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kyeomofhearts · 3 months

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Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)

You were tired, very tired.

Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.

Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.

With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.

Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?

What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.

All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.

Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.

Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.

“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.

What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?

And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.

With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.

Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.

“Is there something on my face, birdy?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.

Oh.

It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...

"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?

As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”

"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.

"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."

Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.

"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.

"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.

"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.

Which it did.

Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.

“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.

“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.

“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!

One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.

He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?

“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.

"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.

"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.

"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.

Or so you thought?

Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.

Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.

"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.

Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.

You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.

You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?

Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.

[...]

While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.

"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?

"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?

His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.

"It's none of your business so stay out of it."

"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.

"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.

"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.

Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.

He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.

Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.

"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.

"Sorry, were you busy with him?"

You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.

Directions? Did she really...?

As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.

The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...

Part Two: Coming soon...

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aretheysorasorta · 5 months

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Danny Fenton is Odd

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Danny Fenton was odd

It was a fact no one in Amity would dispute, then again the boy was raised by ghost hunter, he had Fenton blood in his veins, their wasn’t much of a chance for him to be anything but odd from the beginning

But Fenton odd wasn’t what they meant anyway

Danny was a straight A student, he was a Fenton though so that much was to be expected from a family of geniuses, yet for some reason Danny’s grades started to tank, he slept in class all the time and skipped classes when he never used to

It was sudden too, there was no slow decline or odd tiredness that a teacher could ask about, it was just…

One day the boy had perfect grades, the next he couldn’t seem to keep his grade above a C if he was lucky

Of course grades aren’t the only thing that was strange about Danny, there were a lot of things off with him

Like the fact that in the past when he’d always agree to help people study, like the jocks when they had an important game coming up or the goths when they needed to pass a subject to get their teachers off their back, he hadn’t done that in months

Danny used to hide people too, if someone didn’t want to go home? Danny’s house was both large enough and his parents weren’t aware enough to notices some more kids that weren’t their own in the house, only rule was not to go into the basement, as if any of the kids wanted to anyway

There were spare pillows, blankets and padding in the ops center, Danny lent some of those with worse off homes keys, a constant invitation, he hadn’t asked for them back but most had taken the hint and stopped using them

If you were having mechanical trouble? Was your phone acting up? Was your dad’s car totalled and you didn’t have enough money to pay for repairs and were too scared to tell your dad? Danny will have it fixed up before the end of the school day, hell it might even work better than before you gave it to him

Now, Danny didn’t do that, he was too tired to, it wasn’t normal tiredness either, it was like Danny had just given up, like he no longer saw a reason to keep trying

Danny had been on his way to the space program

Danny had wanted to be an astronaut

No one remembers the last time Danny brought up the stars

Danny was odd, in the way that his eye sometimes seemed to shine a toxic green, just for a second never longer, or the sudden fight or flight reflex he kicked into gear in most people, it was mostly fight, it was mostly from Dash

Danny was odd, he felt too large, like too much was condensed into one being and the universe was just now realising that this was a bad idea, but it be couldn’t stop anymore

Danny was odd, he felt too small, skinny stick arm and a lanky body, his family’s height seeming to just barely skip over him, Danny was small, like the world was terrified of anyone looking too close so they shrunk him down, but they didn’t realise that he was still overflowing with wrongness

Danny was odd, in the bruises student see him hiding and the Med-kit he always had on him, the clothes and supply’s stuffed in his locker, the way he looked around as though he was going to have to run any second now

Danny was odd, all of Amity park knew this

Danny was odd, in the way where his voice seemed to echo and a single glance your way could have you frozen stiff in fear

Danny. Was. Odd…

But that wasn’t anything new, Danny was always odd wasn’t he? Why look into something that doesn’t matter? Danny can take care of himself, he doesn’t want help so don’t give him any.

Danny was odd, in the way he’d avoid Dash like the plague, yet when he was caught the boy wouldn’t fight back, the boy wouldn’t even feel fear

Danny was odd, he only had two friends, he only had one sister

One sister? No, no, Danny has two, doesn’t he?

Danny was odd

Danny was Danny

Danny was odd, he knew the mayor, his godfather, yet he hated him, Danny would complain, call Vlad a fruitloop and insult him to the Zone and back

It was strange right? That Vlad was so obsessed with Danny?

It was odd, how uncomfortable Danny got whenever Vlad was around, or how often Vlad tried to find him

…….wasn’t that wrong? No, concerning, that was the word, Vlad was an adult, what did he need with Danny? Shouldn’t someone look into it? Shouldn’t someone help-

Don’t think too much, it’s fine, after all, Danny is odd isn’t he?

Right, no need to think too hard after all

Danny

Was

Odd

Danny was odd, his parent were ghost hunters but he was afraid of ghosts, the first to run after ever sighting, pathetic, but then again…..Danny never did look scared did he?

Don’t think too much, this is an odd place, and he an odd boy, doesn’t that go hand in hand?

Right, Danny is odd but no odder than Amity

Danny is odd, in the way he seems to not be there, he wasn’t easy to forget, no, that was impossible to do, but he wasn’t quite here either….was he?

Danny was odd, in the way he bleed green

Green? No, the boy bleed the galaxy, all stars and supernovas seemed to flash with every shift of his eyes, as though the universe had created them just for him, just for this

But people don’t bleed green or stars, they bleed red, they bleed blood

Danny was human…..wasn’t he?

Danny has never bleed anything other than red

Oh, that’s true

Danny was odd, in the way the world seem to tilt towards him, as though the entire world was here to be devoured by him

But Danny was odd, he wouldn’t do that, he loved this world too much

Danny was a black hole, sucking everything into his orbit, into himself

Danny was a Super Nova, a colosale explosion that could burst at any moment and wipe them out

Danny was a star, without him this world wouldn’t exist, they relied on him, his warmth, his protection

But Danny was human, so he couldn’t be a star…can he?

No, he can’t

Then why does it feel like this?

Danny is odd, but so is Amity

Danny is Amity’s, no one got to take him

Danny is odd, in the way he hadn’t shown up for days, in the way that teachers had sent hundreds of message’s home yet no one responded

Danny was odd, in the way a body hasn’t been found yet their already declaring him dead

Danny was odd, in the way someone saw the government hauling Jazz off somewhere

Danny was odd, in the way that had their skin crawling like bugs had crawled into they skin while they slept

Danny was odd, and his sister was missing, his friends had vanished, presumed dead the GIW had said

Danny was odd, in the way his parents only seemed worried about Jazz

Danny was dead……but he always was…….wasn’t he?

#danny phantom #danny fenton #danielle #jazz fenton #sam mason #tucker foley #amity park #casper high #Dash #Dead Danny?#maybe Dc x Dp

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amberlynnmurdock · 5 months

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Neighbor Pt. 6

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: On a random midnight, she comes to Matt's apartment to feel less lonely. Matt lets her in.

Words: just under 3k!

Genres: FLUFF with a dash of angst because of course... they are just two lost souls confiding in the other <3

A/N: I sort of had trouble with this chapter but she's finally here lol. This picks up from Pt. 5... hope you like it!!!

Part 5

Matt felt rejuvenated the next morning.

Maybe it wasn’t stress he had been feeling the past few weeks… maybe it was something else, something he hadn’t felt in a while. Something that made him need sweet relief that throwing punches and taking hits couldn’t provide. He needed something more sensual—intimate. Something else to get his anxiety and frustration out. Even if it was a brush of contact. Something as simple as a touch.

Yeah, it had been a while since he’d felt that. And it felt so good to listen to her like that… despite how wrong it was. That was until she said his name out loud. Matt pondered the question all morning as he lay in bed waiting for his alarm to go off. What did it mean? Did she like him like that? What should he do next?

Nothing, he decided. It was wrong he knew she felt that way about him… it was wrong he continued to listen to her. It was wrong of him to think he could ever make her happy when he leads the life he leads. But God, did it feel so good to think that for a moment—just a moment—it might be possible.

He rolls out of bed as soon as he hears his automated alarm go off. Wake up, wake up! Matt slams the alarm with his fist, harder than he intended to. He sits for a moment on the edge of his bed, feeling achy all over. Other people in the apartment are waking up right now, too. Downstairs, someone turns their stove on and begins to cook bacon. Another apartment opens its windows to the cool winter air. And her—she’s awake now, too. She turned her TV on to the news.

“Daredevil took down an armed robbery and saved an old woman at the corner bodega…“

Matt tunes it out immediately.

It was strange to hear news about himself playing in her apartment. It made him uncomfortable. There he was, imagining a future with her and playing with the idea of being intimate with her, all the while having one of the biggest secrets ever.

After a hot shower and brewing coffee, Matt was just about to be on his way out. He heard her shuffling behind her door, slipping her boots on, and zipping up her coat. They always walked out at the same time, an unspoken ritual. Maybe it was safer to keep it like this, Matt thought. Maybe this was as far as they’d ever go.

Matt took a deep breath as he stepped out, unsurprisingly at the same time as she did. Matt heard her heart rate quicken as she saw him.

“G’morning, Matt,” she said softly, as casually as she could.

“Morning,” he smiled. Act natural. “Sleep well?”

She paused, ever so slightly, and locked her door. “I did, better than I normally do. You?”

“Same,” Matt answered, picking up on her hesitation. Maybe he should leave the conversation at this, not push anything further. From the way she was speaking quietly to her slight quiver, Matt knew she was nervous. He didn’t want to make her feel that way.

“I hope you have a good day, Matt,” she smiled, walking ahead of him down the stairs. Before Matt could give a response, she was already out the door. Matt slowly followed behind, somehow feeling guilty about it all over again.

She weighed heavy on his mind all day—did he do something wrong unknowingly? All of this was confusing—he heard her say his name at her most intimate, and this morning she seemed to want to avoid him altogether. What happened?

Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong.

***

Matt walked up the steps to his apartment slowly, one hand using his cane to guide himself, the other holding onto the rail. He passed the floors of the other apartments. They were all so loud to him. Fran had the TV on a bit higher than usual. Someone’s dog was barking begging to be fed. Another was on the phone having a heated conversation with an in-law. All day, Matt was consumed by conversations he wished not to be part of. Sounds he wished he could drown out and turn off.

Finally, he reached the floor of his apartment—and hers. He liked that he shared this floor with only her. He paused at the top of the steps and pressed his fingertips against the wall. She was inside, home already from work. From the sound of her soft breathing and very still movement, Matt knew she was sleeping. A part of him melted inside. Tired from a long day of work himself, he walked as quietly as he could to his apartment and opened the door slowly to avoid making any sound.

He wasted no time changing into his Daredevil gear and waiting on his roof.

***

Matt felt accomplished when he arrived back on his rooftop after a night out as Daredevil. He stopped another robbery and saved an old couple’s bodega. He saved an old man from being mugged. He saved a young girl and her mother from an abusive ex-boyfriend.

Entering his apartment, he stripped himself of his Daredevil gear and locked it away in his old trunk. He paused, hand still on the locked trunk that held his most detrimental secret. This trunk used to belong to his father. He pushed it inside the closet and closed the door. He made a sign of the cross and stalked off to the bathroom.

It was shortly past midnight. After washing off in the shower, Matt changed into sweatpants. He lay in bed and shut his eyes. His thoughts always drifted to the same thing: was there more to this life, than just keeping a secret?

After reciting a prayer and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a gentle knocking on his door. His eyes shot open and his senses were fully engaged in the source of the sound. More knocks came. It was her. She shivered under her cardigan and shifted in her slippers from foot to foot, anxiously. Was something wrong? Why was she at his door so late?

Matt threw on a shirt quickly and walked over to open his door. Just as she was about to turn around and retreat to her apartment, thinking this is stupid, Matt opened his door. She stood there with her arms tucked around her frame and shivered from the cold in the hallway.

“Hi,” she said in a tired voice, “I’m sorry, Matt. I know it’s late. But I heard your shower go off and assumed you were awake and—God, I realize how creepy that sounds that I heard your water running so I knew you were awake—never mind. I’ve spoken too much,” she rambled nervously, shivering from the cold in the hallway. Matt was surprised by her presence; he wasn’t upset at all. He welcomed her sudden appearance but couldn’t help but wonder why she was there.

Not to mention her apologizing for hearing his water running, and assuming he was awake. After all the things he’s heard her do through her apartment… Matt was in no place to judge (not that he would, anyway).

“It's okay,” Matt whispered her name. “I was awake. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, and Matt didn’t have to listen to her heartbeat to know she was lying. It was in her voice, her mannerisms. The way she answered quickly without really considering his question. “I just—“ and she was shivering so much.

“You can come in,” Matt opened the door wider. “It’s cold in the hall.”

“Okay,” she stepped inside his apartment and away from him as he shut his large, old door. Matt locked it and turned around to smile at her. It was then Matt realized he forgot to put his glasses on.

“I’m sorry, let me get my glasses on,” Matt said sheepishly, reaching for them on the side table.

“It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t have to put them on.” She paused, looking at his handsome face in the low glow of his apartment. He wasn’t hard to look at at all—from his warm hazel eyes to his plump lips.

“Are you sure you won’t be uncomfortable?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m barging in on your place—you don’t have to sacrifice your comfort for mine.”

He smiled at that and then offered her to take a seat on his couch. He allowed her a moment to get a sense of her surroundings—she’d never been in his apartment before. Her heartbeat was steady. She looked around his living room and squinted at the windows when the large screen across the street flashed bright purple and pink lights.

“Wow,” she said, looking back at his dark apartment. “Those are bright.”

“So I’ve heard,” Matt said lightly with a warm smile. “Do you want any water?”

“I’m okay. Thank you.”

She curled up on the corner of his brown leather couch, tucking her feet in underneath her legs. She was still shivering. Matt offered her the blanket that lay on it and she took it gracefully.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said sheepishly wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, “truthfully, I couldn’t sleep and I could use a friend to talk to.”

A friend? Matt’s heart jumped at this. She considered him a friend.

“I’m glad you came,” Matt replied.

“On Christmas, you told me that any time I felt lonely, I could come by. So… this is one of those times.”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded. “Felt lonely tonight?”

“Not anymore,” she sighed, pleasantly, like his presence alone was enough to cure whatever it was she was feeling. “I took a long nap after work to avoid it and woke up feeling worse than I did before. Like a harrowing, deep hole in my chest.”

Matt knew that feeling all too well—a hole he’d been trying to fill since he was 11. It occurred to him in that moment Matt hardly knew anything about her. Where she came from, what her story was. She knew bits and pieces of him but he didn’t know anything more than that she lived alone and worked at a bookstore.

“I understand,” Matt said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe another time,” she said, pushing the matter away. “I just wanted to get my mind off it.”

Matt was happy she was comfortable enough to come to him this late at night for nothing more than just another person to talk to. He could be that person for her—he wanted to be that person for her.

“I didn’t know you had hazel eyes,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t hide them as much as you do behind those red glasses.”

Matt blushed—unfamiliar with this feeling in his chest, like a bubbling warmth spread over that harrowing hole she was talking about just moments ago. “Oh,” he said. “People can get uncomfortable when they see my eyes.”

“Then screw them,” she said defiantly. “Like I said…you shouldn’t sacrifice your comfort for theirs.”

“Thank you,” Matt replied. “For understanding that part.”

“Were you—“

“Born blind?” Matt had finished this question so many times, that it became a habit to interject whenever anyone began to ask it. “No. It was an accident when I was a kid.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” Matt shrugged. He wanted to open up to her, as much as he could—without revealing his biggest secret of all. “I saw an old man crossing the street. A large truck with chemical containers was coming down the block at the same time. I pushed the old man out of the way. The truck lost control, and swerved to avoid hitting us. Well, it did bump me a little, and all the chemicals fell over, leaking everywhere. Some of it got in my eyes and—“

“That was it,” she finished his sentence. “Wow.”

“That was it,” Matt repeated. His gaze fell on the carpet. He sat at the opposite end of the couch.

“So, little Matt was a hero?” He could hear the smile in her voice when she said this. Matt chuckled.

“I did what anyone else would have.”

“How many adults were there, do you remember?”

“It was on a random corner in Hell’s Kitchen. Plenty of people were walking around.”

