions, seeing as he could have done anything at any moment that could cause you harm.

But he’s not a murderer.

No, Andy’s a teenage boy who’s attempting closure and forgiveness and practices maturity like every other teenager does. Just… at a later date.

You race back inside your home and pick up your RT and a flashlight. When you return outside, the mist over your pool swishes away from the cold summer wind at nightfall. You turn the switch of your flashlight and direct it at each direction that it could reach, radio tight in your other hand just in case.

“Andy?” you call out. Where could he have possibly gone? “Andy, where are you?”

White sneakers stained by the wet grass and the dirt, you pad across the lawn prudently—tacitly, wondering if maybe you could sneak up on him and give him a good scare. But your backyard lacks trees or any other areas to hide into other than the sun loungers and the shed.

So this concerns you deeply. How Andy could just suddenly disappear. You’ve quickly come to dread this, with the eerie silence that blots repetitively at your composure and suddenly your rattling in worry.

You walk around, pointing your flashlight at every direction, the white beam only allowing you to see the probable septuagenarian metal fences that surround your home. You even open the shed you’ve always feared opening in the nights and see nothing but your father’s equipment and a lawn mower.

But something was missing there.

Your father had a very voluptuary collection of knives that are hung meticulously to the wooden walls of the shed. They were exhibited by size, cleaned thoroughly once a week during his weekends. Their frequent disinfectioning proffers itself like a mirror, where you can clearly see your distraught expression when you realize one of the knives was missing.

The Buck 120.

It was your father’s most beloved. And now you wonder if Andy took it.

“Alright, Andy!” you slam the shed door close, walking backwards and speed walk across every corner of your backyard. “Come out! This isn’t funny! Did you go inside the shed?”

No answer, obviously. What were you thinking?

You harrumph, annoyed that Andy would do this despite your brooding. You stomp your way back inside your house, wiping your feet across the poor rug that you practically assault with your frustrated padding.

You place your flashlight on the counter. Impatient and worried, you try contacting Eddie again through the RT.

When it’s nothing but static, you groan. “God, Eddie, where are you?”

In fact, where are the others?

You twist the knobs of your walkie talkie still, searching for the right station.

Suddenly it crackles and you halt your doings, staring at the radio with a confused lour. The crinkling sound makes you tap your feet impatiently, thinking it’s Eddie because who else could it be?

The frizzling ceases. You take this as a sign to speak. “Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart,” it’s Eddie. But his voice is akin to darkness, almost like corruption playing with a knife that glooms over boredom. The hairs on your arms raise in arising suspicion.

“...Eddie?”

“Go out to the backyard, baby,”

Discomposed, you do. You take heedful steps back outside, a sinister quietude resolves uneasily all over your lit nerves. You hold the walkie talkie tight in your shaking hand, the flashlight you took lighting up the backyard again.

“I’m out,” you say quietly into the microphone. “Eddie, where are you?”

“Just keep walking forward,”

You miff. “Eddie, just come here! Where are you, anyway?” you look around, pointing the flashlight over the fences. “This isn’t funny. Did you take my dad’s knife? You know he hates it when someone touches his collection.”

Eddie titters like he doesn’t give a damn. “Just do what I say,”

Cheeks sucking in, you walk forward, until your eyes adjust to a dark figure sitting in the middle of the lawn. You tap your flashlight twice on your lamp, and point the light at the figure.

If you could, you could have broken the handle in your hand.

Andy’s mangled body sat straight on the chair, the guidance of the blood-soaked ropes kept him up high. His head dangles to the side, his open throat bleeds lavishly down his white shirt; the horrifyingly stark contrast of vermillion to alabaster sets an aberrant spark of terror in your bones.

Then the slit of his apertured stomach leaks all his visceri, a pool of blood beneath his feet and the chair, staining your grass red. You drop the flashlight without your knowledge, the light shining his wretched sneakers instead.

Your hands shakily grasp your mouth, your lips twisting drastically into a choked sob as tears try to sting your eyes. A couple of them drip down your cheeks, your crying more like heavy heaves and gasps.

“Eddie?” you whimper into the walkie. “Where are you? You- you have to come and get me and- and we h-have to call the cops. E-Hello…?” you bring the radio away from your face, staring at the small machine in horror. “Eddie?”

With perturbing fear, you force yourself to look up at Andy again. It’s only then you notice his eyes stare off into space, lacking the brash colors irises adorn — they aren’t blue anymore. It’s a pearl swimming in a milk of lifeless beauty; the barbaric aura of his eyes evinces you speechless, unable to look away from the monstrous crime.

His mouth gapes open, the shocking realization that no breath leaves his agape lips causes you to sob again, your feet bolting you back inside your home, body breaking at each step until you arrive inside your home in shambles.

You hit the walkie repeatedly and speak into it, the way Dustin would during ‘Code Reds’. “Eddie? Eddie!” you hiss. “You answer right-fucking-now. I need you to call the cops—”

With your constant walking back, and your shaky exhales and that ringing in your ears forbids you to hear what has happened inside the home. With one last step, your back meets something warm and acute, causing you to scream and pick up something close to you—a knife.

