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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

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silly low effort dating Lucifer headcanons —

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE’S THE SILLIEST EVER. Anyways, now that we have that out of the way. He is very touchy with you, especially after you guys start dating. He constantly has his hand on your shoulder, arm, in your hair, or on your leg. He’s been so touch starved ever since Lilith left him. So he’s always chasing that kinda of comforting physical touch. Also, probably just always clinging to your arm, no matter what you’re doing too. He’s just there, hanging around. I said in another post he likes to play with your fingers, rings, hands, bracelets, etc when he rambles on about whatever is interesting him. ”I had another Idea for a rubber duck that blows bubbles but I never really got around to it, plus there’s always—“ and he’d be fiddling with your hands the entire time. He also has a thing for being called really lovey-dovey pet names. Princess, sweetheart, babycakes, pretty boy, things like that. I swear they have him on the floor blushing every time, especially if you play it up well enough. ”You look so good today,” and then you strut over to him and tilt his head up to look at you, “my pretty boy.” Hes in shambles oh my god. Probably giggling and putting his hand over his mouth to conceal his dorky grin. Up the stakes by taking his hand and kissing it gently, never breaking eye contact. “Oh— oh my—“ he would stutter out. “Darling how… charming.” But he’d be tomato red and giggling the whole time. Not a lot of people acknowledge this, but he can be very snobby too. Of course, he’s the king of hell. Why shouldn’t he be? He also hold himself to a standard above sinners because, in his words, ‘they’re just the worst.’ So he’d be lowkey snooty and proud in public sometimes. And he’s a little rich boy too so don’t be surprised if he complains about how: “This restaurant serves their lamb too cold. You know, we don’t have to eat here. I have pancake batter at home sooo…” If you end up calling him out on it he’d feel bad about being so bratty and tip the waitress an outrageous amount. Also, i’m sorry this man is a little spoon through and through. Let’s be real right now. He’s so tiny he absolutely dissolved in your arms. Which is very comforting for him on bad days when he just wants to be held by you. He also, even though he acts all high and mighty when it happens, loves being manhandled by you. Maybe he’s overworking himself and so you just sneak up behind him and throw him over your shoulder. He'd bang his fists on your back and demand to be treated with dignity, as if he couldn’t overpower you in seconds. Also, you catch him talking to his rubber ducks A LOT. For a while they were probably all that he talked to it’s kind of sad to watch. But in a cute way? He has names for them all and specific personalities. He’ll be showing you his collection and be like “Oh, george likes you!” after forcing you to hold a rubber duck for him. Also a good cook, I don’t know why I just feel like he is. But like very oddly specific dishes too. He makes a mean gourmet mac and cheese with parmesan on the top. He likes to dance with you too, whether it’s slow dancing or you two are just being silly, he likes to feel your body warmth on him while you two move together. Also, i’m pretty sure we all ready know… autism. I’m not even projecting this time either, it just might as well be canon. So he comes you to about any new hyperfixations he has at the time because he trusts that you, above all people, will listen to him. Once again he’ll play with your bracelets, or fiddle with his hands while he talks to you. And of course, you listen, and even do your research later to make him feel like you really care. He also loves making arts and crafts with you. Sometimes even with some friendly competition (incredibly competitive high-energy contests on who’s contraption works better.) I also imagine you have to say things to him multiple times for him to hear you. It’s not that he can’t hear you, he’s just in his own little world, not paying attention at all to his surroundings.

”What, honey? Sorry, didn’t catch that last part—“

Then he’ll focus so hard on paying attention, that he’ll forget to actually pay attention and make you explain it another time.

I imagine he likes doing little tasks for you, so he can feel useful. Like running your laundry for you, doing the dishes, anything to keep him busy.

Also, it’d it earns words of affirmations from you, then it’s worth it.

Say you catch him scrubbing pots and pans to save you the effort. Come up behind him, put your hands on his hips and kiss his head before telling him how amazing he is. And how great full you are for him.

He’s beaming and smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

I also think he’s a morning person, so more often than not, he wakes you up with breakfast in bed.

He falls asleep so early at night it’s literally crazy.

Like you could be hugging him, even standing up, at nighttime and he would immediately get so drowsy.

You’d have to pick him up bridal style and carry him to bed, all the while he’s whining about how he’s “Not tired, yet! I still have so much to do.” I think he also is a huge giggler like he just gets a kick out of everything you say and thinks you’re the funniest person alive. Also, he’s a terrible ugly crier. Like his face scrunches all the way up, snot comes out of his noise, he makes god awful chocking noises. It be kinda funny if it wasn’t so sad to watch to be honest. Cries at super stupid things too, those dog commercials for example. But it’s so bad he could be being his goofy self and like making the milk and the carton of eggs talk to each other. And he would get so invested in their ‘lives’ that he would start crying. ”No, Mr. Milk i’m sorry we can’t—“ sniff sniff “—be together. I DON’T LOVE YOU!” and now he’s crying. He buries his face in your shirt when he cries and just, I have a specific noise in mind, violently squeaks and sniffs.

a/n — My tumblr was tweaking out when I wrote this. I don’t know what happened but if you saw this posted last night, no you didn’t.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel fluff #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #silly low effort headcanons

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gaysindistress · 2 months

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Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.

I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.

misc character masterlist

Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah

1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.

I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.

Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’

He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.

The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.

But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.

It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.

2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.

At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.

I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.

On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.

“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.

“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.

Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.

“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.

It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.

When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.

“What do you want?”

All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.

“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”

The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.

He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.

“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”

Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.

Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?

3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.

Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.

His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.

You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.

“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.

“You’re in my spot.”

“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”

You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”

If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.

“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.

“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.

“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.

You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."

He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.

Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction

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pedgito · 2 years

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hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!

author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5k

Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.

“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”

You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”

“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“

“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”

“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”

You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.

“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”

“A what?”

“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”

“Oh?”

You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.

“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”

“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.

They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.

“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“

“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.

“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”

You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”

“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”

“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.

Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.

Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.

“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”

“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”

You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”

“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”

“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”

Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.

Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.

“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.

“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.

Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.

“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.

You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”

Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”

“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.

“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.

“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”

Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.

“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”

“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.

“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”

It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.

“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.

Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.

Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“

“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”

“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.

“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”

Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”

“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.

“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”

Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.

“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“

“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”

Something tells you that's a lie.

“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”

“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”

“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”

“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”

You press further, “But?”

“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”

“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”

“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”

You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.

“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”

And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.

“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”

“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”

It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”

“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”

Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.

Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.

“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”

“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”

He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.

“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”

Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.

“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.

“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”

“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.

It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.

You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”

And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.

This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.

Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.

He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”

You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”

“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“

“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”

Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.

Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.

“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”

“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.

You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”

“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”

Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.

Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.

Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.

“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”

“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.

“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.

But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.

“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”

Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“

“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.

“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”

And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”

Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.

You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.

“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”

Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.

Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.

“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”

You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.

His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.

“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”

Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”

He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.

You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“

Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.

Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.

Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”

“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”

Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.

“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.

“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.

But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.

“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”

Steve nods eagerly.

“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”

“Told him what?”

“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.

“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”

“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.

“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“

“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.

Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #my writing #1kfic

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stabortega · 7 months

Text

NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER TWO

Summary: Having to deal with the aftermath of that situation was definitely worse then finding out the truth.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!G!P!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. Mentions of sex, dirty talking and sexting. Knife play. Mentions of kinks, nothing explicit. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's Note: Still think my writing is trash but you guys seem to like it. 💜

MASTERLIST.

"What the actual fuck?!" Jasmine almost yelled as Jenna shoved her inside one of the dressing rooms in the set, while she tried to shut the other actress up. "Thank god someone's paying that poor girl's college."

"This is not fucking funny, Jasmine. I shouldn't have told you." Jenna locked the door behind her, looking at her apprehensively. She made a terrible mistake by telling Jasmine what went on last night. "And now they expect me to work with her? After I-"

"Seen her dick? Oh god, what will be of you?" The black girl laughed, while sitting down on the couch. "Chill, alright? She probably doesn't even know you donated. I mean, what was your username?"

Jenna gulped. "I don't wanna say it."

"Come on, was it that obvious??" Jasmine rolled her eyes, waiting for an answer.

"It was my first name then the first four digits of my birthday."

"I cannot fucking believe you."

Living in New York wasn't easy. Every apartment was obnoxiously expensive, so you had to resort to leave the city and start living in Brooklyn. It was a nice neighborhood, the best you could afford if we're being completely honest. Moving to the big city was by far the best and the worst decision you've ever made. Other than starting college, obviously.

I mean, you loved every second of it, but it started to fuck your financial life right up the ass.

"You should create an Only Fans or something." You almost spit the whiskey shot you were drinking right back to your cup, looking at your friend as if she just told you that she had killed three men with a needle. "I'm serious, (Y/N). Do you know how much money you can get just by posting out some feet pics, or whatever?"

"I'm not gonna sell pictures of my feet for cash, Liana." She shook her head no while taking a sip of her Appletini.

"Then don't. Sell your dick pics, or livestream. Come on, I know how much you're struggling and you know you're putting that body to waste. What's the worse thing can happen?"

And she was right. You started out with just an account on that website, posting some pictures here and there; until one of your followers suggested livestreaming and said she would pay some good money just to watch you cum on your stomach (which obviously, she did). It happened so fast that, when you realized it, you were able to get yourself a better place right downtown, pay off your college debts and buy a professional video camera to shoot some amateur movies. And no, not the pornographic kind.

You wanted to be a director someday, but you were also really good with a camera; which is why you got the opportunity to work in the upcoming Scream movie as an assistant videographer (and because Liana put in a good word for you). It was your first real gig in your area of interest, you couldn't be more excited.

The first day was just like any other. You got to meet a few people and get a hold of the equipments you were going to use.

"Ay, (Y/N)! Come here for a sec!" Your boss, Dave, called your name while you were looking at one of the IMAX cameras, which you've never got the opportunity to film with. You realized he wanted to introduce you to some people, which he did. You just didn't expect it would be one of the protagonists (and the newest it actress of Hollywood). "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jenna."

You extended your hand for her to shake, which she did after looking at it for a couple of seconds, almost if she was analyzing you. "Nice to meet you too, (Y/N)."

And that was pretty much it, you guys didn't exchanged any other words besides that on that particular day. You even thought that she could be avoiding you, for whatever reason. All throughout the day, you felt her gaze on you multiple times, but everytime you looked at her, she just looked away.

"You're definitely not subtle." Jasmine whispered in Jenna's ear, while she watched you handle one of the camera films. "I'm pretty sure that she can physically feel your eyes on her butt as we speak."

"She's definitely gonna find out that I was on her stream last night." The Ortega took a deep breath, looking away when she realized you looked at her again.

"She's not, don't get paranoid. You have the most obvious and boring username ever? Yes. It would take just one Google search to figure out your identity? It would. But still!" Jenna got up from the chair she was sitting, realizing that all she wanted to do was to smoke this off.

"You're not helping, Jasmine." She took out her pack of Marlboro's and her lighter once she was outside. "I never even watched porn before, not even by myself."

"And now you donated $1500 to a complete stranger just so she could cum while moaning your name. That's a character development." Jasmine stood beside Jenna, who had just started smoking so she could even try to forget that she wanted to sit on her coworker's dick less than 24 hours ago.

"I'm never doing that again, Jasmine. It's inhumane and gross. It was the first and the last time."

jenna2709: thought about you a lot today.

"Oh, did you? Good to hear that." She locked the door behind her and sat on her bed. That was Jenna's, at least, 10th day of watching your streams nonstop. And she had just "caught" you in the beginning of your livestream (which meant that she had the notifications of your page on and was too much of a chicken to admit it). So that meant that you weren't even undressed yet, you were just rubbing your dick over your sweatpants and chatting a litte bit with your followers before you started your actual show. "What exactly were you thinking of, huh?"

jenna2709: of me sucking your cock under this table while you tell me how much of a good girl i am.

