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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)

summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.

note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha

masterlist | series masterlist

part two | part three | part four | part five

How did you end up here?

That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.

It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.

College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.

Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.

Oh, fuck, your scholarships!

Your GPA!

All those assignments and discussions and exams!

And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?

Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.

“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”

At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.

“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”

Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.

“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.

Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.

There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.

You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.

“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”

The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.

He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.

But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.

“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.

“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.

Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.

You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”

“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”

You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.

“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”

“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”

Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines

“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”

He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.

And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."

And when you do, he smiles.

"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.

"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."

With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.

The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.

It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.

Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?

Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.

But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.

So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.

“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”

So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.

“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.

With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”

You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.

In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #vic writes 🧸

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written.

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

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satocidal · 6 months

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ “Opposites Attract?!”— Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: the famous rich boy of the campus and the Dean’s daughter? Scandalous—especially when they’re both jealous as hell.

— A/n: Roughly based on something from my real life lmao— except that we didn’t get together because hehe. Also, this is the first part of a kinkmas fic that I have planned, it’s been broken since the fic was getting too long <3 (both can be read stand-alone!) Tagging @romiyaro @draecys @maeby-cursed because yes; nsfw version <3

— Word count: 5.7k

— warnings: Fem! Reader x Satoru Gojo; slightly suggestive Suguru and Mei Mei (they deserve to be warnings here); undertones if jealousy; a kiss (or three) at the end, I know—scandalous right; Reader wears spects in one scene; this has a LOT of bickering. Just banter for that matter, reader says smn about sex work BUT I assure you it’s not supposed to be in a negative light <333

4.5 g.p.a—a perfect reputation that you held, a decent social life—an amazing father to back you up, you weren’t ever part of the fraction of people who got in through with scholarships, why would you when your father stood as the dean? —but you’d worked for it.

3.7 g.p.a—it could’ve been far better, easily, if he only put himself in—far too loud a social life with a following of 4k+ on his Instagram while he only followed back his best friend and pretty little things (for a day or so)—part of the fraction who got paid in, who never struggled for it.

Sure, you hadn’t really struggled either—but hypocrisy was only allowed to one and you chose to take your chance.

You didn’t…despise him, the man that Gojo Satoru stood out to be, but lords, you hated the concept around it.

The loud cackle at the back of each lecture—the proxies and his fan girls, you hated it all.

More so, you hated just how enamored your dad was—after all, it was Gojo Satoru that had won the trophies and the plaques—Satoru Gojo that was a Power Player.

But the credit wasn’t to be forgotten for you too—dabbling in all that was academic, if the second half of your dad’s office as the dean were filled with Satoru’s achievements, the first half was yours.

Two sides of the same coin.

Your eyes never left your dad for a second, “you can’t possibly expect that out of Me dad,” the whine wasn’t subtle, nor the snicker that gojo let out at your words and outlet—earning a hard glare.

And to all the pampering and spoiling your father had to offer, it all failed when it came down to the pride and prestige of the university.

“It’s non-negotiable y/n,” the sleek brown in his room shone that afternoon, polished—every groove, every rounded corner—almost a story to behold.

“Yeah! Tell her Mr.Dean,” another snicker- another glare, your father sighed in his dismay.

“You,” your father glared at him, “need to find a way to shove it in your schedule as well—you’re both the elected representatives.”

To end with all whines and groans.

“I have no idea how but I need you two to find a presence of mind and perform your best in curating an experience at the fest. Dismissed.”

A sharp inhale, yours and the roll of Satoru’s eyes, your dad was aware how interesting an evening and a fest in general he would be witnessing.

You’d known Gojo Satoru for 3 years now, spending the last together at the University, standing as the President of Student Council—all against Gojo’s constant “nepotism” comments while he stood as the Captain of the Football Team—against your criticism as well.

A certain peak in the way you two governed your particular fields independently but, together?

Well.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always that you both disliked each other but, you couldn’t exactly deny the certain distaste the day you’d set eyes on him…

~First Year~

“Dad, please, make sure that no one knows that you and I are, at all related,” a chuckle your father let out, “of course darling, but don’t get prissy when I don’t let you out with attendance matters and all,”

Another chuckle shared, nothing too serious.

“I’ve heard Gojo Satoru will be joining this year too?”

An innocent question, curious is all you were—anyone would be, one of the best the country had seen in years.

Your father nodded slowly, “just so happens to be true, stay in check though, don’t want messing with people like that,”

It was evident, the wary tone that your father had acquired over the years, dealing with all that was the ego of such students, who stood tall with the heap of money that belonged to their daddies.

A slow nod you passed too—your father smiled, you were a smart girl after all.

But fate was decided and what had to happen would happen for sure.

Because you swore to maintain the secret, you weren’t to be even found to have the slightest relation of blood with the Dean — but then whatever could you do when you step out blindly, bumping right into the guy you wanted not to.

A hiss and a curse—“the fuck? Watch where you’re going,” he mumbled-eyes boring into yours, and then simultaneously, at the car.

Anger that flashed down right—“watch your damn language,” unironically, you muttered—something he’d never let you live down.

“Woah there princess, what are you on? Some patrol duty round here-?” The smirk was infuriating, his disheveled hair all the more—especially when he continued messing it up all the more.

A scoff, yours—“Mind your own business,” a shove passed and an attempt to move away—“Y/n L/n?” He held your campus manual.

The certain way your name rolled off his tongue, it caught your attention—“ya dropped this,”

A smirk adored his face as he handed back to you the campus manual, of course it wasn’t anything you required but to solace your father, there you held it.

A cramped “Whatever,” you let out, snatching the booklet from his hands quick—wanting nothing more to do with the stranger that you’d bumped into.

Just as you walked away though, “L/n huh?” The words, his, that you knew would cause you issues.

“He’s Satoru Gojo?” Your surprise lay hidden under the music that boomed all too loud—watching closely the white haired boy you’d bumped into a couple days ago.

“Yeah? You didn’t know?” The grin on your now best friend, and then just-roommates-friend offered little help.

Of course you hadn’t, and now you wish you didn’t still.

It was true you’d spotted him all so much over the past few days, and the people that followed him and the rumors still—unaware to why and how.

But now, with all the pieces in your hand you wanted to hide away—especially when those blue eyes stared right back—with a grin he trampled over.

“Oi! L/n right? We met at the first day?”

You cringed at how loud he spoke—so very sure that absolutely everyone could hear him, all over the booming music.

A subtle nod you passed, trying to get away from the spotlight he’d casually thrown round you.

“Your dad’s the Dean right?”

Silence- literally, just as he said that, the music system paused too—you wanted to curse your luck.

Widened eyes—star-struck stares from all those adored Gojo, amused ones at you from everyone who bothered to think.

You’d have considered lying—unless Satoru Gojo hadn’t chosen to be a dick about it, “You guys have the same last names so I thought- and then, the other when we bumped into each other- remember?” He chuckled as a couple of girls let out audible gasps, envious that you had already touched him so.

Before opportunity even lay still, he continued, “so I thought, because frankly either you’re his daughter or…you know, mistress—but that I doubt,” you wanted to punch away the grin he held, the snicker and the secrets he dropped out like flies.

So while you stood there, waiting for the ostracism—Gojo only giggled, “Don’t worry though, you’re fine, got more of your mom’s genes right?”

Fuming, you stood there—red that masked your vision—“excuse you?” A brow remained cocked, Gojo’s facial expression never once changed—it was about to.

“You’re one to talk about dads huh? Your daddy donated in just about how much into your esteemed football team huh? To get you selected?”

Satoru wasn’t new to comments such, in fact that’s what he’d built his career over but just the way you said it—just the way your angry face stared back at him—he found you annoying, adorably so.

That night, Satoru’s fan following increased by a decent thousand or so, people became aware of you and maybe, you realized, being the Dean’s daughter wouldn’t be that bad a fact.

But all the more, Gojo and you formed a sudden bond still, dislike and nothing less masking the two of you whenever the other was mentioned.

A farce? Maybe—but you were easily, in too deep to stop now.

Often nights you spent, thinking how the two of you could be friends—but huge egos that clashed in, something told you it wouldn’t happen all so easily.

The following week and there on were interesting—you joked all week that you’d blocked Gojo, you never did.

Gojo swore he’d have you black-listed for being so audacious—he never did.

When the huge messaging group—meant to be dead in a day—was formed, you both ended up saving each other’s number discreetly, never to approach it again, at least for a while.

And that was just how it went on “he annoys me so much,” and “she annoys me so much,” but little by little, small steps in the dark—you both were each other’s biggest cheerleaders still- applauding each other louder than anybody else.

Hands clutching onto your notepad you continued jotting down the points—fingers working fast so as not to let a single bright thought escape you.

The event was huge—the University’s 150th Anniversary—perfect, grand, extravagant—to be organized partially, by you.

There was time, plenty—absolutely 1 months before the panic would settle in, 2 before it would be over.

But seconds were quick—hasty in the way they changed into minutes, hours to come and days passed by, never realized.

A finger raised to push your spects up the bridge of your nose—you sighed, eyes landing on the form in front of you—mouth ajar and his sunglasses fixated in his hair, another piece of candy tossed up high before he caught it in his mouth.

A frustrated sigh you let out—“can you please sit straight and help?”

His eyes bore into yours- cerulean, they were pretty, almost prettier than the whole of him, you hated it.

“Isn’t it your job?” A grin he passed, a clench of your jaw was all you could—“we’re in this together, don’t give me that bullshit,”

Another grin, “talk to me when you need booze,”

“You don’t even drink,” the words fell out your mouth all so quick, hesitant you looked at him—“how do you know?” It was an amused smirk that he held, it annoyed you how the man in front seemingly only talked in three supposed emotions.

A small break, “well, I uh- noticed through the parties,” it was true, you did notice through the parties—it was hard not to, since you didn’t drink—you couldn’t be all so sure about the rest.

“You notice me at parties? You notice me at all?” Urges inside you that had to be controlled, such a perfectly punchable face Satoru Gojo held—“help me work on this damn idea,” you mumbled, ignoring all of what he wanted to discuss.

A roll of his eye and yours—“not gonna do it so easily,”

A huff you let out.

Frustration at peak.

“Actually,” your voice was quieter than you expected it to be, “wouldn’t it be better if you were there to advise us? Me? You’ve been organizing parties for so long and,” your face turned towards him—smile never faltering at his disgusted expression—he knew what you were doing, he wasn’t new to sugar coating after all, “I would love learning from the best.”

Jaw clenched, hands sauntered over to the back of your chair—most would consider it an action of endearment, you knew better.

“I would beg to differ Ms. Daddy’s princess,” Your blood boiled at his ignorance—sure, he was Satoru Gojo—but nothing gave him the right to act superior when he stood at his father’s money itself.

Hell, all he was meant to be was just a batchmate, captain of a stupid team that barely mattered—you?

Sure, a well suited empire would never land on your back, nor a fortune as his until you’d worked half your life into it— but you were better, you knew it. Denial onto his privilege to negate the Authorities could’ve never been acceptable by you.

your eyes remained stuck onto the ground —defiant—“well, i suppose it would only be for the best,” stubborn you sat and so did he—stuck in between the thickening tension.

“The best,” his voice exasperated, “would be for someone like you to sit back down and do as you’re told.”

Mouth hanging just in the slightest, you dared not to meet his face—focusing on the little stains and creases you’d administered on your sneakers—eyes sneaking onto his pair, perfect, as expected.

“That’s a little rich, coming from you—”

“—and this is the best they’ve found? You? To help me huh?”

Bigoted. Nose flared, curses at the tip of your tongue and you could do nothing as he further scoffed, “getting a privileged bitch to do my job, now they know my worth huh?”

“Excuse you?” Shaky, you sat—words spilling out before you could stop it—“your worth? Absolutely as nothing, but a spoiled man-baby who cannot deal with things maturely?”

Confusion marked his face—of course he would be, all so blind to the simple generosity that gets offered to him—all so he can kick a ball.

“The event is in 2 months sir,” address regained to the topic, you spoke flatly, “I would well appreciate that you helped us in the organization of said fest—if not, well, it would be a sheer pity that the entire football team would have to suffer,”

And there lay your ultimatum, naked and threatening—and he knew it was all but empty.

“L/n,” Gojo coughed—not quite sure, uneasy evidently, with the tension that hung lose in the atmosphere—“You maybe influential in your own ways on the campus but-”

“-but I’m just a student here, as you are,” you looked directly at Gojo now, “And to adhere to rules is the basic of most authoritative environments. So I suppose, you’ll be all the more pliant in helping us plan the fest and encouraging our juniors to help us out.”

Defiant—squinted eyes of Gojo simply stared blankly—“Alright,” he muttered.

“If help is what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

And the deal was settled—to your compromise and his.

A week had passed since—the discomfort only grew.

“What the fuck? You’re speeding rumours now?” Rough were the words that greeted you first the moment the two of you entered the study you currently sat in—a half shrug you passed him, “I would need help and rather than begging you for it, why not just keep you as my assistant?”

“Excuse you?” His tone, bewildered as he shut the door behind the two of you—“Your assistant?” He barked out a laugh—“They really are making sheer idiots now huh?”

“Says daddy’s little prince who couldn’t use his academics to get in like everyone else,”

A scoff he passed—“How very original, at least my daddy has the power and how is yours, at all better?” he let his words trail off, a smirk on his lips as he pulled a chair to lounge in, and well, all cases be true, his dad probably had more money than you could imagine.

The certain charm of Gojos, after all.

“Don’t gotta flex your daddy’s sex work like that buddy,” you muttered, pulling a chair across him—peculiar you found it that he didn’t do so much as throw a fit in objection to the forced responsibility.

“Just giving inspiration baby,” he drew out—he winked, phone pulled out fast as he typed, you sat by forgotten.

A roll of your eyes—“Help me at least,”

Silence- you sighed.

“You’re supposed to help,” again, the very same cold air met you—“Gojo,”

“Nope.”

A sharp intake of breath and you stared at him, had it not been for the pretty face he had you’d have punched him long ago—a second too long you stared however, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,”

Another eye roll—“Just fucking help me,”

“Ain’t gotta princess,” he finally looked up, “I’m here to advise you right?”

An inhale, exhale—biting down on your teeth you nodded, “Of course,” you muttered—which was what had led you to the current situation, tired, exasperated and annoyed.

An hour and a half, slow—very, spent staring a few times at the blank paper and then the ceiling, often Satoru Gojo and then his phone; a couple ideas popped by here and there, all useless—you knew that.

“You know,” you spoke carefully, “As someone who’s helping you bunk without losing attendance, you should really really be thankful,”

“A bouquet will be present in your dorm tonight doll,” not a single glance spared still—it was frustrating simply to sit such.

A sharp exhale you let out, head hung back—this was a stupid idea.

“You know what?” Chair pushed back, you stood up—“I’ll manage,” fingers clutched hard onto your notepad—it hurt when he didn’t do so much as even shrug as you moved towards the door.

Silence, as you turned the handle of the door to leave—not even a look from him.

You despised him.

#6942619412: Yo [11:54 p.m.]

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden text that popped up—ignorance enveloped you still, eyes focused onto the book of applied physics in front of you—regret boring into you as you tried your best to drill the concepts into you, preparing yourself for the soon-to-end semester exams.

#6942619412: busy? [11:56 p.m.]

You ignored still, creeped a little at the protrusion—not enough to let your book down—

#6942619412: idc [11:58 p.mp]

#6942619412: show me your plans [11:58 p.m.]

Face scrunched in annoyance, you stared at your screen—the periodic chimes of notification and the switch from the dull background to immediate light up—Satoru Gojo was somehow a master at infuriating you.

However, as stubborn as lay, you were no better—‘ignorance is bliss’ they said, and you were all too prepared to test it out.

#6942619412: bro wtf. Reply. [12:03 a.m.]

You noted mentally, the time gap between his texts—a sly smile adorning your face. Something in you screamed to not do it—to not go against Satoru Gojo such—the certain something fell to deaf ears as a shit-eating grin you beheld, typing your words in.

You: it’s pathetic of you to message like this [12:03 a.m.]

You: desperate? [12:03 a.m.]

A minute went by, then another—you sighed.

It was perhaps, a bad idea— chime!!

#6942619412: it’s needy of you to message back [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you desperate? [12:04 a.m.]

A smirk—yours, a smirk—his.

You: you realize the first text of your day is to me? [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you realize you’re taking note of how my day goes? [12:05 a.m.]