You point it to whoever it was, the tip meeting the intruder's black clothed mask. Your eyes are wide with fear that attempts bravery, the blunt knife threatening that person.

Your eyes meet the plastic ones, the mask sembles a ghost; its wide, parted mouth frozen like a haunted scream, but the vizard is nothing but dull with its aimless attempt to scare. Anamnesis, had it not been from the circumstances, you would have laughed at it.

You almost did.

“Hi,”

The voice is muffled, the sound marching to familiarity, to hesitance, to realization, to disbelief. You let out a shaky huff, your weapon trembling in your grasp.

“Eddie?”

His glove moves like a blur to remove his mask.

Eddie’s breathless and sweaty, droplets of blood splattered from his neck up to his jaw, the sanguine blood creating symbiotic art with his opalescent skin. He smiles, corners of his lips almost meeting his eyes, his dimples deep with pride, and his whiskey orbs wide in redolent mentality.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he tilts his head to the side, his crepuscular mouth still managing to make you swoon and forget about the horrors that cover his body. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,”

His hand gently pushes the knife down and you oblige, dropping it to the ground in a loud clatter that makes you wince.

Your head flips between him and the sliding doors behind you, which still shows Andy’s corpse from the flashlight you left.

“What did you do?” you query, bottom lip quivering as you look back at Eddie. He shrugs with no care, his eyebrows raised to his forehead.

“I killed them,” he says bluntly, his smile falling a little. “I told you I could kill more than just a rat, babe,”

“Wh-what so you just—decided to suddenly kill them? While we were talking about- about rats and shit?!”

Eddie shakes his head, worry filling his features. Though, he’s worried more at the fact that you may fear him for what he’s done. He bends down, his bloody, gloved hands reaching to grasp your shoulders, which causes the thick substance to stain your white sweater.

“No, baby, no,” he tuts, pouting a little, his hands smearing themselves over your clothing like he’s trying to clean his hands before he cups your face, his gloved thumbs wiping your barely there tears. “I was already thinking about this months ago. Rage does something to your mind, sometimes,”

You whimper and his features soften. “What- what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, I just told you,” he pushes your hair away, patting it down. “I was mad. I am mad. I couldn’t just sit there and let them taunt me when I’m all defenseless, baby. Life isn’t like that—you’re supposed to fight back.”

“Fight back, not kill them!” you say through gritted teeth, chest heaving brokenly. “Eddie, you’ll go to jail. People will find out,”

“They won’t, baby. Not with this mask,” he takes it from the counter, the absence of his hand from one of your cheeks leaves something cold on your bare skin. “Besides, no one’s roaming around, remember? Everyone’s at the town fair, and we don’t have any surveillance cameras now, do we?”

You sniffle, can’t decide between leaning in his covered hand or flinching away from the smell of blood. But his eyes—Eddie’s eyes, oh, you can see well every shift of emotion, desecrating each one with something new and peculiar; he exceeds the threshold of creativity with it, almost like an actor. Just… more quixotic.

Yet, despite your knowledge of it, you’re still surprised and fooled with the way the madness in his eyes swiftly changed into something like begging and forbearance. How all that insanity melts and twinkles into silk kindness, like he’s your Eddie again.

He sees your fear.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” his hands leave your face for a moment to discard his blemished gloves. Your heart relaxes at the feeling of his rough palms on your soft cheeks, eyes scanning his blood doused rings. “You know I love you, (y/n). I could never, never ever, hurt you,”

Eddie’s anger has clemency incarcerated; all that self-restraint had finally become impuissant. You couldn’t blame him for finally snapping.

“And,” he continues. “You wanted this too, remember? All that taunting, all the horrible things they said to you. And I know it’s all because of me, princess. So I had to handle it. It’s all in my hands, baby.” his fingers travel down to yours, bringing your hands up to his lips and kisses each dip of your knuckle. “Yours are all pretty and clean. Sinless,”

“I wanted them to pay. I didn’t want them to die—”

“Sweetheart, you did,” Eddie says sternly. “I did this for you. Before we go away to stupid college.”

You start sobbing again and he shushes you. You don’t know why tears aren’t rolling down your face and it frustrates you.

“You killed them,” you spit out. “That’s- that’s murder…”

“No shit,” he snorts.

“It’s wrong,” you blink rapidly, nostrils flaring. “You killed them, Eddie. And you expect me to- to what? Think of this as some sort of gift? Dead people as a gift?”

Now, he’s angry. His face hardens, his jaw clenching. Eddie shakes his head like a disappointed father at you.

“Learn how to appreciate things that are done for you, (y/n).” he says loudly. “They deserve it. They’re bullies. And bullies need to be punished,” Like a switch, though, his anger morphs into exasperation. “Baby, you know I love you, right?”

You only stare at him with whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

Eddie grasps your face tighter, you wince. “You know that I love you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding rapidly. “Yes. I- I know.”

“Then let’s celebrate it, okay?” Eddie’s face moves closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “No more bother, am I right?”

Letting out an exhale, you shake your head.

“Good,”

Eddie leans down to capture your lips on his own, feverishly and almost passionately. Your hands wrap around his wrist when he tilts your head back as he straightens his spine, his mouth venturing deeper to let his tongue wander inside.