“So, you did what anyone else would have avoided.”

Matt blushed, looked away from the general direction he was looking in. It felt different to be called a hero when it was coming from her lips.

“Sure,” he finally said. “We can go with that.”

“Do you…” her voice trailed off, unsure how to phrase her next question without sounding offensive.

“You can ask me anything,” Matt assured her. “You know a lot about me that some of my closest friends don’t know. Nothing’s off the table.”

“Do you miss having sight? That’s probably a silly question. Do you remember the last thing you saw?”

“The sky,” Matt answered, a flash of blue appearing in his mind. “That was the last thing I saw. And I do miss having sight,” Matt took a deep breath. “But there are other ways to see.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed. “How do you see in other ways?”

What a loaded question, he thought.

“Touch, for one. I can get a sense of something when I touch it. Smell—easy to distinguish what’s on my plate. I still know what a majority of things look like.”

“But not people,” she stated.

“Not people,” Matt affirmed. “But there’s a way for me to paint a picture in my mind.”

“How? A person describes what they look like?”

“Descriptions help,” Matt answered, “but touching their face helps a hell of a lot more.”

She was silent for a moment, understanding his answers and pondering them. She wondered what he would think of her if he could see. Matt felt as if she was wondering that very thought.

“Do you want to touch my face?” She asked in a hesitant voice. “Or I can describe to you what I look like.”

Matt felt his heart grow in his chest. How could he answer that question, without revealing his true feelings for her right then and there? It had been months of being her neighbor that he hoped and prayed he could cross that threshold with her. Hell, it was a miracle she was in his apartment at that moment.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Matt finally said, shifting in his seat.

“I am,” she whispered, leaning forward. “Come here.”

Matt moved closer to her on his couch until his left knee was touching her right. When he sat close enough to her, she grabbed his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to guide him.

Starting with her hair, she gently brushed his fingers through it. It was soft. Every thread of her hair felt like water slipping gently through his fingers. Matt held his breath as his fingers grazed her neck. He had to close his eyes for this part. Matt gently placed his hand on the side of her neck, feeling how soft her skin felt on his fingertips. Like Braille, he ran his fingers ever so lightly on her skin, goosebumps following his touch.

He moved his hand to the side of her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. He gently ran his thumb over her brow bone, smoothing it out. Then he traced his thumb under her eye in a sweeping motion. His gaze fell on her chin. He traced the pad of his thumb down the bridge of her nose, stopping at her cupid’s bow. She gently let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Matt gently let out a breath too. He took his other hand and cupped the other side of her face in his palm, feeling her cheeks heat against him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a steady boom boom, boom boom, he had come to memorize to help him fall asleep. He caressed her chin with his thumb and traced her jawline before slowly running his hand down the length of her neck, retreating to his thigh.

“Beautiful,” Matt whispered. It was all he could say.

“Matt…” she uttered his name, trailing off, losing her words. Her heart felt like a cement block in her chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to touch her again. She reached for his hand and placed it on her face, desperate to feel how gently he held her again, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She turns her head into his hand and kisses his palm. Matt moves his fingers to the back of her head and guides her lips to his, a kiss that should’ve happened a long time ago. Her lips molded to his, the taste of her bringing him back to life, filling that empty hole in his chest again. He hoped it had the same effect on her. Her hand moved to hold his face, a plan to not break the kiss. A plan that didn’t matter if it worked or not, because Matt wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t going to let go of her.

When she eventually did pull back, he only wanted more.

“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly, “for letting me in.”

Letting her into his apartment, or letting her into his heart—both answers were suitable.

Eventually, she did go back to her apartment, for reasons they didn’t need to say out loud. But it would be a while until they brought up this night again.

______________________________________________________________

TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred @uncle-eggy @marvelcinematiquniverse @sweetbee0108

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #charlie cox x reader #neighbor

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blkgirl-writing · 7 months

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What Happened at the Moon Lit Pond PART 2

Gale of waterdeep x F!Reader smut

Summary: You and your companions finally made it to baldurs gate, well, rivington. And it's finally time to relax and have a fun day out.

TW: drinking, sex, oral, PnV, F/M sex, thigh riding, brothel, overstimulation, a bit of anal, begging, everyone is consenting! I'd love to do a public sex chapter sometime, but not today.

word count 3.3k

{part one} {part 1.5}

It had been a long time since that night at the pond. You had long since left the grove and past the shadows, almost to baldurs gate, actually, in the small town of rivington. It was a long and difficult journey, yes, but with ample time and opportunities to talk about what had happened. But it never came up. Instead, there were many longing stares shot your way on gales part, small flirty conversations, and even more excuses to skip away from your companions to get any alone time with Gale, practically praying to the gods he’d say something first. But Gale wasn’t the type to come out of his comfort to express his feelings, let alone such complex ones. He had been rendered speechless.

Today was different. Maybe it was the long journey nearing it's end, but everyone was ready to let loose, even if it was just for a short while. Karlach and Wyll had split up to look for some armor, jaheria stayed back at camp to care for the small child who lost their mother, so it was a smaller company than you were used to. Just halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, and of course, You and Gale. It was really a perfect day to mill about town, the sun beaming down in warm rays of light, not too hot and not too cold out, not even a hint of rain, so the dirt paths often muddy were dry, no ruining the clothes you had just washed.

Everyone was at their happiest, though of course, the underlying anxiety and pain for events soon to come were lingering, just pushed aside for the time being.

"Is the sun usually this blinding?" Astarion hissed, shielding his eyes with his hand "I don't remember everything being this bright"

"It simply feels brighter coming out of the shadows, you will get used to it" Halsin smiled down at Astarion, slipping behind him slightly to cast a shadow around him, guarding him from the sun. "We Haven't been inside in a while, why don't we find a shop to rest in for awhile, we have some money to spare"

"I could use a new hair ribbon, My old one looks a bit strange now that my hair has changed.." Shadowheart commented, lightly playing with her hair.

You went from shop to shop, it didn't matter, stopping by everything on the way, getting food, drinks, jewlery, and other small goods, the last place you had any energy for was a small looking shop with people outside raving about their service and pleasure being a customer there., without really looking at the sign or name.

Inside was dimly lit, a dark oak, cream, and red color scheme. Easily the most expensive place in all of the town.

"this is...awfully fancy, isn't it?" Gale murmurs, eyes flickering across the room.

"Certainly. I wonder what we could get to drink, I need a good wine..." Astarion immediately glided across the hall and to one of the counters, a huge smile graced his pale face. He stood there, talking for quite a bit, meanswhile, shadowheart wandered around, peaking her head into a room, she slipped a bit more into the room, then suddenly jolted out.

"Shadowheart? you look like you've seen...a lot"

"It's a brothel!" Astarion and Shadowheart said in unison, shadowheart nearly a whisper, Astarion nearly a yell. The woman behind the desk gave them both a nasty stare for the disruption of the ambiance.

"oh of course, sorry, beautiful" Astarion cooed at the woman. the immediate reaction to his flattery and dashing smile visible as she tucked her auburn hair away from her blushed face. He sauntered over to your merry group, that smile still plastered over his face. "I got us a discounted rate on a pair very talented drow."

"Excuse me, what now?"

"I got a discounted rate for an absolutely lovely time with drow twins for the same rate as one person but five. And we will have two rooms for comfort of space. I'm just that good, you all should be thanking me."

"Thank you, Astarion-" Halsin crossed his arms, a small smirk on his lips.

"I-thank you?" Shadowheart sputtered, still looking a bit frazzled by her earlier revelation.

you were still trying to process all of what just happened when even Gale spoke up.

"Well, looks like you'll have just...four people joining you, I'd prefer the company of a good book and an ale right now, i think."Gales eyes met yours for a split second, as you looked up at him. A very distinct look. He wanted you. It was hunger, lust, but restraint. He wasn't going to stop you from having fun with your company, but god did he want you to stay with him.

"I...um.." you looked up at Gale, fully taking him in this time. Gods...He was really the only thing you wanted. You wanted his soft hair between your fingers, your thighs wrapped around his waist. You wanted to feel his tongue shoved inside of you again.

"I think I'd like an ale or two as well."

"Oooookay...Well, since i already paid for two rooms, why don't you both buy a round for the spare room while we get busy." Astarion's eye roll was quite visible and very pointed, but that didn't matter, no one would actually remember anything that was said, as they'd be wrapped in bodies and sweat, including you.

So you ordered two bottles of ale and two of a beautiful red wine, they sat in the middle of a small round table. The room itself was stunning, the walls painted a deep purple, with a golden trim at the tops and bottoms. There was a bed centered in the middle of the room, with an abundance of fluffy pillows on top and a velvet sheet to top it off. It was by far the fanciest room you'd stayed in. Everything dripped of gold and pearls, there was even a damn chandelier. If this was a side room, you wondered what the main room must've looked like.

"This is...." You trailed off, still taking in the whole room.

"extraordinary?" Gale muttered, taking no time to sit down and pour out two glasses of wine. Something was obviously on his mind, as he swirled the red liquid around, his eyes were slightly distant, and his brows furrowed. It didn't surprise, you, though, there was a lot going on, and he had the chance to end his own life to possibly save the world, and yet here he sat, already on his second glass. There must be a lot on his mind, you thought.

Really, he just wanted the courage to make a big move, and a bit of liquid honesty couldn't hurt. While you drank, he tried not to stare, but it seemed to be getting harder and harder. He wanted so badly to reach out and devour you. He wanted to taste you again, grip your thighs with his hands, leave hickeys across your whole body, he wanted everyone to know how much he could pleasure you. He couldn't help but look at his drink, look at you, and the bed. he kept repeating 'just tell her' Tell you what? He wasn't sure what to even tell you?

Was he madly in love with you? Likely. Did he Lust for you? Always. Of course he did. Out of all the worldly and otherworldly beings, things, concepts, you were the most perfect. He Would year the night sky apart to see your smile. Commit crimes to stare into those eyes endlessly.

"They're certainly making some noise," The drinks were certainly kicking in, your voice was a bit shakey, but your head still fairly clear, clear enough to hear the moaning and grunts from the other room, even some....weird god kinks, you weren't sure and didn't care to be that snoopy.

Gale chuckled, nodding his head. "I would bet 5000 gold I could get you moaning louder than all of them, combined."

"Is that the wine talking?" You tried to blink away the disbelief and shock you clearly wore on your face, Gale was an upfront man, but this was on another level...

"Only to help say what's been on my mind." His deep brown eyes looked at you with incredible lust, more than you'd ever seen before, It was hot, searing, intense. "You have always been on my mind."

You got up from your chair, legs weak not from the wine, but from how this charming wizard looked at you like you were the entire world, right in front of him. "Is that so?" You wanted nothing more than for Gale to wrap his arms around your waist and take all of you til night passed and morning arose.

Your legs slotted through his perfectly, your knee nearly grazing his crotch. In one big gulp, you downed the rest of your drink, and leaned over Gale to set the glass down on the table, not very subtly getting closer to him, and even though your chest was practically in his face, he was still looking into your eyes.

"it would be such a waste if we didn't use such a beautiful bed. We're not often afforded those luxuries.." You took one more small step closer to him, reaching out to the hand free from drink, guiding it to your waist. "And we don't want to be wasteful..."

"Certainly not." Gale took one last sip of wine, licking the small drip that fell from his lips. He stood from his chair, his obvious hard on graising your hip. A small gasp left your lips, gods, you had forgotten how badly you'd wanted him, how big he felt...It was all returning to you. Your face flushed with heat as you remembered his tongue deep in your pussy, your lips wrapped around his cock.

Gale was emboldened by the wine, tipsy off of lust, his mind racing with all that he wanted to do to you, sweep you off your feet and into the weave. but that would have to wait, the here and now, right in front of him, you practically offering yourself to him yet again, he'd be a fool not to take it. "Come here, beautiful."

You let out a sigh, biting down on your lip as you sat down on his thigh. He wrapped his hands around your hips, squeezing slightly, almost reassuringly. He guided your hips back and fourth, while pressing you down further onto his thigh. your dress rode up to your waist, only your thin underwear creating all the friction you ever needed between your pussy and his thigh, getting ungodly close his his bulge yet never quite close enough.

His pace was slow and hard, Still clutching onto you like you absolutely needed it, which, was true, as the longer he rocked you the more wobbily your legs felt. You breath started to get heavier and heavier. Your head fell to his shoulders, the pleasure wracking through your whole body.

"No no, beautiful, look at me when you cum" Gale's hand inched its way to the back of your neck, pulling your head off his shoulder and holding you steady as you looked into his eyes,

It was all so much, his needy eyes begging for you to cum, your throbbing pussy, the small wet stain now on his pants from how gods damn much he turned you on, it was hard to keep his stare but you did, as you moaned his name, gasping as pleasure kept pulsing through your body. "fuck..." you chocked out. He let go of your neck but kept his hand on your shoulder, still keeping a firm grasp on your hip as it was clear you weren't exactly stable.

"I...That was..." You nearly whispered, still shuddering from the orgasm. You were so flustered, something that wasn't too easy for you, yet, he made you. His intensity with a smile had you dizzy. "Do you want me to return the favor?"

He raised a hand back to your jaw, tilting your head to look at him fully, to stare into his eyes.

"Let me make love to you-" Gale cooed, soothing you with his charm. "Sit back and let me give you everything."

"Yes, please-" you practically begged. Gale used his fingers to tilt your head slightly, leaving room for him to trail kisses and love bites down your neck, sucking on your skin, leaving you with shivers down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your hands nearly shooting up to grasp his soft hair, pulling him even closer.

"you're so beautiful-" He muttered between hickeys, breath getting heavier as you pressed your hips against him, feeling how much he wanted you, straining

You pulled away slightly, grasping his hand and struggling a bit to get up, turning to lead him to the bed. Although your eyes were set in front of you, you felt his gaze scan your body, how your hips swayed as you walked, he wanted to take all the time in the world to explore your body, learn it more than anything he'd ever read.

"just lay down, beautiful." He pressed his hand to your chest, pushing slightly, letting you fully relax into the bed, his body hovering over yours, his steady and strong arm next to your head, the other making quick work of unbuttoning your dress.

"Take those off for me," he looked down at your panties, slipping a finger at the band of your underwear and pulling it back, snapping it against your skin. It took a moment to register, there was so much distracting you, but you somehow managed. Completely bare and laid out, displayed like a work of art for him to admire. Gale took a moment, sitting up on his knees, to take you all in. His fingers traced along your stomach, lowering slowly, with such a light touch you could barely tell if it was him or a chill.

It shouldn't have been surprising but when he slipped his middle finger inside, you gasped, letting a moan escape your lips as his finger curled in and out of you, working in a slow and consistent pace. His index finger grazed your clit every time he pumped in and out, lightly, still taking you down from the high of riding his thigh, him knowing you'd still be sensitive, to not overstimulate.

"Come here" You pulled him in by his hair, now slightly tosseled and looking frankly unfair. "kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice, quickly pressing his own lips to yours. He tasted of the sweet red wine, with hints of caramel and clove. He was delicious , addicting. You licked his bottom lip, opening his mouth to allow you deeper into his mouth. While you explored his mouth, he slipped another finger deep inside you, pushing in further than he had been doing before, quickening his pace.

His lips left your own, slightly panting, a bit out of breath. He then trailed down your neck to your breast, looking back up at you, asking permission to suck on your skin. You nodded desperately, gods you needed anything he would give you. His lips attacked to your nipple, sucking and licking, bobbing his head with every pull, it was all building up.

"I'm gonna cum, gods, Gale please I'm close-" You begged, yet he pulled back quickly, you let out a disappointed groan, why would he stop now? It didn't take long to get your answer, he wanted your cum on his mouth. He moved fast to move his mouth to your pussy, not relenting in his speed with his fingers and now, tongue. It didn't take long for the wave of bliss to wash over you, uncontrollable sounds coming out while he rode our your orgasm with one less finger and slowing down with his lips. It wasn't until your hips stopped shaking that he drew out his fingers, moving them to his mouth where he sucked them dry, letting out a small moan when they were clean. "divine.."