You: because you decided to bother me in mine—get to whatever you were saying [12:05 a.m.]

#6942619412: there there princess—I demand respect and send me your ideas- or better still I’ll come over to your dorm [12:06 a.m.]

Your eyes remained fixed at the screen; ‘come at your dorm’? Was he stupid?

You: there’s no need to come here gojo. I’ll send you everything right now.

You waited, patiently, however, ever so cruel��time was always slow, especially when waiting onto someone. 5 minutes grudged slow- you were afraid that he would actually show up. Would he?

No, of course not— even for him this was absurd, given the security and the time at night—he was probably asleep—

Knock.

A twist of your window pane’s handle- a thud of your heart and widened set of eyes.

Another knock and you were at your feet, stupidly, opening the window—widening it to welcome Satoru Gojo is your room—scandalous.

A smirk he held, form towering yours by a decent couple inches, “Neat room,” he whistled as he stood awkward, unsure onto whether to place himself until he found your study—making himself comfortable on the spot you just sat.

“Applied physics?” Curiosity laced his voice and a shrug you responded with — “So what?” You muttered, reaching in to close the book—he certainly took note of the tiredness your voice held.

“So you’re an idiot—it’s a tough field.”

Another shrug—“Gets me going and nothing could’ve sucked more than chemistry so,”

A snort he lay bare—only then did you realize how quiet it was, soft breaths, the new morning dancing about the timelines—your gaze on his, and his on yours. How so eccentric—not.

“You couldn’t deal with chemistry? Gotta be dumb or some shit,”

You scoffed—knowing where he was leading it, “do we really need me to redo the whole ‘got in because of your dad’ shit here?”

He grinned wide—and just then you noticed the perfect set of teeth—the ones you’d hoped to punch and break some day, “I think I’d wanna skip it tonight baby,”

“Don’t call me that,”

“Prissy, eh?”

A scrunch of your face, a wink his.

“Why, and dare I ask, how, did you get here?” Brows raised, expression amused as he paced about your room—taking it in, familiarizing himself.

“Don’t worry onto that doll, just show me your ideas,”

Your eye twitched, it was simply alien to you—the feeling of being treated normal by him. By Satoru Gojo- reality set in straight Every Time you realized that something in you, even if small, craved his attention, his validation.

Maybe that was why you were hurt—when he’d ignored you initially, when he’d shove you in the hall without a thought spared—when his gaze was all so disrespectful Everytime you approached Him.

Maybe it was just the social construct of it all.

Maybe it was something else.

So surprise was bound to grip you hard— he wanted your ideas?

“Well?” Fidgety, you noted his actions to be—nervous? You wouldn’t be sure.

“Why?”

A shrug, half hearted, “I heard stuff on you,” and now your interest sat piqued, “They say you’re as good as me when it comes down to getting shit done,” a wink—you gagged internally at his words- his charm?

Not quite so.

“You’ve been snooping around since the past week? Got you that hooked?” A smirk you channeled, unsure still- suspicious more so.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered—his eyes were quicker, quicker that yours, cerulean, I suppose something to do with the color of them—all too pretty to have one care about anything besides themselves.

“I’ve heard of your accomplishments beforehand, you know it—you just weren’t so important and most of the time I was trying to stay off your radar,” his face panned towards the shelf you kept full of books—“but you did interest me,”

A scoff let’s your lips, “Anything with a vagina and boobs will interest you,”

“Hey now-” and for a second he seemed offended, not that you cared, “don’t forget about the ass—and please, I sincerely accept dicks too.” And just at that you chuckled slightly—a small win he deemed it, “man-whore,” you muttered past him- closing your books and grabbing onto the notepad from before.

“Here,” you handed it over— a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over—after all, as much of a jerk he was, Satoru Gojo sincerely was experienced and amazing at what he did.

Lips pursed, you stared as he read through the stuff- “I know it’s all too-” a hand raised to quieten you, he continued reading—quick at that too.

It took him a minute or so, to go through each of the 4 pages you’d jotted down—“Not bad,” you nodded, “not the best,” you bit your tongue.

“I uh- i know it’s a little extravagant?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “or more so, it’s not very realistic? You have steps planned out and …you know, it’s supposed to be done by humans not machines,”

Your eyes raised in understanding, you weren’t too sure, but just enough.

“Put yourself into it—you’re cool you know that?,” eyes squinted, you watched him carefully- not a word let out.

“Just a little…uptight, learn to let go,”

“how do I…?”

He grinned, “have fun figuring that out—the ideas were cool, gotta go now doll,” you blinked once, twice, and without a word he was gone—you let him. However could you even ever stop him?

And you knew well, the rumbling in your room was sure to get your father awake.

A click on the lock—you closed the window behind him—swift was the way he came about, annoying, the way he left. And yet you still stood alone in the room, pacing about with a dorkish smile.

And only five minutes after he’d left, after the daze was gone—you noticed the bouquet of jasmines on your bedside—huh.

Certainly understood the charm now—especially when your eyes focused onto your phone right before closing.

#6942619412: you’re actually cute when you’re not frowning yk? [1:05 a.m.]

You went to sleep.

~Three weeks before the Fest~

“I’d say it’s coming along amazing,” another fruit roll up popped into his mouth—the fifth packet in last three hours, you were only surprised how he wasn’t sick of them yet.

A nod you passed—“but they’re slow-”

“-because they’re people, they are bound to be slow,”

Another nod.

There was something that Satoru Gojo did help you with, and there was something you’d helped him with as well—his eyes panned onto the elaborate list of numbers he’d gathered, oh how you’d spun the man, Satoru ‘never gonna help nobody’ Gojo into your actual assistant.

“Tell me though, when will you order the booze?”

“It’s an official thing- how can you expect booze to be there?” A ridiculed laugh met you—“ever heard of sneaking shit in princess?”

Of course you had, given that Satoru Gojo snuck himself into your room almost every night, uninvited—so far as to snickering when you squeaked out lies to your father about talking to your friends.

“Shut up, there will be no beverage,” he chuckled at your formal tone, beverage, “you and I, or anyone can get expelled for that—it happened last year,”

“You’re your daddy’s only princess though,”

“And you’re not,” a deadpan from you shut him up quick—“dad’s gonna be mad if he finds it, I won’t be expelled but you might, especially given your record and everything—and yes that means your captaincy and everything too,”

A month ago, the nervousness on his face would’ve made you chuckle—giddy maybe but now it only troubled you for him—hours spent on the floor of your bedroom had opened up conversations after all.

“But you’ll save me right?”

He stared at you; you stared back, you noted the closeness.

There was no reply to be offered—but it did ruin the small moment to hear the causal, “Satoru~” from the lips of her, Mei Mei, long time family friend of his and an equatable annoyance to Satoru Gojo.

Both of your faces whipped to meet hers, yours scorned while his broke into a grin—“Oi!” He chuckled—arms spreading out to greet her, hug her.

“Y/n,” she greeted you too, a smile you passed back—part of your council members after all—“how’s the planning going?”

“Fantastic,” tight lipped you muttered—“fabulous,” she grinned, “mind if I steal Toru’ for a second?”

You mentally gagged at her—‘steal Toru for a second’—except those seconds never really were seconds, rather hours and to your utter annoyance, Gojo never add moves to counter it.

“Of course!” And just like that, gone, daily.

A sigh you let out, staring at the preparations—“why’d you let them walk over you all the time?” A deep voice met you, “Suguru?”

A short smile, a short breath of cigarettes met you—in the best way, “Good day to you too,” he grinned, patting the seat beside him, eyes stuck on his best friend and his rendezvous partner.

“You as , and what exactly do you suppose I do? Stop them?”

“He’s your assistant, ain’t he?”

“Yes but-”

“Am I seeing you finally turn into a push-over, like all the other girls when it comes to him?” All in good humor he spoke, but mostly because it was true.

You were bending your walls for a certain someone—it didn’t feel right.

“You think I shouldn’t?”

“I think you should only if this lasts after the rest as well,”

“Will it?”

A pause, a shrug, “I don’t know, ask him.”

You stared at him—“why are you two the legitimate same at advices? And equally bad?” A laugh met you—“go on, ask him—because as of now, Mei Mei seems to have done what she wanted,”

“Huh?”

A look at him and then at them, your heart sank—he was kissing her, your heart sank more, why were you so bothered by it?

A nervous chuckle you passed to Suguru, an empathetic one he did, “it’s fine,”

“Yeah.”

———

It wasn’t fine, hell it was far from fine—especially when you saw them together there on, all the time.

3 weeks, dates here and there—she was around you all the time, and him, it was infuriating in all aspects of the word.

“Who’re you going with?” Almost everyday he questioned, and you never had an answer because somehow, just something in you had made you reject every proposal—something in you supposed that you two would go together.

You were the organizers—but then, it was no rule.

And even if it was, Satoru Gojo wasn’t big on rules.

“Ready?” Suguru grinned, last minute date that you’d found—all so grateful that you stood.

A small nod with a smile you passed—“how do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” another smile, wider—eyes however, they remained stuck onto Gojo.

“It’s not about him tonight doll,”

“It’s never about him,” you mumbled—melancholy—ironic onto how the entire fest that you’d built was based off of youth and what not.

But it was about him, everything was about him- especially in the way your dress, bought just for the occasion was the same cerulean, your hair was braided just how he once mentioned liking, you were wearing the perfume he bought you for you.

Everything.

And you despised all of this everything while having nothing.

“Yo! Y/n,” you paused, Suguru did too—his smirk widening, as did Mei Mei’s, Satoru walked- sauntered over.

“Don’t you look hot?” The grin was wide, your nose scrunched in disgust, “you’re reeking of alcohol,”

He was—of course he was, right after you’d advised him not to.

“Chill, nobody’s gonna know-”

“-we have to meet my dad in 15 minutes.”

“…oh.”

“Well anyways, I see you came with Suguru? You’ve been getting close?”

Your eye twitched—so he did see it—“yeah he’s cool, and helpful, unlike you,”

A giggle, “I have a life outside of you, remember?” Your blood boiled—“of course you do, enjoy it.”

A sharp turn you made, lips bitten, unsure, uncertain—“Honestly though, if I weren’t with Mei tonight I’d actually fuck ya “

Your jaw clenched at the audacity—the other two, Suguru and Mei Mei long disappeared as you flared daggers into Satoru’s soul.

“Can you take one thing seriously? You- you bloody idiot I can’t even-” you whipped around to face him again—eyes boring into his.

Satoru, even in his drunken state knew it would last long, the lecture, a hand pulled you in very quick, a corner, secluded.

“Stop fucking shouting,” slurred his words, they lay bare.

“What do you want me to do then? You- you- I- ugh.” You paused, hard breaths let out—“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Annoying? You’re the one screaming woman,” the small smirk that he adored annoyed you all the more so.

“Excuse you? I’m annoying?” And at that moment, you let go, “I’m annoying after you spent three weeks fucking with Mei Mei? I’m annoying after you’re the one acting irresponsible? I’m annoying after you ended up treating me like all your others girls? I’m annoying after- after you just chose to walk all over me- I’m annoy- mmph!”

Words lay interrupted quick, a rough hand reeled you in while the other held your head, the kiss was soft, passionate of one would call it, sloppy in the way his lips attached to yours, hungry.

And amusingly, unlike all things Gojo, this did not feel wrong.

But it wouldn’t help your emotions being all over the place—“what the fuck?” You asked, the moment he pulled away—“was it that bad?” An amused chuckle rolled off his lips.

“No? You can’t do this- we can’t just kiss- I-”

“-okay, then take it back,” and just like that, he pulled you in again, lips attaching once more, hands exploring each other easy, slow gasps of breath as you pushed him away this time.

“N-no you- I don’t- what? You take it back,” and almost as if his alcohol was on your mind too, you pulled him in this time—a small peck, harsh, Satoru loved it all the same.

Frustrated you pulled away, grinning his hand held your wrist—“don’t go,” he mumbled, your face contorted into the expression which screamed your annoyance.

“Don’t go? Fuck you Gojo. Fuck you and your damn ego and the audacity you have,” your breaths were shallow, the two stood so close.

“Don’t kiss me when you’re with someone else—you might be a whore but-”

“It was for you,” another mumble, quieter, “to get you jealous and I think it worked?”

A pause.

“And The alcohol?” You whispered—he loved it though, the way you prioritised the reputation above him—somehow you humanised him, “only I’ve drunk it, no one else—to…get your attention,”

“But you never drink…”

“And I never fucked Mei either, or kissed her…or anyone since you,”

“That’s supposed to make me feel special?” It did, but you were done for the day.

“I think so…?”

You blink, once, twice and instead of the third that Satoru expected a sharp slap landed on his face.

“You’re very fucking dumb,” while one hand clutched the cheek he’d been hit at, the other still held your hand, pulling you closer when he heard your choked words—eyes widening at the wetness in your eyes.

“L/n…” a sigh, “fuck I’m- fuck.” He held you close, unnatural to your relation, you let yourself be held.

————

“Sorry?”

You glared at him, the Music blared behind you loud— the both of you stood outside your father’s office, “we’ll deal with that later.”

A slight nod, Satoru was glad you even agreed to talk to him, Satoru was glad you even looked at him—Satoru was simply glad you were standing beside him.

A knock, two more, you walked inside—Satoru, as advised by you stood outside—your father would know of course, instantly.

The room seemed a breath of freshness as you walked, away from the stench that Satoru held, “where’s Gojo?” You were prepared for the question.

“Do you like the fest?” You father was prepared for the dodge—he hummed, “you both did good together, as I supposed,” you hummed.

“He won’t be coming?”

“He’s busy,” you lied through your teeth, “some kids snuck in alcohol, he’s dealing with it,” you were sure you caught your father’s smirk—“that would be highly…inappropriate,”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “of course, we’ll see to it that they’re punished well,”

Your father hummed again, “having a good time?”

“Wonderful,” your father grinned, “well, you can go then but…maybe not today but I do hope meet your assistant soon after, kind of tired of seeing him sneak in through the windows,”

“Dad?!”

“What? You’re grown up and I’ve seen the potential and I kind of think opposites do attract, and you proved me right so,”

Idiots, all around you.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

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writing-mlm · 3 months

Note

Hey pookie, can I please request a Damian x male reader where they're enemies/rivals to lovers? Like both of them are the top students in their college and they tried to top the other by getting a better grade and showing it off to the other?

(can I please have soft damian too? Please 🙏)

Summa Cum shut the fuck up [D.W]

Summary: Stanford was your dream and some rich kid wasn't going to stop that, but damn those party lights make him look really nice. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.2k a/n: ngl in the first draft the roommate died and it was so left-field field I had to rewrite the whole thing

Summa Cum Lade and Valedictorian, that was the only option.

Having been your high school valedictorian, gotten into the national honor society, and taking every single AP class you could all four years just for a chance at being at the top. Over seventy applications across the U.S. and every single one had a large accepted letter attached to it. It was your moment— Stanford was yours.

You’d taken out loans for whatever your scholarships didn’t cover, like your meal plan and housing. But it didn't matter, you were prepared for anything and everything. Nothing was about to come between you and that number-one spot.

Until you saw Damian Wayne.

He lived across from you with your roommate's best friend, Jaime Reyes. But the two were painfully different and Jaime would more often than not hang out in the common area just to get away from their suffocating dorm. As such, their dorm door was painfully barren in the hallway filled with decorated doors. Not that Jaime didn’t try, it’s just Wayne would take it down as soon as he noticed. Not to mention Wayne had a thing for glaring at anyone who dared to knock on his door. Never mind that Jaime had been making friends left and right.

You didn’t care at first, why should you? Some rich kid who doesn’t want anyone to steal his valuables. It’s whatever, not like it’s going to affect you.

Until it did.

The two of you happened to have most of the same classes, being the same major and all. And at first, you didn’t pay any mind to him, he was just another one of the kids in the sea of students until the first marking period came around.

And his name was above yours.

You remembered staring at your screen, looking at the 99.7% right below the 99.8%. It was the first time since elementary school that you had come in second. It made this feeling bubble up and you nearly had a breakdown. That feeling was pure hatred. This— this stupid rich boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth was not about to take away your goal.

“Looks like you got competition,” Jaime had laughed from his dorm. You’d only heard it because you needed some fresh air before you tried to scoop your brain out.

“The gap won’t be as small next time,” Wayne replied as Jaime opened the door. The two of you made eye contact while Jaime awkwardly tried to excuse himself to the bathroom.

