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#they're all right but they don't stick around long enough to make much of an impression
luvit · 3 months
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barracks bunny!reader but price is extra possessive over her.. he was the first to inspect her holes, first one to fuck her and cum inside her (because it was “his right” as captain to use her first). he even fucked her on that first day in front of the 141, to remind them that even if she’s being shared between them, she belongs to him. she always has to sleep in his bed. he has to start off his day by pumping a load into her, will inspect her holes throughout the day to make sure she’s kept it inside her. or, if someone else fucked her, he has to fuck their cum out of her pussy and replace it with his 😵‍💫
(fem!reader, afab!reader, mdni 18+)
you got me fuckin biting at my fist rn,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
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god, fuck! price is probably sitting there watching it all go down, too. sits in a chair in the corner with a head resting on his fist while you're getting railed by his men. he won't even have a hand on his cock, no matter how hard it is and leaks through his pants at the sound of your pretty moans. his dick twitches every time you cum because he imagines that it's him who's the one cumming inside of you. but he'll patiently wait his turn.
he watches how ghost has you sucking on his thick dick while you're sitting on his face. he tries to see how good your endurance is because he's sloppily licking at your pussy until it's frothy with his spit and your cum. it's disgusting but it doesn't stop him from swallowing it all down. ghost sticks that tongue deep inside you like he's trying to taste all of your juices and not let a single drop of it go to waste. you feel it wiggling around in there and clench on it, can't even focus on sucking his dick as much as you're supposed to. he keeps bucking his hips into your mouth if you can't focus up because the tip of his tongue keeps writing out the letters of everyone's names onto your clit. because as if you aren't going to be marked by everyone else soon, he at least wants your pussy to know the four men who are going to be playing with her all night.
you're not allowed off of ghost's face until you've properly made him cum into your mouth, swallowed it all. but once you are, you're getting plowed into the sheets by gaz. he throws your legs over his shoulders, a move he picked up from his captain, and just plunges into you so deep. he's groping at your tits and loves to watch the way they bounce with those hard thrusts. he talks so filthy, is the most talkative one there. says things like "mm, so generous letting us all use this pretty fuckin' pussy. thought it'd been all stretched out by now but you fit like a dream." and it's because at the angle his hips are at you're getting fucking slammed in your most sensitive spots over and over again. he knows, too. makes sure to drag the tip of his cock in that area and grind his hips messily to see how hard it'll make you cum.
now you've got gaz's cum shoved deep inside of you and it's leaking out. he whistles at the way your cunt clenches as if trying to keep it inside. not to worry because soap's got that covered for you. shoves his fat fingers right in your cunt and gently pushes all the gooey cum back in there where it belongs. he mutters all about how warm and wet and nasty you feel inside. oh he wants to stick his dick in there so bad but he knows that fat cock will only push it back out. but did i ever mention (like 100 times) that soap loves titties? that's his next best alternative and he's got one hand pushing his dick between your tits and pinching at one of the nipples while the other hand is behind him and still playing with your cunt. he makes you push your tits together so they can hug around his cock. i always say he doesn't care about the size at all. so long as they're yours, he'll make sure to be loving on them. you'll find out soon enough once he slathers your face in his cum.
you don't know how many times you've cum from ghost's tongue, gaz's dick, or soap's fingers. all you know is that your pussy is swollen and puffy and you're absolutely soaked at the thighs. price finally rises from his chair when you look at him and beg for him to come over because it's just not the same without him! but you're so spent that you don't even realize you're asking for him, tbh you're more like whining and blindly reaching out for him.
"c'mon, love, eyes on me," he'll pat at your cheek at get your attention back on him. "you got one more in there for me?"
you always want to be so good for him :( and you know he'll take care of you just how you need it. can't help but say yes! at that he grins and pulls back so he can situate himself between your legs. he strokes his cock before lining it up with your pussy. turns his head over his shoulder but doesn't even face the others as he speaks, eyes glued to how your pussy stretches with the take of him. "watch and learn, boys. i'll show you how it's done."
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
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vinceaddams · 6 months
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Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.
Thanks!
It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!
I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)
Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.) You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.
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Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.
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Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.
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I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.
Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.
Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)
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I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.
For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!
Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.
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I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.
I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.
I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread. I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)
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Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.
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Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.
The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.
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You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.
Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)
Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.
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For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.
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And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.
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Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.
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Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.
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To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.
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In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.
Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!
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If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.
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(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)
Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.
Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!
Edit: Video finished!
youtube
And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.
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starryeyedjanai · 3 months
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bad boys do it better
rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3
Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.
He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.
But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.
So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.
There's no way this is real life.
There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.
He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.
Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies
He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.
The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.
The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.
He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.
This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?
Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.
Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.
He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.
He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.
Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.
He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.
It's a match!
Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.
There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.
He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?
He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.
His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.
Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9
He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-
His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.
That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile
Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.
So a catfish then?
Why do you think I'm a catfish?????
Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight
You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?
Or like, learned new things about myself?
Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.
Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.
Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing
How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory
And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?
Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date
That's a third date kind of thing
Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?
He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.
No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later
To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing
Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.
Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.
Are you serious about meeting up?
Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever
What's your favorite brewery?
Cellarmaker
Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?
That sounds perfect
He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.
Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.
He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.
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*Chef's Kiss* (Girls Night series) - OP81
Summary: Oscar gets back from a day at McLaren headquarters in Woking to find y/n having a girls night where they're all trying to cook a meal in the least cohesive way that he's ever been a witness to.
Friends names: Eve, Libby and Ali
Also, I've decided not to write one for Lewis. But Lando's is next up and it will be the last one for this series :D
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A day spent at with the team at headquarters is usually a long day and usually Oscar just wants to get back home, relax with his girlfriend by smothering her to death.
"Baby?!" Oscar calls out only to tense as the sound of bickering and some giggling hits his ears.
He completely forgot she was having the girls over for a dinner party.
"Hey, there he is. My gorgeous boyfriend." Y/n grins as he walks into the kitchen though she quickly notices how tired he is and frowns slapping Ali's hand from touching the bread she's divided out on a tray for making bread buns (or rolls). "Don't touch, you're making the starter."
Y/n smiles moving around to Oscar as she wipes her hands on her apron.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just...forgot the girls would be here and I wanted to spend the night with you but I'll keep out the way." Oscar smiles tiredly making her look at him for a moment before she shifts over kissing him. "Thank you...I did need that."
"Why don't you go shower, and then come join us? None of the girls care and god knows we don't know the right portion sizes so we've made probably enough of each course for 10 people never mind 4 or 5 with you." Y/n states not really giving him much of a choice. "You can eat and leave if you're too tired to stick around once food is finished."
"Join us, Oscar. We're a hoot." Libby grins brightly only to get flicked with flour that she seems to perfectly breathe in. "Ah, Eve. What the hell?"
"Just powdering your nose, sweetie." Eve laughs pretty evilly before she has the gesture returned. "But she's right, Oscar. Join us. You're just going to end up eating some of it later anyway, might as well get to have it fresh."
Oscar smiles always being a little quieter around her slightly loud mouthed friends.
"Go on, go shower. Change into something comfortable, there's no dress code. All chill." Y/n smiles, ever the most caring girlfriend. She's easily the mother of the group. She cares a lot about her friends and protects then however she can. Making food for them when they're around is a form of love in her books.
"Ok, I won't be long." Oscar nods stealing another kiss before he takes off and y/n sighs turning back tot he girls who pout at her in sympathy of Oscar's behaviour.
"Is he ok?" Libby asks quietly making y/n nod and shoot them a smile.
"I think he's just a little tired. He left so early this morning." Y/n sighs softly making the girls coo. "Thanks for saying he could join in. He can be a little...clingy while he's tired or just not in a good mood. I think he was hoping to get all my attention when he got back till he remembered you guys are here."
"Oh stop. That's so cute." Eve gasps seemingly really touched by the whole thing.
"I actually want to apologise to him for ruining his plans. Especially because I totally get it. Your hugs are the best way to feel better." Ali sighs then moving over and hugging y/n who just laughs at the girl's arms wrapping around her tightly. "See, I feel better already."
"Alright, let's get this meal finished." Y/n smiles patting Ali's back.
They get on with making sure the starter is ready while Oscar showers, by the time he appears they're already serving up and Oscar smiles as y/n pats the chair next to herself at the dining table.
"You look a little more refreshed and cosy." Y/n smiles before he leans over and kisses her cheek.
"Alright, Eve. What is our starter?" Libby asks to redirect their attention to the food.
"Yes, so this is prawns in a honey glaze with just some rocket and the bread buns that y/n made on the side." Eve grins proudly earning smiles from everyone. "I hope you all enjoy."
Actually the food is really good. Like really really good.
"Alright guys, me next...only down from here since that was amazing." Libby murmurs after y/n has gathered up the plates and cleared up, self-appointing herself to do it and scolding anyone who tries to help. Especially Oscar.
Although when she tries to get up to help Libby serve, Oscar holds her down while Ali levels her with a look and instructions not to move.
"Ok guys, this is Thai green curry, made from scratch. So possibly terrible, possibly good. I hope at least edible." Libby smiles earning a grin from y/n. "Oh and y/n made the nan breads and steamed the veg."
"So you were side dish duty?" Oscar whispers leaning over to y/n.
"Yup, and refreshments. All the extra bits." Y/n grins watching him pick up more of the veg and an extra nan bread. "You're so cute."