Jenna realized what she said after she already sent the message. Where did that came from? She thought while looking intensely at the livestream, hoping you would just stop with the teasing and take your cock out of your pants for her to see (and drool). "Oh baby, I'm sure you're very good with your mouth. Wanted to cum right on your throat and make you swallow every drop."

jenna2709: i would be honored to be your cum dump.

"Okay, I crossed the line." She took a deep breath, not even recognizing who was that person inside of her, the person that would say the most obscene and erotic shit that she ever heard. It was almost if something awakened inside of her everytime she saw you. Every couple of days, at exactly 10PM, she would lock herself in her hotel bedroom and fuck her pussy so deep until she passed out from having like, five orgasms. And that was the easy part, obviously. The hardest part was definitely waking up in the morning and having to look at you as if she didn't saw your dick inside of a fleshlight the night before.

Jenna grew up christian. In a american dream type of household. But getting in touch with Hollywood and all of the film industry made her get out of her bubble and quite literally, discover the world. She drank, she smoked, she went to 2AM parties at some A-List celebrity's house that she never even met before. But sex? Never sex. She met a few people here and there, but nothing further. It made her think about that, the fact that she couldn't even be interested enough in someone to actually have some sort of contact with them; but with you, she would stay all night thinking about you fucking her raw and senseless until she couldn't remember who she was.

"Stop teasing, Jenna. We both know you were born to be my cum dump, and mine only." You were so horny imagining having that stranger on her knees while she had her mouth open, waiting for you to dump your cum inside of her pretty little throat. You took your cock out of your pants, a little bit earlier than you've expected, but you were getting so worked up that you didn't even thought about your stream routine. You started to stroke the member gently, feeling your dick pulsate right on the palm of your hand. "I know that you're the only one who can take care of this right, don't you think?"

jenna2709: if you were mine, i would make you cum on my pussy everyday.

Jenna started to get scared. Who was this person that was hiding inside of her? Was she really like that? Is she the female version of Christian Grey and doesn't know it yet? How the fuck she got so horny all of a sudden?

She knew that the reason you were playing that little game with her was merely money. But there was a part of her, a tiny part that hoped that you felt attracted to her as much as she felt to you. Even if you'd never seen her face, or her body. It didn't mattered if she had just met you a couple of days ago; she wanted you to want her, the same way she wanted you.

"And if you were mine, I would carve my name on your belly so everyone would know who you belong to." Oh yes, the knife play.

Jenna wasn't naive or innocent, she knew about fetishes and BDSM practices; and thankfully there was the option of marking your kinks on your own profile when you created your account. The actress spent an embarrassing amount of time researching some of your kinks that were listed on your profile (there was so many things she didn't even knew existed, to be completely honest). And the thought of you doing all of those things with her got her aroused in a matter of seconds.

jenna2709: you could carve your name on my face, for all i care.

jenna2709: i would definitely want people to know that i'm yours.

The rest of the livestream went as usual, you doing all of the things that your subs asked you to, Jenna being awarded as the number 1 tipper for the 5th time in a row, nothing out of the ordinary. You were just about to cum for the second time when Jenna tipped you again with a request.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $2000 with the message: i want you to cum for me, again.

"You know I never decline your requests, baby. But, let's be fair this time around?" You answered, a little bit breathless, masturbating your cock as hard as you could. "I'll give you a private livestream if you show me your face."

Oh, a private livestream?

Jenna had been following your for awhile now ever since her first time watching your stream. She knew that private livestreams weren't something you did. And yet, you were here, offering one for free, just to see Jenna's face in return. It was a really good offer, but Jenna couldn't accept. If you found out who she was, the shooting would be the most awkward work experience for both of them. It would be like, "Hey, (Y/N)? Can you get this camera ready for me? Also, I've already seen your dick and I'm having wet dreams with you fucking me like the slut I am." So, she took one last breath after she decided to stick with her original plan and decline.

jenna2709: it's a deal.

#scream #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday #the fallout #you #scream movies #pwp

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hees-mine · 7 months

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐫! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, fingering, dirty talk, cursing.

It was the weekend, and you decided that after all your hard work during the weekdays, you’d finally treat yourself to something nice.

Because you never took a break, but this was much needed.

And right now, nothing sounded better than a massage. You hadn’t had one in ages, so it was long overdue.

You excitedly book your appointment. Luckily, they could fit you in as early as tomorrow, so that would be perfect. Then, you could start your work week feeling revitalized and refreshed.

So, on second thought, you have no idea how revitalized or refreshed you are going to be feeling after this.

You were currently lying face down on the table, doing your best to hold back the sounds that were threatening to come out.

You knew it was wrong, so wrong, but how could you help yourself when your masseur was the single most hottest person to ever walk this god-forsaken earth?

Originally, you had booked with a woman, but you were informed that she was feeling unwell, and they gave you the option to re-book. But you really wanted a massage today, so you took the next available spot.

Which looking back at it now, you probably should’ve because this was the best yet worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

You knew you should have rescheduled when you heard them mention a male's name to be your new masseur, but you were so driven on getting a massage today that you so foolishly went along with it.

His hands felt like heaven, but your thoughts were deep in hell. Every time he rubbed out one of the many knots in your neck, you were on the verge of moaning like, not sighing in relief or the occasional grunt from the slight pain. No, you were about to start moaning because his hands were working wonders on your body in places he wasn’t even touching.

And when he placed his hands lower on your back, that was it. The first moan spilled past your lips, your eyes immediately widening in fear. You hoped and prayed he didn’t notice, and he didn’t seem to, but after that first moan, you couldn’t hold back, especially when he reached your thighs.

You were just counting the minutes until this was over. What was supposed to be a nice relaxing evening turned into a stressful disaster, and you would much rather be at work than on this massage table making a complete fool out of yourself.

You were wet beyond belief. You were sure it was probably getting on the massage table, and that was another disaster you had to face, but you’d do that when the time came.

Heeseung, your masseur, has been doing this job for a little over a year. Yes, he’s had people making plenty of noises on his table, men and women, but the noises you were making this was an absolute first. Maybe his mind was in the gutter, but to him, it sounded like you were straight-up moaning, and as many times as he tried to shake off the feeling of arousal in his lower region, he just couldn’t. He was more than happy that you were enjoying yourself, but he’s afraid he might have been enjoying it even more than you, judging by the tent in his pants.

He excused himself with the guise of going to get more massage oil cause he “ran out,” but you didn’t mind cause at least this would give your poor body and mind a break.

Heeseung hid himself in the bathroom, attempting to calm the intense throbbing between his legs by splashing cold water on his face, but it was to no avail. He checked his watch, and there were still fifteen minutes of the massage left. He patted his face dry and just accepted the fact that he was doomed. Oh, how he wished his co-worker wasn’t feeling sick today. Then, he could have never had to face this embarrassing situation that he’s currently in. He had the right mind to just say he wasn’t feeling well and go home, but that option was off the table for obvious reasons.

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” he clears his throat when he comes back to your room, and he takes at least a good minute to stare down your oiled body. Your skin felt so smooth and soft under his palms the softest he’s ever felt, and that’s saying a lot.

“Get it together,” he slaps his cheek as he scolds himself quietly.

When you heard him come back, you’d convinced yourself that you were calm enough to finish the rest of your massage, that is, till you felt the first few drops of oil hit your back, soon followed by his large hands massaging it in.

He focused his ministrations on your lower back, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he held back a moan. Not to say it mattered, though, because he would have rather moaned than do what he did next. “Feels good, yeah?” He whispers, tone deep and gravely an octave lower and filled with desire.

You whimper just from the sound of his voice, and by now, you’ve lost all types of resolve and self-control. “Yes, heeseung so good.”

“Yeah,” he gulps harshly, the movement of his hands much more sensual as he softly kneads your waist and dips his hands beneath your towel just above your butt. “That feel good too?” Your eyes fluttered as a gush of arousal seeped from your aching hole

“Yes,” you whisper, mind and body completely gone.

“And how about this?” He cups your supple backside in his hands, rubbing the soft flesh as he presses his erection against the massage table for some type of relief.

“Fuck” you bite your lip, all the embarrassment leaving your body and being replaced by pleasure.

He experimentally ran his fingers between your crease, trailing his way to your dripping folds, and you gasped at the sensation, mind spinning with nothing but want for your masseur.

He groans as he sinks a finger in you, and the way you grip the tip of his finger has his eyes rolling back in his hand. And don’t even get him started on how soaked you are. “Must feel really good,” he smirks, playing with your hole and slipping in another finger. You’re too lost at this point to even rationalize what you’re doing, but from the looks of it, neither of you really cared.

He ran his fingertip down the expanse of your back until he reached your ass and gave it a firm squeeze with his free hand as he thrust his fingers in and out of your tight wet hole.

“Fuck heeseung,” he angled his fingers just right, rubbing your gummy walls until your legs were quivering and you were already embarrassingly close.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet, baby god damn,” he moans at the sight of his fingers coated in your juices. “Cum on my fingers, baby. Can feel you clenching around me.” he pumps his fingers quicker until you're moaning with every rub on your g spot. “Yeah, so fucking tight,” he breathes through his nose, lips parted in awe as he loses himself in the sounds of your wet cunt and soft whimpers.

“G-gonna cum heeseung,” you moan as quietly as possible, not to alert anyone to what you and your masseur are doing behind closed doors.

“Go on then” The way he spanks your ass makes you clench even tighter, and you finally release your squirt all over the table and his fingers. “Let it all out fuck” The lewd squelches of your pussy makes you feel embarrassed, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps fingering you until you’ve made a huge fucking mess everywhere, and he’d never forget this beautiful sight on his massage table. “So pretty.”

You’re a panting moaning wreck on his table, and once you come down, he slowly pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean as you turn around on the table, a seductive look in your eyes. “I think it’s only fair that you get a happy ending, too” he cocks a brow as you place your hand on the stiff bulge in his white pants, and he’s definitely not objecting.

Thank god his co-worker was sick today.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heesung #enhypen lee heeseung

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the-magpie-collective · 5 days

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Let's talk about how Ulder Ravengard was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year when he finally runs into Wyll, for the first time in seven years, and his son is now definitely maybe sort of a devil?

Look, D&D cannon is absolutely wild and inconsistent but I need ya'll to know approximately how many horrible things befell Ulder Ravengard in the few months right before the events of Baldur's Gate 3.

Ulder Ravengard goes to Elturel. This is fairly normal. He often had to travel as a Duke for diplomatic reasons to nearby cities. Sure, the Vanthampurs' had their fingers pulling the strings this time to ensure he went, but that is also, unfortunately, normal. And it's not like anyone else can go in his place. Who would he send? Portyr whose only use is as a windsock? Stelmane who is suffering from the long term effects of a "stroke"? Vanthampur?

(Portyr, Stelmane, and Vanthampur being the other four dukes at the time)

So he goes and it's supposed to just be another diplomatic trip to a neighboring city. Except exactly nothing goes to plan. The Vanthampurs have made an alliance with devils and a deal with the leaders of Elturel to orchestrate the fall of the entire city into Avernus. Ulder Ravengard is there with several of the Flaming Fist when the entire city is plunged into hell. And no, Avernus is not some sort of cushy vacation spot. There's a reason why Karlach would rather die than go back. There's a reason why it is called hell.

It's not hard to imagine he watches many of the Flaming Fist get slaughtered. People he's worked with for years, maybe even decades. People he called friends. Not hard to think that he watches innocents suffer as they are preyed upon by devils and demons, children slaughtered in the streets all while he is helpless to stop it from happening. It's not out of the question to think this is possibly one of the worst times in his life. Oh, Ulder Ravengard has been through numerous disasters before. He's watched countless friends die. But when has he ever been so helpless as the time he was caught in an entire city of relative innocents as it is dragged down to the hells?

It gets worse.