He smells of dirt and sweat, with whoever’s blood around his neck. The surrounding thought of death continues to imprison your mind, but Eddie overpowers it. Now, it’s just Eddie, Eddie, blood, hunger, and Eddie.

You try not to moan when his lips break away from yours, kissing his way from your cheeks down to your jawline, littering heat ‘till he reaches that spot of yours he knows you love so much.

Eddie spins you around until the dip of your spine meets the countertop. Your hands grasp tightly at his shoulders, eyes fluttering as he sucks and bites at your sweet spot like it’s his breakfast, his hands leaving his face to clutch and grasp at the swell of your ass.

Your periphery shows you the blurred image of Dead Andy once more, but you’re starting not to care. Not when Eddie licks up at your salty skin. His fingers dance from your ass until he’s gripping your thighs and lifting you up to the counter.

“Fuck, uh, Eds,” conscience tells you what you’re doing is wrong. That moral doer of an angel whispering in your ear. You almost succumbed to her. But the devil tells you to keep going. Fulfill your fantasies. You’re already there.

He pulls away from your neck, leaving short kisses on your lips repetitively. “God- you’re so pretty,”

His bare hands start to wander everywhere. Eddie clutches at the end of your shirt, urging you to move your arms up and you do. He discards the bloody sweater and throws it somewhere.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks.

With your whole heart. You don’t know.

“Yeah,” you sigh against him.

His hand moves behind him and pulls something shiny out. You frown at it.

“Is that my dad’s knife? Eddie, I told you—”

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to have some fun, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it.”

The weapon still had blood on it, dripping down to the handle, the curved tip, slick with crimson substance. You wonder whose it is.

He’s careful with it, making sure not to cut you with it, as his eyes wander over your bra. Eddie licks his lips at it, biting his bottom lip at the sight of the white lace that covers your ample tits.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he questions in a gentle susurration. You nod when you feel the wet knife drag down your stomach, a line of crimson painting your skin. “Words.”

“Yes,” Eddie looks at your wondrous gaze, cut short when the undulated tip dips inside your belly button and your head lulls back. “Y-yes,

Eddie’s knife, now owned by him from the sinful deed of murder, pulls away from your stomach to swim across your back, the cold spine of it pressing against your back, before the blade pushes up and cuts the fabric of your bra with ease.

“Oh, yeah, that's it,” he chuckles. “Look at your pretty tits babe.”

You don’t look at them. You look at his mesmerized look, watching him lean down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasp, the hand that helps you prop yourself up the counter now grasping his damp curls, tugging at it, which elicits a groan from him.

He sucks at your buds, until they’re puckered and hard, ticklish when he blows air onto them. When he treats the other tit with the same hunger, and they’re all kiss-swollen and sensitive, he squeezes them in his hands before he pulls away.

You lean forward and pull on the collar of his ‘costume’, your mouth heavily watering as it parts, the need for something to fill it up so strong. Eddie chuckles, flips the knife in his hand until the bloody blade sits in his open palm and the black handle comes up to rest on your tongue.

You could practically see his cock bulging out from the black robe that covers him. Eddie coos when your lips wrap around the handle, the flat of your tongue pressing up on it.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart,”

Immediately, you do. With death no longer prevailing in your mind, you fall to your knees, the ends of his robe meeting your thighs. Eddie's hands disappear behind his robe, and you watch him until you see it loosen and fall behind him to the ground.

“Oh my god, you’re not wearing any jeans?” you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“This robe is heavy and it’s hot. I would die first before I killed them,” he snickers. You pull on the band of his boxers, driving them down until his cock springs up and his swell tip slaps up his shirt.

Eddie almost rips his shirt apart, tossing it where his robe was. You spit down your hand, a glob of white down your palm before you wrap it around his shaft. He moans.

“A little tighter baby,” you squeeze and he sighs. “Yeah, that’s it. Put that mouth into good use, come on.”

With something pooling in the apex of your thighs, your mouth hovers over his head, and you engulf its thickness into your mouth and suck. Both your hands pump him in a tight grasp, which makes his ass clench and buck up in your mouth that you gag at the sudden impact of his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You pull out and gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick, your lipstick smudged all over his veiny base. You blink away the tears from your eyelashes, Eddie’s hands on top of your head but not forcing you down on him.

“Let me fuck your face, princess,” he pleads. “Relax your throat and let me do it, ‘kay?”

Your jaw practically unhinges, his musk heavily filling your nose that meets the tush of curls above his cock when he goes all the way in. Eddie moans a bit louder, the salty precum leaking down your loosened throat. His thrusts are slow, and albeit his previous aggression, he’s calm with the way he fucks your mouth dumb.

Hands greedy, they search for his heavy sack full of cum and play with them, unable to jerk his length when it’s deep in your mouth. Eddie laughs out a groan, his throbbing head twitching against your tongue, his thighs shaking and his hips involuntarily bucking again.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he cards his fingers through your hair, pushing it back until it’s wrapped in his hand like a makeshift ponytail. Your cheeks enclose around him, the lewd wet sounds of his slick cock being lathered by your tongue and saliva accompanied by his moans, your gags, and your humming.