You’d be damned if you let some rich kid who probably bought their way in be better than you.

You spent all of your free time at the school library or in the common area at night, studying and memorizing. Homework and projects were done in record time and you absolutely used the most out-of-office hours with your professors. All of whom were confused as to why their top student was coming in without needing any actual help.

Test after test, you saw that the top two students were you and him. Your first finals were tough though. You probably averaged an hour's worth of sleep that entire week and drowned yourself in whatever textbooks or worksheets you could to prepare yourself.

“(L/n),” Wayne greeted you as the two of you were in line at the TSA. Break officially started the next day but due to your finals being done, you got to leave earlier.

“Wayne.” It’s a little surprising seeing the son of a billionaire fly commercial, let alone with Spirit Airlines but to each their own. You didn’t care enough to give it another thought. His eyes wander over you and he quietly hums. It doesn’t look like you’ve packed anything other than clothes and toiletries. And your electronics.

He isn’t stupid. He knows you’re overworking yourself to be the best in school. He knows you obsessively check over the dean's list, that you probably have an alarm to make it a point to never drop below the number one spot for the freshmen. Overall, you rank three, which you’ll take. There are smarter people than you, just not anyone in your year.

A part of him wanted to relax a bit, and make himself get a few questions wrong to ensure you remain in that number one spot. Maybe then you’ll ease up on yourself and not look like a zombie every single day. But he can’t bring himself to. It feels like pity and Damian Wayne doesn’t do pity.

Besides, he’s never had someone to go head to head with him who wasn’t almost a decade older than him. To him, this rivalry was fun. To you, it was a means to an end. You felt that deep within you, you needed to beat him. If you weren’t willing to sacrifice your time and energy for that then what was the point in high school of isolating yourself?

As the line moves up, you cover a yawn by rolling your neck. This stupid red-eye flight is worse than any final you’ve taken.

You’re beyond tired and you’re sure your expression displayed nothing but that but you were counting on that nap in the flight to fix that.

Thankfully, there’s not much of a wait as you’re at your gate less than half an hour later, checking in.

“Oh,” The man at the desk pauses as he scans your ticket. You panic a little, did you get the dates wrong? The time? The location. Shit, maybe those hours of lost sleep had gotten to you. “You’ve been upgraded from economy to first class. Enjoy your flight.” He smiles and hands you back the ticket. You thank him and take your seat, silently happy you were going to sleep in first class.

—

Returning to Stanford from winter break, you were happy to be back. You felt wasted— almost hollow not studying at home, as if nothing else mattered except studying. But your family didn’t let you get much studying in, after four months apart they missed you. A lot. And you went back to where your family was from to visit them instead of going home so you were never given a moment of

solace unless you were asleep. Your siblings and your extended family were always around you, asking you about college, how they’d seen your grades, and how exciting it was that you were in such a huge school.

It also felt a little weird without having Wayne there. In a weird sort of way, you missed glancing at his results to see if he got higher than you. To share those smug glances as you passed each other to the showers. Like it or not, he’d become a staple in your day-to-day life on campus.

You found yourself daydreaming about him being there as your family had parties and celebrations for various reasons. The holidays, your return home, and two birthdays happened in those two months you were away from campus. And they were sad to see you go for another four months.

Of course, you returned with a bunch of gifts and mementos from your family.

Wayne noticed it first, he saw you return to your dorm actually looking human. He’d gotten so used to the eyebags and the pain medications you’d take because the headaches were getting too bad, and the early signs of hand tremors you tried to shake off. A part of him was glad you were taken care of during the break, he’d seen a lot of people break down in Gotham for less and just hoped he didn’t have to deal with that at Stanford.

Maybe he just didn’t want that to happen to you.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he watches as you fall into the same pattern. And no one around you seems to give a shit that you’re basically slowly killing yourself. He resents Frankie in a way, as a roommate and a friend of yours, he has the most power in that situation to force some sense into you. Instead, he jokes and laughs at your state, unaware of how damaging it truly is.

“All that studying won’t help you much, (L/n).” Wayne says as he walks past you the second week back from break, two textbooks tucked under his arm and a cup of water in his hand. You glare at him but only for a moment before going back to reading. For some reason, you can’t really focus knowing he’s around you. Somewhere, probably watching you. Hearing him sit a table away, you check the time for the first time that night.

4:34 am

What was he doing up so late? Normally, you had the common area to yourself at this time. No one in their right mind would be awake at 4:30. Maybe he was feeling the stress of the new classes, too. Or maybe Jaime was snoring too loudly and he figured since he was awake he should study, too.

Either way, he wasn’t going to take away from your study time. He already occupied a space in your mind against your will. And that was more than enough.

Feeling a yawn crawling its way up your throat you swallow it back down and reach for your cup of energy drink mixed with coffee when you feel something hit your neck. You can’t tell what though, as the second you feel it, you’re out like a light. You do feel a hand save your head from hitting the hard table, though. But it was the last thing you remembered from that night.

—

“You’re finally awake!” Frankie, your roommate, greets you as he walks into your dorm with a slushie and cupcake in hand. You’re sitting, blinking at the floor trying to remember how you ended up in your room.

“Did I start sleepwalking?” You croak out, your mouth dry and throat tight. Frankie only grins and sits on his bed, watching as your face scrunches at the pain. “God, did you leave the window open again?” Blinking over to the window, you see it wide open and groan, throwing yourself back down to the bed.

“Wanna head down and grab lunch? It ends in like twenty,” He asks, grabbing his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “Nineteen minutes until lunch is over.” So it’s almost three. You’d slept most of the day but it was a Friday so you didn’t have any classes. You didn’t miss any classes, thank god.

Then again, you could’ve been studying.

“I’m good,” Standing up, you crack your back and sigh. Not that you’d admit it, but you needed that nap. “Gotta shower and study.” Frankie frowns, watching as you collect your stuff before leaving the dorm. As you leave, he sees Wayne exiting his room and the two of them make eye contact. He shakes his head and Wayne turns to watch as you leave before nodding to him and leaving.

Frankie frowns as he watches you leave. You’re stumbling and still trying to shake the sleep off, unaware that your left pants leg was halfway up your thigh and the right one was somehow twisted around. He grumbles and rushes to catch up to Wayne.

Half an hour later and you’re inside the library. There’s one seat you’ve always sat at and you’re glad to see it’s empty; seeing as you’d be spending most of the day there.

Setting your stuff on the table that’s pressed against the wall and diving back into where you left off the night before. It’s perfect in the library, there’s hardly anyone inside and the temperature finally isn’t bone freezing or blistering hot. Your headphones are on and there’s no one around, so you’re free of any possible distractions. Not to mention not tired after your ten-hour nap.

About twenty minutes into studying, you can feel someone behind you; staring. But it’s probably the librarian so you don’t pay it any mind and continue on with your work. The feeling stays for another minute or so, and it’s making you a little uneasy, the Liberian would’ve moved on by that point. Hell, you’ve moved on to your ten-page essay, having enough of reading from the illegal copy of the textbook you downloaded.

Maybe you should just turn around. It’s probably someone asking for the wifi password.

Another minute passed and suddenly a slight shadow was cast over your laptop. You can see the outline of the person and go to groan when Wayne sets a cup of your favorite drink and lunch down to your left. It effectively shuts you up, halting the annoyed groan you were fixing to let out.

A nice gesture from him? That’s… strangely nice.

“Thank you…?” Sliding the headphones off, you turn to see him but he’s already walking away. Weird. Looking at the food, you almost— almost smile seeing that the food had those protective films covering it. The film was covered in a thin layer of condensation, having been hot but lunch had since ended. Had he been looking for you all that time?

There’s also a note on it. Grabbing it, you flip it over to read it.

You need to eat and maintain a good sleep schedule to remain at the top.

That’s all it says, but that’s all you need. The paper can wait and you basically know all the material by heart already. A break couldn’t hurt.

—

“A hundred and two. Suck my dick, Wayne!” You grin, slapping your test down in front of him before he can pack his things up. He looks at the paper and then at you. His eyes flicker to the extra credit questions he didn’t have time to finish and it only makes you smile harder.

“(L/n),” He greets with faux enthusiasm. His eyes flicker across your body in one motion that makes it look as if he is looking down at the paper again. “Don’t let it go to your head.” He’s reluctant to show you his score but you had seen the giant red 98 from three seats behind him.

“Just let me know if you need a tutor,” Taking the paper back you wiggle it in his face one last time before leaving him alone and you hear him scoff as you walk off to your next class.

It’s mid-February now and while California doesn’t get as cold as the more Northern states, it is a little chilly especially now that it’s started to rain.

There’s not much wind, surprisingly enough, so you’re able to keep your umbrella stable as you wait for the campus bus to arrive. While you’re waiting, listening to some music and enjoying the clouds as they roll by, Wayne walks over. He doesn’t say anything, but he stands next to you.

His hood is wet and he doesn’t have an umbrella, but he’s far from affected by it. You guess Gotham is normally colder than SanFran, plus you heard it rains a lot there. Actual acid rain. But you doubt that.

“If this is you asking for me to tutor you…” He glares at you and then rolls his eyes.

“I’m the last person on this campus in need of a tutor.” He snips, his posture getting a little straighter as he speaks.

“And the only person who needs an umbrella.” You chide. He doesn’t argue that fact and you look down the road. The bus isn’t even in sight, and he’ll probably catch a cold if he doesn’t get dry soon. But if he’s sick he can’t do well— no, you need him at his best. Winning because your opponent cannot put their best foot forward isn’t winning.

That’s probably why he’d given you the food.

Internally, you sigh and step closer to him. Just enough that the both of you are covered by the umbrella.

“Thanks,” He mutters, pulling his wet hood down. The red Stanford hoodie is absolutely drenched but it’ll dry soon. Hopefully faster than the cold bus. His hair is a little wet, too. You never noticed the curl to his hair before. It looks nice. You hum and scroll on your phone with your free hand.

“By the way,” He starts after five minutes of silence between the two of you. “I got a hundred on Professor Guetta’s exam.” The two of you have that professor, but not at the same time. Gritting your teeth, you have half a mind to move your umbrella but decide against it.

“Don’t let it go to your ego, Wayne.” You’d gotten a 98, never mind the fact that you overslept and missed a good ten minutes and never got to finish the exam.

“Never, (L/n).” He hums as the bus finally pulls up.

Shutting the umbrella, you all but push past him to get inside and away from him. Never mind the fact that you can hear him snickering quietly.

—

“99.” Wayne shows you his paper before you can even stand up. You stare at the paper and sigh. The two of you had been having this feud for two years now. One might think that as juniors in college, you’d give it a rest, maybe finally relax and actually put this… academic one-upping a rest. And you almost did.

But going into junior year you learned who your roommate was. Somehow, by some stupid chance, Wayne had managed to be your roommate until senior year. And sure, you could ask to be transferred to a different room but it’s about the principal. If you ask to be moved then he won. And he wasn’t about to win against you— at anything. Which is why you always wake up at five in the morning. Thirty minutes before he does. It used to be later in the day, but he started waking up earlier just to spite you.

And you’re too prideful to let that happen.

“Same,” Showing him your paper, he grabs it and flips through both of them. You watch, trying to find the question the two of you had gotten wrong. Apparently, it was the same question. It makes you feel a little better, knowing it was probably an advanced question meant to trick students.

He hands you the test back and you stand up.

“Won’t happen again, though.” You say as you slip the paper into your bag. He watches and cringes— don’t you have a folder for fucks sake?

“Because I’ll get better marks than you, yes.” He adds and you suck your teeth, looking up at him.

“Just worry about making sure your pretty face doesn’t get wrinkles, Wayne.” You tease and catch up to Frankie and Jaime at the door. They actually still lived on the same floor as the two of you, so you hung out whenever you weren’t studying. Which, admittedly, was less these days. Sometime during finals freshman year, you’d overworked yourself to the point of almost developing hypertension.

Frankie greets you first, offering you one of the donuts he’d stolen from his job. Jaime waves, his mouth too filled with his own donut to say anything.

“Some of us are heading to that secret tunnel under the south side of campus,” Frankie explains as the three of you walk to the courtyard for your hour-long gap. Wayne has a class, though. So he doesn’t join— not that he ever would, but sometimes Jaime offers. “Caddie, that Kappa Alpha Theta girl who’s majoring in political science—“

“Your ex-girlfriend,” You add and he huffs.

“That too. She managed to get access to that tunnel and is planning a party. Booze provided. Friday night.”

“I dunno,” You frown, using your jacket as a blanket to lay your head on. “I got a pretty shit grade for the last test in Jenkins class and I gotta study.” The two sigh loudly and you roll your eyes.

“You gotta study every single day!” Frankie reminds you, holding his phone above your face so you can see Caddie’s Instagram story. “One little party won’t hurt.” Looking at Jaime, you see

him pleading and let out a grumbled “Fine.” that the boys cheered at.

“What did you get anyway?” Jaime asks once they stop cheering.

“Lemme guess,” Frankie grins. “You finally got a 60?” You’d actually kill yourself.

“No,” Rolling your eyes, you stare at a cloud that’s shaped oddly like a dog shitting. “I got a 90.”

“I fucking hate you.”

—

Friday rolls around and Frankie all but breaks your door down as you’re getting some last-minute work done. Nothing major, just some homework you’d been putting off and finally got to it with your downtime.

“Does your incessant knocking ever work?” Wayne asks when he opens the door after two minutes of the knocking. He doesn’t say anything but it reminds him of his brothers. He’d been doing the same, but you recognized his work as some work you’d completed the week prior. What a slacker.

“Not really,” He laughs, shuts your notebook, and tosses it to your bed. “Let’s go! Jaime has the car.”

“You’re going to that party in the run-down tunnel?” Wayne raises an eyebrow as you rise from your chair, twisting your back to get out any cracks. He’d noticed your outfit from your normal loungewear but didn’t think anything of it. “Yeah, wanna come?” Frankie grins and checks the time. “We got time to wait for you, if you want.” While you hope he doesn’t, you sort of want him to. Maybe it’s so you both will lose time that could’ve been spent doing work, maybe it’s so you can have someone you know won’t do anything stupid at the party there. Maybe you just enjoy being around him. But Wayne looks between the two of you before he rolls his eyes and gets off the bed.

“I’ll be ready in five.”

And he was.

The theme was Rave in a Cave, or whatever that meant. So you were inclined to wear neon clothes or something flashy. But you didn’t have anything of the sort. As such, a pair of shorts and a sweater will do. Wayne opts for a white T-shirt and black pants.

“I won’t drink,” You offer as the four of you get into Frankie’s car. “You three can.”

“I don’t partake in drinking,” Wayne adds as he puts on his seatbelt making you feel compelled to put yours on as well. “Especially in these settings.” He almost physically turns his nose up at the idea of drinking booze provided by people he doesn’t know, let alone trust.

“Respect that, totally,” Frankie pulls out of his parking spot while Jaime plays some music on the speakers. He glances at the two of you but you’re busy on your phone and Wayne is making note of where the car goes to notice. Jaime smacks his arm and makes a motion that makes Frankie laugh.

It’s not a long drive to the tunnel— but it does take a minute to find parking.

“Why don’t you drink, if I might ask?” Wayne asks as the two of you trail behind Frankie and Jaime. They’re recording some videos and taking pictures that they’ll occasionally make the two of you join in.

“I hate the taste,” You shrug. “And addiction isn’t something I’d want to fall into. You?” He moves to the side as a couple runs down the pavement wearing bright clothes and clearly already tipsy.

“I’d prefer to be sober when I’m away from home.” He returns to his spot and his eyes flicker to the entrance of the tunnel. “So my actions aren’t due to an inebriated state of mind.” Humming, the four of you are allowed inside and there are a lot of people.

Half of the student body must be inside the tunnel. It stretches for a couple of miles but gets blocked off by a wire gate. The walls are chipped and almost rotten looking with graffiti and posters messily placed along. There are color lights strung up along the walls and if they went out the place would be pitch black.

The DJ is one of the music majors, you recognize him from one of the random people who followed you when your high school posted the school you were going to. He’s playing some loud ass music with extra bass that makes you cringe.

“Here,” Wayne hands you one of the glow sticks turned into a necklace and you thank him, slipping it over your neck. He has one but it’s around his wrist instead. Frankie and Jaime went separate ways almost immediately— they asked first and you just nodded and went to a corner.

How the fuck do you even act at parties.

“Hi-hi!” A woman stands in front of you, dressed for a rave with a lot of Kandi bracelets running up her arms and those weed glasses. She’s in one of your classes.