"You make the best food." Oscar shrugs not noticing y/n's three friends gaze all on them for their interactions. But y/n does and quickly gives them a look that makes them all go back to focusing on their own plates.
"Oh my gosh, I knew you were being dramatic." Ali gasps after swallowing the first bite. "This is so good, you're making this again when we get home."
Ali and Libby are actually roommates so they cook for each other all the time, but Libby usually sticks to her comfort meals for cooking and the Thai green curry was definitely a new dish.
"Yeah, this is really good." Oscar agrees making her smile brightly since he'd been pretty quiet.
"Thank you, guys." Libby smiles before they all fall into another conversation just talking about their weeks and what's happening for them in the next few days.
Finally they finish up and y/n again clears things away, this time allowing Oscar to help because the dishes are bigger.
Then finally they get to dessert which is all Ali's work. She's got the sweetest tooth so no one argued when she asked to take the last course of the meal.
"So I made...mixed berry compote and pannacotta with a slice or two of blackberry banana bread." Ali beams very clearly proud of her part of the meal. "I understand if you can't eat it all. We've just eaten a lot but I think it's going to be good."
"I can already tell it is." Y/n smiles earning a grin. "Can we eat?"
Now to not add insult, no one says it's the best course. But it certainly does seem to have been made with the most expertise. But Ali does love to bake and make desserts so it makes sense. This is probably something she's made a dozen times before. Just not for them.
They do all clean the plates and sort of shift to the sofas, though y/n and Oscar do delay joining everyone while they rinse the dishes then put them in the dishwasher.
"Glad you joined in?" Y/n asks as she closes the dishwasher and turns it on.
"Very glad. I'm definitely well fed today." Oscar smiles as he grabs both her hands, using them to pull her closer to himself. "I think I'm going to sleep very well tonight as well."
"Good. Now, come on. We're watching tv for a bit, then they're heading home. You can cuddle up with me then once they leave we'll get to bed."
"Sounds like a good plan to me." Oscar nods before moving with her to the living room where they curl up on the seat together.
"You know, I think we should start allowing for one man to each of the girls nights. We can take turns adding a different boyfriend to the mix each time." Eve states earning nods of agreement from the rest of the group.
"I think Oscar was a good starting point. You're the most chill boyfriend in the group." Libby comments before smiling as Ali hugs her tightly, seeming on the verge of sleep herself. "Might time for us to head off. Need to get Ali home before I'm carrying her out of here."
And that triggers the end of the night. The girls all exchange tight hugs, groaning slightly at the pressure on each other's stomaches since they're still very full.
"Alright, baby. Bed time. You did it though, a whole day at work, then home for a girls night and you managed it all." Y/n smiles as she closes the door and locks it before moving towards him. "Brush teeth then bed. I'm so tired to."
"Yeah, that sounds like the best idea." Oscar nods with a yawn.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @thehufflepuffavenger1
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christronomy · 8 months
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cw : perv chan kinda, stepcest, age gap (chan is older but reader is still of legal age), groping kinda?? cheating basically (don't read this if you're uncomfortable with these topics)
been thinking about stepdad chan fucking you behind your mom's back. he'd always showed interest in you from the first time you met, but you didn't pay any mind to it. it all started off as some light banter between the two of you, until it progressed to him putting his hands on your waist whenever he walked past you, flirting with you, even getting handsy when your mom wasn't looking, even if she was in the same room. sometimes he'd grab your ass or touch your thighs, and then laugh it off when he saw you jump slightly in your spot from the unexpected contact. you never made any effort to stop him, so he took that as a green light to continue, which meant his behavior progressed even more. it's not like you wanted him to stop, though. you actually kinda wanted to know what he'd do next.
there were really no complaints about him so far—he was a pretty good looking guy (that's an understatement, he's ridiculously attractive), he was kind, always put others before himself, had an insanely attractive accent, he treated your mother so much better than your asshole of a father did, and you can't forget those pretty plump lips of his, the ones that were working on your clit not too long ago, which brings us back to the present moment.
it's not like you wanted him to stop anyways, not when he was now fucking you from behind in the laundry room, your body sprawled over the washing machine, one of his hands covering your mouth to muffle your pathetic moans while his other hand was wrapped snugly around your neck. your mom was cooking dinner in the kitchen, which was a few rooms away, but she had no idea. she was under the impression that chris had gone to shower and that you were finishing up some chores, and the loud whirring sound coming from the extractor hood was enough to cancel out any sound that came from other parts of the house. he already has you dumb on his cock in a matter of minutes, the exhilaration of possibly getting caught causing adrenaline to shoot through your veins, and the feeling of him practically splitting you open made you dizzy with excitement. not to mention the absolute filth he's spitting in your ear. "you like older men like me 'cause they're more experienced, right? they know how to use their cock to please greedy little cunts like yours."
he'll cum inside you and pull your underwear up for you, sticking the fabric up your dripping hole with his fingers to make sure not a single drop of his cum leaks out, then he'll make you sit at the dinner table without cleaning up, because nothing gets him more excited than knowing that your mom has no idea what events ensued moments before, as you sit all pretty with your legs crossed, cause you're trying your best to keep his seed inside you until dinner's over like the good girl you are for him.
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w2sology · 29 days
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omg hi I saw your requests were open and I loved loved loved ‘all of the ways’ could you please write something about readers reaction to Harry’s goal at the charity match? Thank you!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
this was from last year omg... how did i not see it 😃 and also as a west ham fan this was absolutely beautiful to write 🤭
the real deal, harry lewis.
summary: you attend the 2023 sidemen charity game and just to your luck, harry scores his first goal.
warnings: not proof read!
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walking up the steps that led to the top of the lower blocks in the london stadium, you smiled, unable to contain your excitement for the game that was to follow.
the sidemen were having another of their charity football games, and as you always were, you came along to support harry.
arm in arm with freya, the two of you, along with faith and a few others of the sidemen family, walked towards your seats, your eyes flickering around as you took in the large amount of people who came.
it was a hot day, and despite feeling the material sticking a little to your body, you didn't regret wearing the black 'wroetoshaw 77' shirt, proud to show off your boyfriend.
leading up to today's event, harry had been moaning and groaning about not yet scoring a goal since the first charity match, but he was just happy to be out there with the boys.
"well, when you score your first," you'd told him, hand cupping his cheeks as you pulled his face towards you. "i'll be right there with you to celebrate."
that was more than enough motivation to give harry his end goal of the day ─── score a goal just for you.
collecting olive from ethan as they walked out onto the pitch, faith sat back down with the babbling bundle of joy, nervously tapping your thighs. "gosh, i can't wait for it to start already!" she squealed.
and you shared her excitement equally, a bright smile on your face as you watched harry looking around the block for you, blowing a kiss and waving your way when he spotted you.
you gladly returned the gesture, fanning yourself with the matchday program and shielding yourself from the burning sun.
as the match went on, you grew more and more interested. of course, it was for charity as well as for shits and giggles, but being with harry for such a long time, you become immersed in the sport that he loved so dearly.
with the first half over, freya had gotten you a drink with some extra ice cubes, and as you say with it, harry and the rest of the boys walked into the tunnel for their half time break, your lover giving you a wink as he walked past.
it didn't matter if he was sweaty or not; the sight of harry alone was enough to make you want to jump his bones.
holding onto that thought, you managed to make it to the second half without asking any questions like you usually would when watching football with harry.
"well, i don't get why they can't just run towards the other goal and kick it in then, if they're allowed to use their hands." you'd say.
"because... because that's just not how it works!"
and now there you were, stood on your feet as you watched vik pass the ball back towards harry instead of taking the shot himself, and your boyfriend didn't miss a beat; he kicked the ball beautifully into the back of the net.
you screamed so loud you couldn't even hear it, turning next to you to grasp freya's arms as faith turned her camera towards you to capture your reaction.
"oh my god!" you yelled, hands over your cheeks as you watched harry and the boys huddle together to celebrate his first goal for the sidemen.
breaking apart, harry turned to where you sat and held up a makeshift heart with his hands for you, albeit it looking like a circle at the first few seconds.
there was so much pride and love in your what for him, that when the game ended and he had his winner's medal and all on him, you couldn't help but smother his face in kisses, outwardly expressing your happiness for him.
"i told you you could do it," you whispered against his lips, his hair tickling your forehead.
"yeah, you did, didn't you?"
pressing his lips to yours briefly, harry pulled back to smile at you, his girl, and his number one supporter.
"looks like the wag life is about to become reality," he joked.
"oh yeah," you laughed. "the real deal."
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Text
please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)
(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)
(Part 2 - coming soon!)
pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)
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summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?
warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI
a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!
wc: 5.2k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You look too good to feel this shitty. 
That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point. 
“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”
There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation. 
“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–” 
Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag. 
Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away. 
Fuck.
For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble. 
It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase? 
“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer. 
" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face. 
There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over. 
"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–
He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared. 
Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then… 
Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip. 
"You okay? " 
It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter. 
You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice. 
Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit. 
"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside. 
There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile. 
"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."
He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost. 
"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."
Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it?  A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus. 
That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here. 
Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man. 
It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid. 
"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic. 
You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds. 
In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."
It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head. 
"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."
And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask. 
It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask. 
He shakes his head, hands up in defeat. 
"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer. 
Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him. 
Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all. 
Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between? 
He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass. 
"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low. 
It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side. 
It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat. 
"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."
"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."
"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently. 
Quickly, he stops you. 