You tug on his balls, cupping the squishy, loose flesh. You breathe in his spirituous scent, looking at him like you’d been praying to Hades; nothing but pliant as his dick names you stupid.

And Eddie—Eddie looks down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s seen, awaiting to be corrupted but he thinks you already have been.

He keeps pulling out and fucking back in until real tears pour down your cheeks. Your lips all swollen and inflamed from the rough friction, eyes cockdrunk he’s amused with this sight of you all used up beneath him.

“Look at you, such a slut,” he coos, a soft tsk from his tongue. Two of his fingers tap your sucked cheeks as he continues to thrust into your face. Your head shakes as you take him deeper, smiling wickedly around him, teeth grazing lightly on his skin but fuck does he love it. “H-holy shit. Oh, god—”

His stomach clenches, his happy trail slick with sweat. It’s a telltale sign that he’s close and you keep on letting him fuck your face like it’s your dripping cunt. You suck his cock with every fiber being that builds you, until Eddie’s yelling and loud with his moan as he spills in your mouth.

That hot, pearlescent seed of his falls down your throat, its saltiness makes you mewl, swallowing every bit of his spent. Eddie’s hips stutter into your mouth, spurting and spurting until his dick aches and he pulls out.

“You alright?” his hands massage the sides of your neck, thumbs rubbing your throat. “Didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No,” you sigh. “Now come and fuck me, Ghostface. I’m tired of all this foreplay thing.”

Eddie laughs at your impatience, hands bunching up the fabric of your underwear before he rips it apart. Then he lifts you back up onto the counter, his knees nudging your legs apart, the slickness of your pussy dribbling down to the table.

“You and your inability to wait and have fun, sweetheart,” he leans down to kiss you, though it's more like wet pecks that litter across your head. “You’re taking the fun away,”

You pout. He kisses it again. “This whole thing is taking too long. Just— Eddie!”

“Okay, okay,” he grabs a hold of his cock, the other tight on the dips of your waist. “I got you, babe.”

He slaps his still sensitive tip on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure that shivers from your heat to your back down to your legs. You whine softly, bucking your hips forward, until Eddie finally slips his head in your tight hole.

When he pushes in and finally settles deep inside your warm cunt, you feel full. In the way you wanted to be filled. You forget the fact that your boyfriend—who’s cockdeep inside your cunt—has killed someone and left them tied up at your backyard and now you’re having sex.

You don’t care. It’s been your plan all along anyway.

Eddie’s tip meets your cervix through a rough, blissful stab. He doesn't start slow like what he did with your mouth; no, he's brutal. Unforgiving with his bloodthirsty hip snapping. You moan loudly at each thrust, your nails scraping along his back.

You see the blood splattered across his tattoos, like his cloak had been futile at its attempt to keep his sacred body clean. The demon sure brought itself to life, dripping down to his hip and smeared across his bone, and Eddie never looked more alluring.

The bright lights of the kitchen adds a sheen layer of pandemonium that splits between risqué endeavors; it exudes sex in the way that can only enthrall you, Eddie’s mind gone to mayhem from all that pent up emotions.

Cunt squelching from that wetness created by the taste of his cum still swimming on your tongue, you leave marks on his skin like he’s your art. Bloodied and bruised up Eddie should be everyone’s worst nightmare, you think. He’s karma brought to life.

With his blinding thrusts, you don’t notice him picking up his knife again, only to drag its crooked tip right on the soft column of your neck that’s covered in hickies. You smile a little, too drunk on the feeling of Eddie’s cock going in and out of your silky sex.

“What are you doing?” you pant, hands lazily wrapping around his neck. “You gonna slit my throat open?”

“Nah, babe,” his tongue pokes out in concentration, dragging the flat belly of the knife across. “Just gonna nick you for the hell of it. Just—”

There’s a shling sound of a sharp knife piercing lightly through your skin. From the kiss of the knife, you moan painfully, your hand wrapping around Eddie’s neck subconsciously as the searing affliction ricochets in a rapture whirlwind down your spine.

Eddie exclaims in pride; you feel the blood drip down your skin, pulsing and extravasating coldness. He slopes and presses the flat of his tongue to lap up at your thick ichor, mewling at your taste the same time you gasp out silent screams at his relentless fucking.

“You taste so fucking amazing,” he murmurs against your now blood-deluged flesh. Eddie consumes it all. “Wish I could just fucking carve my name onto you.”

You clench tight onto him, like you’re sucking him into you. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Oh- oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”

“Do that—shit, oh!– do that next t-time,” you giggle onto his hair that you clutch like a vice, his hot tongue continues swimming arousal down your split cunt.

His skin slapping against yours sounded like a hypnotizing siren, which kind of ameliorates the bawdiness of the shlick sounds of your pussy engulfing his luxuriant dick.

Eddie stabs the knife down on the countertop, places a hand behind you and the other wrapped around your sweaty waist and fucks you into oblivion. Your moans become carnally loud, enough to drive the neighbors away but also enough to appease your boyfriend.

And at each thrust—everytime he pulls you down to meet his hips—your orgasm protrudes on you like a knife. Closer and closer until it’s deep into your flesh and almost peeking out of your epidermis. You mewl into Eddie’s ear.