“Hey,” You offer a smile.

“Saw you’re nervous! Rave virginity!!!” She laughs and looks along her arms. “Here, this is called a Kandi trade— but you don’t give anything.” She starts to pull off a large red and black cuff and motions for you to grab her hand. Against your better judgment, you do and she does some hand movements before she transfers the cuff to your arm.

“That’s cool! Thank you!” She laughs again and nods, leaving you in the corner to do more trades.

An hour or so passes and Wayne spots you in the sea of people. He sees you have a lot more jewelry on than when you first came and you’re enjoying yourself. Dancing and singing along to the music, jumping with others, and such. But he’s been keeping a close eye and knows you haven’t drunk anything. Not even the water bottle that was offered to you some time ago.

He feels at ease with that and his eyes linger on Jaime. He’s impressed that… bug is keeping cool at the party and he sees Frankie laughing with some of the chem majors by the DJ, requesting songs.

He’s been stuck to a wall for the entirety of the party, he didn’t even want to go in the first place. But he figured it would be best if he did, something in him told him that. And he understood why when he saw your face go from joyful to sour.

His eyes scan the people around you and he sees something yelling at you. Their face was red from the alcohol and the anger they were feeling. He pushes himself from the wall and makes his way over to you.

“Is there an issue?” He asks you, completely ignoring the loud guy. You give him a thank you look and shake your head.

“Just some drunk idiot thinking I’m trying to hit on their date,” You snicker and he raises an eyebrow, seeing the drunk person now tongue-deep with their date. He looks away, almost embarrassed for them.

“How fun,” He smiles and you laugh. He thinks that’s the first time he’s actually made you laugh from something that wasn’t you beating him.

“Wayne, you dance?” You ask as the song changes to something made to move to. He shakes his head, unable to look away from you. “Me neither! But we should!”

He agrees, forgetting his home training and dancing along with you. He’s sure at some point someone will hurt their ankle from the jumping and the very uncoordinated movements but he doesn’t care. Anything to relish in this moment.

At some point the song changes and you're out of breath, dragging him to a wall to sit against. He wants to protest but he sees you’re sitting on fabric and not the ground directly and joins you. The little area is tucked into a divet in the wall, your backs to a cold, metal service door. So no one could step on either one of you.

“Hey, Wayne.” You call and he looks over. His eyes trace over your face as you’re not smiling as hard but the excitement in your eyes hasn’t died out. Your forehead is covered in sweat and he has to stop himself from wiping it off. “I didn’t know you’d be such a nice party partner. We outta do this more often.” You look at him and admire his eyes. In truth, you’ve never given him a real look before.

Sure, you know his eyes are green. But you never noticed how green, or how in this light you can see the rings of blue in them. Or how there’s tiny little white scars on the exposed skin of his neck. Or the scar above his right eyebrow.

“We should,” He agrees and wow, you’re really close. You can feel his breath ghost over your lips. Tentatively, you look down at his lips as he licks them then back to his eyes.

“Should we?” You grin, swiping your tongue over your lips.

“Yes.” He nods and closes the gap. His hand holds your neck and you hold his collar. At that moment, as the butterflies are alive and well in your stomach, as his lips press to yours, as his grip pulls you tighter, you’re so glad he agreed to go to the party. Even happier than this action— that kissing him was a completely sober choice made by the both of you.

This will either be the best or the worst decision of your life.

—

A year after the party, Damian enters the dorm after finishing up his last class for the day. You’d been on your phone, checking up on your internship application before setting it down when he walked in.

“I got a hundred on the fake final.” You grin, reaching over to pull him down onto your bed. He lets you, stopping his fall by planting his hands on either side of your head. He shifts his legs so one is between yours and the other is locking your left leg between his. You’ll never understand his upper body strength, but you’d definitely never complain about it.

“Me too.” He smirks and kisses the corner of your mouth. You frown and grab his face, pulling him in for a proper kiss. He adjusts himself on the bed by moving one arm to slide underneath you and you love that feeling. Your hands slide from the sides of his face to his shoulders, pinching the fabric to try and get it off.

“Lock the door next time,” Jaime groans as he walks into the room. Damian pulls away and glares at him. You roll your head to see him and not very discreetly try and wave him away. “Aye, I’m just here for your charger. Mine broke and you’re rich.” He holds his hands up, showing Damian’s charger and the two of you watch him leave.

“I’m getting the higher score on the final,” You tell him once the door shuts. He looks at you, an eyebrow raised before he gets up to lock the door.

“Doubtful,” He grins, returning to his previous spot on top of you. His eyes scanned all over your face and his hand traced along your hairline. “I’m still on top.” His eyes flicker to yours and you scoff.

“Pretty sure you bottom,”

“Just this once.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you

239 notes · View notes

iouinotes · 4 months

Text

Good gone bad | Coriolanus Snow

pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x female!reader

movie: Hunger Games: The ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

warnings: dark!character, smut

word count: 3,8k

summary: You are childhood friends and very close with him. When his behaviour starts to change for the worse, you try your best to hold on to his real-self.

a/n: I adored Snow the first half an hour, because he was a gentleman and cared so much! Then his character became dark, obsessive and murderous and it really was a game changer...but I definitely want to read the book, so I can describe his character in my following stories better!

part 2 here

"I will call my new discovery just like you, Mr. Snow. The best student and the future of this world. No one will stand in your way, when the blizzard blows over the people. And because it will work so well for your little infatuation, it will function for every other naive creature too."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Coryo!" I shot his name across the hallway, when I see his blonde locks, ignoring the looks from my classmates around me. At the sound of my voice, his head turns in my direction and I run faster towards his figure. As soon as I catch up with him, I meet his curious eyes and look further down to his smiling lips.

"Good morning to you too. Let me guess, you have something really important to announce or are just very happy to see me." Holding the door open for me, I try to catch my breath, wanting to ignore the lovely tone of his voice and the way he looks so outstanding beautiful.

"Well, both, but I heard some gossip about the upcoming ceremony tomorrow. Details who is gonna get the scholarship." Now, while entering the room, I have his full attention.

When I heard about the changes, that were made I immediately searched for him, clearly knowing how much he was ready to sacrifice for this academic possibility.

As he stops walking and places his hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my foodsteps and searching my gaze, I feel my pounding heart.

God forbid this man to look at me this way.

As I try to avoid his intense glare, his hands gently move to my cheeks to focus my eyes on him. I feel myself blushing, fiddling with the rings, that are attached to my fingers.

"No time for jokes, please. What do you know?" I clear my voice, trying to ignore our close gap or the way his curls lay on his forehead and how his skin shines beautifully in the light- No, wait. Not good. We're just friends. I don´t like him that way. Nope.

"I- uh, so please don´t freak out on me, but rumor says it's not up to the student with the best grades to get the scholarship..." I watch his posture straighten, see the how his facial expression turns blank and the irritated change in his mood. And I promise you, it´s not good.

When he lets go of me to strike forward, I try to hold him back. "Wait- you are angry and disappointed, so talk to me first before you let your emotions out on the others, okay?" I catch his left hand and hear his upset breathing.

"It's just- you know, more than anyone, that I deserve this scholarship the most! And now the only possibility to help my family and to become successful are at risks, because someone decided to change the rules? God, I worked my ass off to be the one they choose and now I'll probably get laughed at, cause I didnt get it!" I nod, trying to calm him down by listening to his outburst.

"You do deserve it, I know that. But you still have the chance to stand out more than the others. You are intelligent and brave, very ambitious and you care a lot. Not only for your family and friends, but for everyone. You are the best candidate and if they don´t choose you, then it is the wrong decision. Because they need someone like you. Just like I need you, believe me." I hold his hand close to my heart, trying to convince him of his abilities and his good heart, to show him that he deserves every recognition he gets.

And it works, because he relaxes slightly and after another second passes, I feel myself being embraced in a tight hug. His hand holds the back of my head and I hear his quiet "thank you".

"Always, blue. I am here for you." His lips linger for a second on my forehead, the kiss leaves me feeling warm and in love.

Even if I try to deny it.

"It's been a while, since you called me that nickname." I look in his eyes, when he pulls back. Admiring the shining blue that follows my dreams.

I only smile at him, shrugging when we have a normal distance between us, that helps me to concentrate again.

"It slipped out, I guess. But you are right, the last time I called you that, we were in primary school. How fast the time goes." Nodding we gently smile at each other and I clear my throat, when I get more and more enchanted to him.

We have known each other for so long, but nothing has changed about us.

Expect my feelings for him. They seem to never go away.

So, when I step forward and his eyes follow me, I start to walk to class again.

"Come on, we're being late. The greatest student of all time does not come late." He shakes his head, smiling at me and when I feel for a moment that something is different between us, I brush it off.

When he's finally catching up with me, I order my thoughts.

Don't fall in love with him.

Pretend, you didnt fall in love with him.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

I am good at pretending, really. It normally helps me to focus on the important things in my life, for example school, my grades, studying and getting accepted by a college. Did I mention, my academic success needs to be excellent?

But now, the only thing I can concentrate on is him. And I can hardly pretend, not for much longer, that I am not in love with him.

Because his life is in danger, now that the Hunger Games have started and he is the mentor of the tribute of district 12, a girl named Lucy Gray, everything is different.

He is different.

I know him long enough, that I see how much he cares for her. And because I'm good at pretending, I can see right through his actions.

He maybe likes the girl, but even though he tries to hide it, he cares more that he is the victor in the end.

And that is something that I find quite odd. I mean, he always wants to win, wants to be the best and on top or ahead of everyone. But he was always fair, human and supportive.

But his behavior changed as the days passed. Of course, it's obvious that the violence and torment that the game brings with changes you. More for the worse, than the better.

But it's not only the pressure he is under or the tension that he feels, because he needs the girl to win. It's something different and I notice that none of this is doing him any good. Especially for his heart.

Because he is being distant, he talks less, smiles less, is acting like a person I don´t even know anymore.

And it scares me, it hurts to see him losing himself in the process of being successful.

The last time we talked, he said something to me that left me awake all night, thinking about the decisions and sacrifices he has to make to achieve his goal.

He said: "I will become president and when I am on top, the world will be as cold as the snow in the winter. Nobody will oppose me."

It scared me. He scared me.

And maybe it was the change of his behavior or the cold look in his eyes, with which he looked at everyone or maybe it was because I started to fear him, that I distanced myself from him.

And even though I thought, he wouldnt notice, he did.

And it made everything complicated.

He tried to approach me, talking and joking like we always did, but it wasnt the same. Because he wasnt the same. Even though the color of his eyes was still as bright as the sun, the way he looked at me hid something that was as dark as the night.

I didnt know how I felt anymore.

Because when fear is equal to love, do I fear him then?

I guess I did and it made me sick in the stomach. He lied, he betrayed, he murdered, he did things, I would hate anyone for.

He did things for that I started to hate myself, because I couldnt hate him. Not when he really was the victim in this cruel world, even when he presented himself as the victor.

But for me, he didnt win. Because he rather lost something.

My trust for him.

And that made him angry, so much that he started to manipulate his way into my life again, when I decided that I didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

At first it would be small things. He continued opening the door for me, even though I didnt walk to class with him anymore.

He always saved me a seat next to him, although I decided to sit somewhere else. Then he started bribing the teachers, so that I had to do my assignments with him, he started showing up by almost every place I would go to.

He would give me roses that I wouldn't accept or visited me at work, always with a smile on his face. But I could tell it wasn't real.

He wasn't his real-self after all. He pretended to be someone else and I couldnt trust this new version of him.

He cut his hair short, nowadays wears expensive and neat clothes, always speaks in a formal voice and does polite gestures.

Small smiles, fake laughs, adoring looks which he uses to hide his real intentions behind a facade.

He enchanted the whole world.

But his magic didn't work on me and he became more and more aware of it as the days went by and I continued to ignore him.

And then, on one evening he visited my dorm and before I could close the door, he stood in my apartment and said something, I will forever keep in mind. His presence began to feel like a short movie, captivating me with each encounter.

"I know that you don't like the way things are now. But I am doing this to maintain peace, to keep the people in the place they belong. And I want you to know, that you just need to understand my actions and start to trust me again."

As he spoke, he started to walk towards me, looking me in the eyes, trying to convince me. I had no way out, all I could do was to back up until I hit the wall and he was standing right in front of me. Starring at me, like I needed to be on his side.

I tried to avoid his gaze and the deep blue that somehow always successfully convinced me. Until now.

"Please look at me, I´m telling you the truth. You know me, I´m still the same guy. Why don´t you believe me?" His hands brush my cheeks, roughly holding my face in his hands to keep my eyes on him.

It wasnt new to me that he loved to manipulate. I overheard some of his lies, the hidden betrayal of his own best friend and I couldnt be sure, that he wouldnt do the same to me too.

The only thing I knew was that his striving for power was taking over his being and I seemed powerless to do anything against it.

"I can´t trust you anymore, Coryo. You are acting different and all the things you did-" his face gets closer to me and my heartbeat becomes faster the less distance there is between our faces.

I can´t deny it.

He looks so beautiful.

Even though I want to talk, he leaves me speechless. As if the cold blue of his eyes froze me into a stature, that can only listen to him.

"Everything I did was for you. I know you love me, always have and always will. But you don't admit it to yourself, you don't want to admit it. I know how you feel for me, sweetheart and you have no reason to stop loving me now."

His words are like magic, his eyes like a hallucination, that everything is fine. His hands so warm and familiar that it's hard for me to remember the bad things he did.

That he's trying so hard to make me forget about.

His fingers move around my neck, his body comes closer to me until we touch, until I can only see him and only he matters.

His face is so close to mine and my eyes flutter - out of fear or anticipation, I don´t really know - until I feel his breathing on my ear.

"If you just let me make you remember the old time. Everything we did, the fun we had, how much we trusted each other. How much I still care and appreciate you. Stop thinking and let yourself feel."

His lips touch my skin and I have to suppress a whimper. I can breathe in his scent, his hands around me confuse my thoughts. My dreams from back then, imagining being able to have him, love him and touch him - they make me insecure about my decisions.

I wanted him for such a long time, that it now seems impossible for me to actually call him mine.

But coming to my senses, realising he is no longer the sweet gentleman I fell in love with, I want to stop him, by holding my hands out to push him back. However his hands react quickly and enclose mine with a firm grip to press them against the wall.

"No, listen to me. I never told you, but I heard you dreaming about me once. You whispered my name, like your heart longed for me, in a way you would never be able to truly understand your feelings for me. Like I am the god you pray for and I promise you, if you would just let me, I would fulfill your every wish. Because, together, you and me, we can become holy in our own, untouchable way. "

When I try to shake my head, his hands change so that one of them is holding both of my hands and the other one is grabbing my face.

"Don´t fight against me, darling. It wont work. You know it, I always win."

And as his hands hold my chin and I can hear my loud heartbeat, his lips meet mine in a wild kiss, clearly showing me the control he has over me.

And it's addicting, but so so dangerous.

His lips are soft against my own and he roughly kisses me, like he's the devil trying to steal my soul.

His body feels warm against my own and I'm weak for a moment, gently kissing him back, enjoying the way he smiles at my reaction.

His kisses becomes more heated, his hands are roaming over my nightgown and his fingers caress the exposed skin. Everything feels too good to be true.

But I can´t let myself enjoy this, I need to focus.

"No- Coryo. We cant-" I try to studder, breaking the kiss and hating the way he makes me feel. Because I feel so good, like only he can make me feel this way.

When I interrupt our kiss and while I try to assert myself against him, I notice his anger becoming more and more obvious.

"What I do is only to make you happy, why dont you understand? I want to see you happy and because of that, I have to do certain things. Just like now." His intense gaze is focused on me.

Without being able to do anything, I suddenly feel a liquid on my skin, that first makes me shiver because of the cold, but in the next second, I feel as hot as if I was standing in the desert and would be dying of thirst.

His touch begins to feel like the only solution and I want more. So, I lean into his touch and literally melt against his body as his lips brush mine.

"Fascinating, as Dr. Gaul said. It becomes one with the skin and intoxicates the senses." He whispers, but I can't figure out what he means by that. The only thing I can concentrate on is him. Why was I here again?

"You need me. You said it yourself, I'm here to remind you." His voice is quiet and I feel my thoughts dissolving. Only the sight of him remains in my head.