"Not yet, sweetheart."
You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you. 
"But soon?" 
"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist. 
You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason. 
When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline. 
"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately. 
Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork. 
"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."
He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 
"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."
Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak. 
Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor. 
"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."
A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.
“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”
You don’t ask questions. 
“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”
He doesn’t ask questions. 
Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless. 
You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.
You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more. 
At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock. 
"Hey." 
That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–
"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful . 
Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath. 
Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.
From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.
"You look beautiful.”  He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."
All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain. 
Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips. 
You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.
“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.
You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts. 
“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.
“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”
“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.
“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”
You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe. 
“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”
“ Anything .” You breathe.
“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”
“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.
“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours. 
The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips. 
More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.
“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room. 
“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration. 
It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…
…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely. 
The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.
“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair. 
In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.
“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm. 
“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”
You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.
He shifts. “Just give it a…”
As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.
Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.  
“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”
“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”
“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly. 
For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.
He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.
He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.
“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock. 
When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on  his haunches.
“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”
“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.
“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.
There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.
“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.
“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”
You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.
“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”
You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.
“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”
You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.
“M’gonna–”
“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”
And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.
You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.
In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.
So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away. 
He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care. 
“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart. 
“We should.” 
“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair. 
Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”
Neither of you make a move to get up.
“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”
“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands. 
Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare. 
“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.
He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.
You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.
~~~
You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.
“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches. 
You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.
“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.
You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.
“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”
You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.
“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”
You squint, confused.
“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”
“What?” 
“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”
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Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns
@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical
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mommypieck · 5 months
Text
𑄽୧ stripping with levi 𔓘 ᰍ
kinktober day 27: you pervert!!!
✿ levi ackerman x reader
✿ warnings: stripping, mention of body hair
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"Captain, are you there?" you knock on the door of Captain Levi's office. You don't even wait for an answer before bursting in the door. Levi shoots you a dirty look, you're not one of his favorite trainees. You're rude and naughty, always flashing your classmates.
"What do you want?" he asks you, clearly wanting you to get the fuck out of his office. You have other plans though. he has been treating you like shit since the start of your training. You thought about why that might be, and you got only one answer from your brain.
He's probably a virgin who needs to get laid.
"I'm here to show you some good time," you tell him with a smile, your hands coming to rest on your shirt buttons. His eyes shoot wide, he knows what you're trying to do.
"Stop what you're doing right now," he orders, but his voice wavers. You know he wants it as much as you do. You have seen him any time checking you out. You know he watches your ass when you get up on a horse.
"But I have already taken off my harness." you pout, your fingers coming to slowly unbutton your shirt. Levi watches your every move, focused on how a new piece of your bare skin is revealed.
Shrugging your shirt off your body and finally revealing your lacy bra, Levi sucks in a breath. His eyes shut close. This isn't happening. He can't let his trainee take off her clothes in front of him. Levi thinks about what might happen after all your clothes are off and…
"You're happy to see me." you giggle when a bulge appears in front of his pants. You're happy that you got him hard so fast.
You have wanted to fuck him for so long, and you're going to get what you want, now!!
"Do you like them?" he thinks he might faint when you jiggle your breasts in front of his face. Your hands are on the cups of your bra, just rubbing them together. They look so inviting to him, and he just wants to stick his head in between them.
Finally, your fingers reach behind your body to unlock the bra clips. It falls on the ground, revealing your boobs in all of their beauty. A quiet breathy moan rips out of his mouth.
They're perfect. The way how your nipples stand erect right in front of his eyes, makes him want to latch his mouth on them. You pinch them in front of him, looking seductively into his eyes.
Your body turns around, and you bend in front of him, caressing your ass cheeks with your hands. You pull your pants down a bit, giggling when you accidentally take your underwear down with it. He catches a full sight of your ass and your hole, but you pull your panties up before he can look better.
"You're a pervert." you smile at him, turning around so he can take a good look at you only with your panties on. Finally, now you realize your bad pick, the panties are softly pink with a little white bow in the front. You could have worn something sexier.
But he thinks this is sexy enough. He knows you're a slut, but these panties make you look like the most innocent angel. You have the face of an angel, that's true, but the body of a satan. He doesn't even wanna think about how many people have been inside of you. How many people shot their cum on your angelic face.
Just the thought of costing your face with his cum makes his cock twitch. There's no doubt you wouldn't lick it off.
He watches in anticipation as you take your panties off. He inhales deeply. He watches you spin before him, showing him every part of your body. He's painfully hard, your pussy is just so pretty. He thinks the patch of hair right above your pussy lips is so cute, natural girls are the prettiest.
You drop down on your knees in front of him, running your hands on his hard cock. He doesn't have time to think before you pull him out of the slacks, tongue teasing his tip. He never had anyone do this to him before.
"Im gonna play with your cock now, captain. Let's see how long you last."
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taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @raeeesblog @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007 @herefor-tojis-tits
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randomoutsiders · 7 months
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i’m sorry, i can’t remember if i actually sent it in or imagined this. 💔 but you finding out you’re pregnant and you decide to keep it a secret from lip because he’s under a lot of stress. and then he finds out. i don’t know how, maybe he walks in on you looking at your bump or something?
oops i kinda made this northside!reader..
was your forgetting something voluntary or subconscious? a slight slip of the mind that lasted far too long for you to be capable of hiding it any longer? even then, you're able to wash away the heavy guilt that has begun to pool like a bag of rocks in the pit of your belly with the physicality of it all. the slight swell of your belly, one that you're not able to pass off as typical, healthy weight, is tangible evidence enough to help in reminding you of the reality in which you find yourself.
the full-length mirror leans lazily against the back wall of lip's bedroom, it's weight supported only by the slipshod arrangement of clothing piles that you have yet to put away. it's cloudy with numerous fingerprints from its continuous movement around the room, but through the opaque surfaces, you can properly see the protrusion.
you stand to the side, cashmere sweater crumpled in its bunched up spot below your breasts, jeans unbuttoned and zipper pulled down to accommodate the growing size of your abdomen.
"hi baby.." the words trail off, drifting daintily through the musky air of the bedroom as your fingers drift softly over the soft surface of your belly, the pad of your right middle dipping into your navel. "i can't wait to meet you.."
in your awed stupor, you don't hear the sound of nearing footsteps until they're clambering into the room, a hand bracing against the doorframe before lip's swinging in. "hey, sorry, did you manage to find my.." the words run dry as they scatter across the surface of a now-dry tongue, the ending words to his sentence rattling around his brain like echoing pinballs. "babe?" he swallows back the sudden wave of saliva that floods his mouth. "what.. what is that?"
you turn, cheeks flooding with uncomfortable heat, and you scramble for the metal zipper. "oh.. your wallet? you left it on the bed," a wavering forefinger points hazily in its direction, and you shove the hem of your sweater down and over your belly.
"no." he gripes, stepping closer, now, nearly ripping the fabric at its seams with the force he uses to shove the sweater over your stomach, showing once more the life that grows inside it. "are you serious?"
his voice has dropped into a delicate whisper, calloused fingertips gracing over the paths you once trailed with your own. "are you fucking serious right now?"
you nod, bottom teeth catching on your top lip, hands shaking at your sides as they clench and unclench into fists. "i um.. i was gonna tell you. i was. i just didn't know when.. you had so much to worry about and i was going to figure things out before i told you, but i was! i was going to tell you - i swear. there's just so much going on, and i didn't want to stress you.. please don't hate me.." your voice warbles with the threat of tears, and he's silent when he swallows once more.
"and it's mine?"
you understand where he's coming from - a pregnancy scare that revealed to be nothing but a heinous attempt for attention - a baby once supported by a false father with hopes of potentially raising a family that was never to be.
you nod. "yes of course it is - there's no one else. there's never been anyone else." you shake your head, jaw trembling. "you don't have to stick around... i've got the means. i'll figure something out. i have lots to do, but i can manage."
"no, please-" he cuts himself off, the palm of his hand now properly firm against the side of your belly as feels for physical evidence that will not make itself present in this time. "-let me be around for them this time, alright? please?" he muscles back tears. "i want to be around this time, and i promise i will. just let me. please."
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AITA for accidentally outing my fiance?
I (27F) am engaged to a 24M guy. He is trans, but he doesn't identify as trans anymore - he's post-everything, passes 100%, lives stealth/as a cis man, and no one who didn't know him pre-transition knows him as anything but a cis man. I know keeping that up is very important to him, we've had a lot of conversations about how happy he is just being seen as cis and being able to pass. I know getting outed and 'found out' is also a big worry of his, for example for our upcoming wedding he's rushing around trying to make it clear to his family that they shouldn't mention him being trans or refer to him as she/her at our wedding because he has so many friends coming who don't know he's trans. It's not that he doesn't trust them or he's ashamed of being trans or anything, he's very supportive of his trans friends, but he just doesn't publicly live as trans.
We're in a big Discord server of friends that have been quite close for about a year now, enough that we've met multiple of them in person and two of them are going to be in his wedding party as sort of 'best man' equivalents (we're not really sticking to bridesmaid best man stuff just our mixed gender friends). He has kept his Facebook very private for as long as I've known him, the only people on there are IRL friends and family because he has in the past posted trans stuff on there, like transition updates, it still has old pictures of him pre-T or in early transition, etc. I knew he didn't want this found. He also hadn't told any of this group aside from the people he was especially close with and had invited to the wedding his surname and location in case they looked him up and found something.