You see, Ulder Ravengard is put into a catatonic state by the Demon Lord Baphomet using the the Helm of Torm's sight. The Helm of Torm's sight is a holy item that allows the user to commune with Torm (god of Duty, Loyalty, etc). In a last ditch effort to save the city of Elturel, Ulder Ravengard attempted to get to the Helm in the hopes that it could be used to fight back. Instead he gets to watch as his hope is perverted and used against him. He gets to see himself fall helpless and under control of the demon while his men are slaughtered in the attack.

We don't know how Ulder Ravengard escapes this situation (*cough* play Descent into Avernus *cough*) but somehow he does. After weeks of fighting in the hells (maybe even months?) and narrowly escaping with his life and mind intact Ulder Ravengard is hurrying back to Baldur's Gate as quickly as he can. He knows the city is in danger, whether the Vanthampurs' succeeded at seizing power or not. And on the way home he gets ambushed by fucking goblins and drow working together. He gets to see as some of the few survivors who made it through their time in Avernus with him, get killed. He gets to see his close friend and advisor Counselor Florrick get trapped in a burning building.

Then he's kept imprisoned, and likely harassed, in the dungeons of Moonrise towers. All he hears is 'the Absolute' this and 'the Absolute' that. Then what does he know but apparently the mastermind behind this whole thing is fucking Gortash, the slimy counselor he has spent the past while doing his best to ignore because even if he didn't like him and thought most of his ideas were bad he couldn't actually do anything to get rid of him. And then Orin—a fucking Bhaalspawn—uses him for a chair while Ketheric Thorm goes on a whiny oh-woe-is-me rant and Gortash sticks a tadpole in his eye all while mocking him.

He then gets to spend the next while under control of the Absolute. We don't know how unpleasant this is, but we do know that when the Absolute controls someone directly their brain starts bleeding so severely they collapse and die after less than a minute :) and when he's finally freed from the Absolute he has chronic migraines so yeah not fucking pleasant :)))))

And then his son rescues him. Yay. His son who he strove to teach right from wrong all those years. His son to whom he imparted the four pillars: strategy, courage, justice, insight. His son, who, despite everything he has ever taught him chose to throw all of his promise away to a devil. And he doesn't know why and maybe he hopes that there was a good reason behind it all, but he does know that he lost any chance he had to ever be able to fully trust his son again because he doesn't know the terms of the pact and he can't know the full terms of the pact but he does know that his son is now under the control of a devil.

And please just take a moment to think about how terrifying that would be. This isn't something that an 'I'm sorry' can fix. Wyll says it himself: it would be easier to drink the Chionthar down, drop by drop, than to break a devil's pact. The chances of Wyll ever being freed from his pact are slim to none and the damage he could do in the mean time is immeasurable. Ulder Ravengard has the weight of an entire city's well being on his shoulders. I am not saying he made the right choice, but there is a reason why Wyll says it was the only choice he could make. He told Wyll to go. Maybe out of shame, maybe out of fear, maybe out of the hope that his son would do less damage far away than if he were to stay. We don't know why. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he never looked back.

But he's been having one of the worst fucking years of his life and most of it is due either directly to devils or to people conspiring with devils. His mind has been scraped raw by the Absolute. He's injured and if you broke Wyll's pact he was just attacked by another devil and exploding spiders. If you didn't break Wyll's pact, he just saw evidence that Wyll is still in leagues with a devil, after all Mizora states very clearly that she always fulfills her promises as she saves him.

Oh and if you didn't kill Karlach, Wyll is a devil now (*techinically he is still human, just with some devilish features and will be regonized as infernal in origin by the spell Detect Good and Evil, but Ulder Ravengard doesn't have the insight to game mechanics that we have and may or may not be aware that Wyll turning into a devil is a lot less probable than him just being made to look like one.)

So maybe, it's just a little understandable that instead of greeting Wyll with joy or gratitude at being saved the first thing he thinks, the only thing he can think of is: what fresh hell is he in for now?

(And maybe ya'll can be a little more understanding of Wyll choosing to forgive his father too. I don't think it's out of character for Wyll. I don't think he's ignoring everything wrong with what his father did. I don't think Wyll is a bad person for choosing to forgive his father or that anger would have been the right choice for him. It's far, far more complicated than that.)

#ulder ravengard #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #descent into avernus #I needed to make my position on Ulder known early on #yes there are legitimate issues with his parenting #but he is also just a guy trying his best #magpiediscourse #the D&D canon might not be 100% correct #I'm trying but it's not even a little bit consistent #trust me the tears I have shed while attempting to write canon compliant D&D fanfic

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inheartofwinter · 24 days

Text

Drarry Fic Rec List: Us Vs The World

The list I want to show you to day is one I especially adore: fics with strong vibe of "us against the world". They could be good, they could be bad, they could save the world, they could destroy it, they could simply go on with their lives. No matter what, they will always have each other.

- Hell & Other Places (M; 2,5k) by @tepre

OR: 9 times Draco said ‘I love you’ and 1 time he didn’t.

Draco & Harry are sent to investigate a haunted Bed & Breakfast.

- Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis (E; 49999) by @vukovich

Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead.

But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame?

Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less.

Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy.

God save the Ministry.

- Basement Level 9 (M; 2k) by @fw00shy

Draco was behind the bomb that blew up Level 10, though they didn't talk about it.

- Stay with Me 'Til Morning (R; 8,4k) by Lucilla Darkate

In a once upon a time world, white magic would triumph over black, good would carry the day, evil would be vanquished, the valiant would stand and be true, and always, always, true love would end with a happily ever after.

- Purple Words (E; 67k) by FangirlWolfie

“High five me.”

James immediately put Harry down and gave him a high five.

Huh?

Oh.

- In Grey Worsted (M; 2,8k) by literaryspell

Harry's only chance at happiness is slipping away, one piece at a time. He isn’t about to give up, though.

- Ever Fixed Mark (T; 1,1k) by @shealwaysreads

In which Harry decides to burn the world, and Draco watches on with adoration.

Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken

Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

- Dead Ends (E; 18,8k) by @toxik-angel & @melcarrianna

Head Auror Harry Potter is the best at his job. Head Auror Harry Potter always saves the day.

But someone has been picking off ex-Death Eaters one by one. Someone has been abducting Harry's friends right out of their homes. Someone is fucking the Minister for Magic.

The Minister for Magic and Head Auror are both very concerned about it.

- Because Potter Is Allergic to Poppies (M; 41,1k) by Lomonaaeren

Auror Harry Potter is in hospital being treated for a curse when someone tries to kill him. Obviously it is up to bored, trapped Apprentice Healer Draco, who was only admitted to the Healer Program in the first place to do the menial work, to find out who did it. Because then they will promote him. No, it’s for no other reason, thanks.

- Toujours pur (T; 21k) by Veralynn

"Malfoy would never confess truth to an enemy, and we’re enemies to him. That’s way I made a plan.”

“A rat,” Harry said.

“Exactly. Someone I can trust one hundred per cent about You-Know-Who. Someone who knows well Malfoy and his past. That makes you the perfect candidate.”

- REVOLVEVLOVER (E; 46,3k) by @firethesound & zeitgeistic

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for.

It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

Career Choices: Harry: Hit Wizard; Draco: Anti-Government Extremist

- Who we are in the shadows (E; 99,7k) by @quicksilvermaid

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise?

Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself.

What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

- Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin (T; 34,9k) by sabershadowkat

At the heart of every Slytherin.

- The Boy and the Sleeping Prince (E; 26,7k) by @phoenix-acid & @writcraft

Harry is miserable and tired of being an Auror, coasting through life until he’s forced to make some changes. Spurred on by his passion for drawing and working with best-selling author Draco Malfoy, Harry develops a charm which gives children a magical, interactive reading experience. But when it’s time to test the spell, the two men find themselves trapped in a nightmarish fairy tale world. Can they escape unscathed, or is Draco right in his assertions that there is no such thing as a happily ever after?

Career Choices: Harry: Illustrator; Draco: Writer

- When Death Comes Calling (T; 2,6k) by @mystickitten42

It’s All Hallows’ Eve and as Harry investigates a string of seemingly related deaths, there’s one he hopes to prevent.

He looks over Harry’s shoulder and Harry turns too. They both see it, the dark translucent figure making its way to shore.

~ Or ~

Getting together in the face of Death. Literally.

- Servile (E; 68,5k) by calrissian18

“I would love anything you gifted me, My Lord, but this,” silver eyes, the same shade as the dragon that marked Harry's arm, glinted in his direction under the Death Eater’s hood, “is exquisite.”

- The Corruption Sequence series (E; 94,2k) by beren

Harry Potter is captured by Voldemort and the Dark Lord has plans for him that involve the essence of many different dark creatures. What Voldemort cannot know is that the presence of Draco Malfoy will affect the outcome of his plots and change everything.

- More Powerful Then Experience (M; 89,7k) by flightinflame

Harry's life changes when he is three, when his parents are murdered and the Dark Lord takes him to raise as his own.

Draco's life changes when he is six, when he finds himself given to a strange green-eyed boy who speaks Parseltongue and casts impossible magic.

Remus's life changes three years later, when a chance meeting proves to him that somehow James and Lily's son is still alive.

- The Gryffindor Prince (G; 6,3k) by @mfingenius

“Do not come near us again, evil Slytherins!” he exclaims, pointing his wand towards them again. Pansy and Blaise look more amused than anything, really, but they hold up their hands in surrender.

“Alright,” Pansy says, agreeably enough, a smirk on her face. “But Potter, Draco’s a Slytherin, like us. He’ll have to come back eventually.”

Harry’s eyes narrow, and, a moment later, he is throwing Draco over his shoulder, arm tight across the back of his thighs so he won’t fall, and Draco yelps.

Have fun reading!

#drarry #drarry fics #drarry fic rec #drarry rec list #my rec list #us vs the world vibe #hpdm #hpdm fanfic #harry potter x draco malfoy

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melanieph321 · 3 months

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Angsty Idea for Ruben Imagine:

Y/N has been on a girls trip and Ruben promised to pick her up from the airport and spend the day together but he forgot and goes out with the boys. Y/N is hurt and feels like he doesn’t care about her and they get in a big fight but make up at the end !!

This request was great. The people thought it was great. And so here it is, greatness.

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Only Girl In His World

⚠️Warning ⚠️

+18

Enjoy!

You called your mom as soon as you got into a taxi outside of the airport.

"Y/N, this is the third time!"

But calling her might have been a mistake.

"Mom, Ruben hasn't forgotten to pick me up before."

"No. But last week he forgot to e-mail you the plane tickets for your trip and the week before that he had trouble remembering which country you and your friends were even visiting. It's how it starts honey and you need to put a foot down, or else."

"Or else what?" You frowned, although deep down the truth hurt.

"Or else you'll end up alone in a big house with four kids whilst your husband is running around living his life like some hot shot bachelor."

"Mom, that would never happen. You know Ruben, besides he doesn't even want kids." You defended, just like you had defended Ruben's mistake to your friends, saying he had alot going on and therefore forgot to e-mail you their tickets. "....At least we haven't talked about that yet."

"And you won't need to." She said. "Because he'll forget to pick you up for that meeting too."

"Jupp, okay. I see where this phone call is going mom. I'm hanging up now..." You had already cried at the airport when, after two hours of waiting, you realized that your boyfriend had forgotten about you. Your mother was not about to ruin the make up you had to redo because of that.

"Y/N, I just don't want you to get hurt." She said, more sympathetically.

"Like I said mom. It's Ruben we're talking about. He would never hurt me, ever."

The phone call ended.

Thirty minutes later the taxi pulled up to Ruben's apartment building. You took the elevator up and felt your heartbeat with longing for a hug from the love of your life, however, all you were met with was an empty apartment and no Ruben.

"Baby?"

You went from room to room, switching on the lights just to confirm that "Jupp." Your boyfriend forgot about you, or he simply couldn't care less about you. The worst thing was the realization that today was Ruben's day off, and thst at some point he had been home, and not alone. The Playstation was still plugged into the TV and there were empty bottles of that recovery drink that Ruben loved. However you couldn't imagine he'd ever recover from this, you'd never allow Ruben to make you feel this way again.