His clothes were stripped off, yours now completely tossed aside, the cool air hitting you both, but neither of you really noticed. You were focused on his hard cock pressed against your pussy, grinding againt your lips, getting slick with his spit and your cum. It would be so easy just to slide it in, but he drew it out, teasing you til you begged, pleaded, please, you needed it, you wanted him so desperately. Yet still somehow a fraction of his need for you the past weeks.

Gales restraint was shocking, even to himself, but the sight of you underneath him, begging for his cock, glowing from the orgasm he brought you, was enough for a lifetime, though he hoped there'd be many more lifetimes of this.

One more whimper is all that it took for him to shove himself deep inside you, all the way to the hilt. You felt him pressing against your cervix, a small but sharp pain from the sudden sensation , a good pain, that meant you were taking it all, and so well for him too. He had waited too long for this to stop, he kept pumping inside you, at an unrelenting pace, fast and hard. He switched between sucking on your neck, your breast, and biting your lip, keeping eye contact whenever he could. He wanted to see how much you wanted him, and he wanted you to know how much lust he had in his soul, just for you.

Gale held your neck with his hand, grasping lightly, as he came for the first time, shoving his cock even deeper into your pussy as he slowed his pace down, nearly whimpering in your ear as his head fell to your shoulders, biting down on your skin to keep from some more sounds he found embarrassing, but was so very sexy. You expected him to lay down and rest, after that, but he kept going.

"Flip over for me." He asked, giving your earlobe a small nibble as he spoke. You couldn't move fast enough, laying down on your stomach as he held down your waist, fingernails digging into your skin, leaving small crescent dents. You shoved your ass down on him with every thrust, wave after wave of orgasms wracking through your body, it felt endless, overwhelming. When it all felt like enough he kept going, adding more, rubbing your clit as your ass bounced on his cock, his thumb slipping in and out of your ass, him completely exiting you and only coming back in when you came from his words alone, sweet talking you into more orgasms. Or stopping completely to finish you off with his mouth again, you'd squirted in his mouth more than once, and he came once just from that. Maybe the stopping and starting was also so he himself could keep going as much as he could muster, but that never crossed your mind.

"You take it so well-" and "I want to see you need me" and "You're just too beautiful when you cum, I can't help but follow."

You went until your bodies gave out. Too sweaty, too raw to take anymore.

Gale fell beside you, out of breath, tan skin glistened with sweat and cum, his cock still leaking a bit, though even he was shocked there was anything left in him. You laid there for minutes, maybe longer, it didn't matter. It didn't click that the room next to you had fallen silent until you'd finally caught your breath. Actually...you remember the screams and moans ending a while ago. you notice Gales eyes had also turned to the shared wall, probably coming to the same conclusion as you.

"Do you think they heard us?" You asked, a small smile forming.

"Most definitely."

A/N: Well that was a lot huh? This took probably 20 hours straight of writing if not more, so please tell me if you liked it! It would mean a lot to me. Requests are always open but slow, as i'm not a fast writer haha. Thanks for following along! My gale fics have done better than I ever expected, I've gotten about 1k new followers from them I believe, so thank you all!

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dilatorywriting · 16 days

Text

Truth Potion

Vil Schoenheit x OC x Rook Hunt Word Count: 9.7k

Summary: Truth Potions should be banned from the proximity of any and all far-too-attractive people for all time. Least of all when dating one of them who would be far to keen to use said lack-of-filter to his advantage.

[OC Archive]

🌶️🌶️🌶️ WARNING for Spicy Content! WARNING for References to a Character's Previous Death

READ WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU READ

The potion exploding in her face was nothing unusual. Saya had been cursed with cat ears, and fluffy tails, and all sorts of strange ailments at this point. It was like there was a target on her back that the universe had put there saying ‘hey! You! Don’t let this poor idiot escape a single potions lesson unscathed!’

What wasn’t familiar was the strange, staticky lull all throughout her mouth. Making her tongue feel light as a feather.

“That didn’t taste very bad,” she mumbled to herself, and then wondered why she’d muttered anything at all. “But I guess a lot of things don’t taste as bad as I was expecting them to.”

“Oh?” Deuce coughed, good-natured despite his own singed eyebrows. “Like what?”

She shrugged. “Cum.”

And then immediately screamed into her hands like she was being murdered point blank. She gasped against her palms in horror. Because she did not just say that. Out loud. In public.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” she wailed. “I haven’t even told Vil that! And he’s the one who’d actually want to know!”

She clamped her fingers over her mouth again and screamed louder.

“Oh my god,” Ace chirped, like this was the greatest gift God could have ever gifted him and all of mankind. “You got truth dosed.”

Ro blinked in worry from his place at the desk nearby. “Is she going to be alright?”

“No!” Saya wailed.

“Quick!” Ace beamed, dashing forward like a hound after a hare. “Ask her everything you’ve always wanted to know! Before it wears off!”

“Or before she kills us,” Jack scowled under his breath.

“I would never kill you,” Saya said, serious. “I don’t think I could. You’re too beefy. But you’re too nice too. The best. Right behind Deuce.”

“Oh,” Jack rumbled, gold eyes going wide and then quickly shooting away.

“This seems a bit like we’re taking advantage…” Robyn mumbled, looking guilty.

“Thank you,” Saya huffed. “Because—”

“Do you like me, yes or no?” the redhead blurted as fast as he could, and then immediately looked terribly chagrinned about it.

“If anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I wish you were actually my brother so I could finally have something good in my stupid genetic pool.” The words tumbled out like the shrapnel from a bomb—wild, and uncontrolled, and loud. Saya squawked in indignation. “Robyn Starling!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I just—I needed to know!”

“Fuck you!”

“Out of everyone in this room, who would you wanna fuck the most?” Ace piped in, like a rabid little demon.

“Jamil!” Saya blurted, and immediately covered her mouth in horror. Said Vice-Warden’s head popped up from his place hovering over his own cauldron, and he immediately looked like he wanted to melt into the floor and disappear from their entire plane of existence. But then, like some kind of absolutely malicious trick of fate, the words just kept coming. “Or Professor Crewel.”

“Someone go get Schoenheit,” the man in question groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Quickly.”

“A truth potion?” Vil muttered, rubbing his thumbs along a dot of blue smeared high along her cheekbone. “That’s all?”

“That I can tell,” Professor Crewel sighed.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Saya grouched, and then seemed to reconsider. “Actually, that was probably when I killed myself the first time around. But this is pretty up there.” Another pause. “Worst day of my life so far.”

Vil fought the urge to dig his fingers into his temples. He could already feel the stress headache forming. The last thing he needed was the add new wrinkles on top of that.

“How long until it wears off?”

“Hopefully no more than a day,” Crewel hummed, considering. “Perhaps sooner, if you can get her cleaned up quickly enough.”

“He can never clean me quick enough,” Saya complained past the shield of her fingers. “He always ends up fucking me in the bath, which is entirely counterproductive. Especially when he’s the one complaining about tight schedules. Like, sir, it’s your own fault you’re late. You didn’t have to spend half an hour with your tongue up my—”

Vil clamped a hand over her mouth and Saya looked grateful beyond measure.

“Please just get her out of public,” Crewel sighed, looking like he’d aged ten years over the course of the afternoon. “Before I have an aneurism.”

Saya said something else against Vil’s palm, but thankfully it came out too garbled and flat to comprehend.

“Of course, sir.”

The House Warden dragged his miserable, red-faced girlfriend out the office doors and down a back hallway—determined to skulk away to Pomefiore as stealthily as he could possibly manage.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to be in the center of a Schoenheit-Crewel sandwich,” she sighed once his palm was off her lips, and then immediately paled from head to toe, like a ghost. “I might actually kill myself again.”

“Do not even joke about that,” he snapped.

“Can it be a joke if I’m under a truth spell?”

“You know,” Vil smiled, poisonously poised and vicious, “Perhaps I should go back and let you make your offer in person, hmm? I’m on decent enough terms with the Professor. Perhaps we can make an arrangement, if you’re being so truthful in the moment.”

Saya tucked both hands over her mouth and allowed herself to be herded back towards the elaborate, Pomefiore dorms in silence.

The bath that followed was entirely unsexy, and Saya nearly bit through her bottom lip in an effort to keep her bubbling complaints under wraps. Vil practically dunked her like a rag against a washboard, and she couldn’t help but think that he always got a bit like this—a bit too upset, a bit too mean—whenever her untimely demise was brought up all over again. Which, on one hand, she couldn’t blame him. Whenever Robyn talked about his own death, it made her stomach fall and her hair stand on end. And if Vil had done what she had—Well. She’d be upset too. So she sat politely and quietly in her towel until the stupid potion got the better of her.

“I just don’t get it,” she said into his glacial sneer. “It’s not like it matters.”

“The fact that we’re having this argument yet again when you can’t even physically lie about it tells me you need more therapy than there exists on this godforsaken planet.”

“I am a little broken,” she shrugged, and something in the model’s amethyst eyes went so terribly sad. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I meant it. But I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t like upsetting you.”

Vil sighed and reached out to dry her hair, gentler now. Scrubbing the soft towel over her short, blonde, waves in little circles.

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll reward your valiant efforts by not pushing all of the things I would so love to use this opportunity to push.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she hummed, leaning into his kneading. “Not if it’s you. Not really, at least. Even if it is embarrassing.” She paused, and he watched her try to physically swallow down the words in her mouth before they came tumbling out anyways. “Your cum tastes good, by the way. Well, not good. Not like, I don’t know, candy or whatever. But like, not bad at all. I thought you should know. Because I said it earlier, but you weren’t around. And now you are. And now I also need to throw myself out the nearest window.”

The startled laugh that ripped out of his throat was entirely less dignified than he would have liked.

“Is that so?” he trilled, beyond amused. “I suppose I’m glad my healthy diet has been useful for… other unexpected benefits, as well.”

Her face screwed up like he’d forced her to drink rotten milk and he couldn’t help himself from feeling hopelessly fond at this miserable, sopping wet, little wreck of a person.

“Anything else you’d like to confess?” he grinned. “While I have your full attention?”

More nose scrunching. “What do you want to know?”

It sounded like the question had to be pried out of her mouth with pliers. Vil’s smile went a little wicked. He dropped the towel to his bedroom floor so that he could dig his fingers into her damp hair.

“What’s your favorite part? Of all the things I’ve done to you?”

“That you’ve loved me,” she said instantly, and that teasing mew melted off his face in a heartbeat. Saya looked positively stricken. “Oh my god, please. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,” he chirped, mocking, and she made a gagging noise. “But as touched as I am by your sentimentality, I had meant on the more physical side of things. It’s so hard to get your honest feedback.”

“I thought you liked that,” she said, a bit mulish. “The whole ‘stubborn’ thing. Having to pin me down.”

Saya watched the round, black circles of his pupils jump and dilate. The twist of his mouth went smug and warm—familiar. In all the best and worst possible ways.

“Is that why you do it?” he cooed, a dangerous lilt to his voice that had goosebumps dancing down her spine.

“Not completely,” she mumbled, gaze slipping away and cheeks going pink. “I think some of it is just—just me, too,” she gulped as his nose trailed down her neck. “That’s really distracting.”

“Is it?” he drawled.

“I just said it was!”

“You’re so lovely to me, do you know? Working so hard to try and meet my tastes,” he said against her collarbone, and she shivered. “What else could I do for you, I wonder?”

“You do more than enough.”

Vil couldn’t help but feel flattered at the ringing truth in that proclamation, but he pushed forward nonetheless. This was a golden opportunity not to be diminished—not even by the charming warmth of their sentimentality.

“But I could always do more. Tell me—I’m always open with the things I’d like to do to you. What’s something that you’ve always wanted to try.”

“DP,” she burst out, and then immediately ducked her head to shriek against his shoulder. “Oh my god, please forget I just said that. Well, don’t forget it. Because it would be—really, really—I just. Oh my god!”

“You weren’t kidding then,” he tutted, warm and calm, dragging a soothing palm against her lower back, “when you mentioned the professor and I earlier.”

“I mean, only a little. I’d never be able to look Crewel in the eye again. It wouldn’t be worth it. Especially when I think he’s just starting to like me.”

Vil huffed. “He adores you.”

“Yeah, more like he’d like to hit me with a-door.”

“I can see this isn’t the time to address your self-worth issues,” he droned, and then worked to shift back into the direction he’d been so carefully coaxing. “But either way. You were saying? Something about being taken by—"

“I know it’s not practical!” she immediately squeaked. “Like, I am fully aware you only have one dick. And also, like, I love you. I don’t have any desire to like, go around fucking some other random person just to, I don’t know, satisfy some weird fantasy. Everyone has their like, Thing that they’re like ‘wow. That’d be super hot. Will never happen. But damn.’ And that’s just—I don’t know. Mine.” A pause, to take her breath. “Also, like, it takes two to tango. Or, well, three in this case. And I’m still reeling over the fact that I’ve managed to trick one person into sleeping with me, let alone two.”

Vil couldn’t hold back his snort. “I’m certain you could find more than double that on this campus alone who would be more than willing to step in to fill the role at a moment’s notice.”

She crinkled her nose. “Even if that was true, I still love you most. I don’t want other people.”

“And if I found someone suitable to partake in this? Someone who has perhaps displayed a keen interest in the past and who I trust enough to involve? Someone who’s already proven more than enthusiastic about the topic?” Vil asked, and he watched her eyebrows jump up in startled confusion. “Would that be amenable then? If you had that on top of my fullhearted approval and support?”

Her brow furrowed, clearly taken aback. “Who the fuck are you talking to about screwing me?”

Vil snorted another laugh.

“My, you’re feeling crude today.”

“It’s this stupid potion and you know it!” He watched that tight little tick in her brow grow deeper as she dove into the depths of her thoughts, searching and searching for an answer he was sure she’d find. All of a sudden she choked. “Are you talking about Rook?”

“I knew you’d get there eventually, kitten.”

“But he—” she gaped. “He doesn’t—I haven’t—” she spluttered. “He doesn’t even like me. I bet he’d hang my head over his fireplace if he got the chance.”

Vil barked out a laugh. “That would certainly be the highest of compliments.”

At her continued fretting, he leaned closer to tug her in tight and go back to running his fingers up and down her spine. “Naturally it’s your choice, but I can assure you, I’ve heard more than my fair share of soliloquies about the wonders of your bountiful bosom to know he’d be more than thrilled to assist.”

“They’re not even that big,” she grouched under her breath. “But that’s… Even if he was okay with it, what about you?” she asked, nervous.

Vil grinned, sharp and seductive. “Darling, who hasn’t shared something so private with their closest friend, hmm?”

“Uhm, me?” she gaped. “If you ever catch me in a three-way with Ro, please just shoot me in the face—"

“You’re moving away from the point,” he accused, snagging her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now. Tell me—would that be a situation you’d be amenable to?”

She chewed at her lower lip hesitantly and looked up at him through her lashes. “I trust you enough that if you think it would—it would be a good idea, then…”

“This isn’t about me,” he tutted.

“Everything in my life is about you,” she corrected sharply, and then immediately went beet red. “Fucking just—gag me or something. Please.”

Vil laughed. “That can be arranged. But first,” he grinned, moving to slip lithely to his feet. “I do believe I need to have a conversation with my Vice Warden.”

“Shouldn’t we at least wait until the potion wears off?” Saya asked, hoping she didn’t sound nearly as panicked as she felt. “And, I mean,” she spluttered. “This all probably feels a bit sudden, right? Like, I know if someone knocked at my door one minute to—to—"

Rook’s answering grin had a shiver running down her spine and Vil reached out to tweak her cheek like an unruly child.

“Nonsense. How else will we know if you’re being honest about the experience, hmm?”

“That’s fair. I do lie about how I’m feeling a lot,” she said, and then instantly bit into her lip with a scowl. Fucking— “But that still doesn’t answer the,” she waved her hand around her head. “The other bit.”