People in the server were sharing their Facebook profiles and I shared mine so people could add me. My fiance messaged me right after pointing out that me sharing mine would dox him as I had him in my relationship status and friends list, but I unfortunately didn't see this message for a while as I was distracted and doing other things. By the time I saw, everyone in the group had already clicked and gone through my profile and found his.
He tried to go through and speed-delete everything he could find that was public that mentioned him being trans or showed him pre-transition, any comments from family referring to it, etc but pictures that were set to friends only were still popping up in previews on the side and some of his family have public profiles that show cover images with him pre-T and things like that.
Our friends were making jokes about finally knowing his surname, going through his whole account down to the time it was first made back in 2018, commenting on old statuses of his, so they definitely saw his profile and went through all of it. He was panicking because he had no way of knowing if they'd seen that he's trans or not and got super upset and freaked out about the possibility, and he couldn't ask without outing himself or making them suspicious.
I apologized and deleted the link but obviously by then it was too late.
I do think it's not a huge deal as much as he thinks because I know our friends would be supportive and wouldn't think of him differently, but I know it was still important to him. I'm not sure they did see because some of our friends are the type to have just blurted out "You're trans?!" in the server without thinking about it (not because they're malicious or judging it, but some of them aren't as online and don't really know how to talk about it sensitively if that makes sense) and they didn't say anything. However he thinks they did because they were talking about statuses older than the ones he managed to get to deleting in time.
Like I said i did apologize but I feel like he's still upset with me for not thinking before sending my profile. On top of that I have kind of a habit of doing things impulsively and without thinking (I have bpd and bipolar) and not always taking into account how it will affect him or what consequences it will have,which I've been working on for years but I worry this is just adding to that which I know already wears on him.
What are these acronyms?
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jaynovz · 4 months
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So I reblogged a post earlier about how your friends don't secretly hate you or think you are annoying and the way you know that is they're still hanging around after you go on an absolute deranged rant in the group chat and that nobody has the time or energy to put into a con trying to fool me into thinking they actually like me or whatever
And that I know my friends are busy and if they didn't actually like me they would spend more time watching TV than listening to me ramble etc and all of those are very good points!
However something that I think is also important to internalize is that--
Yes your friends and loved ones do you think you're annoying sometimes. It's not the end of the world! Because everybody's fucking annoying sometimes and *you* think they're annoying sometimes too. Even people who really really enjoy your company and like you are not going to like you 100% of the time. That is perfectly fine and normal.
The problem arises when people snip and snap at each other because they're annoyed and don't apologize or acknowledge it, right. There are many times that I am annoyed with my loved ones and so what I do is if it's not some actual big problem that needs to be unpicked I just take a deep breath and go take a walk or disengage and do something else.
You have all made a pact with each other that we like each other enough to move past any of the annoying moments. Again as long as it doesn't become toxic and it's not an actual issue.
Like sometimes I get in a mood and I talk and don't make sense or I'm grumpy or I honestly just talk too much or I talk in circles
I imagine at certain points that can be annoying
Anyway just a revelation that I had that it's fine if you're annoying, it's fine if you're a burden, we're all burdens on each other, that's called being alive and having relationships. Deciding to stick with a relationship and to keep working on it is the commitment we all make and choose to continue carrying that burden. Hopefully it is reciprocal but it will go in phases and cycles it's not going to always be 50/50.
All of that to say, you're allowed to annoy your friends and they're allowed to not always be 100% happy with you and vice versa. It doesn't mean they don't care about you, it means that human beings rub each other the wrong way sometimes and then we all as, hopefully, mature adults deal with it and grow and continue on.
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libraryofgage · 5 months
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Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Five
One | Two | Three | Four
*slaps top of the fic* this bad boi has everything: mermaids, fluff, reunions, Eddie being a simp, protective mom Steve
Anyway, stick around to the very very end for a meme hot off the presses about this part lmao
as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P
----
It takes Robin and the guppies three days to reach the ship Erica mentioned. They're all irritable, and the only thing that keeps them from snapping at each other is the idea that Steve might be hurt or in danger. Robin thinks they might have torn each other apart otherwise, and she can't even say for sure that she would have stopped the guppies from engaging in a full-on brawl.
So, to say she's beyond relieved when they finally catch up to the ship is an understatement.
But now they need to plan. The ship is way too close to a port city; close enough that any of the pirates could survive long enough to swim that way and spread the story of a murderous pod. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for keeping all mermaids safe and on good enough terms with humanity that regular humans don't hunt them for sport. It does nothing to stop the pirates, but still.
"We could just make sure to drown everyone," Max suggests, watching the bottom of the ship with narrowed eyes.
Robin almost agrees, but then she stops. Because she knows Steve. If even one person on that ship wasn't an asshole to him, he'd say to spare them, and that could result in the aforementioned spreading of murderous pod stories. But after he's been trapped for so long, Robin wouldn't be able to argue with any request. She's already imagined him dead and strung up like a trophy more than she'd like to admit. She couldn't stand to see him frown after that.
So, she shakes her head, a frustrated bubble pattern flaring from her gills. "We need to be smarter about this," she says.
"We didn't strategize before sinking the other one," Will points out.
"That one kidnapped him. This one might have rescued him, and we should show mercy if that is the case," El says, stretched out and floating on her back. She's the most relaxed of them, and Robin wonders if it's because of that sixth sense she's got going.
"El is right," Robin says, crossing her arms and studying the ship. "We should be more careful about this."
"We could try signaling him," Dustin suggests. "Like, uh, dolphin noises or something."
"If we do that," Lucas says, "we'll need to give him enough time to respond without anyone around."
Robin nods, agreeing with both of them. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'll swim closer while you guys stay here. We have that dumb screech system Steve made us memorize, so I'll use that to signal him. Then we'll wait until the sun rises tomorrow. That should be enough time for him to respond. If he doesn't, we'll sink the ship," she says.
"What if he's not on it?" Mike asks.
"We'll keep one human alive for questioning," Will says, looking at Robin and flashing a tiny, relieved smile when she nods in agreement. "We'll probably have to drown them either way, though."
"Well, we don't need to tell them that," Erica says, snorting as she reaches out to pet a fish that swims by. It's tiny enough to weave through her fingers twice before swimming on.
"Yeah, definitely won't be telling them," Robin agrees, trying and mostly failing to hold back an amused smile. "Okay, stay here. I'll be back after a few minutes. While I'm gone, Erica is in charge."
A chorus of protests chases after Robin as she swims away, heading toward the surface. The sun shines brighter the closer she gets, and she winces when her head finally breaks through the water. It reflects off the ocean, sparkling and blinding as the water shifts and flows.
Robin huffs and sinks down until only her eyes are above the water. The ship is a few yards away, and she can't see anyone moving around on the deck from this distance. She slowly moves closer, her ear fins straining as she tries to listen for any sign of life. Or Steve. Actually, she'd love to hear any sign of Steve from the ship.
Unfortunately, she doesn't.
Once she's close enough to touch the ship, hiding in the shadow it casts over the water, she circles it once. There are a few windows along the hull, but none of them are actually open. That could make it harder for Steve to hear her, but Robin will just be extra loud to compensate.
Robin clears her throat, rolls her shoulders, flicks her tail, and rises until her chin is above the water. She then lets out a sound that can only be classified as the dying shrieks of a dolphin and seagull's abomination of a love child. She makes this noise twice, but each one lasts a few seconds.
Robin can't risk any of the humans seeing her when they investigate the noise. If they are holding Steve captive, they might hurt him even more if they know another mermaid is around. So, she dips below the water, completely submerging and waiting anxiously for a response.
----
Steve has discovered the wonders of just sprawling on a solid surface, his arms thrown to the side and his tail stretched out as he stares up at the ceiling. It's oddly calming, and Steve can almost trick himself into thinking the bobbing of the ship is the ocean itself.
That's what Steve is doing now, forcing himself to relax and brace himself for telling Eddie that he has to leave for a while to find Robin and the guppies. His eyes are closed, and he's running through every possible outcome of that conversation. The second best case scenario (Eddie decides to come with him in a tiny boat) is playing out when he hears it.
The Emergency Shriek.
The last time he'd heard it, Dustin was desperately crying out for help as he struggled against the net that dragged him to the surface. Steve's reaction then had been the exact same as his reaction now. He jolts, his eyes wide and all of his fins flaring in preparation for the fastest swimming of his life, and his lips are pulled back in a vicious snarl to display his fangs and scare off the threat.
But he's on a boat, in the captain's cabin, and that window is way too small for him to climb through. Steve doesn't really think (he can't, actually; his brain has officially gone into Guppies and Robin In Danger Mode). He drags himself to the door of the cabin, digs his fingers into the space beneath, and uses all his strength to rip it off.
The wood groans and the hinges shriek and then the bottom half of the door comes off in his hands. Steve tosses it to the side and crawls through, his tail twitching and flopping in a vain attempt to move faster. If anyone were to actually witness this, they'd probably find it somewhere between utterly terrifying and unfortunately hilarious. A giant fish is dragging and flopping along the floor, but it's also exuding the most intense aura of bloodlust most creatures have ever encountered.
And that bloodlust only gets worse when Steve comes to the stairs that lead to the deck. He stares at them, anger building in his chest at the obstacle they present and just how long it will take to climb them. By the time he reaches the top, Robin and the guppies could be dead, and Steve will have wasted time by uselessly trying to climb some stupid stairs.