"Y/N?"

It was around eleven o'clock at night when you heard keys turn in the lock. Ruben must have sighted your open suitcase in the living room, for he was shouting your name.

"Fuck me." You heard him sigh. "Y/N, are you here?"

"In here!" You shouted from the bedroom. You were on the floor emptying drawers of all of your things.

"Oh my god, Y/N. I'm so sorry baby, so fucking sorry." Ruben appeared in the door frame, a pale look on his face, knowing damn well that he fucked up by forgetting to pick you up at the airport.

"I swear you said Sunday." He said, which was not an excuse, you thought. Why hadn't he checked with you if he was so unsure? A quick text message would have sufficed.

"No Ruben." You mumbled. "I specifically told you four o'clock, Saturday."

He slapped a hand over his face and sighed. "Fuck, I must have mixed up the dates."

"Of course you did."

"So...how did you get home?" He asked, the question so dumb that you wanted to slap that stupid look of innocence that he wore on his face.

"I took a taxi Ruben. Another will be here in a minute to pick me up."

He frowned "Why?"

You stood, a pile of folded clothes in your hands. "I'm leaving you Ruben. I'm tired of feeling like I'm always second best to you. So I'm prioritizing myself by leaving...you."

"What?" He blurred out. "W...what do you mean?"

You pushed past him as he stood in the door, once in the living room you dumped your folded clothes into your already packed suitcase.

"Baby, what do you mean your leaving me?" Ruben was close behind you, demanding answers. Why he was upset you couldn't even fathom. "Is this you breaking up with me or something, and for what, because I forgot to pick you up from a fucking airport?"

"And you forgot to send me my plane tickets! And you forgot which fucking country I was even in!" You shouted, with tears trailing down your face . "Did you even notice that I was gone Ruben? Did you even care that I was gone?"

"Baby?" He looked confused, confused as to why you were shouting and crying. "Why would you even ask me that? Of course I cared that you were gone. That's why I've had Bernardo come over here and play FIFA with me everyday since you left. "I...I don't know what has made you come to this conclusion about me...about us?" He looked to the suitcase on the floor with terror in his eyes. "Please, let's just talk about this first before you decide to do anything neither of us want.

You hated that he made you feel like the dramatic one, however he was right, the two of you should talk things out before you did anything that might be irreversible in the end.

"I don't wanna talk." You muttered.

"No?" Ruben looked on the verge of something, something he wouldn't recover from. "W...what do you want then?"

"I want to feel loved."

"Fuck." He sighed, rushing to cup your face in his hands. He lifted your head, bending down, kissing you. "Of course I love you. Your the only girl for me." He kissed you again, harder.

"Prove it." You said, pulling away from him.

"What?" He looked confused, so confused and afraid, afraid of losing you.

"Prove that you love me and only me"

"Y/N, how would I even do that?"

Your eyes looked him up and down, indicating nothing more than what you needed right now. "Fuck me."

Ruben's brows lifted.

You smiled. "Fuck me like I'm the only girl in the world."

Nothing more was said. Ruben didn't even let you leave the living room before your clothes came off. He had your legs spread wide with his cock thrusting in and out deep in side if you. He fucked you right there and then, on the living room couch, like you were the only girl in his world.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #ruben dias imagine #football angst

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makethosenarratorsfight · 10 months

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SEMI FINALS

*NOTE; propaganda is out of order due to the post length!

Eugenides Propaganda:

the entire plot hinges on a detail he lets the reader (and every other character) assume is true. I don't want to spoil it because it's a really fun reveal but he is lying from the first second he appears on the page and you can't trust him to tell the full truth about ANYTHING related to himself and his goals. he mostly does it to keep his advantage and not have other characters be suspicious of him but it's just so fun when you realise he's been lying the whole time

Kim Dokja Propaganda:

I haven't read orv but he's fucking gotta be from what I've osmosised

He tries to remove his emotions out of the narrative soooo much, literally the most repressed guy ever. Okay so for context orv is about how this guy, Kim Dokja, has been the only reader of an obscure post-apocalyptic webnovel for years and the novel suddenly becomes reality. And at first you'll probably get the weird impression that his behavior is pretty strange for, you know, a literal apocalypse happening in his world - like yes, he is concerned with survival but he doesn't seem all that scared and he kinda treats it like a video game where he has to grind to make himself stronger and he also treats his companions like a party in an rpg. Then there's also the way he approaches the protagonist of the webnovel, from the start he just kind of describes him as a ruthless psychopath and jerk that is unfortunately a pretty useful ally. And also there's the fact that he carefully omits any mention of his past and when somebody asks if he's worried about his family when the apocalypse starts he just kinda... brushes it off? Anyway so yeah, this bastard is definitely traumatized, although I don't know how much of spoiler territory that would be, considering the fact that literally when he first reveals his trauma he's also unreliable about it. And turns out he does indeed, care A LOT about this world and the people around him. Because well, he kinda didn't care to mention that this webnovel that has become reality was like... literally his whole world before it literally became his whole world. Like, it was the only thing keeping him going for 10+ years and the protagonist that he likes to call a stupid jerk was his comfort character who he pretended to be when he felt like he couldn't handle something in his life by being himself. The protagonist is also canonically the person he loves the most according to a prophecy and he literally can't fathom the thought of him dying, even the timeline versions of him that directly oppose him. And I haven't even mentioned the Fourth Wall yet but I feel like this propaganda is a little long already

misreading the intentions of his companion (yoo joonghyuk) so many time.

YOU DON'T UNDERSTANDDD DOKJA IS SUCH A UNRELIABLE NARRATORRRRRR GOD I COULD WRITE AN ESSAY BUT I KNOW YOU LOVE DOKJA TOO BUT OMG HE'S JUST SO AAAAAAAAAAAH

Rest of Propaganda under cut!

he is the worst like actually. he starts the story talking about how normal and average he is. he is not. he is constantly mischaracterizing his friends and he's so good at lying to the readers that you don't even realize it at first. almost every single time he cries we have to be told by other characters because he never says it himself. there is literally a scene where his narration says "i wasn't crying" and then the in-universe entity that narrates the actions of people (orv is really weird and meta) says that he was, in fact, crying. honestly genuinely anything he says about himself (or doesn't say) cannot be trusted. he is just so frustrating. he drives me mad. i love him dearly. but he drives me so mad.

Dictionary definition of unreliable narrator. Does not tell the reader anything and then things happen and he's like oh yeah btw there was also this and this earlier but i just didn't feel like mentioning it. There's even a thing called the "Fourth Wall" that is able to see through kdj's bs so occasionally you get gems like,

Kim Dokja: I didn't cry

The Fourth Wall: [Kim Dokja was crying]

Imagine being so unreliable as a narrator you need a more powerful narrator to call out the actual narrator.

^ same submission, just spacing it out

This goes into spoiler territory, but; Kim Dokja is in possession of a skill called the Fourth Wall, which on the surface seems like it appears because he read the book that reverse-isekai’d into his own. However, as the story goes on it becomes clear that it’s pretty much a souped up version of his pre-existing dissociation. You cannot trust him to be honest about his feelings, his past traumas or his feelings about his past traumas, not to mention his tendency to just outright omit information that only gets revealed later on either when it becomes relevant or when an outsider POV reveals what’s actually happening.

Exhibit A: he says (in 1st person POV) that he’s not crying. The Fourth Wall immediately contradicts this (as it is literally words of the novel) by saying (in 3rd person POV) ‘Kim Dokja was crying’.

Exhibit B: Fails to mention entire actions when it shows him emotionally honest even in the slightest; we had to read from another character entirely when Kim Dokja was being physically affectionate with his companion. It’s so bad that there’s this entire paragraph about Kim Dokja describing himself hiding his eyes in his hands in jerky, weirdly specific detail and just AVOIDING EVERY WORD THAT MIGHT SHOW HE’S CRYING. The brilliance of ORV is that when you re-read the entire thing you get hints that ‘yes, this WAS hinted at the entire time’ but you have to dig it out of Kim Dokja’s repressed, depressed self-hating internal dialogue with your own two hands.

^ same submission, spacing it out (i really should've done this earlier.)

i am a simple man (not a man). i see a tumblr text post with the words “unreliable narrator in it”. i read nothing else. i reblog & tag #kim dokja okay but in all seriousness i’m just going with the musty basic example: so there’s this moment where he sacrifices himself to save this guy. as he lays on the ground bleeding out, he says “hey, you don’t like me, right? you should kill me to get some money” the guy says “no kim dokja i cant do that (going through the five stages of grief except there’s only one and it’s anger)” the constellations (twitch viewers irl) are like omg he (the guy) doesn’t want to kill his companion (kim dokja) and shower him (the guy) with money kim dokja: oh, he’s not killing me for the money. smart!

as i quote a brilliant youtube video (all of omniscient reader’s viewpoint in 6 minutes) “yoo joonghyuk sees kim dokja as a c_____”

yoo joonghyuk: companion

kim dokja: cunt

^ same submission, once again. spacing it out.

Hides his true feelings, tells the readers what he thinks is convenient for the plot and that his own personal feelings don’t matter or are not so significant. Has unreliable thoughts abt his companion and is a liar. And is also an omniscient reader.

Kim Dokja always perceived his companions in this like nonchalant way like “oh yeah we get along but really we’re just fighting to survive (apocalypse setting) it doesn’t run that deep” when they all do genuinely care for him and he does in turn. He just, doesn’t think of it as an equal relationship? Dokja’ll sacrifice a lot for them but will get seriously flabbergasted if they do the same thing, so fricking problematic. Not to mention Yoo Joonghyuk, his “Life and Death Companion” (read: husband). Kim Dokja always seems to think that Joonghyuk has it out for him, which is kinda true, but he is literally blind to the fact that he’s attached to him. Like, it’s so obvious??? Also they have hella sexual tension but that’s another thing entirely

se get some many pov changes where kdj in his pov just assumed things based on what he knew the characters would do. however because of his interference the characters have changed and he wouldn’t know that if it hit him in the face

He's an unreliable narrator because he lies to himself and thus the audience. He literally rewrote his own childhood core memory. If someone says, "this guy is my friend!" He will go through so many hoola hoops in his mind just to rationalize it. Because he fundamentally believe that no one could love him and even if they did they couldn't know him and he's just gonna hurt them. He cries sometimes in canon but a lot of those times it's not even mentioned as crying he's that unreliable of a narrator. No joke, one time this guys he has a gay thing with called him his "companion" to someone who had just killed him (long story) and this bitch thought "oh wow he's doing it for the coins (another long story) he's so smart i wish I'd thought to that. He's terrible. He literally has an exchange with something called the Fourth Wall (an even longer story) where it said "you're crying" and he said "no I'm not" but he was crying. He makes me insane because the reader is supposed to project onto him. He made me see how much of an unreliable narrator I WAS. ORV is just like that tho.

#kim dokja #kdj #orv #omniscient readers viewpoint #once again #if kdj gets this poll blacklisted again im blowing him up #eugenides #the queens thief #queens thief #unreliable narrators battle #unreliable narrators #polls #semi finals

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bigfatbimbo · 1 month

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Friday anon here-

Ugh! The implications of sub Vox in his canon time period are so delicious! It’s totally taboo, it would ruin him if it got out, so much shame and confusion and insecurity! He’d fight against it so hard but still somehow end up on his knees

He always thought he was such a strong man and now he’s trying to convince himself he doesn’t like it because that’s not how things are supposed to be! The man is supposed to take charge and he’s the man, isn’t he? This whole thing feels topsy turvy but it keeps happening and he keeps ending up breathless by the end of the night

It might be less maddening if you didn’t act so normal during the day but it’s business as usual, so professional that he could almost be convinced that it didn’t happen. But it did happen and it keeps happening and he’s in too deep now

What would people think if they knew?

The way I would so write an entire fic about this. But alas, i’m tired so take my fried up brain crumbs. Ugh but this with that assistant boss au you were talking about especially hits me.