“Ahh, but what predator could ever turn down such an opportunity to pounce when a feast is presented to him, hmm?” Rook cooed, hand over his heart as if he was about to start delivering a grand poem. “Particularly when it is a meal I’ve most looked forward to. And I can promise that I have thought on it long and often, mon chaton,” he smirked—a strange, dark, twisty thing that showed perhaps a few too many teeth. “It is so hard to look away when so much fluttering beauty twines itself so frequently beneath a shared roof.”

Dutifully ignoring the implications of that little statement, she frowned and said, “But you like pretty things.”

Vil frowned right back, but before he could launch into another one of his irritable spiels about self-value, and ‘in the eye of the beholder, blablabla,’ Rook ducked in and scooped her hands up between his.

“There is loveliness in delicacy,” the hunter agreed easily, smoothly. “But there is also beauty in a storm, in destruction. Qu'est-ce que la vie sans la mort? Qu'est-ce que l'amour sans l'horreur? And you, petite tentatrice,” he grinned, “are the loveliest storm of all.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “I’m sorry, but did you just French your way into saying that me being an unruly bitch is hot?”

“Ahh,” he crooned, lifting a hand as if he was about to swoon, “you’ve found me out!” And then that grin was back, sending all kinds of nervous goosebumps racing down her arms. “An easy hunt may speak to one’s skill well enough, but sometimes I can’t help but hope for a chase.”

“You’re unsettling her,” Vil warned, reaching out to twine an arm around her waist and rub soothing circles into the divots of her hips. “I told you not to overdo it.”

“Ah, pardonne moi, pardonne moi!” he lamented. “But I could hardly help myself.”

Vil’s amethyst eyes narrowed, a silent reprimand and threat all in one. You will help yourself, that glare warned. And while the Vice Warden certainly didn’t outright cow to that sneer, he dipped his chin in easy submittance nonetheless.

“Of course, mon reine,” he chirped. “This is a gift! And I will do my best to cherish it so.”

He reached forward and brushed a wayward strand of honey-hued hair from Saya’s eyes—fingers landing neatly on her cheek after to rub at the spreading flush there.

“How could I not? Especially after you’ve trained her so wonderfully.”

Saya gasped in indignation, that nervous blush staining plum red with rage instead.

“I’m not a fucking dog!” She snapped. “And he hasn’t—I haven’t been—”

“We’re working on it,” Vil droned, and Saya started spluttering all over again.

“We are not!”

“Well, we aren’t,” the ethereal beauty sighed, as if terribly put upon. “That is my job, after all. And you don’t make it easy, darling.”

The snarky retort twisted off her tongue with the taste of popping bubbles and lingering herbs, and instead, what came out was a pouty, “I thought that was the point.”

She cursed colorfully under her breath and Rook burst into gleeful laughter.

“Oh, she is just merveilleuse, mon reine. Je suis honoré que vous souhaitiez partager une telle merveille avec votre humble serviteur.”

Vil scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Perhaps if you were so humble as you’d like me to believe, you wouldn’t have been so bold in your spying these past months.”

Rook held up his hands with another snicker, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“But it worked, did it not?” he beamed, and then leaned forward to nuzzle along the underside of Saya’s jaw. His teeth skimmed the delicate, pale skin there and she pressed back against Vil with a squeak.

Vil rolled his eyes yet again and shifted so that Saya could tuck herself up against him in one, long lean line. Like a cat arching away from the wandering hands of an overenthusiastic guest and towards the familiar warmth of its owner. But all that being said, proper socialization was all in the name of the game. And he would be terribly bereft to go lax in his diligent efforts now of all times.

“Gently,” he reprimanded. “She startles easily.”

“I’m not a—” she squeaked again, and Rook ducked forward with another sharp nip. “It’s not weird to be jumpy. I’d never done anything like this before I met you.”

“Ah, comme c'est chéri,” Rook cooed, as he burrowed in closer and latched his mouth against the hollow beneath her throat, sucking an angry, purple bruise against the pale skin there. “Did you know,” he trilled, popping back with a preening little smirk to observe his handiwork, “that our dearest queen does have quite the love of, ah, how did you describe it?” Rook mused. “Un amour de la corruption?”

“Rook,” Vil sneered, lip curling in warning.

“Not like that’s anything I didn’t already know,” Saya scoffed under her breath, and then squawked when familiar, painted nails dug into her hips.

“What was that, kitten?”

“I—I just meant,” she gulped, cursing that stupid potion with every fiber of her being. “It was—you got excited. When I said I was—that I had never—and you—I—” she trailed off with a nervous incoherence.

Vil hummed against her neck and she shivered.

“This is quite the difference,” he mused, a note of interest curling over his words. “To ask for an answer and to receive one rather than some stuttering, biting attempt at maintaining your dignity. I can’t say I’m opposed.” His hands trailed lower. “Perhaps not forever, but as an anomaly—as a treat,” he smirked. “For all my hard work.” She could feel the blunt, rounded edges of his nails trailing back and forth at the inseam of her thighs. “I do enjoy the ensuing correction far too much to want this new sweetness of yours to become a permanent fixture in our lives, but for the time being…”

Saya gulped, and she could see Rook’s eyes trace the movement like a fox watching a rabbit’s hole.

“Tell me, won’t you” Vil demanded, head going high once more and some of that haughty, put-upon superiority lighting his eyes. Saya knew that expression, and it meant literally nothing good for her hips or spine for the upcoming days. “What makes this so appealing to you?” He grinned against her hair, sharp. “Wanting to be taken so thoroughly.”

“I—” she spluttered, feeling those awful, terrible remnants of magic dancing around her mouth. “It just—I—” and then that arcana popped with a focus and she was babbling all over again. “It just seems—seems nice. To be wanted that badly to be shared like, like something special. And—being between—the, the warmth of it seems—I…” She was going to die. Melt into a puddle and stain his stupid carpet with her untimely end. “I like to be squished, and held. And being that full seems nice.”

“Tellement poétique!” Rook crooned, looking nearly sparkly-eyed with wonder.

‘I hate this,’ she tried to spit, but instead, “I don’t mind this.”

Vil snorted a laugh into her hair.

“Yes, darling. I could tell.”

His hand dipped past the edge of the towel and brushed pointedly between her legs. He pulled back when she squeaked and held his fingers up with the same air as a teacher offering a demonstration. The wetness on them caught the light overhead—shining and slippery—and Saya tried to bury her face in her hands.

“You’re not particularly subtle,” he hummed, amused. And Saya felt like her blood was about to boil straight out of her veins.

And then, because apparently the love of her stupid life was actively trying to send her into cardiac arrest, she watched through her fingers as Vil stretched forward and offered his hand for Rook’s inspection. The hunter’s gaze tracked the slow, sticky drip of her and his emerald eyes pointedly flickered down to the space between her thighs, still artfully hidden beneath the fringe of the bath towel. And then those too-bright eyes slipped back up to meet hers and he leaned forward to lick a long stripe up Vil’s palm.

“No need for embarrassment,” Rook promised, licking his lips pleasantly. “Neither of us can lay claim to the notion of subtly either, favori.”

“Oh my God,” she choked.

“Ah, ah,” Vil tutted, twisting his other hand forward to pinch at her thigh. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Vil,” she gasped, a bit too close to a petulant whine.

“Better,” he smirked, and then reached up to loose the folds of her little towel, sending it fluttering to the mattress beneath them. Saya shivered at the rush of cold air, and then again when she caught the strange, predatory gleam in their guest’s green eyes. His gaze was like a tangible thing, running over every bit of exposed skin like the edge of a blade dipping along her shaking limbs.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she snipped, embarrassed.

“Oh, not to worry!” he chirped. “I’ve taken several!”

“What—"

Vil twined his fingers through the shorter hair at the base of her skull and tugged. “Focus, kitten.”

“I’m always focused on you,” she snapped, potion bubbling off her tongue. And Vil rewarded her honesty with another sharp tug and a dip into a deep kiss. He pressed her down until she was dizzy, and when he finally pulled back with a contented hum and a flickering, wine-warm smirk, Saya felt like she was ready to melt into the bed.

“How do you always look so stupidly put together during sex?” she complained, unbidden. “And I always wind up looking like I’ve been railed halfway to Sunday.”

Vil snorted in amusement. “Perhaps that’s the point.”

His purple irises jumped past her shoulder and then the bed was dipping again. Saya blinked, not even having realized that Rook had stepped away. But then the hunter was back and she squeaked as a pair of deceptively well-muscled arms hauled her up against an unfamiliar and very naked chest. Vil nodded, as if in satisfaction with the state of things, and then eased himself back towards solid ground to also begin the process of divesting himself of his ridiculously intricate House Robes.

A pair of unfamiliar fingers snagged her chin and Saya found herself turned to face a smile that would not look out of place on a shark.

“There you are, chérie,” Rook purred, like a big cat hulking down over its kill, and then ducked forward to press his mouth against hers in a kiss that was like a whirlwind. While Vil kissed like an artform—a perfected, poised, creation that pushed as soft or as hard as he felt suited the moment, Rook kissed like he meant to eat her alive. He nipped at her lips until Saya was tasting copper, and the self-satisfied groan that rumbled from his throat had her nearly vibrating out of her skin.

The bed was dipping again and she felt another set of far more familiar hands work their way around her waist—pushing the leach away and dragging her back across the sheets to sprawl along a lean lap. Rook laughed, pleasantly amused, and pointedly reached up to wipe a speck of blood off his chin.

“Poor thing,” Vil sighed, brushing a thumb along the smear of crimson at the corner of Saya’s own abused mouth.

The poisonous beauty leaned forward to press his lips back against hers. He laved his tongue across the fresh cut there, easing the sting and sharpening it all at once.

“He’s just terrible to you, isn’t he?” he cooed, all mocking softness. “I suppose you’ll never be able to complain about my own methods again, once this is over. I’m not nearly that mean, am I, kitten?”

“I like it when you’re a little mean to me,” she admitted, eyes darting away in mulish embarrassment.

Vil chuckled against her throat—a warm, satisfied thing. “You’re providing me with far too my ammunition this evening, darling.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “I’m literally never going to live this down.”

“Ah,” Rook trilled, slipping forward to tuck himself up against the skin of her back. And Jesus, she’d known the two of them were pretty substantially taller than her, but being wedged between them like this was a stark reminder of just how teeny she was. “But is it not better to be open and true with the one you love, hmm?”

“It’s not my fault I’m emotionally constipated,” she grumbled.

“Oh?” the hunter mused. “If you provide me with a list of the ones who are suitably responsible then, I would be more than happy to ensure that such a strain upon your person would never occur again.”

“Uhm,” Saya spluttered. “Appreciated, but… I mean, they’re all back in my old world anyways.”

“Ah,” he hummed, ducking over her shoulder to press another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Quel malheur.”

There were too many hands at her waist, and the pull of it was a bit disorientating. Saya swayed into one kiss and then another, neck craning back and forth—left to right, left to right.

“How would you prefer us?” Vil asked, with all the casual nuance of someone inquiring after the weather. It was going to drive her insane. And holy fuck, holy shit, they were—

“—actually doing this,” she choked, feeling lightheaded and far, far too warm.

“Of course,” Vil smirked, amusement playing across his face. “Unless you want us to stop.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” she squawked, and then buried her face in his shoulder in humiliation. Rook laughed, chiming and musical against her collarbone.

Vil reached around to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of her rump and squeeze. “Well? You haven’t answered me.”

“…You in front?” she asked, tentative. “So I can…”

“So you can?” he pressed, dragging her back and forth between them in a horrible, torturous grind.

“So I can kiss you,” she mumbled, pink from the tip of her chin to the roots of her hair.

That upright, royal smugness melted from his face for a moment in a wave of golden fondness, and he ducked in to press a sweet, soft kiss to her lips—his hands coming up to cup her cheeks and run gently through her mused hair. She could hear Rook let out the most besotted little sigh, like he was watching a favorite scene from one of Neige’s romcoms.

“Ah, l'amour vrai,” he breathed, leaning forward to hook his chin over her shoulder. “I never will tire of the sight.”

“Mmm,” Vil hummed, pulling away from her mouth with a lingering nip and a long, deep drag of his tongue along hers. “I suppose not, if I have any say in it.”

Saya blinked—dizzy, and warm, and jaw still hanging slack—and Rook laughed at the startled look on her face.

“Meaning he’d like to keep you forever, mon coeur,” he chirped. “So such a treat on the eyes will never have an expiry date.”

“Oh,” she whispered, still far too dazed and only falling further into that horrible, hot spiral when Vil’s fingers shifted back down to her waist to pull her back into that slow, smooth, grind between them. It was awful, and wet. And surely she was making a hideous mess of the sheets. And their thighs. And all of it. But neither of them seemed to mind, only groaned low against her skin as the blonde beauty rocked her and back and forth, and back and forth, and back and—

“Still alright, kitten?” he laughed, leaning forward to suck another dark mark against her throat.

“I want that,” she blurted, and it came out shivery and far too high. “Being—” Son of a—No! No! She had some dignity left! And stupid fucking truth potion or otherwise, she wasn’t going to let him tease her into saying— “Being yours forever.”

Another kiss, so deep and strong it had her collapsing back against Rook’s chest with the push of it. She whined against painted lips and she felt the hunter’s pleased rumble along her spine in return.

“Si réactif,” he sighed, dipping down to the other side of her throat to lave a matching mark to one Vil had only just bitten into her skin.

Vil hummed again, deep in his chest—lips trailing from her mouth, down her chin, and all the way to her collarbones. “Isn’t she?”

“Okay, okay,” Saya squawked, fighting a shiver when Rook’s hands curled around her front to cup at her chest. “Can we stop talking out how stupidly squeaky I am and just—just get on with—"

Two of Vil’s fingers curled up into her in one, sharp thrust and she gasped.

“What was that, kitten?” he cooed. “I couldn’t hear you—” another brutal thump thump thump, another strangled exhale, “over whatever—” gasping, and gasping, “you were trying,” Saya squealed, hands coming down to tug fruitlessly at Vil’s wrist as he drilled up into her over, and over, and over—“to say?”

She bucked against his grip and then Rook’s palm was slipping forward to press down hard just below her naval. And she could practically feel the tips of Vil’s fingers grinding up against the hand at her abdomen. Full, and tight, and so, so—

The hunter’s other hand dipped low between her legs to rub tight, focused circles against her clit and the winding, spring of heat in her gut just about snapped. Hard, and fast, and sudden. And then it was gone. Those crafty, wet fingers slipping away to stroke along her flank instead. Saya threw her head back against Rook’s shoulder with a whimpering gasp. She bit into her lip and pressed her fingers over her mouth in a bid to trap some of the horrible, embarrassing noises trying to sneak off her tongue. To trap the complaint, that she could feel bubbling up along with those awful, terrible mews. Because if she ever, in all her life, let a whiny, little ‘why did you stop?’ pass her lips, Rook Hunt would never let her live it down. Ever.

She breathed through her nose, counting slow and steady as she tried to drag her head back out of the clouds. And just when she thought she was settling that horrible, heat addled, fog into something manageable, the grinding started again and she squeaked.

“Wh-What are you—” she choked, twisting down against a third finger. A fourth.

“I know that normally you prefer a bit of a sting,” Vil said, and Saya was nodding along with the bubbles of that godawful potion before she could help herself. There was a twitch in Rook’s fingers along the dip of her spine, and she could feel his nails dig into the skin there like he couldn’t help himself. “But this is something new, darling. So it’s better safe than sorry, hmm?”

“I wouldn’t be sorry,” she blurted, and then cursed under her breath. “Probably.”

Vil chuckled, indulgent, against her cheek, and then curved his fingers in a way that had her seeing stars.

“Another time, perhaps,” he trilled, soft, and went back to scissoring back and forth. A steady, slippery grind to ease their way.

There was a curious hum at her shoulder and then Rook’s fingers were dancing back around to tap at Vil’s steadily rocking wrist.

“May I?”

Those heavily lined eyes narrowed for a moment, considering, and then he slowly shifted his hand to make room for Rook’s own, slipping two fingers aside to leave a soft, warm space between them.

“Carefully,” he warned, firm.