He grits his teeth, claws digging into the wood beneath him. And then Steve suddenly realizes that he doesn't have to climb the stairs himself. He takes a deep breath, his gills flaring some to pull in more air, and screams as loud as he can, "EDDIE!"
Steve is absolutely going to reward Eddie for his speed (later, after his guppies and Robin are safe) because he immediately hears something crash above him, followed by swearing and frantic footsteps that stop at the stairs. "Stevie, what the fuck?" Eddie asks, panting as he hurries down the stairs.
"On the deck," Steve says, pushing up onto his tail and wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck when he starts leaning down. "Right now, Eddie. Actually, two minutes ago. As fast as you can. And to the edge of the ship. The railing. Now!"
Eddie, his wonderful and incredible Eddie, doesn't question him. He just scoops Steve up and carries him back up the stairs, fingers digging into Steve's waist when he nearly trips over the final step. He finds his balance again, barely, and strides over to the railing.
Steve can't see anything wrong with the water, but he knows the surface doesn't actually tell him anything useful. He frowns and looks at Eddie. "I'll be back," he promises before letting go of Eddie's neck and twisting to place his hands on the rail.
In one swift motion, he launches himself over the side, grimacing when he feels the edge of his tail fin smack Eddie's cheek along the way. But Steve doesn't let himself linger and focuses on the rush of water around him as he dives below the surface. His gills flare and he breathes for the first time in a while, his hair and body familiarly weightless, and Steve fully realizes how much he fucking missed being in the ocean.
But he can't linger on that relief and joy either.
Steve shoots through the water, swimming to wear he thinks the Emergency Shriek came from, only to be tackled as he rounds the edge of the ship. He yelps, his breath knocked out of him as he goes careening, arms wrapping around his waist like he's going to disappear. It takes exactly one second for him to recognize Robin, her hair floating in front of his eyes and her claws digging into his back.
"You're okay!" she shouts as their momentum starts to falter.
Steve wraps his arms around her and holds her close, one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist. "Where's the danger?" he asks, scanning the water around them and frowning when he sees nothing.
Robin laughs and pulls away, grinning at him with relief clear in her eyes. "There isn't any, dingus. I was trying to see if you were on that ship," she explains.
Before she can say anything else or Steve can respond, several bodies crash into him from behind. "STEVE!"
They all go careening through the water again, and Steve can't help laughing this time. He tries to hug as many of the guppies as he can, running his fingers through their hair and over their shoulders to reassure himself and them that they're together again. They don't let up, though, and Steve is getting pulled deeper and deeper as they pile on top of him, each trying to get closer as Robin wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his nape.
"Okay, okay!" Steve says, a stupidly happy grin on his face, "I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurt."
"But you were!" Will shouts, managing to push forward long enough for Steve to see the red in his eyes from crying. "We saw your scales in the other ship."
"I healed," Steve promises, gesturing at his tail. This gets the guppies to back off long enough to inspect his tail, all seven of them circling around and inspecting for new injuries.
"What's this?" Erica asks, pointing at the new scar.
"That's the wound that healed."
"I'm so glad you're okay," El says, finishing her inspection first and grabbing Steve's hand.
"Yeah, now we can wreck that ship!" Max says, her eyes lighting up with a vicious glee as she looks at the Corroded Coffin in the distance.
Steve blinks. "Wait, what?"
"This has been healed for a while, Steve," Max explains, gesturing to his tail, "So, they must have been keeping you captive, right? Let's sink them."
"I bet they've got some great treasure on there," Dustin says, lingering closer to Steve's shoulder even as he looks at the ship, studying it with the same face he studies squids he wants to try trapping.
And, yeah, Dustin would be right. There is some great treasure in the Corroded Coffin. Steve's treasure. Eddie. "We are not sinking the ship," he says, his voice firm. It's his official Caretaker Voice, and it makes all the guppies stiffen slightly as they look at him. "The...humans there saved me."
A few seconds pass, and then Robin behind him gasps. "You fell in love!" she shouts, using Steve's shoulders to brace herself as she pushes up and leans over his head. "With a human!"
"Wh-how could you tell?!" Steve asks, looking up at her as the guppies start clamoring for his attention as well.
"Was it the captain?" Will asks, eyes a little brighter but also warier.
"Is he ugly?" Mike asks, his tone implying that he already believes the answer to be yes.
"Dude, how could you fall for a human?!" Dustin shouts, his nose wrinkled up in slight disgust.
"Have you been courting a human the whole time we've been looking for you?" Erica asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Yeah! How long have you been healed, then?" Max adds, moving next to Erica and glaring at Steve.
"Wait, so we're not sinking the ship?" Lucas asks, failing to cover his disappointment as he gazes at the ship longingly.
"Congratulations, Steve. I'm sure he's very nice," El says, smiling at him, and Steve almost cries at her simple and accepting response.
"I want to meet him," Robin says.
And her words get the rest of the guppies to quiet down. They all share a few looks and then nod at Steve in sync. "Yeah, we need to meet him," Dustin says, apparently the spokesperson for the group.
Steve blinks, looking at the guppies and Robin. He wanted Eddie to meet his guppies and Robin, of course, but he's a little worried about what they'll do to Eddie. "Only if you promise not to drown him," he says, shooting each of them a hard look.
"I'm insulted you think we would," Robin says, scoffing as she swims to the guppies, facing Steve. "Now, go get your soft and very drownable human down here."
Steve rolls his eyes and motions for the guppies and Robin to follow as he swims toward the surface. He doesn't plan to let them out of his sight, and he knows the feeling is mutual.
----
Exactly twenty minutes and 13 seconds have passed since Steve threw himself over the rail of the ship, and Eddie hasn't moved. He knows his crew is a little concerned, especially when they notice the red cut across his cheek, but he waves them off when they try to pull him away from the railing to focus on something else.
He just can't risk Steve surfacing and not seeing him.
And his paranoia feels validated when Steve does surface and immediately smiles brightly at him, looking somewhere between relieved and ecstatic. "Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving like he doesn't always have Eddie's undivided attention, "Jump in!"
Here's the thing. When a gorgeous merman that Eddie has spent a bunch of time courting (and then kissing) tells him to jump into the ocean, Eddie is going to jump into the fucking ocean. "Just a second," he shouts back.
He kicks off his shoes, waves off Asher and Jeff when they try to convince him to not jump off the ship, and then launches himself over the railing. For a brief moment, Eddie feels weightless, and then he hits the water. His legs sting a little where they broke the surface, the cut on his cheek practically screams in protest, and a cascade of bubbles block his vision just as much as the salt that stings his eyes and makes everything blurry.
The blurriness does nothing to keep him from recognizing Steve when he swims closer, though. Steve is still grinning at him, and Eddie's grin in return falters slightly when he tries to kick to the surface and Steve stops him. Before Eddie can try to signal that he cannot, in fact, breathe underwater, Steve kisses him.
As they kiss, Steve's tongue pushes against Eddie's lips, carefully prying them open. Eddie leans closer to Steve, figuring he doesn't mind dying like this, and falters when he feels a bubble of air roll down his tongue and lodge in his throat. Steve pulls away, and Eddie inhales on reflex. The bubble in his throat gets a tiny bit smaller, and Eddie doesn't get any water in his lungs.
"Tug my arm when the bubble gets too small. You won't be able to talk underwater, but you won't drown." And then he notices the cut on Eddie's face. His smile drops some, and he leans forward, gently tracing his finger along the wound. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Steve says, his voice echoing and surrounding Eddie in the water.
Eddie shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. It's at this point that he notices some blurry shapes a distance away, but he doesn't pay them too much mind. He focuses back on Steve and takes his hand, squeezing reassuringly before kissing his palm.
"It doesn't hurt, right?" Steve asks, his voice a little softer and slightly muffled but still one of the most beautiful things Eddie has ever heard.
Eddie shakes his head again and wraps his free hand around Steve's waist, pulling him closer. This is much easier to do in the water. He kisses Steve again, tasting salt more than anything else, and Steve takes the chance to replenish the air bubble despite its minimal use so far.
When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed. "Promise you'll let me know if you need more air?" he asks, his tone insistent and firm. Steve waits for Eddie to nod before grinning. "Great, because my guppies and Robin want to meet you. And, uh, they're really disappointed about not getting to sink your ship, but don't hold that against them."
Eddie blinks, suddenly wondering if maybe he shouldn't have jumped into the ocean at Steve's beck and call. But then he notices the way Steve moves so naturally in the water, how his hair floats and moves around him, how bubbles rise from his gills as he speaks, and Eddie knows he'd jump without thought all over again.
So, yeah, he guesses it's time to meet some guppies and Robin.