But the level of insecurity that comes with every night is actually unimaginable. The way that you’re running the show isn’t right. He’s the man, and quite literally the man of the office as well. But you’re just so hard to resist when you speak to him as if you’re totally untouchable.

The embarrassment comes before, then he finds it impossible to keep while you work your magic, but the shame seeps in after you leave. He should feel weak, and he does. But you do your job and act as if it doesn’t even happen, so it’s undeniable that on a certain level he was still your boss. Just only in specific settings, he supposed.

He tried to justify it in his head; I mean, he’s keeping his worker happy, right? But he knew that was bullshit, before said worker was stroking his dick until he almost cried, he never was one to care about his employees needs.

You were so put together about the whole thing, absolutely rocking his world and then acting like it didn’t mean anything. It did mean something to Vox. It was so unconventional, and absolutely alarming when compared to the gender norms of the ‘man’ in a relationship.

So yes, he’d put up a fight, try to be domineering, but at a certain point it felt like he was just putting up a fight for the sake of putting up a fight. Not to win.

Because under your hands, he looses every ounce of power he has. He’s never felt anything like it, being a man of his status, he’s never not been given control or respect. But now he finds he’s craving your touch, your mean words, your—and here’s the worst part—validation. Shouldn’t you, his assistant, be craving his?

But your sessions never leave him competent enough to say anything. Whether it be after hours at work, in the supply closet in the office, or maybe a late night visit on a weekend. Your words had a habit of evoking an annoying amount of emotion out of him. When you’re too mean, which you are, he’s had to stop himself from crying. But when you’re uncharacteristically nice… well he has the same problem.

Other than immature fits of anger, he’s always had a particularly firm grasp on his emotions. But just as this grasp loosened around you, so swirled every illusion he’s ever had about the ‘right’ way for man and women to act, and not that he’s so concerned with morals, but boss and employee, as well.

And the thing is, he’s a very highly respected man around the office, so if it gets out that your fucking and how your fucking, he’s absolutely ruined. His reputation, the fear he evoked, all gone. He’d be a fucking joke. But that doesn’t stop him from begging for you every night.

Anyways, now I really wanna do a full fic with this like this idea has a hold over me oh my god. God, if you send me anons and asks about this idea tonight, i’ll start believing in you 🙌🙌

#well maybe not #anyways #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #dom reader

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reputationmunson · 1 year

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Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

part one | part two | part three | part 4

series summary: steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: a day at the lake with the Harringtons followed by a night out

content: steve and reader arguing (what’s new), drinking, swearing, these two idiots being in love, she/her pronouns, use of y/n

word count: 3.3k

You wake up with a wine-induced headache and you look over to see the spot next to you empty.

Yeah, you and Steve kissed last night, but so what? It didn’t mean anything. It was simply all part of the plan to be a more convincing couple. It would be weird if you guys didn’t share a quick peck every now and then if you were so ‘in love’ like you claimed to be, right?

You quickly shake it off and leave the bedroom to find out where Steve went. You’re half expecting to find a note that says ‘hey that kiss made me wanna flee the country. see you never’

Instead, you see Steve sitting on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs, taking in the scenery.

“Good morning” you say and sit down in the chair next to him. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a nod instead. You refuse to let it be awkward. The weekend has only begun and there’s no way you’re going to let a dumb kiss that meant absolutely nothing make everything weirder than it already is.

“Remember when we kissed last?” you try to lighten the mood. “Do we really have to talk about that? It’s been bugging me all morning”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me all morning, huh?” you tease and he lets out an irritated sigh “do you not know how to be serious about anything?”

“What's there to be serious about? We kissed, for scientific reasons I might add, and it doesn’t have to be weird.” you shrug like it’s no big deal. Except it is a big deal, to Steve, at least. The kiss wasn’t terrible, he might’ve even liked it and he doesn’t want to be dramatic, but that might be the worst thing that’s ever happened. “It is weird though, isn't it?”

“Why? because you liked it?” you ask, expecting him to immediately deny it, but he doesn’t. “Steve? you liked it, didn’t you?” you boast. “No! no, I didn't like it. It was just really stupid and I think it’s insane that you don’t regret it”

“Oh my god, Steve. It was a kiss! You didn’t even hesitate, you practically jumped at the opportunity! then, you initiated the second one!” you proclaim. “Jumped? You were the one making that face!” he argues and you scoff “Face? What face? I was not making a face!” you insist and his eyes roll. “Oh, you so were. You were all like ‘Steve, please kiss me! I’ll even pout my lips and bat my eyelashes at you’” he attempts to make the look that you were allegedly making last night.

“Are you admitting that you think I’m irresistible?” you smirk at him and the triumphant look on his face immediately disappears. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” he says, avoiding an answer to your question. “Yeah, okay, but you still think I’m irresistible” you chaff and he stands up. “You’re about as irresistible as a bed of nails that got set on fire. Now, if you’re done arguing with me, we gotta get ready”

“Ready for what?” you question “There’s a private beach around here and my family wants to go in about an hour” he tells you as you follow him inside. “An hour?! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” you chastise. “Because you were too busy drooling on your pillow this morning and no, you don’t have time to yell at me because you’re gonna need all the time you can get to look decent before we leave”

Apart from the human embodiment of stepping on a piece of gum in a new pair of shoes that is Steve Harrington, today was a lovely day. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze that balanced perfectly with the weather, making the heat more bearable. The beach was nice, too. It was secluded and Steve’s family were the only people here. Now, if only you could find a way to leave Steve stranded that would make this day even better.

“You finally made it! We were starting to worry!” Steve’s mom, Joanne, greets you. “Sorry about that, Steve forgot to tell me about it last night so I got a late start getting ready” you explain.

“That’s Steve for you. Communication and time-management skills shouldn’t go on his resume if he ever decides to get a real job” His dad chimes in and you can’t help but feel a little bad. “Oh, no, he’s usually always great when it comes to that. We just all have our off days” you defend him and Steve gives you a slight smile as a way to thank you.

“Exactly, George, give Steve a break. I know it’s a little early, but I brought some wine if you’d like some, y/n. It is a vacation after all.” Steve’s mom seems to drink a lot of wine, but if you were married to someone as condescending as George, you would too. “I’d love a glass, thank you”

You sit with Joanne on a blanket while Steve goes over to join his cousins. She pours you a hefty glass of wine and you decide she’s your favorite Harrington.

“How are you two enjoying the house? I know it’s a little small, but we wanted you to be close to us” Their definition of ‘small’ is much different than yours. “It’s perfect, thank you, again. Steve and I had our coffee this morning while admiring the view” okay, you didn’t have coffee, you had a little disagreement, but you were still admiring the view.

“Steve seems absolutely smitten with you. I know I have my faults as a mother, but I still have my instincts and they tell me that maybe in a few years we’ll have another wedding to put on our calendars”

“Oh, I um-”

Before you can get a response out, Steve comes out of nowhere and you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful for his presence. “We've been challenged to a game of chicken. best two outta three, you in?”

“hm, I don’t know. Do you have to be my partner? I would like to win” you tease. “yes, because it’s couple versus couple and you know you can’t win without me. c’mon” he offers his hand to help pull you up off the ground.

When you pull off your bathing suit cover up, Steve knows he should look away. He shouldn’t care that the one-piece you’re wearing in the god awful shade of your signature color, hugs your body perfectly. His eyes definitely shouldn’t briefly flick down to your ass when you bend over to set the coverup on the blanket, but they do.

“Ready?” you ask, pulling him out of whatever weird trance he was just in. “y-yeah. let’s go”

“What did my mom say? you looked a little freaked out back there” he asks once she’s out of earshot. “something about you being just so head over heels for me and how we’re going to be married in a few years” you let out a sigh like it’s something to brush over. “Don’t listen to her, she’s drinking too much wine. Something you guys seem to have in common”

“how else am i supposed to cope with being your lover”

“gross. don’t say that” he whines and you laugh at him as you always do.

“this water is freezing!” you squeal as the water comes to the shore. “hm, really? how freezing?” he asks with a tone that sounds like he has a plan. “that’s a dumb q-” before you can finish your insult, Steve lunges at you and his arms wrap around your waist and he drags you deeper into the water.

“Steve! let me go!” you screech. “if you insist” he replies before dunking you into the water. You get a hold of him and pull him down with you. There’s no way you were going down without a fight.

You both emerge from the cold water, laughing and neither of you have a look of anger on your faces. Which is strange because usually just the sound of each breathing is enough to set either of you off, but you rarely ever see him have fun. It’s kind of nice to see him let loose even if that means being submerged in frigid water.

“If you lovebirds are done, we’re ready to take you down now” his cousin shouts and you both quickly retrieve your touch from one another. “you think you’re gonna be alright with my legs on your shoulders?” you ask him, not meaning for it to intend to sound as dirty as it came out and his cheeks turn pink. “my god, Steve, stop being a perv and squat down. We are not losing this game”

Steve crouches down so you can sit on top of his shoulders. He hands grip your thighs to steady you and you thread your fingers through his hair to keep your balance. He notices that your thighs are soft and smooth. It’s probably from the lotion that you constantly put on ‘cause you smell nice too. He hopes this game is over as soon as possible.

As the ‘battle’ starts, his grip on your thighs tighten, but you don’t have time to focus on the way it’s making you feel when you’re worried about trying to take down the other team.

You win surprisingly fast. Steve was expecting an immediate takedown that resulted in your flying off of his shoulders. Actually, it was more like hoping than expecting. You’re unexpectedly competitive. Steve figured since you’re so sweet and shy (other people’s words, definitely not Steve’s), that you’d go done in a split second, but you stuck to your guns. He’s decently impressed.

“I’m gonna take a walk to dry off. do you wanna join me?” he asks once you’re out of the water. “yeah that sounds nice”

As you walk, your arm wraps around his and he accepts it without question. “I’m gonna say something but don’t let it swell your ego any more than it already is” he starts and you refrain from a sarcastic comment. “I'm having fun with you today and I guess it’s not totally awful that you’re here”

“Should we get you to a hospital? I think there’s a blood-sucking leech in your brain”

“yeah, i think so too” he looks over at you and sees you're already looking at him. The sunshine really does something to his eyes and makes the freckles on his face more noticeable, you could almost connect them like a constellation. Maybe there’s a blood-sucking leech in your brain too.

“I'm having a good time too. Ya know, despite having to constantly be around you” you joke and he chuckles. “well lucky for you, the guys and I are going out to some bar so you’ll have the place to yourself for a while”

“thank god. i’m going to need some time to recover from being nice to you”

“you and me both, y/n. you and me both”

With Steve being gone, you had planned a relaxing evening. There was a little general store not far from the house and you’d gotten all the necessities; snacks, a face mask, and some stuff for a bubble bath. You’re about to start a bath when you hear a knock at the door and you pray that Steve isn’t back already.

“Hi!” One of the Harrington wives, Mary, greets you when you open the door. “Hi! Steve isn’t here-”

“Oh, I know. I’m here for you! Are you still getting ready?” She asks when she notices your robe and face mask. “Getting ready for what?” you question. “We’re meeting the guys at the bar! Didn’t Steve tell you?”

“Y-yeah, he did. I just thought it was a pity invite” you lie. “I don’t really have anything to wear for a night out”

“Honey, let me tell you something that I wish someone told me when I first joined this family; never travel without your favorite little black dress when you take a trip with the Harringtons. Especially us young ones. Those boys always go out”

“I don’t have a little black dress. '' You mumble, a little embarrassed. “Lucky for you, I always bring an extra. Here, try it on!” she hands you a dress from her bag along with a pair of black heels to match. Steve is definitely going to make fun of you for this.

You were expecting to feel out of place in this dress, but honestly, you look hot. The dress is a spaghetti strap with a simple square neckline and it’s shorter than what your choice might’ve been, but it’s stunning.