“Bien sûr, bien sûr!” Rook trilled, delving forward too fast, and too quick, and not in line with his sweet, little reassurance at all. Saya squeaked and clenched her thighs shut around his hand. Hips stuttering on the rapid thump, thump, thump of his knuckles meeting her folds. She arched away with a gasp, toes twisting in the sheets and head tossing back and forth in a tight, strangled little mewl.

“Slower,” Vil snapped, and Rook sighed like an unrepentant child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Yes, yes. As you say, mon reine.”

The brutal pace grew more tempered, more constrained, and Saya’s muscles slowly eased out of their rigid arch. Vil hummed, approving, and deftly began to twist his own fingers again in time with Rook’s enthusiastic exploration.

“Angle yourself a bit more towards the front. And a touch to the right,” he coached, and then there was familiar pressure against a tight, far too sensitive part of her that had Saya keening. “Ah. That’s it then.”

“Merci, merci, Roi de Poison,” Rook beamed, “for your marvelous guidance, as always.”

“Please, just—” she begged, twisting and bucking against the mess of hands between her legs. Because she couldn’t—it was all—there was so much—and— “It’s fine. I’m ready. Please. Can you just—”

There was a sharp pinch at her hip that had her whining and flinching away.

“Don’t rush me, kitten,” Vil chastised. “You know the rules.”

“Of course I do,” Saya snapped, more of those same, terrible truths popping along her tongue like fizz off a soft drink. “And breaking them is the only thing that gets you to actually fuck me nine out of ten times. So of course I—"

Another wicked sting at the inside of her thigh, and Saya yelped.

“My, you are an unruly, little thing aren’t you, favori?” Rook cooed, nails raking up and down her pale skin like he wanted to etch those stark, red lines into her flesh like a tattoo. “Your darling Queen adores you so much, and this is how you repay him?” There was a near-feral, hungry spark in those emerald eyes that had her trembling. And suddenly Saya felt very much like a rabbit trapped between the jaws of a cackling fox. A feisty, smirking predator who just wanted any excuse to chase, and pounce, and bite—

“Enough, Rook.”

Another sigh, long and lamenting. And Saya shivered against a fresh wave of goosebumps.

Vil hooked a finger beneath her chin and pulled her forward into a slow, syrupy kiss. His tongue traced steadily along hers, lining her teeth, pricking her canines, twining round and round until she was easing back against him with a soft sigh.

“There you are, kitten” he hummed, pulling back with a thin, sticky trail of saliva—keeping close enough that it didn’t have quite enough stretch to snap and break between them. He cupped her cheeks between his palms and Saya did her best to ignore the stripe of thick, slippery wetness that rubbed along her skin. “I think we’ve teased you enough for one night, don’t you?”

She nodded, still a bit too shivery and teary-eyed. Trembling like a leaf in the wind. And Vil leaned forward with a sweet coo to offer her another kiss.

“Do you still want this, darling?”

Another nod. One that she probably would have offered even without a Truth Potion coursing through her veins. Because, yes. It was a lot. But—but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? And Rook was still a bit, well, himself. And Saya still felt like he was two steps away from sinking his teeth into her throat and never letting go. But she trusted Vil to stay the Hunter’s hand—to keep them both in line. So she twisted her fingers through his own, finely manicured ones and leaned forward to press a soft, tremulous kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“There’s my good girl,” Vil hummed, an indulgent, little smile curling his red lips. “Now, how to best go about this…”

Manicured fingers rose to clasp firmly along the line of her shoulders, and then Vil was easing her back flat against the mattress. Her head landed with a soft ‘thump’ against Rook’s thighs, and immediately the hunter’s hands were curling into the loose waves of her hair, raking his nails along her scalp until she was shivering all over again. Vil slid his palms down along her sides to cup under her rear and raise her hips off the pooling, silk sheets. One curved further along her lower back to keep her aloft, and the other ran down her legs one at a time, hooking one calf around his waist and then the other.

He shifted forward on his knees until he was looming over her and ducked down to press another deep, breath-stealing kiss into her lips. And then he was rocking forward and slipping in slow and smooth. Saya whined against his mouth and he nipped softly at lower her lip in reprimand.

“Relax, kitten.”

She whined again and tried to shift her hips to better accommodate the familiar stretch, but Vil dug his fingers into her side to keep her firmly in place, tapping one, painted nail against the dip in her waist like a reprimand. She stilled under that firm grip all at once and Rook trilled something enthusiastic and saccharine sweet in her ear.

“Si bien entraîné,” he cooed, peppering kisses all along the curve of her jaw, up her cheek, along the bridge of her nose. “Si adorable,” another wave of pecks along her forehead. “Tu le prends si bien, favori.”

Saya scrunched her nose beneath the endless press of fluttering lips, ticklish, and Rook laughed—bright and fond. He leaned in closer to run the broad flat of his tongue along her lips instead and Saya fought a complaint, because that would just open her mouth up to the rest of him. And going by the spark darkening that emerald leer of his, that was exactly what he was hoping for.

Vil shooed the hunter away with an exasperated wave of his hand and shifted his palms back along the dip in her spine.

“Up, darling.”

He rolled back onto his knees and Saya shifted obediently alongside him—letting herself be swooped up from the long, lean sprawl and into his lap. She wobbled a bit and dug her teeth into her lip to focus on keeping her balance. It was an odd sort of position. Normally when Vil settled her in his lap, she was flush with his thighs. Pressed core to core so that he could grind her down along his length and whisper terrible things into her ear that made her melt. Now, she was situated far further up—sticky clit bumping against the firm muscles of his stomach and thighs shivering into an arch. Like trying to hold a rising trot on a horse.

Vil ran a soothing hand up and down her trembling sides.

“Good girl, doing so lovely for us” he hummed, pressing her closer and encouraging her to grind low, slow circles against his abdomen. Saya fought a shiver and bit her lip harder. “Stay just like this, hmm?”

She nodded, jittery but determined, and he smiled indulgently against her throat.

Amethyst eyes flashed towards their guest and Vil dipped his chin—an order. And then Rook was draping himself along her back once more, hands curling around to knead and pinch along her chest like he couldn’t help himself. Squeezing handfuls of soft, squishy flesh between his palms, rolling pink peaks between his fingers in sharp, overenthusiastic twists, and panting near-indiscernible obscenities into her neck all the while. Vil shuffled them around until they were situated to his liking, smacking at Rook’s limbs whenever the hunter tried to readjust himself or slip too close too soon. Two sets of hands dug themselves into her hips, and Saya could feel the hot, blunt press of Rook at her back like a brand. He sighed, whimsical, against her shoulders and rutted short, aborted thrusts against her rear—leaving smears of tacky, warm precum in his wake like a signature. Saya could feel it cooling in sticky trails all along her skin, but Rook seemed more than merry with the idea of letting it pool there, thick and messy, until they were stuck together at the hip from it.

She was still pressed up at that awkward angle, still rubbing those soft, wet, maddening circles right where Vil had told her to. And even though her thighs were really starting to ache, Saya realized oh. Like this, Rook could drive right up into her, couldn’t he? They both could. And then, after she was wrapped up between them like a lock and key, they would be able to pass her back and forth so easily, and—

Vil rocked up into her in one quick, sharp thrust and Saya’s attention was immediately snapping back to him on a high-pitched keen.

“Focus, kitten,” he chastised. “Just for this part, at the very least. So that we can make sure everything’s going the way it should. And,” he pressed, flicking at her nose, “because you will be telling us if anything hurts. Understood?”

The potion popped in her mouth with a vengeance, and she found herself pouting, “But I like when it—"

Vil nipped at her lips to stop the words in their tracks, but Rook was already gasping delightedly in her ear.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he chuffed, amused.

The House Warden propped his chin against her shoulder to press a wet, lingering kiss beneath her ear. And with his teeth still scraping against her skin, he canted his head back to shoot Rook the coldest, sharpest look she’d ever seen him level at the hunter in their bed.

“She’s small,” Vil said, like a warning. But there was something else there too, underlying. Something curling, and dark, and possessive that Saya wasn’t really sure what to make of. “So you need to be careful.”

She couldn’t see Rook’s reaction from over her shoulder, but whatever stare down they were locked in felt like it dragged on for an age. And then, finally, Vil was relaxing against her with a nod and drawing the both of them back into the little cradle of limbs he’d so deftly constructed.

“Go on then,” he ordered, in the same, haughty tone he might use for making demands of an unruly student. “She’s waiting.”

“A crime I shall never be able to repent for,” Rook crooned, and then dug his fingers along Saya’s hips until she was carefully arching away from Vil’s with a soft hiss.

It was a bit of an awkward balancing act at first—trying to keep herself from tipping too far forward or too far back. To keep Vil between her legs without slipping off entirely while also bowing her spine enough to give Rook the access he needed. He panted along her shoulder, biting and licking as he went in a way that made her think of rabbits and predators all over again. She could feel the steady, blunt pressure of him as he rocked forward bit by bit. Careful, just like Vil had demanded he be. Saya shifted against the strain in her legs and gave a tentative swivel of her hips, trying to coax him into seating himself deeper. And, naturally, Vil was there in an instant to nip admonishingly at her throat and tighten his grip until she kept herself still once more.

“Be patient, kitten.”

I am being patient, she wanted to whine back, but in that moment, Rook hit a point where the resistance seemed to give way all at once, and she was sliding all the way down against the both of them with a noise like the air had been knocked straight out of her lungs.

Vil groaned, low and punched out, against her neck, and Rook hissed from behind his teeth.

“Si serrée,” he gasped, hips rabbiting up fast—once, twice—like he couldn’t help himself, and Vil snapped something under his breath that Saya was too out of her wits to make sense of. Because it was so, so much. So tight, and hot, and the pressure was just, so, so—

She panted around them and dug her nails into Vil’s shoulders hard, hard, hard. He didn’t even flinch.

“Alright?” he asked after a moment, mouthing gently at the hollow below her collarbone as he glanced up at her from beneath heavy lashes.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, jerkily, dizzily.

“Nothing painful?” he coaxed, and Saya shook her head until her hair was flying around her cheeks. The pressure and the tight, tight, tight, tight of it was almost too much to bear. Teetering precariously along that ledge of ‘too much.’ But it was also so, so good—

“It feels—”

“Go on,” Rook teased, voice a bit tremulous and breathy, and she could feel the words slither along the shell of her ear. Vil shushed him sharply and then pressed another encouraging kiss to her throat.

“Don’t mind him, darling. When you’re ready.”

“It’s nice?” she managed to choke out, when Vil shifted a bit at her front and it sent a tidal wave of all sorts of unfamiliar pressure through the rest of her. Lovely, and full, and different, and—

“Ah, avez-vous entendu que, mon reine?” the hunter tutted. “We are but ‘nice.’ That doesn’t sound like much of a resounding success, no?”

“No,” Vil hummed on a wry sort of agreement that sounded like nothing but trouble. He shifted again, giving an experimental rut of his hips as he did so that had all three of them shivering on a moan. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement. How unfortunate.”

“Very nice?” Saya spluttered out frantically.

“Oh, come now!” Rook mewed, and she could feel his fingers reaching around to dig into her hips and gently begin to pull her down. “Surely we can do better than that, mon reine.”

“Surely,” he echoed, gaze flitting pointedly over her shoulder to whatever expression was curling over their guest’s face. Vil’s eyes narrowed again, but that swimming, dark something from before was absent. Now, it just looked like a challenge. Saya could feel Rook’s smile widen against her cheek. “Keep to my rhythm,” Vil demanded, giving another sharp, deep, push that had Saya dipping back on a gasp. Rook chirped in delight.

“I will, as always, endeavor to follow your lead in all things, mon reine,” he trilled, letting his own hips jump forward in response. It was too hard, too quick, and Saya yelped when the force of it nearly toppled her out of both of their laps.

“Rook.”

“Apologies, apologies,” the hunter cooed, giving another, gentler thrust. “I was too eager, I’m afraid.”

Vil huffed under his breath and then started up his own, measured grind. He twined his fingers along Saya’s hips and pulled her down at each upward press. Meeting his thrusts in time so that they struck long, and deep, and hard along all the familiar, sensitive places that he knew far too well. It took a moment for Rook to match it—to push in as Vil eased out. To rut just hard enough to have her whining and gasping but not squeaking in discomfort. And Saya was dying. The press of the two of them was so, so much. She felt out of her skin—like her pulse was a match to the pressures in her belly and those alone. She raked her nails down Vil’s back until he was hissing with it and Rook trilled in delight.

“Next time,” he sighed, dreamy, and stuttered on a thrust. “Ah, la merveille de sentir tes griffes dans ma peau,” he crooned. He bit at her throat, hard, and Saya choked on a squeak. “What I wouldn’t give—”

“Focus, Rook,” Vil snorted, reaching a hand down between them to rub tight circles against Saya’s clit until she was shivering.

“Ah, désolé, désolé,” the Vice Warden chirped, and then drove up hard enough to nearly send her sprawling all over again. But this time he kept his fingers firm around her waist, hauling her down against the pair of them just as sharply. And Saya keened.

Vil didn’t even bother to chastise him this time, his own head falling back on a startled grunt at the tight, tight heat—his hips catching on the slick drag of it and nearly tugging him under. He dug his fingers in alongside Rook’s and pulled her down harsher. Until Saya was hiccupping on every thrust and panting desperate, whiny sentiments against his shoulder. That curling, clawing warmth in her gut spiraled higher, and Vil’s eyes caught on hers like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Almost there, kitten?” he breathed against her cheek, wet and fast. “We do have an audience this, time, don’t we?” he cooed, pupils pulsing so wide and blown that they nearly swallowed the amethyst there in its entirety. “So we’re going to have to make it count.”

And then his fingers were working over her clit in earnest and Saya squealed.

“Vil—”

“Louder.”

She gulped, nearly choking on air, and that potion bubbled in her veins like a promise.

“Vil.”

“Can’t hear you, darling.” Which was absolutely rich, coming for the man currently pushing words past his throat like he trying not to gasp for breath. Like every other sound coming out of him wasn’t some airy, punched-out groan.

“Vil—"

“You can do better than that, kitten.”

Saya’s very rightful complaint broke into a squawk when Rook drove up harder. When the two of them met in the middle in perfect sync—in a perfect, terrible pressure that was far too much. And she wanted to scream, and scream, and—

“That’s it, darling.”

Saya wailed, tucking herself tight against Vil’s chest like she could crawl inside him if she pushed hard enough. That she could live there forever alongside the staccato thump thump thump of his heart at her front, and Rook’s at her back, and—

The spring snapped and Saya was tumbling over the edge all at once. Rook moaned, low and long, from over her shoulder and Vil cursed under his breath. Both sets of hips stuttered at the tight, tight clench and then, as she was still trembling, and panting, and seeing stars, Vil groaned and released deep inside her in a familiar, wet, wave of heat. Rook followed not a moment after, sighing, and gasping, and pushing forward as far as he could go.

It took a long, long time for her to come down. And even after that, Saya was still shaking, and shivery, and far too oversensitive. Rook shifted at her back—still tucked up as deep inside as he could manage. Still wet, and warm, and heavy—and she winced at the tender sting of it. Vil’s lips traced a soft, sweet pattern against her temple, murmuring reassurances that she still wasn’t quite in the right mind to make sense of, and then he was gently easing her off the both of them and back down towards the sheets. Carefully, carefully. Saya’s thighs throbbed, and then the rest of her gave an answering, sore flinch. All the way down to the core of her. She was sticky, and aching, and there was a pool of white, tacky, wetness cooling between her legs that she could feel trailing down, down, down. She shifted with another flinch, hoping to take some of the pressure off her hips, and Vil’s hands reached down to slot a pillow beneath her lower back.

“There you are, darling,” Vil hummed, tucking her gently between the pair of them so she could curl up into his side, mess be damned. Rook draped himself delicately along her back, rubbing circles into the bruises by her hips and cooing soft, low sentiments into her hair. “You did so well, sweetheart.”

Saya grumbled something drunkenly incoherent into his chest and Vil chuffed in amusement against her flushed cheeks.

“Une prestation magistrale,” Rook encouraged, still a bit warbly, a bit breathless, and licked a long, lazy line over the sweat beading along her skin. “Truly, I have never witnessed such perfection in human form, mon coeur.”