----
Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)
@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7
@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow
@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie
And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment
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420technoblazeit · 11 months
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in my mind dean was always supposed to get older and become the new bobby. like ok you're a hunter, maybe a little new to the scene and still figuring things out. and you're tracking down a werewolf, easy case. except some things don't line up quite right and now you're thinking it might not actually be a werewolf. so you ask around a hunter's bar and they all say the same thing. go to this one bunker in the middle of nowhere in kansas
and you're like sure what the hell. you're stumped anyway, might as well check it out. maybe it's a weapons storehouse or something. but then you get there and there's a doorbell and a bee-shaped welcome mat out front and you're starting to think you've got the wrong place. the door swings open and there's this middle aged guy with a robe and batman pyjama bottoms. and he laughs at the look on your face and tells you to come in, he doesn't bite. not since he got that vampire cure, anyway. you're not sure what to make of that last part but he winks at you when he says it so you figure he's joking. maybe.
he gives great advice about hunting everything under the sun and if you stick around long enough he'll go on and on about how he saved the world at least five times. ok sure. you don't want to be rude so you just sit there and sip your coffee politely while he talks about some guy called chuck and how much of a bitch he is. and another guy who's aged a little more gracefully comes padding down the hallway in a metallica t-shirt and rolls his eyes. has he told you about tvland yet? ('i was just getting to that part!')
if you go to the basement you'll find shotguns filled with salt, wooden stakes, holy water, and demon-killing bullets for sale. and if you're lucky the witch who sells hex bags might be around. low-grade curses only, of course. you better leave the powerful stuff to the professionals. and she'll get in trouble if she gives you anything stronger, not that she can't be persuaded. a girl's gotta make a living after all and she's always encouraged eager new witches. it's worked out pretty well for her so far. and then a guy you swear is twice your height will raise an eyebrow at her and insist she only sell the weaker hex bags, please. you don't need any more witches in your coven, rowena. you've got plenty
pagan god giving you trouble? there's a man who swings by every once in a while who knows how to deal with those. give him some candy or a fun magic relic and he might help you out. it depends. he's a little picky about dishing out advice and he likes to play favorites. and if you've got a demon problem they can give you the number of a guy who swears up and down that he used to be the king of hell. but you've seen him walking around with a purse-sized terrier tucked under his arm and a dozen more following him so you're not really sure if you believe him
idk i like to think that dean got to grow old and retire. that doesn't mean he stops helping people, it just means he hangs up his coat and becomes an old man who rambles on and on about 'back in my day' and makes a dent in his leather armchair. there's a foosball table where the dungeon used to be and sam complains about beer bottles being everywhere and it becomes a safe haven for anyone still fighting the good fight. it's just that for dean and the rest of team free will the fight is over. they're done hunting now
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callmelyc · 3 months
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Twitter loves hockey Keith soooo
Au where Lance is dating the captain of Keiths hockey team so he's around a lot
He'll bring snacks, be at any hangouts, help host cookouts and celebrations when they win games. He's the teams biggest fan with the biggest heart and most fiery passion.
Lance has been around for years now, he's a team staple. Even the press knows who Lance is, their fans, their families.
So it's only fair that the entire team loves having Lance around even if Keith was initially reluctant....
Here's the thing. Keith likes lance alot actually, probably too much. He isn't blind to Lances beauty or how kind the man is or how smart, funny, ever so slightly annoying he is.
But he also isn't blind to the annoyed sighs their captain gives when lance texts him sometimes. He isn't blind to how little free time Lance has because the captain always wants lance around as a little trophy bf.
So when lance excitedly announced to everyone he's going on a half year, once in a lifetime, research trip stationed at sea? The first person Keith looks at is their captain.
The man has his press face on. It's thoroughly painted with fake joy for Lance and the news he'd be out of his sight for a long period.
It irks Keith enough that he asks Lance genuine questions about his trip he was clearly so excited for. The other team members follow suit best they can since most don't fully understand what exactly it is Lance does.
And look, Keith knows Lance isn't stupid. He knows Lance can see his long-term boyfriends distaste at the idea. He still finds himself worrying about the man when he sees them leave together, a clearly purposeful space between them as they go.
On the day Lance leaves he finds out the couple had had an argument about the entire thing that day Lance told them about it. Against his wishes Keith feels his blood boil on Lances behalf. It's that moment Keith decides. When Lance gets back he could use a genuine friend on his side of the ice and Keith is gonna make sure that's him.
So when Lance returns a week early after many long months away Keith jumps at the opportunity to help him.
Lance,like the sweet saint he is, said he'd wanted to surprise his bf so he hadn't told the captain he was back yet. Though Keith is bitter at the thought of the two reuniting he tells Lance they have a big team party tonight to celebrate their path into finals. He also tells Lance he can help sneak him right up to the captain.
Lance is understandably excited. The entire way there he's telling Keith how thrilled the captain will be since he'd never wanted Lance to go to begin with.
Despite it all Keith can't help but smile at Lances excitement. They're close to the back halls by then so Keith tells Lance to stick close and follow his lead.
Which he does.
Which he also regrets.
There's no romantic welcome home or happy surprise waiting for Lance. Instead, Keith leads him right up to the captain that's actively cheating on him with a woman in public.
Keith sneaks Lance right back out after he takes photos for evidence in what Keith can only assume is for a future fight. He takes a horribly silent Lance right back to the couples shared apartment. He guards the door as Lance packs and goes through their security system only finding more evidence of & confirmation of the cheating.
Keith escorts Lance to a trusted friends place and listens as Lance breaks down into sobs behind the front door as he leaves.
Their team doesn't see Lance again for a long time after that.
Their press team fought to keep the cheating scandal under wraps, claimed the breakup was due to mutual decisions. But Keith knows, the team knows.
They no longer trust their captain.
And as things continue through a rough patch of plays it turns out the cheating wasn't the only thing the man had lied about. Gambling, things that could be considered sabotage, outright lying to all their faces. Word was kept under lock and key least they be disqualified and have all their reputations destroyed. They had one final game to play.
So they do.
Winning doesn't feel the same without Lance watching the ice they skate on. It doesn't feel the same without his loud cheers and insistence on celebrating afterwards.
The only one happy with it is their captain who sits gleefully at the bar with his newest girl.
The rest of the team doesn't know how to feel. It doesn't feel like a win at all.
~•~
The next time Keith sees Lance is during his standard practice between seasons. He's alone on the ice today and is surprised to see those blue eyes looking at him through the glass.
Keith comes to a stop right Infront of him.
"Can I talk to you?" Lance blurts before Keith can even say a word.
Lance doesn't know this yet, but Keith could never deny him anything "yeah sure, I was done anyways"
He finds Lance waiting patiently in the locker room once he's done putting everything away.
"What's up?" He asks, watching lance look at him in question "You haven't been around. So I guess you have a good reason to be here now."
"I was looking for you actually."
"Me?"
"Yeah, I never got to thank you with all that happened....it-" Lance pauses looking down at his hands "it meant a lot to have a friend like you in the moment. I'm sorry for cutting contact."
Keith sits next to him bumping his shoulder playfully "you don't have to apologize for that, I get it. We all do."
"All....?"
"Yeah. The rest of the team, we all miss you but we get it."
Lance looks at Keith like he's surprised to hear such a thing "really?"
"of course? Lance- you do realize how often we hung out right? We all consider you a close friend and we were all furious with the captain for what he did to you."
"I-" Lance finally smiles, small but none the less genuine "and here I thought I'd be unwelcome."
Keith stands, holding out his hand to pull him up "your never unwelcomed Lance, not here, not around me. Why don't we grab some lunch and you can tell me about that trip you went on."
He pretends he doesn't see the tears filling Lances eyes as the man takes his hand and instead Keith focused on the joy radiating off him in waves
For the first time in almost a year Keith finally feels like he's feeling the sun again.
~•~
Keith sits through days and multiple lunch and dinner tales of Lances incredible research trip. It's thrilling to watch the man's eyes glitter in genuine happiness as he does so.
Keith realizes he's the first to genuinely ask after these details since everyone else simply wanted him distracted from the cheating fiasco. So Keith soaks up every detail, every stray insignificant video and piece of data lance is willing to give.
He's so greedy with it Lance laughs, thrilled someone was willing to finally listen. He actually sends Keith the initial drafts for the research (the non nda ones) along with the short writings that followed.
Keith is blown away by how hard Lance had worked. He's so incredibly proud of him, so thoroughly impressed by his intelligence and made Lance promise he'd send the published pieces once they're publicly available.
In return Lance starts attending Keith's hockey practices.
It starts with any that the ex isn't there and eventually spirals to any at all as the season grows nearer.
Lance diligently sits in the stands watching and critiquing the plays just how he used to if with a little more care.
The guys are thrilled to see Lance around again even if he's still reluctant to hang in the locker rooms and after.
Their captain ignores him in full and Lance does the same in return.
Once the games pick back up Lance slowly becomes Keith's personal cheerleader from the stands. It never fails to send a sharp spike of adrenaline through Keiths spine when he hears lance scream his name in support.
He roots for the entire team, minus one man, of course. But the team notes with amusement how Keith seems to be his favorite now.
And, well....Keith can't help but smile at that.
Lance is seen around almost all the time again with his focus mostly on Keith and Keith is smug the more it infuriates their captain as time passes.
He's enraged his ex is around again, he's enraged Lance had taken interest in someone else, he's enraged that that someone isn't him.
What the man doesn't know is Lance and Keith see way more of eachother that anyone knows.
Their captain doesn't know how Lance sometimes spends the night as his place and vice versa. How Lance text him everyday now and how Keith doesn't find it one bit annoying like he had.
He doesn't know how hard they'd fallen for eachother.
And when Keith wins their final game of the season he publicly dedicated it to Lance in their interviews afterwards.
Everyone but their captain follows in his steps saying that Lances support has been monumental to their moral as a team.
And Keith knows he's truly won when Lance pushes through the crowd and gives him a big kiss the moment he reaches him.
Lance smiles into that kiss with all the joy a ray of sunshine can provide and Keith makes sure to smile back just as big.