“Oh my gosh, you look incredible! Steve won’t be able to keep his hands off you” she squeals.“I don’t know about that…” you mutter. “Please. I see the way he looks at you and once he sees you in this dress he’s going to lose it”

People keep talking about the way Steve ‘looks’ at you and you’re starting to think they’re just saying it to say it. How can they confuse his looks of dislike and revulsion with love? No wonder Steve thinks his family is crazy

“Alright, I brought us some drinks and they aren’t going to drink themselves. Let’s get to it!”

“Hi, boys. Miss us?” Mary announces once you all approach the half-circle booth the boys are sat at. Steve does a double take when he sees you. Not only was he not expecting to see you here, he definitely wasn’t expecting to see you in that dress.

“Hi, Stevie” you say in a sing-song voice. There’s no denying you’re already a little tispy. Your eyes are glassy and you have a loopy grin on your face. “Hi, babe. I thought you were staying in tonight?”

“I was going too but I just missed you. I hope it’s okay I’m here”

“Oh, it’s fine” One of the men interjects. “Steve’s been talking about you all night”

“I have not. They’ve been asking about you and I’ve been answering questions” he explains. “And what have you been saying, Stevie?” you wonder. “He was just telling us-”

“Alright, that’s enough. How about you grab a chair and sit down, yeah?” You look around to try and find an empty chair but with the bar being crowded, there aren’t any available. “Just sit on Steve’s lap! None of us are prudes, clearly” Mary says and you look at Steve with hesitance. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just hop on” hop on? he repeats in his head. He can’t believe he just said that.

You sit on his lap like it’s something you’ve done a million times before. Your arm wraps around his shoulders while his arm wraps around your waist. Once you’re seated comfortably, his hand comes to rest on your thigh, a little too close for comfort. Your breath hitches slightly and you hope Steve didn’t notice. He did notice, and he’s planning on using this against you later.

Steve can’t focus on any of the conversations happening because the only thing on his mind is the fact that he doesn’t entirely hate your closeness. He blames it on the alcohol coursing through his veins. You look rather pretty tonight and you smell so good that it’s more intoxicating than the drink in his glass.

He absentmindedly begins to rub your thigh and you let out a small gasp, causing him to smirk. “Sorry. Just keeping up appearances” he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s fine” you whisper back.

Except, it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t that his touch was making you uncomfortable, it was the complete opposite and that was the problem. You felt yourself melting into his touch and craving it every time his hand left your thigh so he could take a sip of his drink.

You feel like you should regret not staying back at the house, but you don’t. Not even a little bit.

“You have to turn the key to the right, Steeevvvee” you drunkenly whine as Steve tries to unlock the front door. “I am turning it to the right” he whines back, mocking your tone. “That’s the left” you point out. “You try it then” he challenges. “Watch and learn, pretty boy”

The key doesn’t budge. You turn it left, you turn it right and nothin’. “Watch and learn. I’m soooo much smarter than Steve” he mimics you as you drop the key on the porch. “It’s broken! What’re we gonna do?” you pout, standing close enough that your chest is flush with his. “Follow me”

You follow Steve to a window that’s slightly open a little higher up than other windows. “I can’t climb through that window in a dress!” you exclaim. “Well, you can’t lift me, so up ya go”

“That is so sexist”

“I know, I’m the worst, blah blah blah. C’mon, let’go” Steve hooks his hands together for you to use as a step. You grip his shoulders and once you're balanced, you’re able to grab the window frame. “I need more of a boost” you tell him. “This is all the boost I got”

“Then throw me!”

“Are you insane? I’m not gonna throw you!”

“We’ll sleep outside, then”

“I have an idea, but don’t punch me! I’m gonna have to touch your butt” he giggles like a four-year-old when he says ‘butt’, making you giggle too. “Lucky you, then. Try not to bust in your pants, okay”

“You sure are confident when you’re drunk. Okay, on three” Steve counts to three and pushes you as much as he can until you’re able to pull yourself through the window. “I’m in!”

“Yeah, I see that. Go unlock the door” he says and you shake your head. “Oh, no no no. If I had to do this, so do you. It’s fun!”

“Why do you have to make everything difficult?”

“Scared you can’t do it?” you taunt. “What was that you said earlier? Watch and learn?”

Steve starts to climb the house and you can’t help but laugh at how many times he slips. Once he’s almost made it, you grab his hand and pull him into the house causing him to topple you to the ground and throwing you both into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, I admit that was fun” he says, a bit breathless. “I know. I’m full of great ideas”

You both stand up and flop onto the bed. “I’m ready to go to sleeo” Steve says with a yawn and closes his eyes. “Noooo, you can’t sleep in those clothes. That’s so uncomfy”

“I can’t move” he grumbles. You move to stand at the foot of the bed and reach your arms out to him. “Get up. Just grab my hands” he lazily grabs your hands and you let out a groan as you pull him up. “Hey, I’m not that heavy” he laughs. “If you say so”

Neither of you have moved from where you’re standing. Your hands are still holding his and his face is close to yours that you could count his eyelashes. “You look really pretty tonight” he whispers like he’s afraid you’ll hear him. “You don’t have to say that. No one’s around”

“And if I said I wanted to kiss you… what would you say to that?” his hand comes up to cradle your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“I’d say it’s a bad idea” you slightly lean in “I know” he leans in closer.

“We hate each other”

“We do”

“And we really shouldn’t kiss ‘cause I don’t think I’ll be able to stop”

“Okay” His nose brushes yours, but his lips press against your cheek instead. This is the one time you wish he wouldn’t listen to you.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop either” Steve confesses before going to get changed in the bathroom, leaving you to feel more confused than you’ve ever felt.

Fuck.

taglist: @nix-rose-q @eternallyvenus @freezaz123 @whisperingwillowxox @buckysmetalhand @clincallyonline17 @x-theolivia @realsuper-dark @eddiesguitarskills @megxplryxb @alicetweven @calmoistorm @impossibelle @k-k0129

(for some reason there were a few blogs that i wasn’t able to tag:( i apologize!)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington

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lazycats-stuff · 9 months

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Hey, I'd love to request Jason x big brother reader, before Bruce adopted Jason he had a big brother who took care of him, but one day the reader kinda vanished and money just randomly appeared near Jason. The reader made some sketchy deal with someone in exchange for Jason to be taken care of. The reader was an experiment and got turned into some sort of monster (still a human silhouette but just a bit different, memories wiped, can't speak etc.) and years later, when Jason is red hood and on a mission with the batfam, they encounter the reader. Jason remembers the reader through some jewelry he gifted them, and he tries and helps the reader remember who they are.

My poor Jason. And the poor reader. Also, why am I writing such short pieces? What is happening with me?

Summary: (Y/N) makes sure that Jason is taken care of. But there is a catch.

Warnings: experiments, not the good kind, monsters, but not in the detail, Jason doesn't remember (Y/N).

Jason looked at a photo from his childhood. He was sitting on the bed in his apartment, looking at the photo from his childhood. It was Jason, but way before Bruce adopted. Years even.

The photo came in a brown envelope, seemingly out of nowhere. It was in his PO box, just waiting in there. At first, Jason thought that it was dangerous and that it had something like anthrax, but after closer inspection, the envelope was fine.

He didn't know who this boy was. They were happy in the photo, just the two of them. Smiles and happiness. One of the rare moments in the Todd household.

But now he wondered where this person was. Where did he vanish? Why did he vanish? When?

But Jason remembered that once the man left, he was... Taken care off? There seemed to be some extra money in the Todd household and that might have been a first. Some extra money. Huh.

But Jason remembered that thing were better for a while. It was somewhat stable and he didn't worry about being hungry or anything like that.

And then Bruce adopted him. Well, Batman was there first so technically, Batman adopted him. Bruce had to personas. Batman and Bruce Wayne.

What does he even do with this? Who sent him this? Should he talk to Bruce? Dick?

He groaned, hands going through his own hair. What to do now?

Jason sighed. There was a mission. Something about human experiments. Jason shuddered at that. And the worst of all? They were in Gotham, under a guise.

Hugo fricking Strange.

Jason never liked him. He thought he was insane and full of himself. Also, he suggested the idea of Arkham City and that, according to Jason was the dumbest idea ever. A prison in the middle of the city?

Hell no.

The facility was kind of empty, if you disregard the dead bodies of what Jason thought were failed experiments. He scowled underneath the mask, gun in his hand, just ready to strike.

This was a disaster waiting to happen. Something out of a horror movie, but Gotham was a horror movie in real life. A psychotic clown, egoistical man who is obsessed with riddles, insane mob boss, a human crocodile who is nuts-

A crash from one of the rooms made everyone jump. Batman didn't, he just walked slower. Jason pointed the gun towards the sound of the crash.

Who knows what was going to come out of the corner. Jason thought about the fact that they were going to die, because only stupid people would go to a facility where there were human experiments.

" You know everyone, I will say it. This is how white people die in horror movies. "

" What about Robin? " Nightwing asked.

" Robin would scare off the monsters. " Jason said, smirking at the TTs he got in return.

He pointed his gun towards the hall, seeing a normal human here. But it wasn't really normal. It was the man from the photo he got. But who was he?

Jason's eyes fell down onto the necklace he was wearing. Oh my God.

" (Y/N)... You are here?! " Jason screamed out, putting his gun back into the holster.

The others looked at one another. Who is (Y/N)?

" It's me, Jason. " Jason started, taking his helmet off.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

" This is my older brother. I now know you vanished. You sold your soul, your body to protect me... Oh my God. " At this point Jason raised his hands up.

" B, we have to take him back. (Y/N), can you say something? " Jason prompted.

(Y/N) was ready to attack, but Jason was quick to jump at him and knock him out.

" I have to find out what happened. I have to... " Jason said, looking at his older brother.

" We will. Don't worry. But you need to explain to me what has happened with him. "

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #red hood #platonic #platonic relationships

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 8 months

Text

The Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD:

WARNING: FUCKING LONG.

Scout:

- He nods along slowly as you explain this. He might be incredibly childish and confrontational towards everyone but he’s not short of knowledge he learned in college, and personal experience. He seems to understand.

- Scout looks beyond terrified as you describe what happened to you. He doesn’t understand why something so terrible would happen to somebody with so much value.

- He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s had childhood trauma himself. He goes “My brothers weren’t nice when we were little..” He then refuses to elaborate. This was his attempt to empathize with you.

- He sits there on the side of your bed with his head in his hands. Bouncing his knee restlessly. You could’ve swore you heard a sniffle.

- He’s trying to make his emotional state unnoticeable. But it’s clear to you that he cares. The attempts to hold back his tears say it all.

- If you ask for physical comfort he won’t hesitate twice. His petite body surprisingly feels muscular. He’ll lock his arms around you in a huge hug and won’t let go. He rocks you like a small baby.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- Freezes up. Like straight up goes stiff. You swear he’s cosplaying as a statue. He’s facing away from you with his hands behind his back as you explain your trauma. You can’t see his expression.

- You think he might not understand and you give up on trying to explain. But then he turns around and goes “No, private. I understand how you feel.”

- Wait what??? Not to be rude or anything but soldier isn’t exactly the brightest when it comes to certain stuff. He’s mostly focused on complete chaos of war and the mayhem he so blissfully causes to his targets. With little room for stuff like psychology. But he sounds surprisingly stoic and understanding.

- As it turns out, whilst he didn’t serve in the US army directly nor has PTSD from the war, his nazi killing spree gave him some pretty horrible insight on what tragedy can do to people. Seeing the look on your face.. It’s the same exact look that young children had when he freed them from camps. (Via blowing the camps up of course.)

- He sounds surprisingly mellow as he comforts you with hugs and reassuring back rubs. Unlike his usual loud and vibrant way of speaking. This is vulnerability you didn’t even know soldier was capable of.

- He has a deadpan look once you finally catch a glimpse of his face underneath that helmet of his. Almost distant and exhausted. He experienced empathy burnout instantaneously.

- “I’m sorry. I know.” Is all he can think of saying. Repeatedly.