Saya’s head lolled forward on another, soft hiccup and she snuggled in tighter—embarrassed. Limbs loose and shivering.

Vil’s hand trailed up and down her arm in slow, measured strokes.

“Too much?” he coaxed, concerned, and Saya managed to shake her head until he was laughing at her under his breath. “Ah. Just enough then, I suppose.”

She took a moment to just breathe—to take in the familiar scents of Vil’s lingering cologne, the soft, floral breeze of his shampoo, the lavender musk that was just him. And overlaid amidst all that cozy comfort was the smell of cypress and pine. Of ozone, and leather, and sprawling forests. Saya scrunched her nose nervously against Vil’s collarbone for a moment, taking in another few, deep breaths to steady herself. And then she turned back onto her side, wincing all the while. The hands at her hips faltered, and with careful, cautious movements, she managed to flop all the way over without squeaking even once.

Saya peeked up at Rook from beneath her golden lashes, nervous. And then slowly, hesitantly, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Uhm…” she spluttered, quickly averting her gaze and ears going pink in chagrin. Despite how innocent it was in comparison to all the things that they’d just done—what they’d done to her. “…Thank you.”

And then she was ducking back into the safety of Vil’s arms far too quickly, wheezing in discomfort when it tugged at muscles she didn’t even know could ache. She burrowed back into his chest with a sniffly little whine that was far too teary for her pride to admit, and Vil was immediately back to cooing and carding his fingers through her hair.

The House Warden smiled into her mused locks for a moment longer before letting his sharp gaze dart back to the hunter sprawled out beside them.

Rook had a hand delicately raised to his cheek, as if he could trace the imprint of Saya’s kiss with his fingertips alone. His green eyes had gone wide with surprise, and there was a strange, curling, spark blooming in them that Vil knew far too well.

“Oh,” Rook whispered, sounding choked. Like his heart had grown enough to swell past the cage of his chest, to press hard and welcoming against his airway like it couldn’t help itself. Ready to steal the last breath it could. Ready to take it willingly.

Vil snorted into Saya’s hair and let her press herself in an exhausted puddle along his side, right where she was always meant to be. He closed his eyes, feeling the pleasant, sore twinges in his own muscles as he settled back against the pillows. A moment passed in silence, and then another. And then, predictably, Vil could hear the soft shft of Rook slipping closer along the mattress—feel the dip along Saya’s hips as the hunter draped himself over her back like a cloak.

Saya stiffened for a moment in surprise, but then was slipping back into sleep between one, soft breath and the next. Vil tucked himself against her nape and felt the brush of Rook’s hands as he reached forward to clutch at the teeny, shivering blonde between them like a lifeline. Vil sighed again and let himself be lulled into a dreamless doze alongside her.

They could discuss the future another time.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x OC #Vil Schoenheit x OC #Vil x OC #Rook Hunt x OC #Vil x Rook x OC #vil schoenheit #Rook Hunt #My Writing

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dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

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Could you make a town with yandere citizens, being both romantic and platonic, with a reader who is moving into her first solo home after leaving her parents and finally becoming an independent adult?

I did have something similar to this before, a cult that was all obsessed with one person - I didn’t really know if you wanted something with that or something different, so while I’ll tag it as the cult, this piece is less focused on the religious aspect. I hope this is okay!! :]

TW: Stalking, Obsession, home invasion, harrassment

You were glad to be able to finally have a place to yourself - a bit of privacy went a long way to making you feel more at home and you were glad you didn’t have to hide anything in your own home anymore.

You spent your first day all to yourself in your house, listening to music, shows, podcasts or audiobooks and going about making your new home a liveable place. Once you’d unpacked everything, it was late and you nipped down to the local takeaway for food.

The moment you entered, something was off. Everyone in the small shop looked at you, from the regular patrons waiting at the counter, to the people cooking behind it. You glanced over yourself, but nothing about you seemed amiss - maybe it was simply because they didn’t recognise you? It was a small town after all, a stranger would stick out like a sore thumb.

As the staff served you, taking your order and cooking up your food, they all smiled in a strange, sickly manner. Some of the patrons that were there before you received their food, but still waited inside, not leaving.

The moment you got your food you dashed out and went back home, weirded out by the strange experience. You lock your door before eating in peace.

The next day, you barely remembered the strange experience, figuring that you were just being paranoid. To take your mind off of it, you made your way to the local DIY shop, hoping to get some paint samples to see what colour you wanted your new room to be.

The minute you walked into the shop, the air seemed cold and the same thing happened again. Everyone inside, regardless of whether they were staff or shoppers, stared at you with round, doe eyes.

Several of the workers approached you, asking sweetly if you needed assistance, but it seemed as though they were pleading rather than asking. They pursed their lips everytime you said no.

You get home only to find your new neighbours on the doorstep. They watch as you approach them, and smile, introducing themselves, the same strange look in their eyes as everyone at the DIY shop and the takeaway. They make you take a pot of some sort of casserole, and ask you to invite them over some time - but again, it seems like less of a request and more like begging.

The pattern repeats - anytime you go anywhere, people seem to want to stare at you and get close to you. No matter if you’re at the shops, at work, or just in the park, people hang around. Some ask to be friends. Others invite you for dinner, or to their church service. Some even try to ask you out. Absolutely no one will leave you alone.

You retreat into your house, becoming reclusive, frightened to go out anymore. You’d rather just stay curled up in your living room than see anyone. But one evening, you catch a glimpse of someone - or rather, multiple someones - peering into your window, leering at you, making sure that you never get any privacy. You call the police, but the local station just writes you off and refuses to come take a look.

You lock yourself in your bedroom, the last bastion of privacy. The door is barricaded and the window blacked out, but still you can hear them outside, milling about. It won’t be long before they get in.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

#yancore #yandere #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere drabble #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #tw stalker #tw stalking #stalking #stalker #Ask #Story #The Cult

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 4 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 94

Part 1 Part 93

Will can’t tear his gaze away from Steve. Even as Carol flutters around him, frantic and worried, and Eddie just cries.

Will’s shivering. Mom’s rubbing her hands up and down his arms in quick movements, like she can warm him up. But he is warm. The Harrington’s water heater’s working as good as advertised; the bathroom’s downright sweltering.

He’s just shaking.

“We should get him to the hospital,” Barbara says, crouching down beside Steve and settling her fingers against his pulse. She looks over at Eddie, grimacing, “Probably get all of us looked at.”

Eddie’s sopping wet and bloody, cheekbone swelling, and he’s sitting hunched strangely like something inside him aches. Perkins is similarly scuffed up and bruised, if less bloody. Collectively, they look like a group of disaster victims that barely managed to crawl their way out of the rubble.

Eddie pulls Steve further into himself, hauling himself up with a painful-sounding grunt, Steve cradled in his arms.

Mom lets go of Will, rushing forward to flutter her hands around him. “You shouldn’t be holding him, sweetie,” she cries. “You’re hurt.”

Eddie’s already listing to the side, nearly falling back into the tub until Barbara curls her own arms around Steve, hefting him up.

“I’ve got him,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’re three seconds away from keeling over dead,” Carols scoffs, leading the way out of the bathroom with sloshing footsteps.

Eddie and Barbara shuffle after her, awkward like they’re hauling an old couch out to make room for a new one. They luckily fit side by side on the stairs, but Carol still walks in front of them, hands raised to catch anyone who tumbles, somehow maneuvering each backward step with ease.

Mom and Will hold up the rear, taking awkward stilted steps to try to stay out of anyone’s way at the slow pace.

The house is lit, fluorescent and quiet, and warm against his cooling skin from the heat Carol had clicked on when they’d arrived. He feels like an ant walking through its opulent, barren rooms, leaving wet, muddy tracks into its pristine carpet.

The gulf between him and Steve seems like a trench. It’s hard to imagine Steve here, small and alone in his nice clean sneakers and his clean, fresh clothes. Everything’s so white, any careless movement could leave a smudge. Will’s house is a second-hand storage bin.

But then again, Steve had left this house hadn’t he? He’d made himself as at home in the Munson’s trailer as Uncle Wayne’s recliner or Eddie’s guitar.

Will’s throat hurts when he swallows, like that time he’d gotten strep and hadn’t been able to go to school for a whole week. He raises his fingers to the tender flesh, feels them like Steve’s hand around his throat.

He wants his Mom, even with her standing right there. He wants Steve even though he’s passed out in front of him and it was his hands–

No. He can’t think like that. He can’t.

The house is the graveyard of Steve’s life. Had he toddled down these stairs as a teenager? Settled onto that couch as a teenager? Hosted parties in that kitchen? It’s hard to picture the rooms full of people, even when he knows it's true.

The rumors of his parties had trickled down even to the middle school.

But it’s so quiet now. Too quiet.

“Mike?” Will calls as they stagger their way into the living room.

No one answers.

“Kids?” Mom calls, rushing around where Barbara and Eddie are clogging up the living room. “Where are you?”

She frantically searches the living room, then kitchen, then opens doors at random, calling through the house for no one who can hear her. Will can almost hear his own disappearance echoing through her desperate words. “Where did they go?” she cries as she dashes back into the living room, eyes frantic and wide.

Barbara snorts. “Doing something stupid would be my guess.” She adjusts her hold on Steve, doing a little jump to shimmy him back up into her arms from where he’d been slipping.

Will bolts out of the house, ignoring everyone’s calls in his mad dash to the van. Harrington's security light turns on, blanketing him in sharp light, briefly blinding him before his eyes adjust.

Max’s step-brother’s car is gone, the only proof that he was ever there a splash of blood on concrete.

The van’s gone too.

Will fishes his walkie talkie out of his pocket, hands fumbling with wet jeans. It’s damp when he pries it free. He wipes it off on his partially dry shirt and compresses the button with baited breath, sighing in relief when the tell-tale crackle of an open line filters through.

His voice is breathless and croaking as he asks, “where are you, are you okay?” all in one breath, finishing with a quick, “over.”

It’s Lucas who replies. “Did it work?”

“He’s back,” Will replies, choking on tears he didn’t realize were flowing.

It’s silent for a moment before Mike’s voice comes through. “What about El?”

Will’s gut churns, throat clicking as he says, “We don’t know yet,” he turns back toward the house, noticing for the first time that the garage door is open, shelves ransacked, odds and ends tossed haphazardly all over the floor. “We have to get Steve to the hospital; did you take the van?”

Everyone else is shuffling out of the house, cries of dismay and alarm coming from them all as they take in the lack of transportation. Barbara asks, “should we call an ambulance?” as she stares dubiously at all of them, frowning at their bedraggled states.

Before anyone can reply, there’s the murmur of too-many voices for the walkie to pick up before Dustin’s voice cuts through it with a vehement “shit,” Max’s own shouted “we’re almost back!” barely intelligible, like she was speaking from too-far away.

“Who’s driving?” Mom cries, running up to Will and looking down at the walkie clutched in his hand like it’ll open its mouth and answer her questions despite the button not even being compressed.

It doesn’t matter – the van comes careening around the corner, and onto the street too fast. It takes the turn into the driveway too wide, running over the Harrington’s perfectly cultivated rose bushes before it screeches to a stop alarmingly close to their fleshy bodies.

Carol laughs when she catches sight of Max sitting in the driver’s seat, looking out at all of them like she belongs there. “I like you, red,” she calls, even as she opens the driver’s side door and shoves her out of the way despite her protests. “You’ve got guts.”

Dustin wrenches the door open, eyes widening as he catches sight of Steve. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

Barbara bullies her way past him, losing her footing and her grip on Steve enough that his head thuds alarmingly into the hard floor of the van despite Eddie’s fumbling to help. They all end up sprawling, Eddie on the van’s ground, Barbara only partially in, feet dangling awkwardly out the open door.

“Be careful,” Eddie snarls, glaring up at where she stands. She doesn’t spare him a glance as she helps get Steve fully into the van. Eddie pulls Steve away from her, almost growling. It’s incongruent with the picture he paints as places Steve’s head gently in his own lap, smoothing his wet hair back from his face.

Barbara ignores the whole thing, moving past them all to claim the passenger seat, brushing past where Max is still crouched by the driver’s seat. Barbara settles into the seat like she owns it, foot up on the dash, knee bent as she turns to lock gazes with Carol.

Dustin’s hovering by Steve and Eddie, hands flitting around like he wants to touch but can’t figure out where it won't hurt anyone further.

Mike and Lucas both stay seated, looking down at Steve with furrowed brows. “Is he going to be okay?” Lucas asks. No one answers because no one knows.

“How’d you even start it?” Carol asks Max, fiddling with the trailing wires Eddie’d used to spark the thing to life.

Max snorts derisively and crosses her arms, dropping to sit criss cross on her butt. “You morons never cut the engine.”

“Enough!” Mom yells, brushing Will’s shoulders gently and easing him forward until he has no choice but to crawl into the van himself. She climbs in beside him, shutting the door with a slam that makes everyone jump. “Carol, dear? Drive.”

She does, pulling out of the driveway with only slightly less reckless abandon than Max used to enter it.

It’s quiet as the van trundles down the road, save for Eddie’s quiet, unintelligible murmuring in Steve’s ears. His ribs must hurt with the way he’s hunched over Steve, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Will stays where he is, sitting on his hands even as he feels Eddie’s gentle pulling, like he needs to know that Will’s still there.

“Did we turn off the water?” Carol asks, cutting through the tension with relaxed ease.

Barbara snorts, “Did we close the front door?”

Will pictures that empty dollhouse with its absent family. He pictures it filling with water, like a fishbowl, like the Titanic. A shrine to all the cruelties that happened there.

“Do we care?” Will asks. Steve’s face looks peaceful in sleep. Almost serene the way it never is when he’s awake.

Carol laughs, manic as she speeds up, van bumping along the road at reckless speeds. “We do not,” she calls vindictively before laughing again.

Will doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary

Part 95

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #will byers

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years

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Top 10 Best Trees in my local forest

10. I know I know this is a stump hence why it’s #10, but I love that it looks like the outline of a person’s body. A person that was drawn and quartered apparently. I should do a Top 10 Stumps one day, I’ve seen some cool ones!

9. Another stump, but I initially wanted to include this one in my top 10 as a tree, and then it was felled recently :( It was one of my favourite local trees because it had such big roots (larger than most nearby trunks!) that emerged from the ground here and there like undulating sea serpents. I was sad when it was cut but on the other hand it had the sweetest-smelling resin in the world. It was a very windy day so the smell travelled everywhere, and this tree’s fresh resin made the entire forest smell like candy floss.

8. I just like that this one looks like a busy giant centipede crossing the stream on its way somewhere. I’ve always wanted to use it as a bridge but so far I’ve not dared.

7. This one looks like it belongs in a jungle with these thick vines all over its trunk. I had the Playmobil jungle set when I was a kid and it was one of my favourite toys and I would have absolutely loved to find a jungle tree near my home.

6. This tree already looks cool during the day, but at night by torchlight these scaly-looking roots look exactly like a T-rex’s paw clawing at the ground. It’s a mandatory stop every time I go on a nighttime walk in the forest with my cats.

5. This one is unremarkable most of the year but then there’s 1 week every autumn when it just catches fire and it’s a happily-anticipated yearly event (for me).

4. Yes I’ve already made a post about the remarkable tree but I actually went to check it out since then, and it’s the most ridiculous story.