They go on their very first date the next day.
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dean-a-mean-tae · 3 months
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Stray Kids as Yanderes
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Request: "You have yandere on your event and masterlist so would you do skz as yanderes? I know you only do soft yandere and thats fine"
WARNINGS: Obsessive behavior, Murder, Mention of suicide, Toxic relationship, Drugging, Manipulation, Humiliation, Claustrophobic issues, basements, blood, tied to a ceiling (not the reader), mention of kidnapping, delusional mindset, mental abuse, self-harm, cussing, suggestive? talking about kissing, Stalking, I think that's it
I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO READ! You DO NOT have my permission to repost my work anywhere.
A/N: I wanted to expand on their jealousy, but this is already long enough. I struggled with Jisung so much! >:[ I WROTE THIS AT 2 AM WITH NOTHING BUT DORITOS AND COUGH MEDICINE IN MY SYSTEM!
Master list
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*.·:·BANG CHAN
Type: Manipulative Violence: 50-100% Possessive: 86% Jealousy: 65%
Punishments: Manipulation
The relationship looks normal at first glance. Chan takes care of you, but not so much that it feels like you're dependent on him. He lets you talk to people and leave the house. He waited until you were ready before moving you into his home, and he still waited.
You were cozy in the Venus flytrap, and its jaws were slowly closing.
He'd pick your friends off one by one. Chan starts with the acquaintances. They're not close to you, so it shouldn't hurt that much for them to leave you. He puts wedges between you and anyone trying to separate you. Your friend who had a crush on you is gone.
Chan is a dangerous yandere because of his awareness. He knows what he's doing is unhealthy and probably immoral, but he wants you. Chan needs you.
I don't think Chan would really have a punishment for you.
He'd just be doing the same thing he's been doing. He'll guilt trip you into feeling bad for lashing out. You think Chan is too possessive? You're right, but can you blame him? Anyone who looks at you would want to eat you like a snack and take you home with them for leftovers. He's just being cautious.
The jaws are shut, but something is stopping you from panicking.
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*.·:·LEE MINHO
Type: Possessive Controlling Violence: 56-97% Possessive: 100% Jealousy: 100%
Punishments: Isolation and Drugging Humiliation
Minho is yours out of courtesy. You are Minho's because he wants you. There is a difference. As soon as you learn it, everything will be easier for Minho for you.
As seen in this post, Minho likes to play with you. It doesn't matter if you don't want to play, he wants to play, and you will. If he can see the exhaustion in your eyes, then Minho will let you rest. Hope that he can see it. Hope, pray, do whatever.
The more "tired" you act, the less likely Minho is to give you a break. In a way, he wants you to break. How else will Minho know what not to do?
You're moving sluggish? Then we're moving around. You're about to fall asleep? Have this melatonin gummy that's actually an energy booster. Minho wants you to break so he can fix you.
If you start lashing out, Minho will make you more compliant. He'll slip it into your drink or your food. Depending on how exhausted you are, will depict how much he gives you. Minho doesn't want to kill you. He'd not let anyone else have you, not even death.
If you go, Minho goes. You are his, and you can't leave.
When you're delirious, he locks you in a room. Not your bedroom, of course. Minho wants that room to be a safe space for you. He'll lock you in the hallway closet if you're claustrophobic. Or he'll stick you in the basement with the lights off. Of course, you're in a concealed room, so nothing can get you, but you can't see that.
I'm a firm believer that Minho would humiliate you as punishment. He'll finally take you out of the house. He'll pick your outfit himself, and when you come downstairs and question his outfit, he waves you off. "I want the attention to be on you."
And it will be. What were you thinking about wearing colors to an all-black event? Why are you off the theme?
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*.·:·SEO CHANGBIN
Type: Protective Violence: 75-95% (Never to you) Possessive: 100% Jealousy: 12%
Punishments: Isolation
Sure, your happiness is important, but your safety is Changbin's top priority. You need to be healthy and protected. If this means killing someone disturbing your peace, then that's okay. If Changbin is causing you distress, he'll isolate the both of you for a break. Then it's back to being stuck together.
If you let him, Changbin will take care of you. He'll feed you, he'll bathe you, and he'll dress you. He will do everything for you until you tell him to stop, and even then, Changbin will push those limits.
Changbin's possessiveness is laced in his need to keep you safe. He would love for you to live your life. But why can't you live your life in the safety of his arms?
You think he's harming you? Well, imagine everyone else. What if he wasn't there? They're worse than him. They have no regard for your being, and Changbin knows this.
He's certain of it.
Your punishment is Changbin's dream. He'll lock you up in a room where you can't be hurt. Where you're safe. Where else is better for you?
Changbin who hides the number of lives he's taking to "keep you safe." He's certain your mind won't be able to handle it. You can barely look at the news about their deaths. So imagine finding out they're tied to you?
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*.·:·HWANG HYUNJIN
Type: Delusional Violence: 5% (Unintentional) Possessive: 98% Jealousy: 79-100%
Punishments: Isolation
You need him, and Hyunjin needs you. It's a fact, and you can't go against a fact. Well, you can, but you would be wrong. You and Hyunjin were meant to be. You were together in past lives. You will be together in future lives. In all timelines, you are together.
But Hyunjin is in this timeline, in the present, and he wants you now.
Hyunjin doesn't just love you. Hyunjin knows he is in love with you. He needs you like his lungs need air, how his heart needs blood. How the trees need our breath. But you don't want him? No, you're just confused.
And if not? Hyunjin will wait for the next life.
But in this life? Hyunjin doesn't mind ending it early. His body will be in the ground, his soul in the stars, and his breath in the sky. You have no choice but to be with him.
When you walk, your feet touch the ground Hyunjin's body is in. When you breathe, you inhale his air. When you cherish the stars in the sky, they sparkle and shine for you. They are his soul and past lives shining on you.
Hyunjin would never hurt you on purpose. He has no issues with locking you up if it means keeping you in check and him from lashing out at you.
"I will never hurt you. People don't harm who they love," Hyunjin tells you. He tells you this as he locks you in a room with a see-through door. Ironic coming from him, but at least you don't have to worry about him hurting you.
Hyunjin has no issues with giving you time. Time with him, but still time to realize that you are meant to be.
Hyunjin who is overjoyed when you finally return his feelings. Who is overjoyed when the Stockholm syndrome hits.
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*.·:·HAN JISUNG
(I had to let him marinate cause this was pissing me off ;-;)
Type: Quiet One Violence: 76-100% Possessive: Jealousy:
Punishments: Murder (not you)
Jisung is the type with earbuds on and scrolling on his phone to make the act believable. He's not listening to anything, but no one knows that. Jisung is eavesdropping on your conversation.
Jisung watches from the shadows. He leans against walls, tucks himself into corners, and hides in plain sight. Jisung needs to know everything about you.
Jisung takes your lost pencils, favorite candy wrapper, and anything you thought you "lost." Jisung who puts your things on the shrine in his basement.
Jisung finds everything about your family and friends. He finds out their habits and their tales. What makes them tick? How can he get them to put in a good word for him? Jisung, who fakes a smile for your love.
Jisung trains himself to be around you. He sneaks into your room and stands as close to you as he can without becoming a mess. He walks a little ways away from you and shortens the distance as he progresses. Jisung who hides his obsession out of fear of losing you.
Jisung who wouldn't hurt a fly, repeatedly stabs the person stealing you. His heart is steady, his face his blank, and his body doesn't tremble. Jisung who kills those who harm you, even those you don't know.
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*.·:·LEE FELIX
Type: Clingy Violence: 0% Possessive: 79-100% Jealousy: I don't know
Punishments: Manipulation
This relationship starts normal, but the longer you stay with Felix, the more his obsession progresses. It's a little hard for him to breathe without you, like running for miles with asthma and no inhaler.
Felix would never hurt anyone. You don't know that, though. Felix doesn't like death, and Felix doesn't want to hurt you in any way. Not truly, so Felix gives threats. Behave, or he'll kill *blank*. Stop acting out, or he'll take *blank* out.
If you ever call his bluff, he'll get fake blood and a dead body. Felix will stage the act. You come home, and it's peaceful until you hear noise from the basement. What's that red stuff on the counter?
When you get downstairs, there's blood everywhere, and your best friend hangs by their wrists from their ceiling. When you try to run, Felix, covered in blood, is in the doorway. He knocks you out, and you wake up in your bed.
Felix is scared out of his sleep by your panicked breaths. When you tell him of your "nightmare," his eyes will dull, and he'll look near lifeless. Your phone rings before you can question him, and it's your best friend. As you're talking to them, you glance at Felix, but he's back to normal.
Felix who kisses your cheek and wishes you a good morning before taking a shower. While he's in the bathroom, you check the kitchen and the basement, but everything is normal. When you get back upstairs, Felix is plaiting the table with your favorite breakfast food.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Felix's face is concerned, but his tone is knowing.
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*.·:·KIM SEUNGMIN
Type: Laidback Violence: 26% Possessive: Discreetly at 75% Jealousy: I'm conflicted
Punishment: Taking things from you
Seungmin doesn't want you stressing at all. If you have a problem, he'll fix it. Kidnapping you is too much work, so you won't have to worry about that. Seungmin will let you see your friends and family, and let you go out without him.
He knows you would never leave him.
As an idol, Seungmin can get people to watch you when he's not with you. As a person with "normal" status, he finds a way to convince your friends that you have a stalker and he just wants updates on your safety.