“I’m gonna cum,” you choke out. “Fuck– don’t– don’t stop. Don’t stop, don't stop, don't stop.”

Shameless, mimicked wails of ecstasy, cascading into soft ‘uhs’ when your lips dance across his earlobe. Eddie wedges his thumb between the place that leaves him wondering where he starts and where he ends, rubs your bundle of nerves that has been grinding against his coarse pubes in perpetuity.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he grunts against your temple. “Go–shit–a-and cum for me, baby. Come on. Be a good girl and cum,”

Obeying him, you gush all over his sensitive cock that spills inside your trembling walls. Your hips stutter in the air, clenching, cunt guzzing all of his spunk. Eddie lets out one last moan before he slumps against you, his curls sticking to your skin.

You pull away, finally meeting Eddie’s usual wide, baby brown eyes full of wonder and excitement. “Hi.”

“Hi sweetheart,” Eddie kisses your cheek. “You did amazing, babe,” while he doesn't pull out, he does pull his hand out for a high five. Your palm meets his. “Love the crying bit, by the way. You could be in, like, a Stanley Kubrick film.”

Eddie pushes your hair behind your ears and leaves a peck on your lips as he swipes the sweat away.

“You said you wanted the roleplay to be convincing,” you argue playfully. “I seriously don’t like how you touched my dad’s collection, Eds,”

“It was for a good cause,” his cock softens inside you, and so does Eddie. ��Baby, I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“Not at all,” you wrap your arms lazily around his neck, brushing his hair. “We signed up for this, remember? Killing them has always been our plan before we left. We just added the sex thing to have some fun,”

“You’re right,” he nods, eyes squinting. “No porn film can exceed the greatness of our roleplay. The killer, and the helpless little lamb. Shit, that could be the title,”

“The Horny Killer, and The Sexy Little Lamb,”

“Better,” Eddie kisses your nose, you giggle. “Wanna see Jason and Chance’s bodies?”

A year ago, your patience had been bound tightly around your heart. You were understanding, kind; nothing but a vestibule of angelicum.

That is, until you met the devil that succumbed into your sinful desires.

Eddie wasn’t like this before. But truthfully, he actually did just snap. He let all his frustrations go—from watching the light leave someone’s eyes, to fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

His van doors open, tossing Andy’s heavy body into the back, right between Jason and Chance’s horrifyingly mutilated bodies. All their skins pale and their eyes defunct. You place your hands on your hips.

“Where’s Patrick?” you ask him.

“He was nice. Didn’t have the heart to kill him,” he pouts, wrapping his arm around your back and kissing your temple. “I was thinking of hanging them at the gym tomorrow on the last day? Right before I kill Principal Higgins?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” you rest your head on his shoulder.

Originally, you only planned on roleplaying. No murder, no knives, no fright, no blood. But there’s no harm in going a little bit psycho with this whole sex extravaganza. Everyone had their own kinks.

You’re just lucky enough Eddie felt the same.

You pick up the mask and put it over your head, Eddie’s faint scent of cigarettes and alcohol burning your nose. “I get to wear this next time, right?”

“Of course,” Eddie smiles. “But, you get to carve your initials on me next time.”

“Deal.”

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ♡

#eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #ghostface!eddie #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

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archie-sunshine · 4 months

Note

Okay okay now that I’ve seen rut/heat Drift I have to know who else is the softest/the worst on the lost light when in rut/heat also are they nesting? I need to know all the good little details ~

THIS IS A GREAT ASK THANK YOU!

First of all, I LOVE the idea of nesting for them. Since there arent typically many soft things on cybertron, i feel like its pretty rare to nest with blankets, so I think rather than nest, I think cybertronians would more likely retreat to a safe territory, hiding under berths or in somewhere safe and dark, like a cave or dimmed hab suite to hide.

as for softest/the worst---

Okay so, i can't give my takes on all of them, but i can give you my hcs for best and worst!!

BEST: FIRST AID!

I mean, he's a doctor right? He understands self care is important, he understands that his work can't stop for most things, but he also recognizes that nobody is immune to their instincts when they crop up, so he'd be VERY responsible with his heats. I think he'd be the most likely to have a heat tracker of all of the crew, probably would get the first warnings, book time off, and go into his quarters to handle himself until it rides out.

BEST: NAUTICA

I think nautica's heats would make her less feral and more sleepy. I feel like she would be sort of stumbling around, lightheaded, a little loopy, and one of the like thousand amicas/partners she has would notice and bring her home to take care of her. I think in the polar opposite way to first aid, Nautica's strength is in her support system, people willing to notice for her if she's too absorbed in work to notice her own heat drives kick on. I also think she'd be very cuddly during heats, so enter her hab at your own risk if you don't want to be dragged into the cuddle puddle.

WORST: TAILGATE & WHIRL

I'm lumping these two together because in my head they are in a polycue with each other, I think that cyclonus has surrounded himself with a perfect storm of absolute sex pests when they go in heat.