His look, those beautiful blue eyes, they distract me and I can´t ignore the desire that his lips are about to meet mine again. We're just centimeters apart and even if I try to stop it, my emotions change. I stop thinking about all the things he did.

Instead, all I can think about is his touch, his lips. And now that I know the ghost of his touch, I wouldn't want anything else.

So, I lean myself forward and kiss him.

It feels like my insides burns with desire, something that is so indescribable, that I don't even know, if I'm capable of feeling this love for too long.

My hands move to his shoulders and to his head, but my control is quickly suppressed as he pushes me back against the wall. So that I almost can't move.

His fingers lift my chin up, I see him grinning smugly at me in triumph.

"Good girl, you only need to listen to me. No one else." And I want to believe him so much, that I suddenly want to forget my doubts.

So, I let him make me forget. His hands roam my body, freeing me from my clothes and holding me where he wants me.

And I let him because I remember that I always wanted him to have his way with me. And when I look at his face, I no longer differentiate. For me, only my Coryo exists.

I close my eyes and lose myself in these sensations, the heat of his words and his actions.

His lips are soft, his kisses leave me with an unknown want and I can't do anything other than just take everything he gives me.

When he strips me out of my pants and unbottons my blouse, he lifts me up against the wall. His hips are pressed against my waist and his kisses travel from my lips down to my chest.

"Everything I do is for you." His words sound familiar.

"You will never doubt me again, I promise you. I'll make sure of that. From now on, you will feel this good forever. Because of me, you hear me? Only because of me, always me." His words cover me like a veil, but I'm unable to process them. My head is so empty and just like he said, I only feel.

I've never not thought about nothing and even if it should unnerve me, I can't even remember to be bothered about it.

As my hands try to move further down to his back and my nails leave marks on his back, his hand squeezes my neck like a warning.

"I am in control, you do as I say. Now take off my pants, so I can fuck you until you believe in me again." I can't think straight, when his hands are undressing me, cupping my breasts and turning me on in a way, I only want to be here with him.

As soon as my hands undress him and his pants are pulled down, he tears my panties apart, meeting my lips in a wanting kiss.

I feel one of his fingers slipping through my wet folds, pumping roughly two fingers inside me. My mouth opens and moans escape me, while I hold myself onto his shoulders.

"You needed to play hard to get, huh? Look who is at my mercy now." My body is still pressed against the wall and as my eyes close on their own, I suddenly feel his tip at my entrance.

And when I want to protest, he places his hand on my mouth to keep me quiet.

"No talking back to me. If you don't listen, I will make you." He pushes himself into me and I feel every vein as his hands direct mine against the wall behind me.

When he starts fucking me, I'm sure I'll pass out.

"C-cant take- too big, please" I dont even know how to speak properly anymore. His hands hold me tight and his thrusts are so brutal, that I barely have enough concentration to breathe.

"What did you say? You want to please me? Then shut your mouth and let me use you." With every harsh thrust, I feel my muscles become more and more relaxed and only he is holding me up now. I can't concentrate on anything else other than him inside me.

My thoughts begin to only focus on being good for him.

I feel like my soul is leaving my body. All I can hear is the dull clapping of our bodies, my loud moans and his heavy breathing.

As he buries his head in the crook of my neck, I softly whimper his name.

I feel how he tenses, when he react to me calling his nickname. His eyes shift to me and suddenly he lets go of my arms and I put them around his shoulders without hesitation. The position now is much more intimate and I scratch his back as his thrusts become even deeper and harder.

I hear his heavy breathing and feel his arms wrap around mine too.

"Tell me you want me." His voice is menacingly quiet. When I don't answer, too focused on his hips thrusting into me, he lets go of the wall and lays me on my bed.

"Fine, I will make you say it then." He sits down and pulls me onto his lap with my back to him, sliding his cock into me again. I moan so loudly, that I notice him grinning contentedly against my shoulder.

"You like that? Good, everyone will know how me you like me, when I'm done with you." His hand directs me so his chest touches my back and one of his hands moves to wrap around my neck.

"You will get used to doing what I want and you will do it, because you want to. You hear me? You won't stay away from me anymore, you belong to me. Everything you do is for me and only me." My thoughts are so confused, I can't think straight anymore. All I know is that I have never felt so good and that he is the reason for my pleasure.

"But I fucked you dumb so it seems. Pretty, little thing. You are like my personal doll, that I can use as I please. This turns me on even more than I would have thought." He pushes me further down on him, making me bounce until that one special spot in me is abused over and over again. And all I can utter are useless words and loud moans.

"B-blue" I hear him chuckle darkly in response.

I'm no longer certain, that I'm even laying in the arms of the person I once loved so much.

"You should have let me fucked you much sooner. It would have destroyed any resistance you had towards me. Just like now and just like I wanted." His voice whispers in my ear and my head leans against his shoulders, my mouth opens and I feel every inch of him inside me.

His hand strokes the skin, where my heart lays and I feel his lips brush against my ear.

"If this heart ever beats for anyone else other than me, everyone in this world will die and I won't be afraid to tell you that it is entirely your fault."

I collapse in his arms, when I come, going completely limp and vulnerable, unable to move. This time I only seem to be physically present.

His arms wrap around me and he let me sink onto him again, then I hear his voice whispering promises into the dark room.

"You cant ever escape me. I will always find you and I will always get you."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #dark character #smut #in love #dark academia

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vintagexherry · 9 months

Text

Child's Play [3]

Part 2 here

YandereBully!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

//Bullying, Degradation, Public, Panty Stealing(?), Humiliation,Miguel being rich and a playboy, Miguel isn't as grumpy as we know he kinda ooc here

Steven Grant from Moon Knight makes a Cameo :)

Previously

"Thank you for the drink, goodbye Miguel" You stood up without waiting for his answer who only clenched his fist as if forcing himself to stop grabbing your wrist to pull you back to sit down.

You got a taxi and head straight to your dorm and Miguel was left seething.

It was the next day and you were at the library.

"You look like a slut in that skirt Y/N"

You know that voice, of course it's Miguel O'Hara.

"Miguel, not right now please" you said as you tried grabbing a book you needed for your research, you tried searching for PDF's online but none was helpful.

As you grabbed the book a larger hand took it out of yours.

"Wha- Hey Miguel give it back!" You harshly whispered.

"Oh perfect, just what I needed" Miguel said as he look into the book's contents.

"There's ton of books available Miguel just please give me that." You tried taking it out of his grasp but he was quicker to move out of your way.

Miguel only side glanced at you and smirked

"This book? You want? then get it, come on who's a good doggie" Miguel mockingly changed his tone as if praising a prized puppy and you winced from disgust from it.

"Come on Miguel I don't have time for this" You said as you tried jumping up and down to since he moved it above your head and out of your reach.

"There's a good puppy come one almost there." Miguel chuckled as you gave up jumping.

"Giving up already? I thought a slut like you should know better than that" Miguel raised an eyebrow at you. You know his enjoying this, You remember a similar scenario during high school but the time you gave up was the time you almost failed the subject due to not having a detailed work.

And knowing Miguel he would have ways to get you moving.

"Fine... What do you want"

Miguel smirk brightens even further and you hate what he has in store for you.

"Simple things really, All I need is your phone number and panties"

You froze

Usually he would ask for your lunch money (Even though he has more money than you could count) or force you to eat with him at the cafeteria but this? This is too far.

"Miguel I-"

"Phone number and panties or.....No book, no research and no grades for little Miss Y/N"

You hate him

so much

You hate him you hate him youhatehimyouhatehim

"Come on Y/N, you either do it yourself or I will" Miguel started swaying the book in front of your face with impatience on his face.

"Ok...ok...Just let me go to the bathro-"

"No do it here."

You froze again

"W...what, Miguel I ca-"

Miguel didn't say anything but wave the book again at your face

You either give him your number and panties or get a chance to lose tons of grades that you work hard for, even getting into this school free through a scholarship.

Miguel watch as you breath in and out.

Finally you swallowed your pride and dignity. Thankful that there was only a few people in the library.

You move your hands up to under your skirt without hiking it too upward. Meanwhile, Miguel watched with glee as you finally slid out of your panties and handed them to him with shaking hands.

Miguel quickly pocketed your panties and still looked at you with expectancy. "Well? Your phone number?" he demanded.

You inhale as you take out your phone told him your number which he happily accepted.

With that he dropped the book to the floor with a thud and watched as you tried to gather it while pulling your skirt down. With that Miguel walked away chuckling and you hurried back to your dorm, changed your clothes, and as you go to your bed you cried into your pillows until you fell asleep.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You woke up with a groggily hearing your phone ding.

You hesitated to pick up and check the message thinking it was Miguel who texted you.

But it wasn't

Instend you get a text from a luxury clothing online store saying your delivery has arrived.

Delivery? You don't remember ordering anything much less from a brand that costs more than what you could pay.

You decided to check anyway, thinking they got the wrong address, You checked the peephole but didn't see anyone, as you opened the door your greeted with a black box with vintage design and wrapped with a red ribbon.

As you grabbed it for closer look a folded letter seemed to be attached to it.

You decided to take it inside hoping the letter has something useful in hopes you could give the box to the rightful owner, You sat down on your couch and unfolded the paper.

"Dear Y/N,

Hope this box finds you well and hope the contents can replace your panties.

-Miguel O'Hara"

Ohno oh no no no no.

All he got is your number and now he has your address?

Knowing who sent it, you dreaded to open the box especially him mentioning your panties.

You relented from your fear and unwrapped the ribbon from the box

Lo and behold your eyes were greeted with a full set lingerine, complete with lacey stocking and a corset.

What ticked you off more that it's the same color as the panties you gave him.

You stared at it with disgust for good whole six minutes, taking note of the straps,lacey details and expensive looking embroidery.

But you for sure as hell ain't keeping this. So as fast as you can you put back the letter in the box, closed the box messily not caring for the contents anymore and threw it straight in the garbage can.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

"Judging from your face, I'd say you enjoy my gift last night?" Miguel smirked as he sat beside you in class, resting his cheek on his fist.

You ignored his question and opted on focusing on your finishing your notes.

"What? still grumpy? I already gave you the book you needed, don't act so ungrateful. " He clicked his tougue at your attitude, but nonetheless, you still ignored him and his overall presence.

Miguel was about to tell you off again till another girl sat down next to him.

"Hey Miguel! Was wonderin if ya did the homework last night?" You looked over and see that she's the president of the a club you forgot the name, you admit she's pretty and has the brains but not much for attitude since you heard about her beating up someone who she thought was talking shit about her.

Miguel started conversing with her with a suggestive tone, knowing him since high school he has a reputation for what he does in bed, and with that you would rather mind your own business and you thanked for the teacher for coming in.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Lunch time came around you can't help but go directly to the cafeteria, as you arrive you can smell freshly cooked omellete with cheese, another side it showed thst you could either get a slice of Lasagna or freshly baked croissants, at another side you see a place where you could make your own coffee or get a cup orange juice, and you opted for the coffee since you swear could use it right now with the amount of work you decide to do while your in the cafeteria.

You opened your notebook and wrote some stuff while taking occasional bites of your food and sips from your coffee.

As you place down you coffee back down the table but, you unexpectedly got burned since it suddenly got knock off the table by someone and hot coffee landed on your lap.

"SHI-!" You stood up as fast as you can to wipe off the burning substance of you, you heard laughing beside you and it was none other than Miguel with his hand on the waist of the girl he talked with during class.

"Oops my hand slipped" Miguel and the girl laughed at your state, gathering attention from other people in the cafeteria, some laughed some whispered to each other.

You look down at notes thankful they didn't get affected.

You were fixing your things, your appetite gone in a flash, you didn't want to shout at them since you already gathered enough attention.

As you put your last notebook in, somebody else approached you.

"Y/N! Are you ok?" A man you see time to time to the classes you go took his jacket and wrap it around you.

"St-Steven?" You were surprised, Steven Grant is a shy person and would rather stay out of crowded attention.

"Oh! you remember!" Steven beamed at you and you can't help but feel at ease, meanwhile Miguel raises an eyebrow at what's his witnessing while the girl started to pester him if they can go somewhere else already stating she's bored.

But your attention still stays with Steven who helps you carry your things even if you said it was alright. You can't help but admit even though he's shy, he does have looks and adding to his gentleman acts you swear your face started burning.

"No no no it's alright really, it's almost time and it's the least I could do."

You and Steven quickly leave the cafeteria leaving Miguel and his girl to go on their way but Miguel watches as you listen to him intently something about Egyptian gods.

And as you go further and futher away from him not even sparing him a glance or a glare or anything, he swears he feels his eye twitch at what he just witnessed.

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #tw yancore #tw yandere #tw bullying #steven grant #cameo

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

Request: ok so listen; so Steve Harrington who didn't tell anyone he gets into a medical school (Indiana University School of medicine) but he travels to school during the week and Mike finds the graduation letter in Steve's apartment. He graduated as a premed student with a full scholarship to Harvard Medical school for the trauma surgeon program. The party realizes that their constant jokes making fun of Steve's intelligence caused him to not tell them about this. I want a mixture of angst with a full proper apology & a few years later him graduating from Harvard with the party cheering him.

MY LOOOOOOVE!!!! Nothing gets me going quite like a secret super smart Steve Harrington. Is it OOC? Maybe. But writing Steve as a fucking Harvard Med School graduate!!! A whole trauma surgeon!!!! YES!!!!! I obviously had to put some Steddie in there, mostly because Eddie deserves a happy ending, too and any chance I have to give him one, I will. - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve was late. He’d been late a lot recently.

Mike started driving a few weeks ago, got his hands on Nancy’s car since she was busy traveling the world now, and he’d been quick to pick up the slack.

But he was growing impatient.

When they asked Steve why he was late, he shrugged it off, said he forgot. Everyone just went with it because obviously Steve’s kind of scatterbrained and a few fries short of a happy meal, especially after the head trauma.

But Mike was suspicious.

Steve let it go a little too easily.

And Eddie hadn’t stuck up for him like he usually did when they were teasing his intelligence.

Mike was letting himself into Steve’s apartment, using the key that he kept under the mat so the kids always had a place to go if they needed it.

He wasn’t home yet, but Mike had just been to Family Video and he wasn’t there either. Apparently, hadn’t been in at all today. Keith said something about ‘taking the day off for exams.’

Steve wasn’t in school though, so that meant he was lying and Mike wanted to know what he was lying about.

He looked at the counter, saw a large stack of mail, and decided that was probably a good place to start his search.

Most of it seemed like junk, a few bills, a letter from Robin, and an envelope that was torn open already from Indiana University.

If it was already open, it was fair game. That was his motto, at least.

He pulled out a thick stack of papers.

The seal in the corner of the first page said School of Medicine.

Was Steve sick? Had he started seeing the university doctors because of some weird problem with his head? Maybe that’s why he’d also been so forgetful lately.

Maybe they put him on a new medication trial or something and it was a side effect.

But he kept reading and felt his chest cave in.

Dear Mr. Steven J. Harrington,

It is a great honor to announce your successful completion of the pre-med degree program at Indiana University. Your incredible tenacity has proved that you’re prepared to work through any medical school program in the country.

Graduation is currently set for May 18, 1989. Please contact your advisor to reserve tickets by April 28, 1989.

Thank you for trusting Indiana University with your education. We look forward to seeing your accomplishments in the future!

“Holy shit.”

“Why are you reading my mail?”

Mike jumped at Steve’s voice. He’d been so busy reading the letter, he hadn’t heard the front door to the apartment open.

“You’re going to med school?”

“Hopefully, yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolled his eyes and made his way to the fridge, grabbing a can of soda for himself.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like. You’re. You’re you. How are you going to med school?”

Steve’s brows furrowed as he leaned against the counter and sipped at his drink.

“I graduated from pre-med as valedictorian. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“You? Valedictorian? You barely got through high school!”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I hated high school. I was going through a lot of shit. It wasn’t because I’m stupid.”

Mike’s mouth was gaping like a fish, confused at literally everything that was happening.

“But-“

“I also just got into Harvard on a full scholarship if we’re gonna put it all out there. I was gonna tell everyone this weekend at El’s birthday party but I’m sure you’re about to run to tell them all.”

Well, how could he not? Steve had been hiding going to college for years! He was about to move to Harvard!

“Wait! Is Eddie going with you?”

“Yeah. We found an apartment over a record store and the owner hired him to run the store while he transitions into retirement.”

Mike felt like he was in an alternate universe. There was no way Steve Harrington was going to be a doctor. There was no way Eddie and Steve were moving to Boston.