————————————————————————

Demoman:

- He’s pissed. Not at you, but at the people who directly or indirectly caused this. You can see righteous anger flaring in his remaining eye as you explain all this baggage to him. He taps his finger on the table impatiently.

- “Bloody hell, this world has nothing but injustice after injustice. And den’ dey wonder why it’s so fucked up. oh, I don’t know lad! Maybe it’s because people like you are stupid as shit!” He goes on a rant about the people involved. He spews drunken threat after threat, waving his bottle around as he talks about all the different ways he could play jump rope with their intestines.

- He immediately drags you into a bear hug. You can hear the venom dripping off his words as he swears that nobody will ever hurt you that way again — Not on his watch. You can hear him breathing heavily against his vest. His breath sounds like a growl. He’s had explosive rage before at the enemy team (pun intended) but this seemed to be his worst yet.

- He puts his entire weight on you, and shields you with his large bulky body. It was like having a giant great dane lay across you protectively. Ready to snap at anything that came near.

- God forbid somebody actually attempts to talk to you today after this revelation. He’ll be watching them closely to ensure your mental state is at ease. The last thing you need right now is another stressor. He becomes increasingly overprotective for the first few weeks.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Similar to soldier you can’t seem to understand the expression under his goggles at first. It’s rather unreadable. He sits across from you in his workshop with his hands supporting his head in relaxed position. But as you go into more detail his body language becomes more and more tense. He stops relaxing and instead sits up in the chair and crosses his arms to self soothe.

- He pinches the roof of his nose. His head down in thought. At this rate he can’t even make eye contact with you. He’s distressed about something.

- The gears are turning in his head. “Pardner, are you tellin’ me you had all this shit on your back, and you never even thought of telling me?”

- You profusely apologize, mistaking his behavior for anger. But he’s far from angry. “Hush now, hush.” He wipes your tears away with his gloved metallic hand. You could feel the hardness of the mechanism underneath.

- He sits there with you for an extremely long time. Wrapping you in a blanket that his mom knitted him, and lovingly rubbing your tummy, sides, and back. He seems to know the surface layer concepts of comforting someone with severe trauma. He let you know he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. That it was in the past and it will remain there.

- You are loved. He really wants you to know your value. He’s hooked on letting you know, in fact. How much you didn’t deserve such terrible things.

- He whispers kind and loving things in your ear. My god, it sounds like velvet to your eardrums. If ears could cum then yours would. His southern drawl is enticing you to relax.

————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Uh oh..

- Yeah, no. quite possibly more pissed than Demoman. You can tell because he’s dead silent and staring out into space with the most malicious intentions in mind. Usually an angry heavy is a loud one, but you were kinda nervous seeing the boiling kettle of a man.

- But unlike Demoman he doesn’t voice his intentions. Let’s just say whatever they are; I recommend you keep him far away from the people involved. Because they’ll likely end up the most gruesome crime scene imaginable. He doesn’t take kindly to stuff like this.

- Due to being a very family oriented person he immediately introduces you to his sisters and mother over the payphone. Because that was usually the thing that made him feel safe. His sisters immediately take a liking to you, and you can hear girlish giggling over the phone. They think you’re cute. No wonder Heavy felt so safe around them.

- “You will become like Heavy’s family. Da?” He asks. Offering you a place amongst them. He knows stuff like this calls for community. He knows it heals people. “And heavy will protect you.”

- You randomly find gifts of food on your bed stand if you have a particularly bad PTSD day. Especially honey cake. His mother always made him that whenever he was upset. They always have little notes attached to them. Small poems about self love.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Responds in a very “WHAT THE FUCK??!!” type matter. They’re disgusted and shocked. They immediately hug you without second thought and squeeze you. (A little too tightly.)

- Out of all the mercs, Pyro has to be the most outwardly emotional. They can’t stop bawling about how terrible they feel. They’re crying so much over the thought that that a delicate anomaly of nature had their heart stomped on repeatedly and destroyed.

- Their love language in this situation is nothing but physical affection and kisses. They are so worked up at this revelation that not a single word of encouragement can come out of them. They know they can’t take back what had happened to you. All they want to do is just that.

- Over the next few days, Pyro’s mourning for your mental health quickly manifests less as sadness and more as hyper caregiving. They protect you more fiercely on the battlefield and Spycheck on the regular. They seem more committed to their job and less dissociated than usual. They don’t seem very up to jokes right now.

- Pyro knows trauma is no joke. They know that full well. They become more responsible and ask their colleagues to leave you alone if you feel too stressed. They’re capable of detecting a potential flashback and immediately take you into their quarters to relax from triggers. The expression on your face says it all. You can’t hide anything from Pyro.

————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Shit. god dammit. Fuck.

- He’s laying in his camper van’s bed with his face staring at the ceiling. The entire time he has a look of complete dismay plastered across his face.

- Sniper isn’t exactly the most vocal Merc, but to your surprise he has a lot of things to say about this. Primarily how confused he was that someone like you could be handed such misfortune in life. At least in Sniper’s case he felt like he deserved it.

- His first initial reaction is to get your mind off it. Acknowledging your problems, he pulls out a camera from a box underneath his bed and retrieves a slide viewer. Slipping photos into it and showing you the pictures of Australian wildlife he took before entering the gravel wars. Attempting to ground you back into modern day by reminding you these animals are indeed still around.

- “Ya know, there’s animals everywhere. Isn’t it crazy to think that while we’re in here, a bloody tiger is goring a boar and whatnot? And the boar is absolutely shitting itself? Sometimes it’s hard to imagine we were part of that world once. That we’re still animals. Just really intelligent. It’s easy to mistake ourselves as unlovable gods when our nutty piss mongrel asses can’t even remember a time where we weren’t atop the food chain. We set unrealistic expectations for ourself.” He says, giving an example that everybody is worth while. (This is the same guy who kills anybody by the way.)

- “Just.. What i’m saying is that it’ll take a while for you to heal. I’m here to help with that, mate.” He mutters. He seems pretty against being emotional but it’s not like he has much of a choice in this situation. He deeply cares about you. You’re nice to him.

- There is content silence after a while. After looking through the photos by himself one last time he sighs and plops the device back into the box. You were laid neatly on him, cuddling tightly. He put one hand on your back and rubbed it. His other hand dangling off to the side.

- “S’aight mate.” He says, having no clue how to process the fact you somehow ended up atop him.

————————————————————————

Medic:

- He takes intrigue to your situation. He stops dissecting the specimen he was eagerly studying the anatomy of, and has two fingers on the screw of his glasses. Giving you a raised eyebrow. His curiosity is evident and you can practically hear him thinking. Moving his lips as he tried to internally go over the symptoms of PTSD listed in his brain.

- He’s not surprised that you have PTSD. At all. Somehow he suspected something was wrong the moment you joined the team. No mentally healthy person acts like you do. But that’s okay. His overanalyzing of your mannerisms and behavior seemed to have paid off.

- “Ah yes, post traumatic stress disorder is actually very common with people from your situation. It is treatable.” He says, going for the route of reassuring you this won’t be forever. Dr. Ludwig refuses to show his true emotions to you. Trying to adopt a professional demeanor. He’s losing his mind on the inside and devastated. You catch a glimpse of his smile faltering once or twice.

- For some reason as you’re talking he’s moved away from his project and began writing down notes. Something akin to what a therapist would do. You can see he’s jotting down some of your experiences and symptoms to himself.

- “What medication do you take?” “Oh. Mhm.”

- He puts the temple of his glasses between his teeth and takes his gloves off. Heading towards his pill cabinet above the sink and setting down a bottle in front of you. The label is in german and it somehow looks.. Homemade. This is a terrible idea but this is Medic we’re talking about here. A man who is capable of fixing every problem inside a human body with just a simple snap of his fingers. Maybe if you’re lucky this won’t kill you.

- The medication doesn’t kill you, luckily. It’s very similar to prozac. It’s really a flip of the coin whether or not this aids you, but in the meantime you catch him pacing around his office reading self help books and books from psychologists. He seems eager to understand you. He SWEARS he doesn’t care. He’s just — uhm — doing this by habit because he’s paid to! Yeah! Wow, he really doesn’t want you to know he cares.

- While you’re asleep in bed he periodically begins cracking your door open and taking a peak at you, to make sure you haven’t awoke from a nightmare, or are lagging behind your sleep schedule. the shine of moonlight reflecting off his glasses makes him look rather horrifying. Sometimes if he thinks you’re fully asleep he’ll sit on the bed next to your unmoving body for a while and crosses his arms, looking at the floor. Like an incredibly anxious parent would keep their baby company when sickly.

————————————————————————

Spy:

- Stands silently in the shadows of the base, you can barely see his slim figure. But you can tell he’s listening intently. Unlike the others, you’re the only one he can truly tolerate. There’s a slightly depressed expression on his face as he takes drags of his cigarette. Looking down at the ground.

- “…Pour l’amour de dieu.” (For fuck’s sake.)

- He says nothing afterwards. He lets you vent however long you like. Let out your emotions, even cry. Which you eventually end up doing. He doesn’t complain and paces a little. His eyes still at the floor. Finally after a while of hesitation he raises his arms and offers an embrace. If you choose to hug him, he will do so in what can only be described as an incredibly grandpa-like matter. Back patting, rocking, and mumbles of sweet petnames in french.

- He baby talks you. Take that as you will. He sees you as incredibly adorable individual and because of this new problem he discovered you have, he feels a sense of responsibility that he must aid it in any way he can. Especially considering this man had caused unholy amounts of trauma to people in the past.

- He asks you what you need. Where you need it, and when. How can he make this recovery process easier for you? He even politely offers to kill the people involved. Elegantly going “I assure you, if it is repent for their sins you want, I can arrange that.” Wow thanks Spy.

- Depending on the trauma, he may react more strongly to daddy issues. Prepare to hear a series of new made up slurs specifically created for your father, by yours truly! If any parents are involved in general he’s going to become sickened and repulsed. Jewel-clutching type repulsed. He bares his teeth and shrinks away. nervously fixing his tie. “Ack.. And people think I have a horrible moral compass? Not even I would do something as distasteful as that.” He hisses.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x you #tf2 x reader #medic x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #spy x reader #sniper x reader #pyro x reader

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orisquirrelking · 3 months

Note

do you have any p2 x reader headcanons? 👉👈

P2 dude/reader HCs

—---------------------------

I think that he has one major thing in common with all the other dudes and that is that P2 is a huuuge slug for physical affection. He isn’t subtle about it at all. Ever. Arms will constantly be around your waist, slung over your shoulder, linked with yours.

^^^^ despite this, he always gets flustered when you just simply. Hold his hand. He’ll make a joke along the lines of “Really? Before marriage?” but he’ll tend to stay quiet, (er. Quieter than usual for him, anyways.) because when he starts talking he can’t look you in the eyes and oh god he’s rambling and your finger just twitched and-

We’ve already gone over dates, but let's refresh! He just likes spending time with you. His ex just sent him to go and do things, and while fucking around and shooting up napalm factories was good for his anger management, it got lonely being out 24/7. He’ll wake you up in the middle of the night just to talk, or take you out of work to say hi to Champ on his walk past your office.

PDA? Yes please! P2 will not hesitate to be a little (or, y’know. A lot) handsy in public. Going back to how touchy he is, he wants to be touching you in some way while you’re both out. Lots of little kisses on your hands, arms, forehead, and general facial area. Will gie you his jacket if you’re even slightly cold (doesn’t matter if it’s too big or too small, he’ll drape it over your shoulders either way.)

He’s not much of a jealous type. Other than some solid glares at people who attempt to flirt with you, he’s pretty confident in your relationship. Loves showing you off and talking about you to almost everyone he meets though. He’ll be at the checkout at the Lucky Ganesh yammering about how the two of you are going out later in the day, meanwhile the line is piling up behind him and the cashier is about to blow his brains out.