For Tailgate- I'm going to give you the facts here. 2 weeks of existance. and then. 6 million years in and out of a coma. THATS. 6 MILLION YEARS. OF POTENTIAL FUCKENERGY TRAPPED IN THE SMALLEST GUY EVER. Add on the fact he is SUPERNATURALLY STRONG. There is no way to contain Tailgate in a rutt, you have to pray he nests himself because if he gets even a little bit loopy from the heat and decides to go looking for his boyfriends, you cANNOT STOP HIM. I also think tailgate is absolutely fucking hung for a minibot, but thats neither here nor there.

For Whirl- a similar boat to Tailgate, to a lesser degree. I think whirl can absolutely get it, and has gotten it, but on the lost light, its a bit harder of a sell. and for a guy who's already a bit crazy and has no hands to jerk himself off? Whirl definitely goes more feral than Tailgate does, I think he'd also be the type to hunt down one of his partners, though he wouldn't feel even a bit of shame about it.

Sometimes, i fear, their heat/rutt cycles overlap. and. well.

sorry cyclonus, youre in for a long night.

THANK YOU FOR ENABLING MY RAMBLINGS!!! heres a taster of all my takes :D

[Feeling nosy? send me an ask in my inbox!!]

#archie answers #transformers #my requests #my art #mtmte #valveplug #/nsfw #/nsft #tailgate #whirl #first aid #nautica #velocity #lemon #tf headcanons #mtmte headcanons

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blasphemecel · 4 months

Text

Michael Kaiser — On Your Knees

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2.9k TYPE: Humor, Teasing, ERM I think y/n and kaiser might like each other 🤓 WARNING: Suggestive sorry (flirting is only verbal but explicit at times)

Kaiser always looks alright with his hair wet. Not, like, stunning or anything, but passable. Then you know it’ll start standing up in weird ways after it dries a little and he’ll ask Ness to help him with it — which, embarrassing, by the way.

But anyway. You wanted to check out the communal bath after you took a shower, figured you’d be alone because it was already bordering on late, and Kaiser followed you because why wouldn’t he. Not like you value your peace and solitude or anything. He can be such a pest sometimes.

You were telling him what Isagi told you — it’s called a sento and apparently it’s different from the more popular onsen — and he said you weren’t ‘worldly’ and that you weren’t ‘impressing him’ and then some more about how ‘everyone knows this.’ Shithead. You should spit in his breakfast tomorrow, if you remember.

Well, you like sitting in the bath, at least, so you’re not too sour right now. Even Kaiser being right next to you can’t ruin it.

“I like this Raichi guy,” you say.

Kaiser shakes his head a little to show you he disapproves. “Don’t tell me you mingle with them. Also, the guy’s always benched. He’s second-rate.”

“No, listen, he was telling me about this sexy soccer motto he has. I really wanna know what it’s about.”

“You’re embarrassing. If you’re in my entourage, you should act like it.”

“Dude, you’re just mad at Isagi ‘cause he was trending on football twitter more than you were that day,” you say.

“I’m not!”

Very persuasive argument coming from him here. It’ll take a lot out of you to take it apart. He’s fuming about it, too. Maybe it’s not so bad Kaiser came along if you can poke fun at him.

“I don’t know why you’re the favorite on the team, anyway,” you say. “They all die over your corny tattoo and not to mention how much you love showing it off. Not cool at all.”

“You wish you were me. Now you’re being jealous because no one likes you, and it’s making you look even uglier than usual,” says Kaiser, seeming to believe himself if the smug look on his face is anything to go by.

“I mean, I had a girlfriend till recently, you know.” Kaiser rolls his eyes, but you ignore him. He’s always doing this, pretending he doesn’t want to hear you. “She had this botched blue dye job and said things like ‘pussy power,’ with the crystals in her room and the tarot cards and all.”

“Yeah? Sounds great. Did you pick her up after a match, loser?”

You click your tongue and wag your finger at him just to be annoying. “No, I don’t fool around with fans. Seems more like your forte.”

He flicks the offending finger away. “I’ve never done that, you slanderous pig.”

“No, but listen, she didn’t care about football at all. She didn’t even know what a scissor kick is. Ooh, she drove me wild.” You sing the last part, looking up at the ceiling fondly as if you’re recalling a warm memory.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you, frowning. “You’re one strange individual.” And what a pompous way to put it.

“But anyway, wanna know what kinda tattoo I’d get?”

“I seriously don’t care.”

“A skull with two guns. Hard as fuck.”

“You’re so lame. It’s appalling, and also probably why you got dumped.”

He’s taking the tattoo thing seriously. At least seriously enough to insult you over it. He’s even snickering at you in amusement. His face is always, how can you put it… snide, but he does look a touch more evil when he starts grinning and shit. What a hoot, though. Really.

“Nah, there was this guy. He wore suspenders with plaid polos and these little sweaters over them. They were sustainable. Sustainable. Can you believe it? Sustainable! I didn’t stand a chance.” You poke him on the neck, already distracted from what you were rambling about. Kaiser is going to bring up your low attention span soon, you can smell it on him. It doesn’t take any effort to reach out, though, what with him sitting so close next to you. “This isn’t such a bad spot for a tattoo, actually. I don’t know, maybe you were onto something.”

“Paws off,” he says, swatting you away like a bug. A pedestrian bug, probably, at least in his imagination. “You really wanna fondle me that badly, you’ll use any excuse to do so?”