See, there used to be a genuinely remarkable tree there and it was known as the King of the Forest. Then this tree was felled like 70 years ago but the road sign was already there, so they decided it would now refer to a nearby, nearly-as-cool-tree, which became known as the Queen of the Forest. Then the queen was also cut down. There were no other remarkable trees nearby but people still refused to remove the sign so a normal boring tree became the new remarkable tree. There’s a little sign next to it (otherwise you wouldn’t remark the new remarkable tree) explaining that this is the Viceroy of the Forest (yes, really!) and sort of summing up how this ordinary fellow came to be promoted. I didn’t take a picture of it, that’s how unremarkable it is, but I love the story behind its Viceroy title, it’s exactly this:

3. Now, this one is in the top 3 because it’s my cats’ favourite tree:

Its trunk has completely split in two and one half of it fell over but remained attached and now forms a very long arching “tongue” that touches the ground. My cats LOVE walking on it, it seems to make them feel very important, like a red carpet for cats. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos featuring cats doing their catwalk because they only accompany me at night... But look at this strange tree arch (it’s like six metres long!) and picture three important-looking cats walking on it:

2. This one is shaped like a harp!! A very beloved landmark in my woods, it makes me smile every time I walk past it.

1. This one is just excellent, green-tipped like a Caran d’Ache pastel pencil and with roots that look like they harbour a whole city of little wood sprites. (ft. a Pandolf for scale):

1. (it’s a tie) This tree might not be as cool or fun-looking as the others (although in winter it looks dashing!) but it’s the tree that marks the beginning of my land so it feels like a welcoming friend. For sentimental reasons it will be ranked first.

#crawling along #very long post about trees! i just think they're neat #i'm not including any trees i planted myself because obviously i can't rank my children

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momolady · 5 months

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2023 Year End Stats

Not to be stereotypical or anything, but for me at least, 2023 was an odd year. I bled for 6 months straight, dealt with the worst pain I still can't comprehend, had a hysterectomy, moved in with my partner, got some cats, dealt with a lot of stress, watched the world burn. Yeah, it's been pretty good to outweigh the bad.

But anyways! I've done the math and put together a list of my stories that performed the best this year. At least in terms of notes anyways. I'm also going to share my stories that didn't perform as well and hope they get the love they deserve.

Anyways, let's get on with the count down. Forty total stories have published on Tumblr this year. Sixty-six were published on Patreon. Top monsters were orcs (7), Vampire (3), Fae, Minotaur, Romm Monster, Lich (all 2).

Top Ten Stories:

10. Kahann the Naga

This one would probably be in my top ten favorites to write of the year. This dark, twisted romance between a lonely, isolated girl shipwrecked on an island with the dangerous and sexy Kahann struck the dark romance itch I've been wanting to scratch.

9. Keir the Orc

Comfy farm romance that features annoyances to lvoers. What else could you want? Orcs are always fun to write, I feel I could do it with my eyes closed, but thankfully I don't wanna do that.

8. Atharo the Lich

The pink lich, this one had imagery in it I couldn't get out of my head. the visions of this pink lich still huant me and I wish I could conjur such sstrong imagery still.

7. Asier the Drider

A simple premise we cann understand. Getting packages and ordering online is probably yhe msot fun we can have without leaving our homes. But what if your neighbor was annoyed by this? And what if that neighbor was a drider?

6. Auberon the Room Monster

The enchanted library. i think I've written more about the romance and mystery of bookstores an libraries more than anything. But this story was special, with lots of worldbuilding wrapped like a blanket around these characters. The room this monster stays in is the library, and who doesn't wanna spend time with that guy?

5. Marek the Vampire

This murky, dark, and swampy tale is one of those that stays with me. The idea of a different sort of vampire, one in the bogs and wetlands of a strange peninsula that gets flooded every year haunts me. The image of him is one of my absolute favorite creations and I hope I get to visit this peninsula village again.

4. Placide the Paralangua

This story marks the beginning and growth of my Charcourt universe. Liek Hearthway Hollow it's a town filled to the brim with straneg creatures, only it's the Paralangua, alligator type monsters who throw a festival every year to celebrate their history and the continued growth of Charcourt. Is it a cult? Maybe. There's a new five part tale of this area up on Patreon now.

3. Ben the Werewolf

Enmies to lovers, I think most people get on board with this trope. This tale of Hearthway Hollow delves into the relationship between two high school enemies who reconnect after years and manage to put aside their competitivness to find one another. The lead in thisstory is also Rowan's little sister.

2. Leraye the Demon

Demons are always fun. My demon characters have ways of weaving themselves in and out of the world we know, sometimes as proper members of society, often not. Leraye is one of those that visits our world as a full time member, seeing out the comforts of a Chinese bakery whose owners are a family with ties into the reality he avoids.

Florenz the Vampire Bat

This would for sure also be on my favorites of the year. This dark story wove together elements of fantasy, horror, and romance that I love to death. The lead is sophisticated and dashing, the lead is adventurous and excitable. The chemistry between the leads while writing this tale was so good.

The Ten Least Appreciated Stories

10. Juniper the Tiefling

I am deeply disappointed this didn't do as well as I expected. This story was based on characters me and my bff made for a one shot DND session. So this story was more personal to me than others. but more than that, I feel it had some of my best banter!

9. Rocco the Guard

Another personal tale based on ideas me and my friend came up with during a visit where we watched the Owl House together. I also greatly enjoyed the leading lady who was smart, spunky, and chaotic in the absolute best ways.

8. Ozzie the Werewolf & Tryfon the Naiad

It has a trans lead, it has polyamory, it was set in hearthway Hollow! I thought this story was serving up gold on a platter. But maybe people weren't in the mood for gold. The comedy in this is top notch, at least I thought.

7. Laertes the Fae

Another story where the dialogue I feel sparkles and pops with every interaction the characters had. This did only recently come out, so maybe it'll grow after this.

6. Ransom the Shapeshifter

Another personal story based around lore me and my bff created for our Stardew Valley characters. It also featured a nonbinary lead and monster, I thought people would be excited for this. I loved playing with the avant-garde sci-fi aspect and being a little weird. But maybe that's why people didn't like it too much lol

5. The Leshy

Another story that would be in my top ten for my personal favorites to write. I loved the complexity of the leading lady and crafting her has made her a personal favorite. The characters and world of this story will be one that stays with my thoughts as I think about the cozy, dark streets anfdthe moss covered steps of the buildings.

4. Jaqueline the Dullahan

This story has it all! Chocolate, Halloween, a sexy dullahan chef, and it's a lesbian romance. Maybe I don't have enough wlw readers but this story came from a ko-fi prompt I wrot and just grew into a full fledged story. I really enjoyed the atmosphere of this story and how it felt like a cozy fireplace with hot cocoa.

3. Beast the Symbiote

Beast is a character I have been wanting to get out into the world for years. She's such a complex villain character, and who doesn't love that. I feel like she is one of my coolest characters. Lucky Devil was also a character I had been dying to get out, she's been in my head since I watched Magi Madoka and she took form slowly over the years. She is in part based on me, and I want to do more with this lovely couple.

2. Fia the Selkie

I'm starting to see a pattern here. Male reader stories aren't ya'lls cup of tea? Too bad, I have some amazing male readers and commissioners I adore working for. Fia was this comforting warm blanket of a story. A struggling musician and the lovely Selkie he's come to be with. I really love this story, please check it out if you want some comfort.

1.Ria the Orc: an AU

I'm actually a wee bit pissed about this one. Another male reader, and Ria is a character I've come to absolutely love. This was written for a commissioner I've come to consider a friend, and writing for him has become an amazing experience. Ria and her beau have also become such real, loving characters in my head. This was an AU of the modern monsters Ria where she is in Obresh and participates in the Reaping. Who doesn't love Reaping stories? C'mon folks, give these ten stories the love they deserve!

Thank you all for an amazing year! Next year I will hopefully publish and you're going to see bigger and grander things from me, I owe that to all of you. Keep a look out for my Ozren novel hitting the shelf soon. Thank you so much and I hope I continue to write stories you love.

#top ten #year in review #2023 #monster romance #monster fuqqer #monster smut #orc #vampire #lich #fae #writblr #writing community #creative writing #personal

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ghouljams · 7 months

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Hey Ghoul ! I hope you’re doing well.

It’s not really an ask about your writing, but I wanted to know if you had received the last three asks I sent you ? They were about Keegan (maybe demon!AU ? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember), Roach (no specific headcanon idea, just that I loved the way your wrote him and needed to see more of your takes on him) and ghost!Ghost on Halloween (I think it was about how they would spend the night, like with movies or something).

I’m sorry I could not be more specific, I’m a bit scared of sharing my name in asks unless it is about writing about someone’s AU or headcanons, and I actually sent them quite a while ago (the last one was ghost!Ghost, I sent it on Halloween I think - and I think there was one with Fae!Price ?). I feel like Tumblr likes to eat some of the asks I send to people a lot, so I just wanted to make know if this devilish app had been naughty again. Feel free to ignore the ideas mentioned above, this is just about the Naughty Tumblr Check.

Anyway, I’m still melting every time I see a new post from you. Your last AU with Ghost (forgot the name, I’m not familiar with era at all and my memory is poop) is just *chef’s kiss*. I can’t help but think about Ghost having a few drinks and still getting annoyed at all the guys trying to hit on the reader, and just goes to stand in front of her like « I’ll fill your dance quota of the night. Dancefloor. Now. »

And he is not sorry about the broken fan, at all.

Lots of love and inspiration on you, Friend 💚

I have your asks love! I just have 160 asks and a million ideas in my brain all the time. I'm adoring Ghost as a period romance protagonist, what a dashing gentleman he is.

It's strange, you hardly even shiver when his shadow envelops you, though you see your friends clam up tight. The lothario kissing your hand pulls back abruptly and excuses himself. You make a mental note that your escort is good for something, as you turn to face him. He doesn't look happy, but when does he ever. Ghost holds out his hand.

"Dance card," He demands. You place it on his palm and he inspects it. You think you've done rather well for yourself all things considered. All first sons and no one less than a Count. He tugs a short pencil from his breast pocket and scratches it against the card quickly before drawing a neat line. He hands it back to you and takes your hand as you look to see what he's done now.

"Simon Riley" is dragged in tight cursive along the last of your openings.

"This is ridiculous," You tell him, "You can't-"

He tugs you close, his hand firm on the small of your back, and you realize you're already on the dance floor. Huh? What? How did that happen? You glance back at your friends who all look as surprised as you are, and Ghost spins you along with the music. He's a shockingly good dancer, coordinated and strong enough to corral you away from trying to lead. His hand moves over your back, keeping you just on the wrong side of what's proper. Too close. A few older women fan themselves with their eyes narrowed as you glide past.

Not that you notice, you're too busy watching Ghost. His eyes hold yours, challenging you to pull away, to find another partner. His grip on your hand is loose, but the one on your back tells you there's no escape. When the dance is over he lifts your gloved hand to his masked lips and somehow that covered kiss feels warmer than anything bare could ever compete with. You can feel his lips against your hand as clearly as you can see his eyes dropping respectfully. You never want to dance with anyone else.

Which is perfect because he's scratched out half your dance card.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #f!reader #ghost x f!reader #austenian au #idk w hat to even tag this lmao #I have your asks I don't think my asks get eaten too often #i'm just a dragon hoarding asks

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y3ager · 11 months

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WE OUTSIDE.

— a night you initially weren’t looking forward to ends in the best way imaginable.

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: high school au, modern au, marijuana and alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), mild cream pie. minors dni.

DESPITE HOW YOU refused it for months, here you stand in a mansion someone had the money and connections to reserve holding the worst position anyone can have on graduation night: designated driver.

you’re the coveted mom friend, the only one in the group with a level enough head and fear of, you know, dying to make sure you and your girls don’t end up on the morning news the following day. after weeks of promising that they wouldn’t be back home after walking across stage, here they all are enjoying one last night of partying before they all go their separate ways, to different universities and states, some of them never seeing each other again.

obviously you’re not one to knock someone else’s fun, but it’s just not your thing and you knew that with the first party you snuck out to. it’s loud, crowded, and smacking the ass of your friend or fighting your way to the front for a good view of it is only fun for the first 20 or so minutes. it’s three am and no one shows signs of stopping.

you nurse your cocktail of lemonade with a dash of pink whitney because it helps to have something in your hand. you stay off towards the back and hug the wall, watching your peers have fun and dreading when you inevitably have to shove 7 shitfaced girls into one car. three are horny drunks, one does nothing but cry by the end of the night, one more tends to get punchy…

you feel a solid body bump against yours and lurch forward a bit. “sorry!” you shout, but with the bass of the music and everyone’s yelling, they probably don’t even hear you.

“no, you’re fine..” all of a sudden you smell nothing but weed, enough to make your nose wrinkle a bit. he brandishes his blunt to you, obviously inviting you take a hit. that’s what all these parties are, people swapping blunts and taking sips out of bottles and repurposed polar pop cups.

“no, um, i’m good..” your better judgement starts to kick in, even though you’re probably the only person in the entire house using some right about now. it could be filled with god knows what, what if your job springs up a surprise drug test, you’re not supposed to take anything from a damn stranger!

a little voice in the very back of your head reminds you that this is your problem: playing it safe, keeping your head down, abstaining from doing anything even mildly reckless.

you reach your hand up and pluck the glowing blunt from the strange boy’s slender fingers and pop it between your glossed lips. a quick toke fills your lungs, streams out from your nose and makes you give out a quick cough. “thank you,” you say dumbly, honestly, as you pass it back to him. who the fuck says thank you after that? “sorry for the, uh.. gloss.”

“you’re fine,” he says again, popping the joint right back into his mouth, coconut flavored gloss from the beauty supply store be damned. you finally get a chance to really look at him, the flashing strobe lights momentarily illuminating his face. tanned skin, green eyes tinted just a smidge red, and dark brown hair pulled back into a bun, a light sheen of sweat making the baby hairs stick to his forehead. he nods to your cup. “what’s that?”

“that.. oh! oh.” you look down at your cup, suddenly feeling awkward for staring so intently. “lemonade with.. uh.. pink whitney.” you realize how close he is to you, nudged forward by the many bodies and his interest in what you’re saying, and it makes you sweat. “do you want some?” looking back up, you hold the cup out to him. “it’s not that strong, i have to drive later…”

he shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pushing the drink back into your bubble. “keep it.” he looks down at you, taking in your brown eyes framed by your freshly done lash extensions, accented with a thin strip of one of your school’s colors, your cropped shirt and skin tight biker shorts, comfortable but exposing a lot of your gleaming brown skin. “designated driver, huh? your friends sound mean dumping you with that job. you having fun?”

you shrug, heating up even more under his hungry gaze. he’s so fine, if you look fast enough, a tongue ring is getting caught by the flashing lights when he opens his mouth to speak. “it’s okay, i don’t like getting shit faced, and, you know…” you look off to your left to see that four of your friends have successfully made it onto the stage. “it’s fun watching them have fun.” when you look back at him, he’s holding his blunt back out, and you take it again without even being told to. “thank you.” you blow out another cloud of smoke and pass it back to him. “it could.. be a little quieter, i guess?” another body passing through makes you lurch forward. “with less people?”

he laughs again and holds his joint between his teeth. “you wanna leave then?”

your inner mom comes back out again, and you look to your left, scanning for your friends. you’re supposed to stick together, you have to keep an eye out on them, they’re all supposed to know where everyone is in case anything crazy pops off. “i.. i shouldn’t leave my friends…” you shuffle unsurely on your feet, “i don’t know.”

“text them,” he offers. then he points off into the general direction when he assumes they’re at, based on where you’re looking. “or go tell one of them. we’re just going up to a room upstairs. they’ll be okay, and you’ll be okay. we’ll come back down when you’re ready.”

fuck it. you think. you whip your phone out of your purse and type up a quick message in the groupchat that they probably won’t check, but at least you told them. ‘going upstairs for a bit’ “okay,” you say as it sends. “let’s go.”

thirty minutes later, the blunt is completely gone and the stranger—no, eren’s tongue is deep in your mouth, working against yours while his hand holds your face firmly in place. your manicured hands have pulled his hair out of its haphazard bun with all your tugging and pulling and you’re doing everything you can to hide your wanton moans. he’s just such a good kisser…

eren pulls away slightly to look down into your glazed over eyes, the sound of your blood rushing and your heart pounding rivaling the sound of the music booming downstairs. “pretty girl,” he mumbles. your kissing has long left your gloss awry, and he rubs an errant mark away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “feelin’ good?”