There was no way he was leaving all of them.

“But. But what about us?”

“You guys are all practically adults. You barely even hang out with me anymore unless it’s to get a ride or get snacks for Hellfire. You didn’t even notice I was driving to and from campus for years. I think I’ve given enough of myself to people who don’t seem to want it,” Steve shrugged, looking down at the floor.

Mike wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, but he also kind of just wanted to hug Steve and tell him that wasn’t true.

But it kind of was, wasn’t it?

They’d all taken advantage of Steve’s kindness for years. He’d been the best damn babysitter they could have, saved their lives multiple times, gave them money for the arcade and dates and pizza for pool parties when he lived in his old house.

They grew to just expect it.

He didn’t even know the last time he’d heard anyone say thank you. He certainly hadn’t said it in a long time.

“But, Dustin will be devastated.”

“He’ll be okay. He’s gonna go to MIT when he graduates and he’ll be right around the corner or something. I dunno. He hasn’t even called me just to talk in months. I don’t think he’ll miss me that much.”

Which just. It wasn’t true. Mike knew for a fact that Dustin would be heartbroken about Steve leaving.

“I.”

“It’s fine. Eddie’s gonna be home soon so if you wanna wait for him that’s fine. I’m gonna go shower and get an early night. Been up since three this morning.”

“Did you really have exams?”

“What?”

“I checked to see if you worked today and Keith said you had exams,” Mike said shakily, feeling entirely off balance.

“Oh. I just had to do an entrance exam for Harvard. They let me take it on IU’s campus since I can’t move until two weeks before classes start.”

Mike nodded once.

This was really happening. Steve was leaving.

Steve was going to Harvard.

He was taking Eddie with him.

And not a single one of them had bothered to notice any of it happening.

————————

“I told you I don’t know! I’m giving you everything I have!” Mike yelled at Dustin, who was pacing and clearly trying not to cry.

“It just doesn’t make sense! He always acted like he didn’t understand half of what we were saying when we talked science stuff!” Dustin yelled as he walked back and forth across the floor, wearing a pattern into the carpet.

“Maybe it’s because we’ve always just assumed he’s dumb. I mean, none of us really treated him like he could keep up, so maybe he just. Didn’t,” Lucas shrugged.

“He could’ve told us!”

“Or maybe he didn’t want to since we all thought he’d be lying,” Max added from her chair in the corner.

“He could’ve proved it!”

“Maybe he didn’t want to have to,” Eddie said as he walked in the room.

Hellfire was at Dustin’s tonight, and Eddie had been late.

His sudden appearance made them all cower where they sat or stood.

“No Hellfire tonight. I was gonna call, but had to drive by here anyway. Steve’s having a bad night and I’m pretty certain it’s your fault, so I’m gonna go try to get him through it.”

It was a bit harsh, but not undeserved.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Eddie?” Dustin asked quietly.

“It wasn’t for me to tell. He was going to when he got accepted into IU, and then you guys spent most of that night telling him he wouldn’t understand what you were talking about with your group science project so he kept it to himself. Then he just decided it wouldn’t be worth trying to explain anything since you wouldn’t believe him anyway. He asked me not to say anything until he announced his graduation and Harvard this weekend, so I didn’t.”

“But we would have been proud of him! He could have shown us his acceptance letter or something.”

“That’s not how you made him feel,” Eddie shrugged before turning back towards the door. “We’ll see you at El’s party.”

When Eddie left, the room was silent.

Everyone was deep in thought, trying to unpack everything.

With Hellfire canceled, they didn’t have much of a reason to stick around, but none of them felt like being alone.

Not when they started to realize that Steve was kind of the glue that held them all together and without him, they may not ever be whole again.

—-----------------------

El’s party was simple, just the usual guests and some cake and balloons. She didn’t like a big thing, usually preferred to have a sleepover with Max and just do their nails and listen to music.

Joyce insisted on having a little get together though, said it would be nice to celebrate something since they hadn’t really since Will’s birthday.

Steve was there, holding Eddie’s hand in the corner, talking with Hopper while Eddie talked with Joyce.

Steve told them everything when they got there since the kids knew, and while he knew Joyce and Hopper were happy for him, for both of them, they could send their shock.

All of the kids had hesitantly hugged Steve when they got there, barely saying anything to him, unsure where they stood.

Steve felt like he was closing the book on his life in Hawkins, and he hated that it felt like no one would join him in the next one except for Eddie.

Throughout the day, the kids would find their way up to him to just be close, soak in Steve’s energy, try to appreciate him now because they clearly hadn’t been before.

He let them. He could have told them to go away, or tried to talk them into apologies, but it wouldn’t do any good right now, and he didn’t want to ruin El’s birthday party.

Eddie could tell he wasn’t himself, though. He saw the way Steve’s eyes dropped down to his lap every time one of the kids would walk away from his side, how his leg started bouncing when things were quiet for more than a few seconds.

“You wanna head out?”

“I-”

“Steve? Can we talk to you for a minute?” Lucas asked, the rest of the party behind him watching with wide eyes.

“Oh. Sure.”

Eddie patted his knee and stood up, but Lucas gestured for him to sit back down.

“You, too. We owe you both explanations and apologies.”

So, Eddie sat. He would support Steve through whatever this conversation entailed, and maybe get something else out of it too.

“We all want to take turns saying stuff, but I wanna start,” Lucas said, playing with his hands nervously.

Steve nodded, always more patient than the kids deserved.

“I always saw you as the jock, ya know? Like, I respected you because you were a great basketball player and you had a lot of friends. I just kind of thought that was who you were, even after high school. You always made time to help me over the summer, even when you’d just worked an opening shift or had to go in for a closing shift. I didn’t really consider you an adult, even though you were. You were just there. You protected me, all of us, from some of the scariest shit any of us will ever have to deal with without even taking a second to consider your own safety. You just did it. And I don’t really think any of us thanked you. None of us would be here without you.”

Lucas was biting his lip, trying not to cry as he wrapped up his speech, but didn’t get a chance to start before Will started talking.

“I haven’t spent as much time with you as the rest of these guys have. But I know that you’re always there. You give me a ride when my mom can’t and you always slip me an extra $1 or 2 when we go to the arcade because you know I don’t have much. You hung up my art on your apartment wall even though it sucks and isn’t your style because you wanted me to know that someone supports me. You’ve been one of the only constants in our crazy lives, and we haven’t done nearly enough to show that we appreciate you,” Will wiped his eyes quickly as he turned away to let someone else speak.

“Billy was an asshole to all of us, but especially to you. You could’ve walked away that night, left Lucas and me to defend ourselves or die trying, but you didn’t. You knew he was a racist piece of shit and you got another concussion just so he wouldn’t lay a hand on us. That was the first time I ever had someone stick up for me like that. And after everything with Vecna, you were the one who always checked in, made sure I had rides to appointments, had food I could easily make when my mom wasn’t around, brought me to the skate park as soon as I was cleared by my doctor. I’ve never had someone who cared so much like you do and I’m sorry I didn’t know how to show you that it meant so much to me,” Max said seriously.

Steve was sniffling, and Eddie knew if he tried to comfort him too much right now, it would just make it worse. He squeezed his hand and wiped the tear falling down his cheek as the kids continued.

“I hated you for the longest time. I thought it was your fault Nancy changed, and then I thought it was your fault when Nancy and Jonathan got together, and then I just hated everyone and everything for a while. But I think it was just easy to use you to blame everything on because you let me. You just let me treat you like shit. You let me complain about your driving while you drove me anywhere I wanted to go. You let me blame you for Nancy being upset about the break up when she was the one who hurt you most. You let me think you were stupid when you’re brilliant enough to go to Harvard on a full scholarship. You let all of us take advantage of you and I don’t know why, but I wish I could turn back time and not let you do that. You didn’t deserve to be used by any of us, but especially me,” Mike said surprisingly sincerely.

In fact, Eddie watched Mike take a few deep breaths like he was holding back a sob.

“I am sorry for how we all treated you, Steve. I did not know that we hurt you. Dad said sometimes the people who hurt the most are the people who accept hurt as the way they are supposed to be treated, but that is not true. You should be loved so much, like Eddie loves you, by everyone. We should have done better,” El said as she held Max’s hand.

Dustin had been incredibly quiet, hiding in the back, not even looking up from the ground. Eddie could tell he wanted to say something, but probably didn’t know how to start.

It was no secret that Dustin was Steve’s favorite kid. It was also no secret that Dustin loved Steve like a brother, maybe even more, and that if Steve was upset, Dustin would want to make it right.

“I never had someone to look up to until you came around,” Dustin started, still not looking up from the ground. “My mom always felt bad that she didn’t give me a good role model or a brother or sister to look up to. But when you started watching over me, she felt like it was better this way. ‘That Harrington boy is special.’ That’s what she says all the time. And I guess I got used to her saying it and just didn’t think anything of it anymore. Like, yeah, you’re great. You do all kinds of stuff for me and for all of us, but it just felt like you wanted to so what made it so special? When Mike told us everything, it hit me that even if you wanted to do all that stuff, you still deserved a thank you. You went out of your way to make us safe and happy, and our only way to repay you was to constantly put you down and bully you. We spent years calling you out for what an asshole you were in high school while we ended up being assholes to you. You’re my brother and I haven’t been good to you. I’m sorry.”

Eddie was watching as Steve finally let out a sob he’d been holding in for too long. He pulled him into his chest, watching as the kids all wiped tears of their own away.

He knew the kids were genuinely sorry, he could tell that when faced with the reality of the way they treated Steve for years now, they felt terrible. But he also knew that Steve let it go on too long without saying something, and that it would take a while for him to really figure out a good balance of being there for the kids he loved and setting boundaries he needed to set long ago.

“Can you give him a minute guys? I’m sure he wants to talk to you all, but I think he just needs to calm down.”

The kids all nodded and scurried away.

They weren’t kids anymore, was the thing. They would always be kids to Steve, though. That’s why this was hurting so much. They were his nuggets, and they’d been unintentionally hurting him for years.

Steve had been so excited to tell them about getting into a pre-med program at IU, and when he couldn’t tell them, he changed. He was withdrawn in ways Eddie had never seen or expected. He was focused on school, and their relationship, but nothing else. He would go through the motions of driving the kids where he could when he could, throwing the occasional pool party, keeping up appearances.

He’d been exhausted for two years now. Running on fumes for miles, no end in sight. Until he got his acceptance into Harvard.

Eddie had never seen him so happy or proud of himself.

But the happiness faded quickly when he realized what telling the kids would mean, what going to Harvard would mean.

It meant moving, it meant leaving the kids, it meant spending the next 6-8 years so focused on school and residency that he probably wouldn’t have time to visit much outside of major holidays. It meant hoping that Eddie would come with him, support him, and love him regardless of the limited time he had to spend outside of school.

But Eddie would be there for every moment. He’d worked so hard, and Eddie wanted to be there for him every step of the way.

The kids would understand. They were almost graduated at this point, probably heading off to college themselves, and had their own lives to start.

“I wish I’d just told them about IU.”

“I know, sweetheart. But we can’t change the past. You’ve got such an amazing future ahead of you. Everyone is gonna be so proud of Dr. Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiled at that as Eddie dried his tears away.

When he’d calmed down completely, he walked over to where the kids were sitting on the porch.

He stood in front of them with his hands on his hips, a small smile on his face.

“If I forgive you all, will you stop looking like I just stole your ice creams and kicked your puppies?”

Dustin was the first to jump up and run into Steve, sobbing when Steve’s arms wrapped around him.

“It’s alright, bud. I love you, even when you’re a shithead, okay?”

All of the kids piled into Steve’s arms and around his back, all of them crying as Steve started telling them all about his program.

“I’m going to be a trauma surgeon. I was always pretty good at patching everyone up after Upside Down shit, so I figured why not make it a career? And I placed so high on the entrance testing, they suggested I go for pre-med instead of the EMT program. One of my professors my first semester suggested being a surgeon, so that’s the track I took.”

The kids looked at him in awe, like they were seeing him in a new light.

Eddie thought maybe they were finally seeing the Steve he’d seen all along.

—---------------------------------

May 11, 1997

“Steven Joseph Harrington, MD, summa cum laude.”

The cheers from his group were so loud, but they all ignored the dirty looks from the surrounding family and friends.

Steve Harrington was a Harvard graduate, a graduate with the highest honors, a trauma surgeon who already accepted his first position in a nearby hospital.

Everyone was so proud of him.

Wayne and Eddie had arranged for everyone to either ride in a rental car with Wayne or fly in to surprise Steve for his graduation.

He could see Steve look up into the crowd when he heard the screams, could see the grin spreading across his face as he realized his whole family was here to support him, just as they had been for the last eight years.

Everything Steve wanted and worked for was coming together, and everyone who believed in him was here cheering him on.

He was the best damn babysitter those kids had, and now he’d be the best damn trauma surgeon Boston Children’s Hospital would ever have.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #ficlet #request #steve is actually incredibly smart and this is my ted talk #eddie is about to become a housewife who works 'for fun'#that boston surgeon money is about to make steve his sugar daddy

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itscherrylipsforme · 4 months

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The missing piece: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Part 2 here

Summary: A few months after Saltburn becomes completely his, Oliver still feels like something is missing. Without being able to put a finger on it he decides to pay a visit to Oxford, where all started, trying to find the answer between his old memories. Fate believes that a pretty and sweet student he meets in a bookstore is the piece of the puzzle he needs right now. After all everyone wants to be showered with love, don’t they?

Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (nothing sexual)

Words: Around 1700

Author's rambles: Okay, I feel in love with him the movie and I am kind of embarrassed about it (It’s not my fault hat the actor has pretty eyes and a gorgeous accent, fine?) For your own good, don’t aspire to have a boyfriend as toxic as him in real life. Also this is my fic on Tumblr, please be nice

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

There is a psychological phenomenon that claims that after achieving something we have been longing for some time instead of the sense of satisfaction we were expecting we feel incomplete, hopeless and already looking forward to our next success. After having the Saltburn's keys just for himself, Oliver experienced that piercing emotion for the first time in his life. If he was painfully unaware of it or simply decided to ignore it remains as an open question until today. The only thing that was certain for him at that time is that he needed some action, a new goal, maybe some entertainment, and specially he needed answers. That’s why he decided to go back to the place it all started nearly sixteen years ago

Oxford hadn’t changed a lot since he graduated, as he had the chance to notice it. Different names, different faces, different decades… But still the same social scheme it was back them. Groups of rich daddy’s and mommy’s children swarming around the campus, pubs where you had to drink to be accepted, and poor little nobodies who had to adapt or die in the process

He rented a large flat not so far away from the university, and in the café just below it he rediscovered a hobby he had always had, but which have been almost forgotten on those last months on the mansion. Looking at the students, being able to read through their facades while accompanied by a cup of coffee, became his new pastime. But people always talk and after some weeks spending the afternoon in the café terrace just lost in his thoughts he realized the odd glances the staff shot towards him, so he decided to hide his true interest behind a less complex and unique one. The next day he went to the closest bookstore to buy any novel that would help him with his purpose, after all, people just ask fewer questions when you are reading on your own. That was when he found you sitting on a couch, legs crossed with a book between your small and soft hands

Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even. Young, probably still studying at Oxford. On the shy aspect, lovely and smart as he guessed correctly. Sweet smile. Bright eyes. Oh, and some soft curves he was able to peep while he seemed to be looking at the shelves by your side. Wait, was that a blush, what he saw on your cheeks? Another scholarship student as he was back then. The fact that your clothes weren’t from big and expensive brands and that you spent your afternoons in the bookshop without really buying anything was the clue he needed to be sure about it. God, you were adorable, perfect, just what he needed right now and he decided to start working on it

Time had shown him that patience and a good plan could take you far away, this is the reason why, although he was eager to come to you and straight-forward mesmerize you with his tricks, he waited. He spent the next five weeks going to the library more or less daily hoping to see you, and luckily (since he was used to building his own luck) your schedules always matched. He always sat on an armchair to read next to yours, close but not enough to be suspicious. Just after he had made sure you have not so subtly looked at him a few times, he decided to make the move

“The Secret History” a deep silky voice said from behind your seat. His face slightly near to your face which made the words linger in the air for some honey-like seconds “You have a good taste”

“Thanks… Thank you” you manged to say in sweet and shy whisper

“First time you read it?” he asked and a shake of your head was the response he got

“No, I have already read it a couple of times in pdf. But I have never owned the physical book”