“Paws!” you repeat, clapping. “You’re hysterical.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes again. He seems to like to do that a lot, at least in your presence. If there was such a thing as competitive eye-rolling, you wager he’d be good at it, maybe even better than he is at football.

“No, but listen-”

“God, I hate it when you say that,” he interrupts with a groan, then contradicts himself by also swinging an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer just to yawn in your face with great exaggeration. The water is way too hot for this nonsense, so you push him away. “Because I never want to listen to you.”

“You’re crazy. Insane. It’s super clinical. Like, really.”

“Yes, I’m sure, unlike me, you’d pass a psychiatric evaluation because I’m crazy and you aren’t. Of course.”

“Imagine-”

“Can you stop topic-hopping?” Kaiser asks, annoyed. See, you knew he’d bring it up. “Does your head ever hurt with how much bullshit goes through it?”

You shush him. He scowls at you like you’re some mold growing in the bath, but you disregard his expression of disdain. “Imagine you’re having a nice day, I don’t know, at practice. Then I barge in with all of my asshole glory, right, and I walk up to you, and for no reason, I say, ‘On your knees,’ instead of greeting you. Isn’t that kinda deranged?”

Kaiser stares at you. To his credit, he’s decent at maintaining a poker face, but once he’s embarrassed, there’s no hiding it, no going back. Because no matter how much he does his usual male posturing or whatever it’s called, his face is all red, the blush even going up to his ears, mouth wavering the slightest bit. “W-What? In your dreams.”

“Oh, do you like getting bossed around or something?” you ask with the sensitivity of a numb toe. “That’s so pathetic.”

It’s quite the spectacle when his skin somehow becomes even more flush. Sick of your leering, maybe, Kaiser whips around, albeit not all the way, and covers his cheek with his hand while peering at you through his fingers. Finally, he decrees, “You suck,” with too much authority.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Forget about me, though. In that situation, do you spit or do you swallow?”

It’s unclear whether you’re getting any gratification out of this besides the satisfaction of flustering him, but you smile in amusement regardless. As if you care about Kaiser sitting there, looking all pretty and nervous because of some nonsense you’d been spewing. Not like you’re crazy about him or anything. That’d be ridiculous. You couldn’t be more unfazed if you tried.

You grab your towel with what you’d call impressive swiftness, then turn around and stand, covering yourself before preparing to go on your merry way. Kaiser pulls you back by the ankle, trying to trip you or something, the menace. Hilarious guy, really.

He is staring up at you in this petulant sort of way, grabbing onto his own towel with his other hand. “Why are you leaving so soon?” he asks, sounding peeved, as if you haven’t been here with him for an unreasonable amount of time already.

“I thought I should give you some privacy since you’re all hot and bothered now,” you say (with this douchebag laugh you have for situations like these, where you’re being a douchebag — self-explanatory), stepping out of his grip. Then you try to imitate his voice, but more high-pitched, accompanying your performance with a few vulgar hand gestures. “Oh, [Y/n], you slanderous pig! I think that’s what you’d sound like.”

“You’re such a lowlife,” he says, before all but leaping out of the bath and trying to maim you right here on the spot, and the only thing to save you from your demise is that he gets lightheaded and almost faints immediately after.

You reach out to pull him up and keep him steady, holding him by the arms. “You can’t be jumping out of the bath like that, man, come on.”

The lack of response concerns you, but after a while, Kaiser gathers his wits enough to say, “I’m going to make you slip, and I’ll be praying you split your head open.”

You burst out laughing. “Do it, then. You don’t have it in you, do you?”

Instead of doing as he promised to retaliate to your provocation, he settles for letting go of you and glaring, before clutching the side of his head and going still again. If there was any medical wing in this goddamn football contraption, maybe you would’ve taken him, but alas. At least you don’t need to worry about Kaiser too much since he eventually concedes and holds onto your arm for support.

The sight of you two stumbling around towards the changing room is probably comedic — uncoordinated as hell, covering yourselves with these flimsy little towels, using the hands not clutching at the other.

“You’re supposed to drink a lot of water before getting in,” you say.

“It’s your fault! You didn’t warn me we were going.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you weren’t invited. Jeez.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You return the tiny towel to the basket, swapping it for a bigger one and making quick work of drying yourself. You’re slipping on your shirt when you ask, “Is your head all right now?”

“I’m fine.”

When you turn around to judge whether he’s being truthful or not, he’s dabbing himself in a manner which is way more laborious, examining his reflection in the mirror as if he’s in some slow motion commercial where the camera will capture a conspicuous water droplet falling down his neck, admiring his jaw from different angles. He makes you sick sometimes.

“I’m not gonna wait for you to finish checking yourself out.”

He shoos you away with a dismissive wave of his hand. Unlike his, your actions most often align with your words, though, so you do walk out of the door. You’re not even ten steps in when Kaiser reappears, now magically dressed.

“Stop rushing,” he says, pushing you out of the way — and for no reason! There’s enough space for both of you in the hallway. You end up lagging a bit behind him. “I’m dizzy.”