They'll send discreet pictures of you so you aren't panicking. They're trying to keep you safe. What if your stalker is watching you now? Seungmin wouldn't lie about your safety. He loves you, and they know it.
You're starting to sneak around? He'll find out why you're sneaking. If it isn't a surprise for him then you have no business creeping around. He should know everything. You should willingly tell Seungmin everything, or at least make it easy for him to find out himself.
Seungmin's punishments start small. It starts with your passions. You like art? Your pencils are snapped, and your paints have been left with the caps off. You make music? Your instruments are locked away or smashed to pieces. Seungmin won't break something of sentimental value. Your studio is locked with everything inside it.
Maybe you like books? If he has to, Seungmin will go through your favorite book and fold the corners. He'll crease the spines of your books and lock them away so that when you get them back, they're messed up.
You read online? You have a Kindle or an app on your phone? That's fine. Your library is cleared out, and he'll start a new book just to make sure there isn't a "Start where you left off" option.
Seungmin isn't evil. He'll make a list of all the books in your library, online or on a shelf, and keep perfect copies. He'll buy you new paints or get you new instruments.
Seungmin who will send a picture of you with your family if you run away. "I hope nothing bad happens to them while you're gone."
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*.·:·YANG JEONGIN
Type: Obsessive Violence: Depends Possessive: 50-95% Jealousy: 76%
Punishment: Isolation, self-harm,
You're all he can think about. Jeongin depends on you. He can't eat, his sleep schedule is nonexistent, and he hasn't been outside unless you bring him.
Tell him to give you space, and Jeongin will hand it to you. He'll be fucking miserable, but he'll give you all the space and time you need. When you finally come back to him, kiss him long and slow or fast and intense.
Jeongin doesn't care. He wants you to be stuck to him like glue until you get sick of him and need a break.
Jeongin is fragile. His world revolves around you. You are the sun that brightens his day and the moon that guides him in the night. Lashing out at him about anything is a direct blow to his heart and soul.
You yelling at Jeongin. = You hate Jeongin.
He can't live while you hate him. He lives to please you. If you hate him, then Jeongin has failed you. Failing you means he failed himself, and life is too good for failure as bad as this.
Jeongin who tells you with a blank face but love-filled eyes that he would die for your love. Jeongin who will proudly show you each scar as punishment for making you "hate" him.
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©️DEANAMEANTAE2024
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jellieland · 5 months
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It's just like them, thinks Martyn, miserably, To want to make these things stick.
He's always been an "act first, weasel your way out of any potential consequences later," kind of guy, so immediate, painful and permanent consequences to his recklessness strike him as unfair, unwarranted, and quite possibly a personal attack.
But, well. Here he still is anyway. What's he going to do about it?
His ankle burns where the baby zombie clawed at it. His legs ache from the dripstone, and the dripstone, and, yes, the dripstone again, and also walking off Mumbo's house and perhaps slightly misjudging his landing.
His ear keeps ringing and most of his right side stings from the creeper that decided, quite rudely, to sneak up on him and then blow up directly in his face about half a second before he could raise his shield. And the gravel later on, that he'd seen falling but still not managed to avoid, hadn't helped with any of that either.
He can feel blood dripping down his back in no less then five separate places, along with his arm, his shoulder, and the side of his head—that last one bled a lot and got onto his bandanna which was pretty annoying, actually—all from his many encounters with what he thinks were probably, at a conservative estimate, about a billion skeletons.
He doesn't quite glare up at the Secret Keeper. The healing they'd given him had been too much of a relief for that; his vision had stopped swimming, that head wound had stopped bleeding so much, and it was significantly less painful to walk. But the look he gives them is certainly glare-adjacent.
"You do know injuries aren't supposed to stick around like this, don't you?" he mutters, bitterly. "I know you like twisting stuff, but this is ridiculous. It's unnatural, is what it is!"
Someone snorts behind him.
He turns, and he sees Cleo. Neat, meticulous stitches are visible across their skin. Martyn hasn't met many people with scars before, but she's one of them.
The only new one is what looks, ironically enough, like a zombie bite on their arm, entirely healed over.
"It's really not that hard to deal with if you're just patient," she says.
"Ah," he says. "Well. That's my problem right there, then, isn't it?"
"It certainly looks like it," they say, amused. They're laughing at him again. He can't even be mad, since all in all, he totally deserves it.
"Yeah, alright," he says, a bit indignant just for the sake of what remains of his pride. "No need to rub it in! I hope you realize that if healing just worked normally, I'd be doing really well, actually."
"Hmm. Right, you do tend to throw yourself off of cliffs, and then try and work out how you'll save yourself on the way down, don't you?" She gives him a knowing look. "But look on the bright side—when you do die, you'll get to be perfectly healthy again for... I give it ten seconds. After that, you'll start making decisions."
"Hey, I'll have you know I went to the Nether for ages, and got out without a scratch on me that I didn't have when I arrived!" he retorts.
"Oh, so you can be careful, you just choose not to be?" They raise a judgemental eyebrow.
"Well... I mean." He half-shrugs, then winces. "I mean. Yeah. Yes. You know this about me."
There is a brief pause. She gives him an unreadable look, eyes catching on the blood seeping through his shirt. "...Yeah. I guess I do."
He glances over at the Secret Keeper again, bold and unmoving against the unnaturally darkened sky.
When he looks back, Cleo is still watching him. "You didn't even bandage those, did you?" they ask, with a touch of what most people would think was disdain. "Let alone stitch them up."
"I mean, no? It's not like it'll do anything, is it?" he asks, taken aback. "The good old 'Powers That Be' want us to bleed, and they want us to keep bleeding! Who am I to argue?"
She narrows her eyes as though she doesn't quite understand his point. "I'm not saying that would fix it. I don't think any of us are going to live long enough for that method of healing to work." They shrug. "Would make it hurt less, though."
Now it's his turn to narrow his eyes. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," she says. "At least, so I've heard. For me, it's mostly about making sure I don't start physically falling apart, because it's really inconvenient when that does start happening."
He nods in acknowledgement. "Well, maybe I'll give it a go if I have the time." It all sounds a bit far-fetched to him. Much better to spend time working towards completing the next secret task he gets, or persuading people to give him the healing they have to spare, rather than losing hours on something that wouldn't actually help him in the long run.
(Maybe it's an echo, maybe it's just who he is, but Martyn's time is precious, and he is not giving it up for something so monotonous. Who would find that interesting?)
"Alright," they say. "If you're sure. But no one else is going to do it for you, you know."
He snorts. "Cleo," he says. "You're funny." She, of all people, should know he's already well aware of that.
"Right," they say, dryly. "Well, unless you want anything else I think I'm done here."
"Nah, not really." he says, then pauses. Frowns.
As unconvinced as he is, she really didn't have to say that to him. She deserves at least something in return.
"I will say," he says delicately, "if that advice really does help. You should probably keep it to yourself. You know. Death game, and all that."
All at once, their expression turns cold. "I think it's my business what I choose to give up, actually," she snaps.
Martyn's eyes briefly flick over to the Secret Keeper. "I mean..."
"No. I meant what I said." They cross their arms. "It's up to other people what they choose to do with it. But what I give them is up to me." She glances at the Secret Keeper, and then back to him. "No one's ever been able to tell me what I owe, or don't owe, to anyone." They smirk, and give him a piercing look. "You know this about me."
"...Yeah," he says. "I guess I do."
There is a short silence.
"Well!" He claps abruptly. "I won't keep you!"
"No, you won't," she says. "I'd best be off. This might come as a surprise, but I do actually have better things to do than hang out around Grian's creepy rock all day."
"Fair, fair." He chuckles, and raises a hand in farewell as they leave. "See you around."
Once she's out of sight, he goes back to staring at the Secret Keeper.
It's quiet.
"They're doing pretty well this time, huh?" he says. "If she keeps going like this, she probably won't get another happy ending, will she."
The air is very still, here. It's as though the place is trapped in night, even when he can see the sun in the sky.
The Secret Keeper does not answer him.
"I know you, though," he says. "You won't let it be all about being careful. That would be boring."
The thought nags at him that Cleo hasn't sounded as though they'd found any of this boring. Surely there had to be more to it than what she'd said? There had to be.
If there wasn't, then what was the point of all this pain?
He shifts, and his shoulder twinges, and he hisses quietly with frustration.
"Things already stuck," he says, unhappily. "They already stayed. I thought that was obvious."
The rock just stands there.
Judgemental. Impartial. It's impressive how it can manage to be both.
Martyn sighs heavily, and winces, and turns away. He looks towards his extremely small, entirely copied base, and a place where the sky is capable of letting in the light.
He pokes gingerly at his head wound. It's shallow, but painful.
"Maybe just this one," he mutters. "Could repurpose my bandanna. Although I guess I should probably wash it first. That would be smart." He wipes at his face. "If I don't then blood's going to start getting in my eyes. But not in a cool way, just in a way where I'll fall in a ravine by accident or something."
Nobody responds. That's ok. He hasn't exactly endeared himself to anyone, recently.
In a game that's even more about trust than usual, there's a part of him that doesn't mind being a lone wolf, as it were. At least for now. Harder to stab someone in the back if you don't let them get behind you, right?
He can make this work. He'll just have to adapt. He's good at that, usually! He just has to find the angle.
After all, he may not be patient, but he is persistent.
And he suspects being a liar will come in handy, for this one.
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