“We can have that keep happening, can’t we?” he grinned, and you couldn’t remember if he was the first man who had smiled and looked at you in that way “May I have a look at it?” his large and firm hands came to hold the cover as he stood up and went straight to the cashier “Follow me, darling” the nickname rolled in his tongue, sweet as candy, and before you thought about it, you did as he said. You were obedient, good thing, he thought to himself. He pulled the money out of his wallet in merely seconds, paid for it and hand it back to you

“Thanks, but I can’t accept it” you said slightly embarrassed

“Of course, you can! It truly is an amazing novel, you deserve it” he smirked. His words have had just the reaction he had expected from you, cheeks covered with a tiny hint of pink “I have always found myself relating to Henry Winter, I just need my Camila now”

You were taken back, was that an attempt to flirt? Because if it was, he had your attention. While you tried to make any sense out of your thought, he spoke again

“I am usually on a café nearby, if you are interested you could come sometime” Another smirk, and at that moment you knew that this man was going to be the death to you. Things like this only happened to the main characters in romance movies

“I don’t even know your name”

“ You can call me Oliver, darling”

“I am y/n”

“Beautiful, beautiful y/n, it was a pleasure to meet you. Hope we see each other again”

And you did. Between coffees, books, conversations and more, he had you wrapped around his finger by the time your classes ended. Oliver was sweet, devoted, intelligent… all you could ever ask for in a man. He was straight out of your dreams, and damn he felt you were straight out of his. Innocent, easy to make blush, could keep with his ramblings and most important, you were eager to love, and he was eager to be loved

Yesterday it had been your graduation, when you left the ceremony in that beautiful dress he had insisted on buying you and wrapped your arms around him, he felt like his plan has almost completely succeeded. Almost, you wanted a fairy tale romance, and he was going to give you one. Keeping things slowly and delicate. But when he woke up and felt you laying on his chest sleeping peacefully, he couldn’t help but want to make you his. That had been the only night you had spent in his apartment in your months together. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't rush, so he didn't. At least he was glad you were coming with him to Saltburn for a few weeks in the summer and you could bet he wouldn’t let you leave the mansion again if he could. After all, you were all that he wanted. His missing piece

Part 2 here

#oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x y/n #saltburn 2023

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hungermakesmonsters · 4 months

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Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Fourteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - very smutty (it gets messy)

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains very vague mentions of Billy's assault by Arthur other than that, it just gets dirty. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~5.1k

A/N : This is set over a period of three weeks and I wrote a lot of it over the holidays while drinking wine which is the excuse I'm using for the smut being extra smutty. Also it's Billy's birthday! I know I say this every time, but thanks for reading!

Chapter Fourteen

You woke pressed back against Billy, his arms holding you tight against his chest. He’d been so exhausted the night before that you didn’t want to wake him, but you needed to get ready for work and you were sure he’d be needed at Anvil. Turning in his arms, you placed a hand on his cheek, lightly caressing his face with your thumb until he started to stir. The moment his eyes opened and he realised where he was, his lips pulled into a gentle smile.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice guff and sleepy.

“How did you sleep?” Thumb still tenderly brushing his cheek.

“Better than I have in years,” he answered, but still looked like he needed a few more hours. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty; I’ve gotta get up for work,” you yawned. “D’you want waffles?”

Billy didn’t answer. Instead his arms tightened around you, keeping you against him, his eyes shutting. “Five more minutes.”

There was something unbelievably soft about him in that moment, something cute, and you couldn’t deny him. It was strange to think that this was only the third time you’d woken up beside him because, already, you were certain you didn’t want to go back to waking up without him. With a soft sigh, you snuggled closer and closed your eyes, indulging him for five more minutes.

As promised, you made waffles and a pot of coffee, and enjoyed a little more time with him before you had to leave for work. You didn’t make plans to see him again, but Billy barely managed to make it to midday before texting to ask if he could stay over again that night, bribing you with promises of takeout. And, of course, you said yes.

It quickly became a regular thing; Billy coming round after work, eating together (sometimes take out, sometimes you’d cook), then you’d sit in front of the TV, enjoying each other's company before curling up in bed together.

You shared so many sweet moments and got to know each other - Billy even tried to explain baseball to you. (You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you still didn’t understand at the end, but you loved listening to him talk.)

“Did you ever play?” You asked, trying to picture a younger Billy in a baseball uniform, all cute rosy cheeks and devious smiles.

“Kinda - we used to play stickball since no one had a real bat,” he explained, “got to play at school though.”

“Yeah? Were you any good?”

“I used to think maybe I’d get a scholarship and go on to play in the majors,” he grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and there was a sadness in his words you didn’t understand.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I, uh - I got hurt.”

“You shoulder?” You guessed, thinking back on all the times you’d seen him twitch and shift, remembering the scar you’d never asked about. Billy winced at your realisation.

“Yeah,” he let out a sigh, “when I was about ten, maybe eleven, there was this guy who used to volunteer at the group home; used to play stickball and hoops with us, we all thought he was so cool...”

He fell silent for a second or two, but it seemed to last a lifetime. Dread coiled in your stomach and, even though you had no idea what he was going to say, you were preparing yourself for the worst.

“When he called me pretty I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t interested in the games he wanted to play,” his gaze drifted away from you, “I swung at him with the stickball bat - got him pretty good a couple of times too. Prick paid me back by breaking my arm and tearing my rotator cuff...”

Before he’d even finished, your arms were around him, holding him tight. Your heart felt like it was shattering but in all that sadness, there was something else; rage. You wanted to hurt the piece of shit who’d dared lay a hand on Billy. You wanted to kill him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you just as tight. “I’m fine now.”

You didn’t say anything else about it - you didn’t know what you could say. So, instead, you just spent the rest of the night holding him tight, sad but happy that he’d trusted you enough to tell you.

As the days ticked by, you had more little moments with Billy, slowly getting to know each other, both revealing things you might have otherwise kept to yourself.

While watching a movie together, he noticed your gaze dropping uncomfortably as the lead character started to shed her clothes and your fingers started to pull at your sleeve. He didn’t say anything at first but, a couple of hours later you found his fingers around your wrist, his finger tracing the edge of your sleeve. When you looked up, you found an uncertain look on his face.

“What?” You asked, not sure you wanted an answer.

“I just -” he let out a slow exhale, thinking before continuing, “- I want you to know you never have to hide your scars from me. I know you don’t like people seeing them, but I want you to know that there isn’t a single part of you that I don’t think is perfect.”

“I don’t feel perfect,” but you weren’t prepared to have that conversation just yet, “but, thank you, Billy.”

“Scars don’t make you who you are, sweetheart.” He answered softly, kissing your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

It started to feel like you were getting an intensive crash course in all things Billy Russo and by the end of the second week, you were practically living together; he stayed every night, save the nights Tammy returned to the apartment. He took to taking things slowly better than you thought he would, but there were still some awkward mornings.

About a week in, you woke to find that his hand had slipped into your pyjama bottoms in his sleep, his fingers between your folds, coated in your arousal. His hard cock pressed against your ass. Half-asleep, you squirmed, trying to pull away, only to make the situation worse. His hold on you tightened, hips starting to grind against you from behind. You almost gave in as his fingers started to move.

“Billy,” you grumbled, pulling his hand from between your thighs, leaving you achingly unfulfilled.

He stirred behind you and quickly rolled away, muttering an apology as he left your room, no doubt heading for the bathroom. You tried to call after, to tell him it was okay, but he was gone before you could get the words out.

Fifteen minutes passed before he returned and, rather than getting back into bed, he sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. You gave him a moment before moving, kneeling behind him and wrapping your arms around him, not wanting him to feel bad about it.

“Come back to bed,” you muttered, pressing your lips to his bad shoulder, and pulling him until he finally relented.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as you settled beside him again, resting your head on his chest so you could listen to the beating of his heart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was dreaming about you,” he confessed, causing your heart to stutter in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you offered a moment later, “I know taking things slowly can’t be easy for you.”

“It’s not,” your stomach dropped, “but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and held you tight, the both of you soon falling asleep again. It happened a few more times over the following days; you’d catch him sneaking out to the bathroom, boxers uncomfortably tented. And, every time it happened, you found yourself reaching for your vibrator the moment that he’d left for the day, your own frustrations slowly getting the better of you.

But it felt like you were getting somewhere, like the thing between you was becoming something real, something that meant something.

Everything came to a head around Billy’s birthday - which, you hadn’t even realised was his birthday at the time. One day, around the three week mark, he turned up earlier than usual.

“Frank sent me home,” he explained, sounding annoyed as he kicked off his boots and hung up his coat.

“How come?”

“He’s got this stupid thing about people working on their birthdays,” he sighed, taking himself to the sofa and sitting down while you stood speechless, staring at him in confusion.

“It’s your birthday?” You were mortified - you hadn’t known, you hadn’t prepared. You hadn’t even gotten him so much as a card. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really celebrate my birthday,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about it.”

It made sense, you supposed, growing up the way he had, birthdays probably hadn’t been a big deal for him like they had been for you. But that didn’t mean that it shouldn’t be a big deal now, that you shouldn’t at least try to do something for him.

You came up with a plan, something silly and small, something you hoped Billy would appreciate. But, in true Tammy fashion, she had to throw a spanner in the works, deciding that she needed the apartment the following night so she could catch up with her friends, meaning she would be inviting people like Michelle around to get drunk.

Reluctantly, you asked Billy if you could stay at the penthouse. It was the first time you’d been back since the day you’d walked out on him and, despite all the time you’d spent with him since then, it scared you, you felt like you had less control in his space instead of your own. But it was the only option if you wanted to do something for his birthday.

Billy arranged for the doorman, Marvin, to let you into the penthouse before he got home, giving you time to set up your surprise. It was silly, really, just some balloons and a birthday cake to eat after the dinner you were going to cook for him. After setting up - getting all the food in the oven, putting some candles on the table, and tying the balloons to the backs of the chairs - you changed into a dark red dress and put up your hair, pulling it out of your face.

Then came the awkward waiting as the minutes ticked by, flitting between excitement and worry with every passing minute. What if he didn’t like it?

By the time the elevator opened, the whole penthouse smelled like roasted meat and vegetables, and Billy looked - well, he looked tired. And confused.

“What’s going on?” He asked as you moved to meet him, smoothing out your dress before helping him out of his coat. The confusion on his face deepened when he noticed the balloons.

“I know you said you don’t really celebrate your birthday,” your voice broke and your gaze dropped, anxiety clawing beneath your ribs, “it just - it didn’t seem right not to do anything, and I thought -”

“You did all this for me?”

You looked up to find the sweetest, softest smile on his lips, the sort of smile that was so rare your chest ached at the sight.

“It’s just some food and balloons,” you shrugged.

“It’s perfect,” the smile stayed firmly on his lips as he cleared the distance between you, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you.

Melting against him you completely surrendered to the kiss, to Billy. It had been so long since he’d kissed you like that, with a barely contained want that set your heart racing. You felt his fingers tangle in the fabric of your dress and, when he finally pulled back, you caught that familiar look in his eyes; he was barely holding himself back.

His dark gaze held yours, flickering and sparking with desire as you bit your lip, knowing you should pull away. But you didn’t want to. He wet his lips before leaning slowly, lips so close to yours when -

You almost jumped out of your skin as the alarm on your phone started to sound.

Billy snapped back to the moment too, letting go of your dress and taking an awkward half-step back. But, for a second longer, you held his gaze, heart still pounding, longing for what could have been.

“I should -” you started, awkwardly clearing your throat, shaking your head, “- dinner is almost ready.”

“Right,” he answered, staying exactly where he was, his hand twitching at his side, desperate to reach for you again, “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“Right,” you forced a breath, lingering a moment more before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

Over dinner you made small talk, asking about his day, listening as he vaguely explained some of the on-going issues with Anvil. Apparently the security issue was still driving Frank crazy and, in turn, he had been stressing Billy out over it.

Once you were done eating (and after you’d sung happy birthday to Billy and made him blow out the candles on his cake) you ended up on the sofa, pressed against Billy’s side with his arm wrapped around you, watching a movie that you quickly lost interest in. After an hour or so, you lifted your head to look at him, finding him staring at you.

“What?” you asked quietly, nervously.

“You’re amazing,” he muttered softly, pressing his lips to your forehead in such a tender way that it made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, for all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you answered, pressing closer, lifting your head, “you deserve it.”

Without warning, you kissed him, knowing that there was only so much your words could say. You were gentle at first, Billy let you set the pace, let you press closer and closer, let your tongue softly brush against his own while you climbed onto his lap. He let you make all of the first moves, only speeding up when you did, waiting until you put your hands on him before he finally touched you.

One hand tangled in your hair, ruining the updo, while the other found your bare thigh beneath your dress, his touch sparking your arousal and causing a familiar heat between your thighs. You lost yourself to the moment, to him, knowing that this time there was no alarm waiting to disturb you. Your hips began to move, slowly at first but soon turning desperate, soft moans spilling from your lips once you felt the press of his erection against you.

“Billy -” you gasped against his lips, pleading for more, for all the things you couldn’t put into words.

“Are you sure?” He’d only ask once, and once you said yes there would be no going back to the calm safety of the last three weeks. He gave your hair a gentle tug, forcing you to look at him, letting him see the lust and want in your eyes when you finally answered.

“I need you,” you begged, still grinding against the hard outline of his cock, “please.”

He didn’t answer - he didn’t have to. He just kissed you fiercely, possessively, while the hand on your thigh moved upwards.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaked,” he all but growled against your lips as his fingers started to touch you through wet lace. You keened, desperate and eager for his touch. “What got you so wet?”

“You, Billy.”

He grinned, rewarding you by slipping his fingers into your panties, running his thick digits through your arousal, coating them in it before, finally, sinking two into you. You cried out, your fingers gripping his shoulders as he started to fuck you with them, reminding you just what you’d been missing out on. And, once he started to work his thumb over your clit, you were a goner.

You’d have been embarrassed about coming so fast if it wasn’t for his shit-eating grin and the fact you needed to get him out of his clothes. But the moment you started to pull at his shirt, he took hold of your wrists, restraining you while he kissed you.

“Not here, I need you in my bed,” he told you in a low, breathless voice, sounding barely in control of himself.

You lost yourself in the blur that followed; Billy carrying you to the bedroom, pulling off each other’s clothes, and eventually finding yourself thrown back onto his bed, your legs open as he knelt between them. Your gaze dropped to his cock standing thick and hard; it was enough to make your mouth water.

“Not yet,” he told you, reading your mind. Lifting your leg, he started to trail kisses down your thigh, causing you to squirm in anticipation, hips lifting as he sank down. “So fucking wet and needy.”

The only answer you gave was a moan when you felt his tongue start to run through your arousal in long, slow strokes. He lapped at your dripping slit, groaning against you, reacquainting himself with your pussy before turning his attention to your clit. Your whole body shook, fingers threading through his hair and holding him close as he started to devour you. You came against his lips, crying his name and begging him for more.

Trembling, you knew Billy was only just getting started; you’d already come twice but you were longing to know what came next.

He moved up your body, lips and fingers reacquainting himself with every inch of you, until his hips were slotted between your thighs and you felt the familiar nudge of his cock at your entrance. But, instead of filling you, Billy paused.

His hesitation was palpable as he took a slow breath and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed tight.

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admitted, and your breath caught.

“Then don’t be,” you whispered, “fuck me, Billy. You won’t break me.” reaching down, you took his cock in hand and started to tease the tip through your wet folds. “I want you to fuck me.”

His fingers gripped your hip and, finally, his cock slowly began to slip inside you. After weeks of just your vibrator, having Billy inside you again was overwhelming, his impressive size stretching you like it was the first time all over again, and the two orgasms you’d already had left you feeling overstimulated. Squirming beneath him, you drew your thighs to his hips, desperate to take every inch of him. Once he bottomed out, he stilled breathing heavily.

When he didn’t move, you let out a whine and started to rock your hips, so close to coming now he was inside you again.

“Stop,” he gasped, “you’re gonna make me come too quick.”

It broke you to know he was barely holding on, that you could have that effect on him. You bit your lips as you stared up at the beautiful man on top of you, fingers running through his hair before you coaxed him down and into a slow kiss, giving him the time he needed.

When he finally started to move, he took things slowly, giving you both something you hadn’t even realised you needed. You felt every inch, every throb and twitch, you felt just how deep inside you he could reach. Everything was Billy and nothing else existed.