“I thought you said-”

“Blah, blah,” he cuts you off, untying his hair and doing a bad job of smoothing it out with his fingers.

You’re rooming with him and Ness, so you’re already headed in the same direction. As much as this stinks, your other option was Gesner and Grim. God, is fucking Gesner obsessed with dick cheese. Of all things, that’s what he’s always talking about. Grim has your condolences, but the problem is out of your hands now.

“Your hairstyle’s ridiculous.”

Kaiser turns his nose up and smiles, coming off as pleased by the insult. “You can only wish to pull it off.” Always preening like a peacock. He’s entertaining. You swear he is.

You hook one of the ends, where it’s the bluest, around your finger, twirling it around and around. “I had a dream about you recently.”

“Aww, I’m on your mind even when you’re unconscious. I could vomit right now.”

“You were in the meditation position, but you were levitating, and the rat tails were holding you up.”

Maybe you’ve committed some kind of utmost offense, because he doesn’t even bother insisting they’re not rat tails this time. “Wow, those are the kinds of things you dream about me? Your brain is defective to the core.”

“What do you want me to dream about you, then? Are you implying something?”

He faces you, and he has this way of looking at you like you’re a blight on humanity. You have an urge to press your palms against his cheeks to check how warm they get when he blushes, but resist it. “You’re so delusional.”

He’s rolling his eyes again.

“Keep rolling them, see where it gets you.”

“What, are you implying something?” Kaiser asks, mocking you, but he seems kind of happy at the insinuation. You’re not about to point it out, though, having a semblance of self-preservation.

“But anyway, your hair,” you say. “It looks good for tugging on.”

He snorts, either at your audacity to speak such things out loud to him, or at the way you straight up ignored his question.

So you elaborate, just so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, “Yeah, like, I kinda wanna grab you and swing you around till you fly outta my grip.”

“What?! As if.”

“It’d be so funny, though.”

“Maybe to other stupid people like you. Dense people who always ruin the fucking moment, for example, that type of thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, stifling a laugh before entering the room.

The lights are still on when you come in. Ness seems to be reading some kind of book, sitting upright and all. “Hey, guys. You were gone for a while.”

“We were,” Kaiser says, you assume just because he likes hearing himself talk. “All that time I can’t get back.”

You crouch down to get him a water bottle in case he forgot how dehydrated he was (or more likely decides he’s above getting it by himself). It’s rare for you to do something out of the goodness of your heart, so when you turn around to pass it and find him draping himself over the solitary bed — the one you won dibs on in an honest round of rock, paper, scissors — you swear to never do anything nice for him ever again.

“Hey, get off! It’s mine.”

“But I want it,” he whines, as if his word holds more weight than the aforementioned game of rock, paper, scissors, which, as already established, you won.

You’re about to make an earnest attempt at throwing him out of the bed until Ness comes to his defense. “Come on, leave him alone.”

Saying no to Kaiser is exceptionally easy. But going against what Ness is asking? You can’t get a read on the guy. He’s either way too happy most of the time, or is secretly plotting your murders for all you know. You toss the water bottle at Kaiser, leaving him to smirk at your relenting.

“By the way, do you mind if I turn the lights off after I do my nighttime routine in the bathroom? I’m kind of tired,” Ness says.

“Sure,” allows Kaiser. So generous and charming with a winning personality to boot, this guy.

You lean against the bunk bed and ask, “Oh yeah, why are you still up?”

“I thought it might be rude if I went to bed before you both came back, so I decided to wait.”

Damn, now you feel kind of bad for dilly-dallying for so long. You clutch your chest with a tasteful sense of drama. “You’re so perfect. Hey, Ness, you wanna take the top bunk?”

“Wow, really?”

“Why not at this point,” you say. After all, Ness came in second in the game, but gave it up to Kaiser, and he ruined everything already.

“Thanks!” He grins at you before rushing off to do his business, almost blinding you with the sweetness he emits. Your gaze trails after him until he leaves the room.

Kaiser is looking at you with a mix between scorn and disgust when you walk over to his side to retrieve your phone from the bedside table, but you pretend not to notice.

Figuring you have nothing better to do, you take Ness’s previous spot, lying down on your stomach, ready to check your notifications. In your peripheral vision, you see Kaiser take his shirt off theatrically, then he has the fucking nerve to throw it at you. He makes such a big show out of existing.

It’s probably more painless to throw him a glance now than to be stubborn, so you exhale out of your nostril in resignation and turn your attention back to him. Kaiser props himself on his elbow while reclining on his side, posing on the bed, gracing you with a bastard smile. Almost presenting himself like a Renaissance painting you’re supposed to admire in some chaste, intellectual kind of way.

“Wanna know something?”

“What?” he asks, apparently irritated since you don’t seem so appreciative of him right now.

“I think shitty, obnoxious guys like you need to be put in their place,” you tell him.

It really is way too obvious on his complexion when he starts getting shy. He’s like a breathing mood ring. It’s almost fascinating. For a second, Kaiser is incredulous, but then he turns smug again, addressing you with a sense of challenge. “Don’t even joke. You’re not really about it like that. All you do is talk.”

You think you’re gonna start having even more fun together after today.

___

No homo I HATE HIM 😍

#michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

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