“yeah,” you whisper breathlessly, his kiss swollen lips calling you back in and he laughs as your mouth meets his again. either he pushes you down into some stranger’s bed, or you pull him on top of you, but now you’re on your back and he’s looking down at you, with one hand trailing down, down, down…

and you’re doing nothing to stop him.

deftly, eren pulls off your biker shorts, and catches your thigh before you can instinctively close them off from his sight. “so fucking wet already…” he remarks as he pulls your panties down until they eventually fall down to your ankles. you kick them off, and brazenly, boldly, spread your brown lips for him, the white of your long french tip acrylics a beautiful contrast to your chestnut skin and perfect pink center.

“fuck, ___,” eren groans, mouth almost watering at the sight. he wants to devour you so bad. “you’re trying to kill me. you were so shy earlier. that changes when you wanna get fucked, huh?” your whimper at his last comment makes him grin. “now hold these up.” he commands, reference your legs as he pushes your knees up to your chest, prostrating yourself before him for his perusal. he’s laying down now, his aching crotch now rubbing against the bed in a welcome wave of pleasure.

the noises eren begins to make on your pussy are downright pornographic, the spitting, smacking, slurping, feasting on your drooling cunt as if it’s his last meal. his tongue is everywhere, going from swirling your clit around to dragging against your inner lips, that damned tongue ring never far behind. it’s nearly too much for your poor cunt, but the focused glare he gives you with his blown out green eyes deters you from bringing your legs down and diminishing the access he has to you.

“e-eren! oh, god!” the sound of your wetness makes your ears burn in embarrassment, it’s just so fucking messy. you catch a sight of the mess you’ve made on his chin when he momentarily comes up for air, only to dive right back in. his plump, pillowy lips latch firmly on your throbbing clit, making your eyes roll back into your head and a shaky moan escape your own lips. “eren, please..!” you writhe against the sheets, his expert mouth overwhelming, you’re not a virgin but, god, if he keeps up.. “e-eren, eren, i’m…!”

“c’mon, baby,” he mumbles between suckling, open mouthed kisses, and drags of his skillful tongue. “give it t’ me, don’t be scared. i gotcha.”

his words make your greedy hole pulse around nothing, and a mix of a moan and a week sob escapes your throat. thighs spasming, you pointlessly attempt to close your legs again only for him to continue holding them open as he drowns your cunt in sloppy kisses, determined to savor every last drop.

“good girl,” his sinful voice rumbles against your core. “good, good fucking girl…” as he pulls away, that tongue darts out to sweep up the last remnants of your heavenly juices. “c’mere..” those strong hands grab at you hips pulling your pliant body towards him near the edge of the bed. “y’ready?”

“yeah, yeah…” emotions flood through your head, lust, need, want, you’re ready to beg for him inside you if he wants you to. faintly, you hear the sound of clothing hitting the floor, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “‘ren, please..” he taps his leaking, blushing tip against your pulsing clit one, two, three times to make you sigh. “please, please..”

“y’doin’ all that beggin’…” now eren’s easing in, hissing at the feeling of you gripping him so tight, walls soft and wet. he throws his head back at the new sensation of your cunt greedily sucking him in, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and his tanned fingers tightening in a bruising grip on your hips. “fuck,” he groans under his breath, the underlying whine in his voice makes your body grow hot. “fucking- relax, or-”

“oh, g-god..” you stutter, feeling full, and hot, and greedy. “‘s so.. big, eren.” your manicured hand rests against his toned torso in a fruitless attempt to stop him, but his hips meet yours and the two of you whine in unison. “fuck!”

“quit that. take it.” eren swats your hand away from his stomach and tosses your legs up to place them on his shoulders, effectively treating you like a little doll for him to fuck on. slowly, easily, he pulls his hips back only to push them forward again, progressively beginning to get drunk off the feeling of your perfect cunt. “so fucking good,” he mutters. “so, so fucking good.”

the slow drag of his cock against your walls begins to have the same intoxicating effect on you, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and whine, low and wanton as you clamp down onto him. you open your eyes, which you didn’t even realize were closed, and stare deep into his green-gray eyes. oh, you’re screwed now.

“fuck yes,” he huffs. eren buries his face in your neck, biting, sucking, leaving hot kisses on your damp as he chases his high and quickly begins to bring to your second. the feeling of your acrylics clawing and digging into the skin of his back only spurs him on more, the music downstairs secondary to the dizzying sound of skin slapping against. “‘s your dick, baby, cum on it for me.”

and you do, shame be damned as your back arches off from the tousled sheets and cry out his name, letting any poor passerby know exactly what’s going on just feet away from the firmly closed door, and exactly who’s fucking you just that good. eren bottoms out with a low groan that reverberates from his chest, a breathless chuckle passing his lips as his cum shoots in deep only to spill back out when he withdraws.

“pretty girl,” he calls out, pulling you out of your fucked out daze. one hand reaches up to wipe the drool from the side of your mouth while the other rubs at your spent, used cunt. your eyes roll back down to look demurely back at his.

“you got another one in you?”

a/n: obligatory plot but this has been in the drafts since january 2022…… it’s time to release her 😭 could i have updated it from high school grad night yeah i could’ve but mannnn…. just relive them days chile

#🏙.aotmodern #❤️‍🔥.aotsmut #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren x black reader smut #eren yeager x black reader smut

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five-rivers · 3 months

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Season of the Skies

I started playing a game called Sky: Children of the Light recently, and although this isn't a crossover, it's definitely inspired by the vibes of that. It's a cute game!

Also, based on the feedback I got on AO3, there seems to be a significant overlap between the Phandom and Sky: Cotl players? Is that the case?

Reality had broken a month ago, and Danny was having the time of his life.

He leaped lightly from rooftop to treetop and back again, gravity a dreamy afterthought. The tiles and bark were rough beneath his bare feet, but not so rough he regretted not wearing shoes. His impacts shook loose pollen, glitter, and a few stray petals, but did the trees no harm. On the roofs he was silent, and no one came out to yell at him, but the window glass chimed with flashes of light.

The colors around him were bright and soft. Easy to look at, easy to fall into. The sky above was marbled with dawn-colored clouds and stars caught among distant nebulae. Light and color were some of the first things to break, and Danny wasn't sorry to see light pollution go. Most Everything glowed, now, and stargazing would have been terrible if eyes still worked the same way.

At his next jump, this one taking him up a good ten feet, the feather-soft edge of the shawl he was wearing flared out behind him, brushing his arms. The shawl was huge on him. An old project of his great-grandmother's, it had been made with the typical Fenton girth in mind. Honestly, it fit him more like a cape than a shawl, but he liked it that way.

He landed safely and straightened the cape. His dad’s needlepoint hobby had been inherited from her, so the dark blue fabric was covered in fine embroidery, lace, and tiny glass beads in shades of clear, pale blue, and white. Great Grandma Fenton hadn't been into ghosts the same way the current Fentons were, but she'd been into something, so the patterns were strange. Icicles, snowflakes, stars, clouds, and trees competed with lightning, runes and sigils, and strange, spirit-like creatures.

“Hey!” shouted someone from the street below. “Hey, Fentwerp! What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Ah. Dash. Charming. Danny leaned over the edge of the roof. “What does it look like I'm doing?” he asked agreeably.

“Getting your dumb nerd self killed is what it looks like,” said Dash, glowering up at Danny, his face turning red.

There. See. That's what Danny didn't understand. No one else seemed willing to experiment with how the world was now. They were all operating under the old rules, or, worse, looking for ways to fix things, as if the new world wasn't better than the old.

Sure, it had been scary the first few days. The suddenness. The uncertainty. The way systems they had relied on for so long had stuttered or failed outright. Danny knew people had been hurt, that, in some places, they were still getting hurt. He had been one of those people, having been in the hospital when the change rippled through the world, a result of an equipment malfunction in his parents’ lab.

Maybe his opinion would be different if he was still getting hurt. But as it was… why would he ever want to go back to how things were? Why would he want to leave this world, where the colors were soft and bright, and the light sang? Why would he want to leave this world where the air itself seemed to bear him up? Where the possibilities seemed limitless?

There was so much more potential for good, with the world as it was than as it had been. So much less potential for harm. This was a more finished version of the world. All the rough edges were gone, and filled with wonder. He could feel it.

“Get down here!” demanded Dash, when Danny didn't respond.

“No,” said Danny.

“Get down here or else.”

“Or else what?” asked Danny, genuinely curious. Dash couldn't get up here. No one else could, as far as Danny knew. They hadn't taken the time to work out the new rules for gravity.

Dash clenched his hands into fists, then stooped to grab a fairly large rock. Danny, seeing no reason to just let Dash throw it at him, left.

“Hey!” shouted Dash. “Hey! Freakton! Get back here!”

Names like that were a lot less distressing when the people using them had no power to hurt you.

Danny continued on his path upwards, touching on higher and higher buildings. It was tough to get the proper amount of momentum to make some of his jumps, especially since he'd stopped to talk to Dash, but he managed to make all of them, and soon he was standing on top of the tallest building in Amity Park.

In the center of the roof was a small tree, a sapling. It hadn't been there the first time Danny had made it up here, and it had grown rapidly since then. Next time he came, it'd probably be taller than he was.

For now, though, Danny knelt to check the roots where they grew through a widening crack in the building's roof. He'd warned the people in the building (he had warned everyone in buildings that had suddenly found themselves with roof trees), but he hadn't heard that anyone had done anything about it, and the roof trees felt friendly to him, so he hadn't pushed the issue. From the descriptions and pictures Sam had given him, this one seemed healthy enough.

He pulled a bottle from his backpack and gave the tree a generous sprinkle. Then he stood up, gave the crown of leaves an affectionate ruffle, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

The city spread out in all directions below him, vibrant and changing. Towards the edges of town, some buildings had lifted off their foundations, becoming floating islands. Across the viridian, iridescent forest to the north, he could see blue-bright-gray flashes of Lake Eerie. Fentonworks was easily visible off to the west, silver dishes and spires chased with green halos. The parks bloomed with flowers both alien and familiar, vines trailing up into the air, trees growing explosively fast. A breeze from behind turned his attention south, and he saw high clouds letting down shimmering curtains of rain.

It wasn’t like Amity Park had been drab and horrible before, but why would anyone want to go back?

He looked away, back down at the street far below him. Steeling himself, he grasped the edges of the shawl, he spread his arms wide.

“Time to lift off,” he said, quietly. “T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two–” Where he would have said one, he instead inhaled deeply. Where he would have said zero, he jumped.

For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, if he’d made an error in his calculations, if reality had chosen that moment to reassert itself and he was about to drop like a rock.

The moment passed quickly. He was flying. Or, at least, gliding.

He laughed, and flapped his ‘wings.’ The shawl snapped behind him and gave him a small amount of lift.

He was doing it. He was doing it.

And now that he was doing it, it felt as natural as breathing. All that planning, all those calculations, all that running, climbing, and jumping–

He could fly.

Oh, maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it would have been in the old world, where gravity was a cruel mistress. But it was still flight, unpowered, human flight, and no one he knew of had done this before.

He laughed, and banked to the side, flying in spirals. He wasn’t brave enough to try a loop, yet, but he would, eventually, when he learned more about this.

His spirals took him over the park, the school, the mall, even the Nasty Burger. But he was losing altitude, his arms were getting tired, and he knew that if he got too close to the ground, gravity would get him again. Not to the point of hurting him at all, but he didn’t want to land just anywhere after all this work.

He tipped his wings westward, and started gliding home, pumping his ‘wings’ as infrequently as he could get away with. He didn’t quite make it all the way back to his front door, but he got close, just a few houses down the street. He rubbed his shoulders. That was going to leave him sore. He’d have to work out and practice more if he wanted to fly any real distance. He'd also need a way to take off that didn’t involve climbing the tallest building in town.

The front door of Fentonworks slammed open, revealing a pale Jack and a furiously pink Maddie.

“Daniel James Fenton! What do you think you're doing?”

Danny looked down at his bare feet, then back up at his parents. “Walking?”

Maddie sucked a breath in between her teeth. “Inside,” she said

Danny hurried to obey, taking the steps up to the door two at a time and squeezing past her and Jack to get into the house. Maddie closed the door behind him.

“So, um,” said Danny, shuffling from foot to foot. “What, um. I thought you guys were going to be working all day today?”

“On the Ops Center,” said Jack. “Not in the la– Not downstairs.”

Danny made note of the near-slip but didn’t comment on it. He was already in trouble. He didn’t need to remind them that the lab didn’t exactly exist anymore and make their mood worse.

“Oh,” he said. “What were you–?”

“Never mind what we were doing. What were you doing? What were you thinking, jumping off a building like that? You could have died?”

“Or been seriously hurt!”

“But I wasn’t! I’m fine. I planned it all out, and it worked.”

“And it shouldn’t have!” shouted Jack and Maddie at the same time.

Danny blinked up at them. “What?”

Jack explained. “We’ve been tracking the changes to gravity, too, Danny. We’ve been measuring it, measuring all the changes, to see what those darn ghosts did.”

Danny held back a sigh. There still wasn’t any sign that ghosts had done this, or even that ghosts existed.

“Gravity might have changed a bit,” continued Jack, “but not enough to keep a human being airborne like that.”

“There are whole buildings floating,” said Danny. “I’m a lot smaller than a building.”

“The rules seem to be different for different masses, as well as different altitudes,” said Maddie, making a face.

“Yeah! It’s really exciting. We’re trying to measure the ectoplasm levels– It has to be related, but we haven’t been able to detect any yet– Those ghosts are tricky, son–”

“Well, yeah. But the rules are also different for things that are alive.”

“Really?” asked Jack, leaning close.

“Uh, yes? Otherwise I wouldn’t have done, um. That. I tested it.”

“You tested it? Did you write it down?”

Danny nodded, cautiously. Jack swept him off his feet. “Our boy has been doing science, Mads!”

“He’s been jumping off of buildings!”

“Putting his research to practical use!”

“He’s been jumping off buildings without being peer reviewed!”

“Oh, yeah, son, you should have had someone check your work.”

“You never get peer reviewed,” said Danny, scowling.

“That’s different,” said Maddie, quickly.

“If anyone else believed in ghosts, you’d be sure we would be!”

Hanging limp in Jack’s arms, Danny grumbled.

“Danny,” said Maddie.

“Yes?” he mumbled.

“No more testing theories without checking in with us first. Safety first. You should know this by now.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and tried not to think too hard about his scars. They weren’t very visible, and the doctors had said that they’d fade away, probably entirely, eventually, but they were still there now, if you knew where to look.

A month ago, reality had broken.

A few days before that, Danny had almost died. Lab accident. It turned out that his parents thought portals to other dimensions which may or may not exist needed a lot of electricity and chemicals to function. Danny had been curious. He’d wanted to explore, to investigate. He’d stepped on a loose wire that had led to a capacitor. He’d been horribly electrocuted, and then exposed to a chemical cocktail. Sam and Tucker, who had been in the lab with him, had called for an ambulance, and he’d been brought to the hospital.

At least, that’s what he was told, later. He hadn’t woken up until he’d been in the hospital for a few days. Of course, when he had woken up, he did so because a bunch of the medicines going into him had started to do weird things while reality restructured itself, and that had been… incredibly unpleasant. Everyone had been grateful that only a very few things - like whatever Danny had been on to take care of the chemicals he’d picked up in the lab - had acted like that.

Later, Jazz had told Danny that for a brief period of time between the accident and reality breaking, Jack and Maddie had sworn off ghost hunting. Presumably forever. But once the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology started to rebel and twist, they’d taken it back. Well, to be fair, apparently they didn’t take it back until the lab disappeared. And the Fenton Stockades.

Although, to be fair in the other direction, it was more a case of everyone’s basements disappearing and being replaced by weird misty caverns than ghosts specifically targeting his parents. It was a whole thing.

(Personally, Danny was glad to see them go, although it had sounded like Sam was mourning hers.)

“Danny,” said Maddie, “tell us that you understand.”

“I understand. I don’t test theories without you,” said Danny, grudgingly. “Not even about cool things like flying.”

Maddie scowled. Jack beamed.

“Great!” shouted Jack. He whirled Danny around again. “Let’s go see your data! Where is it?”

“Upstairs,” mumbled Danny. “I’ve got a notebook.”

“A notebook, Mads!”

Maddie sighed. “Alright, let’s see the notebook.”

#danny phantom #fic

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