Each slow but purposeful thrust of his cock filled you in a way no one else ever had or would. And, when he lifted himself to kneel between your legs, changing the angle so you could feel the ridge of his shaft rubbing that special spot inside you, you couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he told you in a barely contained voice, not asking but telling.

And you did, crying out as your body submitted to him without hesitation, back arching off the bed. The look on his face turned possessive, dominant, and that should have scared you - it should have scared you how easily you’d done what he wanted, how easily you’d given yourself to him. But it didn’t. It felt so good to not overthink, to just let him take control and bring you pleasure. You kept moaning his name, writhing beneath him as he continued to lay claim to you.

“I love how wet you get after coming, just listen,” he all but growled, hips finally picking up the pace. At any other time you would have been mortified by the sounds your body was making as he drove his cock into you but, now, you only wanted more. “Only thing that sounds better is the way you moan when I come inside you.”

You’d missed his filthy mouth, missed the way it made you feel to hear all his dirtiest thoughts while he fucked you.

“I haven’t come since the last time I was inside you,” he confessed in a breathless grunt, still pounding his cock into you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. He’d waited four weeks for this, for you. (So he hadn’t been jerking off all those mornings, he’d been waiting it out.)

“Please, Billy -” you begged mindlessly, pleading with him, every fibre of your being needing, wanting.

“You want me to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” His cock hitting just the right spot, causing your legs to tremble and your back to arch.

“You want me to fill your needy little pussy with cum?” He grit out, obviously getting close to breaking point.

“Please -” you continued to beg with a desperation that surprised both of you, walls clenching around him, trying to fight off your own end.

“Say it.” He demanded in a sudden, dominant tone that sent a thrill through your whole body and left you unable and unwilling to deny him.

“Fill me with cum, Billy” you cried out without hesitation, “please - please -”

You kept begging desperately beneath him until you felt his cock twitch inside you. You cried out as you shattered, your inner walls violently convulsing around him as he continued to fuck you, spilling himself in the deepest parts of you.

Another cry tore from your lips as he hit that sensitive spot inside of you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated, you felt a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs, causing your whole body to quake.

“Fuck, sweetheart, yes,” Billy groaned, pulling at your leg so he could hit that same spot over and over again, still pounding into your as he emptied himself, his fingers frantically rubbing your clit. You felt another gush before your vision started to blur. It felt like it was never going to end, like he was going to keep you in your moment of pleasure forever. His name was the only word you could form and, when he looked at you, you both knew the truth; you were his in every way.

By the time he was done, you were a trembling, panting mess beneath him. He stayed inside you, the last of his orgasm petering away to nothing, while you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Staring down at you, he groaned at the fucked-out expression on your face.

“You did so good,” he muttered softly, leaning to press his lips to your forehead, his hand tenderly cupping your cheek. “I always wondered what it’d take to fuck your brains out.”

At any other time you would have made a joke, told him that your brains were still exactly where they were meant to be, but you were too exhausted, your body still trembling. All you could do was let out a soft whine and that did something to Billy.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he murmured tenderly, thumb softly caressing your cheek.

Kissing you softly, his tongue swept along the seam of your lips until you opened for him, giving him what he wanted, knowing there was nothing you’d deny him in that moment (or, perhaps, ever again). You moaned into his mouth, letting him kiss you as he softened inside you.

“I’m gonna pull out now, sweetheart,” he told you softly, despite the grin on his lips, “it might be messy, you made me come so hard.”

Another moan stole from your lips, your eyes closing tight as he slipped from your body, trying not to think about the wet mess he’d left between your thighs. When you dared to look, he was standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at you. Despite your embarrassment, you didn’t have the strength to close your legs.

“You look so perfect like this,” he muttered, softly placing a hand on your still-trembling thigh. A spark of thrill ran through you, loving the way he was looking at you, like you were the most perfect thing in the world to him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take such good care of you. You just stay right there.”

Your eyes closed as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon following. He soon returned to the bedroom to scoop you off the bed, holding you tight as he carried you into the bathroom and climbed into the tub with you, sitting behind you as he lowered you into the running water.

“Tell me if it gets too hot,” he whispered softly, pulling your hair away from your neck so he could kiss along your shoulder.

Snuggling against him, you felt yourself drifting off as the hot, bubbly water continued to rise around you. His arms wrapped around you possessively, and you’d never been happier than you were in that moment.

“Thank you, Billy,” you murmured, half-asleep.

“What for?”

“For waiting for me.”

He let out a gentle sigh. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. You’re worth every second,” pressing his lips to your neck as he spoke. “Anyway, I should be thanking you; this was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”

You smiled softly, quickly drifting off, not rousing again until you felt Billy gently washing you, soaping your arms and shoulders.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you did.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “You must’ve exhausted yourself; you put on quite a show.”

“I’ve never -” you didn’t even have the words for whatever that in bed had been, but you felt your cheeks start to warm with embarrassment, “- I mean, not like that...”

“Did you like it?” He asked, hands running over the scars on your arms, washing away the bubbles.

Giving a soft hum, you thought about it for a second. “It was intense - everything always feels more intense with you.” Then, awkwardly, after a moment's pause, you dared to ask; “did you like it - me doing... that.”

You weren’t used to candid conversations about sex, not like Billy - before him you’d always been told what you wanted, what you enjoyed, and how you were supposed to feel about it. But, with Billy, he always listened, he always gave you what you wanted, what you liked.

“I like everything you do in bed, sweetheart,” he answered, still sounding like he was smiling, like he was happy. “But, yeah, I really liked it. I’d love to do that to you again.”

Your breath caught just at the thought, allowing yourself to think about how different everything suddenly felt now that you’d taken the time to get to know each other. It meant something now - what, you weren’t sure, but as your head shifted on his chest and you heard his racing heart, you were certain Billy felt it too.

When the water started to cool, Billy pulled the plug before gently lifting you out of the tub and sitting you on the edge. He wrapped a towel around himself before starting to dry you. Every touch was meticulous but gentle and, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, you found yourself blinking back tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, finally noticing when you tried to wipe your eyes with your hand.

“No one’s ever looked after me like you do,” you sniffled, not sure why you were suddenly overcome with emotion.

He wiped your tears away with the towel before pulling his robe from the back of the door and wrapping you up in it. His arms wrapped around you and he held you tight while you fought back the urge to cry. After everything you’d been through with him, it was impossible not to feel vulnerable.

“I’ll always look after you,” he promised as he lifted you up, “nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Billy quickly whisked you back into the bedroom and sat you down in the armchair by the window while he stripped the messy bedding and replaced it with fresh linen. Then, before you knew it, you were deposited back in his bed while Billy dimmed the lights and turned on the TV before snuggling up with you.

You watched TV and dozed in his arms for the next couple of hours, until he finally turned off the lights so you could both sleep. You laid facing him, nose to nose, letting out a gentle sigh. when, without warning, he nudged your legs apart and you felt the ridge of his hard cock between your folds again.

With slow movements of his hips he teased himself against you until your arousal started to wet his cock. You mewled softly, too exhausted to do much of anything beyond what your body was already doing of its own accord. His hand soon slipped between you, directing his erection to your slickened slit.

“Billy -” you moaned as you felt his tip start to nudge its way into you, “I don’t think I can...”

He shushed you softly. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I just want to fall asleep inside of you. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

When you didn’t object further, you felt his cock start to slowly fill you. A soft moan spilled from you but it was quickly swallowed by his lips as he kissed you gently, tenderly. And, once he was buried inside of you, his arms held you tight against his chest.

“Mine,” Billy whispered, pressing one last sweet kiss to your lips.

And you were.

You were completely Billy’s now. You just weren’t sure how to tell him…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

END NOTES : I didn't mean for this to get so long but I didn't want to break it up. I liked playing around with them actually learning a bit about each other and functioning like a normal couple for a while. I have a bonus Christmas thing that I wanted to post earlier, but it wouldn't have worked with where the story was, so I'm probably going to be posting that on Sunday - you don't have to read it to keep up with the story though (it's just a bit of smutty xmas fun).

Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading this, it's really great to see how many of you come by week after week and I really appreciate every single one of you!!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it's not working for everyone - if it's not working and you don't want to miss a chapter, I post pretty much every friday, though there will be a bonus chapter going up on sunday)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo x female reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #cmiyc ff

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nubeinvernal · 1 month

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Please read and share

A few years ago my older brother was diagnosed with a tumor that turned out to be cancerous. He underwent surgery, received radiotherapy and took two years of chemotherapy. After the operation there were no traces of the disease for a long time.

Unfortunately the cancer returned while he was studying with a scholarship in Brazil. Now he needs a treatment that includes a medicine called bevacizumab, he needs 4 doses a month, but we cannot buy even one. It is an extremely expensive medicine, each dose costs 963 USD.

We are a very humble family from Perú. We live rented in a poor neighborhood and my parents were not able to finish school. Everyone in my family works every possible hour to cover the expenses of this illness and try to buy the medicines my brother needs.

With a lot of help from our community and kind-hearted people on the internet we have been able to buy some doses, although not on the dates that the doctors gave us. It is the only thing that has been possible to do.

Here you can see one of the receipts that the laboratory gives us with each purchase of two doses that my brother needs. The price is 6740 soles, which is equivalent to 1926 usd. He needs these two doses every 15 days.

I write this to beg you for help in getting my brother to continue his treatment. The doctors have recommended a year of treatment to try to shrink the tumor and be able to operate on it again. This is his only chance to keep fighting. Please please help him.

Gofundme does not work with my country, I can only use Ko-fi and paypal.

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/nubeinvernal

Paypal: [email protected]

In this link you can read the thread I made since my brother was hospitalized, there you can have a more extensive view of our history.

Any help is welcome, any penny you have left can make a difference. If you can't donate, please share. Thank you very much for reading and I hope you have a good day.

#Please help #Help #gofundme #Ko fi

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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WIBTA for mentioning college again to my online friend, despite her telling me she knows it's not for her/not making a decision about it right now?

We both turned 18 this year, and are in our last years of highschool, and hopefully will both graduate this year! We met two years ago, and call and play games together sometimes, send each other selfies, share our silly crushes—she's the best girl friend I have right now and im very grateful for her.

Some info about me: both of my parents grew up very low income and from rough places and got full scholarships/a deal(like they pay for your college, and then you work for them after), because of this they're financially doing much better than both their families(my mother regularly sending money back home to pay for surgeries , bills, etc.). All of this is to say I've been raised with the mindset that higher education is my ticket to bettering my life, and I take school very seriously. I live in an area with a lot of immigrants, and all my friends do plan on going to college. Here is my disclaimer that I know college is *not* for everyone, and you do not need to go to college to be successful. But my friend is in the same stage in life as me, and I think it could be beneficial for her. She's not the best student at all(also home-schooled and does online schooling), but she's passing all her classes. We've talked about it before and I've asked if she's thought about college, and she said no because everyone in her family who went was just left with debt. Additionally she's not motivated in school now, so she doesn't think she would be motivated in college and would just end up as a "money dump". She's also talked about college with her mom, who said that she was only 18 and didn't need to make decisions about it right now. Right now her plan is to get a minimum wage job after high school(she's mentioned a fast food chain). I do think it would be good for her to get out of the house because right now she's basically stuck at home because her mom doesn't like going places. To my knowledge she has no friends irl, because of the homeschooling. Which is one of the reasons why I think college would be great for her--the chance to be with other people your own age.

We've only talked about college one time where I just asked, and after that I haven't mentioned it because I don't want to act like I have any say in her life decisions or make her feel bad. I've just been thinking about it lately because logically to me it seems like if she did want to go to college, now would be the best time because she would have the support of her online school where she has a counselor. Her mom didn't go to college and she isn't in regular contact with her dad.

For more context my family is middle class and I'm not sure what her financial situation is, but I do know comfortable but not deeply so. I would hate to bring up college if it's something she knows she cant afford( but long term I think going to college would help her make more money than any job she started now, which is why Im thinking about bringing it up again). I don't know if this is enough context, and I'm willing to provide more! I'll admit I'm not the smartest teen out there, so if you see any thing wrong with my thinking or think I'm a total asshole please tell me and I'll check my behavior. Im also keeping in mind her lack of motivation that she mentioned she had in school, and of course her mental health and wellbeing is of like. the utmost importance.

so, would I be the asshole for bringing up college with her again, despite knowing her situation? I really love this friend and the last thing I would want to do with her is be disrespectful and insensitive. thank you for very much, Tumblr! any advice you can give in the comments would be greatly appreciated.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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jaeyunverse · 1 year

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enhypen masterlist

hello! my name is sage and welcome to my enhypen masterlist! please note that all my works are non-smut female reader inserts. i hope you all find what you like and have a good time reading :D

back to navigation | nct masterlist

𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗡

SERIES

love central (hyung line)

love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind.

SCENARIOS

electric love challenge with enhypen

enhypen pining for you

little things enhypen do for you out of love

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ONESHOTS

always been you (16.5k words)

heeseung was the kind of teenager everyone’s parents warned them to stay away from. he was the poster boy for the term bad influence, caring about no one except his closest friends—especially you.

chapstick challenge (1.1k words)

the chapstick challenge is just an excuse for you to get heeseung to kiss you. thankfully, he’s more than happy to oblige.

TIMESTAMPS

[8:23 a.m] » fixing his tie

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

ONESHOTS

study lessons (12.3k words)

in which jay ruins his chances of getting a sports scholarship to uni and the school sends you to rescue him. the small hiccup in your tutor-tutee arrangement? you hate jocks but jay thinks you look cute.

TIMESTAMPS

[7:23 p.m] » cooking with him

[11:11 p.m] » watching a movie with him.

[12:46 p.m] » kissing him in a restroom

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

ONESHOTS

skater boy (9.3k words)

jake hadn’t expected to see anyone at the skatepark in the middle of the night. he sure as hell hadn’t expected to fall in love the moment your gazes met either.

the bet (1.2k words)

in which jake bets he can make you fall for him in three weeks. you don’t tell him you’ve already lost.

TIMESTAMPS

[7:23 a.m] » waking up in his arms

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ONESHOTS

the 24-hour dating challenge (8.1k words)

being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

love at first flight (3.5k words)

your flight was delayed by three hours, so you were doing what every human does when they’re bored—swiping through tinder and minding their own business. and then, a certain someone goes, “ouch. hard no for that one?” and you turn around to see the guy you had just swiped left on standing right behind you. this certain someone being park sunghoon, of course.

losing game (1k words)

loving park sunghoon had always been a losing game. it was all borrowed time anyway.

SCENARIOS

park sunghoon as your (fake) boyfriend

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

TIMESTAMPS

[4:23 p.m] » being warmed by him in the snow

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ONESHOTS

kiss cam (3.7k words)

you were fully prepared to spend valentine’s day alone. yang jungwon was fully prepared to blow your mind.

cat boy (1.8k words)

yang jungwon is pissed his cat likes you more than him. or, in which jungwon’s cat plays cupid and sets you up.

the perfect birthday (1.7k words)

wherein you try to give jungwon the perfect birthday, but fail to realise that all he needs for it to be perfect is you.

SCENARIOS

yang jungwon as your roommate

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ONESHOTS

all i want for christmas is you (5.4k words)

agreeing to accompany nishimura riki to a christmas party was probably the most stupid decision you made that day. or so you thought.

#enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader

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satocidal · 6 months

Text

-RING RING!!

Say Hello to our Operator Number two, Exclusively in Demand:

── .˳⁺⁎˚ This caller seems to be into Power Play and the Normalisation of Frat Boys

── .˳⁺⁎˚ Gojo Satoru Starring in ⌞Power Couple!?⌝

Synopsis: the famous rich boy of the campus and the principal’s daughter? Scandalous—especially when they’re both jealous as hell.

— word count: 7.7k

— a/n: sort of like a repost/continuation—the sfw part is basically the entire “Opposites Attract!?” Fic, but since the idea was a part of kinkmas I’d initially decided to split it but then, I didn’t want that anymore soooo here you go, slow burn(?) with smut lmao [scroll like all the way down for just the smut💀] [also for Gojo’s birthday I posted it a day earlier hehe]

— warnings: fem! Reader x Gojo smut!! MDNI!! Oral (m! Receiving); partial exhibitionism(?); undertones of jealousy; porn with plot; slightly subby Gojo to total daddy dom moment💀 power dynamics; cheating dynamics(?); Suguru; lot of build up and pining; idiots in love; Satoru gets drunk (non-canon but shut up); manhandling; oral (m! Receiving)