Withdrawals are a bitch. He’s trying to ease off of the “health pipes,” citing the cost as the reason, but sometimes it’s just too much. Withdrawals dude is a hell of a lot more irritated all the time. He’ll yell (and feel shitty about it) for everyone to shut up, especially if Champ’s barking goes on for too long. He’s grumpy as hell and tends to spend the day on the couch. When he’s at his worst, he just wants to lay on your lap while you massage his scalp. He swears it's magical.

Overall he’s definitely an. Interesting guy to date. Hiding from the cops together has happened more times than you could care to count, but y’all wouldn't have it any other way :)) <3

#oris writes #postal dude x reader #p2 dude x reader

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spiderbussy · 1 year

Text

The Hating Game

Dylan O’Brien x Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, steamy moments (but no smut), swearing, lots of anger/hatred, i think that’s all??

i wrote this a whole year ago and dug it up from deep in the drafts and it’s not entirely awful so i figured i might as well publish??? also edited whilst watching some killer shark movie LMFAOO so it might be a lot worse than i think jshsjs,, quick PSA tho: i dont rlly feel comfy writing for real people anymore, and i don’t like writing smut, so whilst this is relatively steamy there’s no actual smut in it :) hopefully someone enjoys lmfao

there is also a high likelihood that i will be deleting this soon bc i am Embarrassed

Being mortal fucking enemies with your co-worker is not exactly what you envisioned your first serious acting job to entail, but no one can have everything, you suppose. Like, it makes sense, from a realistic (OK, pessimistic) standpoint that getting hired to be a main character on a popular teen TV show with little to no acting experience and the only thing to your name being an apartment you’re about to get evicted out of for not paying your bills is exceedingly lucky. Like, come on, what are the fucking odds? And everyone knows that something so good is bound to be followed by something bad. In your case, something you consider the worst thing that could possibly happen to a person, and his name is Dylan O’Brien.

First off, you know. Dylan O’Brien. Every teenage girls wet dream. He’s a conventionally attractive white guy who respects women because he doesn’t actively spit on them! (You’re not saying he’s sexist, because you’re pretty sure that’s not why he hates you, it’s just because he’s tasteless and a dick.)

Here’s the thing, though. Ever since you started this job, he’s had it out for you. Like, genuinely, he’s fucking evil and is trying to ruin your life. Why is this? You have no clue, only that you hate him back equally as much, if not more.

What really sucks, though, is that this is the guy who’s playing your love interest. At first, this wasn’t even really a problem for you (only to your controlling ex-boyfriend — good fucking riddance, by the way), but it became one when you overheard Dylan actively begging the shows head writer and producer, Jeff, to cancel that plot and then storming off like a complete and utter wankstain when he was denied.

Your character's first kiss scene has had to be filmed at least a million times by now, and the crew is starting to really get pissed off by it, which, like, fair enough, you are too, but it’s not your fault you and Dylan can’t even pretend to be romantically interested in each other for five minutes! The scene itself isn’t even the problem, you’ve nailed that, it’s the kiss. The gentle, loving kiss your characters are supposed to share, and Jeff is an asshole and every time he’d yell at you and Dylan you’d both just get more and more pissed at each other, and the kiss would get progressively more and more heated and angry with every retake.

That’s where you’re at now, bordering on eating each other’s faces (excuse you while you yack!) as Jeff yells “cut!” for the fifty-millionth time. You and Dylan instantly spring apart, awkwardly avoiding eye contact as Jeff sighs. Using the back of your hand, you wipe your mouth, only to pull it back to find blood. Literal fucking blood.

“Did you bite me, you fucking pervert?” you whisper-yell at Dylan so that the crew aren’t prone to any more unprofessional behavior you exhibit. The stinging in your lip grows more profound, and you scoff. “Oh my fucking God, you bit me.”

Dylan smirks, shrugging his shoulders as he glares back at you tenfold. He’s oozing this nonchalant smugness, and you feel more pissed at him than ever.

“How the hell was that ‘gentle’ or ‘loving’!?” you continue quietly yelling at him as Jeff talks with the rest of the crew, his hands rubbing over the creases on his forehead.

Dylan’s smirk falls, as he glares at you with incredulity, “How was pulling my hair like, five minutes ago, any more ‘gentle’ or ‘loving’?!” he spits back.

Part of you wants to admit that that was genuinely an accident, but, like, whatever. Dylan would probably take it the wrong way, interpreting it as you being kinky and attracted to him. “OK,” you say instead, “act like you didn’t moan when I did that, you freak.”

“I moaned in pain,” he argues, eyebrows scrunched and a fire in his eyes as he unconsciously steps towards you.

You open your mouth, ready to retort with another remark with the intent to insult him, but Jeff’s voice quickly cuts the two of you off. “OK, guys, it’s been a long day but we’re gonna try it again,” he breathes out, rubbing his hands together before he suddenly stops, eyes narrowing in on your lip. “Jesus, OK, what the hell, your lip is bleeding Y/N.”

“Sorry about that,” Dylan smirks, poorly feigning being apologetic. And this guy’s supposed to be an actor, Jesus Christ.

“Right,” Jeff sighs, so obviously done with the both of you as you glare daggers at Dylan, which only seems to widen his smirk. “Um, OK, so this time… Dylan, try not to eat Y/N, OK? And, guys, try not to step on each other’s feet… or kick each other… the camera may not be able to see down there, but it shows, and we cab. Um, so, both of you…. just… gentle and loving, OK? This is supposed to be a sweet moment, your characters are comforting each other…. God, OK, let’s just try and get this over with.”

Admittingly, when Jeff speaks, you aren’t even really listening. You’re trying your best to hide the fact that you’re elbowing Dylan behind your back, and he’s aggressively standing on your toes. The both of you are glaring at each other from the corners of your eyes, paying Jeff little attention.

“And, reset!” Jeff calls, the both of you getting back into position. Dylan seemingly can’t help himself, though, because he steps on your heel as you walk away from him. Fucking asshole. You curse him out in your head as you try to hide your wince and sit on Stiles’ bed. He just always has to have the last word. It’s fucking childish.

You’re not paying attention as Jeff continues to call to the crew, ready for a retake. Instead, you’re glaring straight ahead, and Dylan is glaring back. The tension between the two of you dissipates quickly as Jeff yells “Action!” though, and you pretend to be upset as tears fill your eyes. You sniffle and Dylan walks over, slowly sinking himself down next to you. There’s a palpable distance between the two of you, one that’s closing slowly as Dylan, in character, awkwardly shuffles towards you, fidgeting all the while.

“What are you doing?” your character asks, looking at Dylan (Stiles) with soft, furrowed brows.

“Uhhh,” he stutters, “I just—trying to comfort you?”

“Oh,” your character says. “Right. I’m OK, though. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s alright.”

There’s silence for a moment, enough to be considered a moment too long, one that makes the air awkward. You aren’t looking at Jeff but you assume he’s relatively pleased, although this isn’t the part you and Dylan have been struggling with. It’s coming up, though.

Your breath audibly halters as Dylan’s tender fingers brush your hair out of your face, tucking it behind you ear. His character is closer than you thought, as you turn to face him. His fingers are lingering in your hair, coming to hesitantly cup the side of your face as you meet his gaze. There’s barely even three centimeters between your faces, and your character's eyes are flicking down to his lips constantly, as though she can’t help herself.

“Can I…” Dylan‘s charachter trails off, gulping. “Can I—is it alright if I kiss—?”

You cut him off, quickly leaning in to place a peck on his lips.

“…You,” he breathes out, his eyes widened as he looks thoroughly perplexed.

Your character bites her lip, looking down at her hands before shooting up. “Sorry. I’m—I probably shouldn’t have done that. Sorry. I’ll go.” As quickly as you stand up, though, Dylan grabs your hand.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, and when you turn around to face him his hands are cupping your cheeks again and you’re kissing. It’s gentle and soft until his finger tugs a strand of your hair, and then all of a sudden your hands are in Dylan’s hair roaming through them and tugging and, next thing you know, you’re tonguing and Dylan’s hand is wrapped around your throat.

“OK, cut!” Jeff screeches, and the two of you practically scramble away from each other. “What the hell, guys? You were doing so well until then. I just… Let’s take another five, I guess. No, actually, screw it, we’ll pick this back up tomorrow.”

Jeff storms off, and not only are you pissed at Dylan now, you’re ashamed. The both of you have been acting unprofessional all day, just because Dylan is a fucking child. If he gets you fired… You’re gonna kill him. Fucking murder him. Shit on his mutilated corpse.

Glaring at him, you shove his side as you storm off to go back to your trailer and calm down. You need to sleep because tomorrow is an early shoot and it’s already late, and now you probably won’t be able to because you’re pissed and stressed and worried.

Unfortunately for you, there’s a pattern of thudding footsteps on the ground before Dylan catches up to you. “Jesus, can you slow down?” he rasps. “What the hell did I even do now?”

“Are you fucking serious, O’Brien?” you whirl around, only to be met with him much closer than you anticipated. “I could get fired ‘cause of your immature ass.”

“Oh, my immature ass?” he scoffs. “Do you even hear yourself?”

With a roll of your eyes, you turn around and continue on your merry way to your trailer. You want to get away from Dylan, desperately, before you end up punching him, but he doesn’t seem to be getting the hint and is hot on your heels.

“You’re the one always calling me a dick and shit, insulting me, starting stuff. I mean, I have bruises on my back from you elbowing me just a minute ago.” You’re at your trailer now, after blocking out Dylan’s ranting in your ear, but you only just open the door before he continues, “What, you mad ‘cause no one else ever dishes back what you put out? Sorry not everyone just accepts your word as gospel, princess.”

“First of all, fuck you,” you spit. You’re giving him the attention and reaction he wants, but you don’t even care. You’re that pissed off. “Second of all, me, the princess? Holy shit, O’Brien, you’re delusional. You had a go at me today because I ate the last mac ‘n cheese, even though your name wasn’t on it. You think everything belongs to you because everybody loves you. News flash, it doesn’t, and they don’t. They just suck up to you because you’re a rich white guy with an army of teenage girls behind you.”

“Sounds like you’re just jealous to me,” Dylan shrugs, trying to pretend he’s unaffected but the stiffness in his shoulders is entirely obvious. “I mean, come on, let’s be honest here, you’re used to getting everything, to being the favourite, but the moment someone else gets attention you go fucking haywire. Or maybe you’re just in love with me. You say you hate me but, come on, everyone knows there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“Me? Love you?” You scoff, laughing aggressively. “Only one of us choked the other as they shoved their tongue down their throat today.”

“Choked you?” Dylan snorts. “You wish. I merely placed my hand in the wrong place. It was an accident, Y/L/N. You know, like you.”

“Oh, good one. You really got me there, Dyl.” The sarcasm is practically oozing out of your every pore at this point. “And your hand was around my neck. How do you accidentally do that?”

“I was aiming for your other cheek, but you were tugging on my hair so much I could barely fucking see,” he retorts.

“Oh, sure. You were aiming for my cheek and you just accidentally slipped your hand right like this,” you say, sliding your hand around Dylan’s throat to demonstrate, lightly pushing him against the wall.

“Yeah, maybe like how you accidentally kept going like this,” Dylan says, his eyes narrowed into slits as he stares straight into yours, his fingers sliding through your hair before gripping and yanking.

“I hate you,” you breathe, your gazes re-aligning. The distance between the two of you is minimal at this point, and there’s an angry hornets nest in your stomach that you blame on your insatiable anger and hatred of this man in front of you.

“Fight me,” he spits, eyes boring into yours and not breaking contact for even a second.

“Oh, you wanna fight?” You challenge, mocking him.

“Fuck you,” he spits again, violently frustrated.

“Oh, you wanna fuck?” You were supposed to say it with a laugh, but the distance between the two of you is so small, and your voice sounds so quiet, and his eyes are looking at yours like that, and it suddenly sounds so reasonable… The two of you are kissing, but it doesn’t feel like kissing. It feels like more. It doesn’t start gentle and slow, like the ones you were doing for the camera earlier, it starts violent and angry as you communicate every ounce of hatred from one body to another.

Dylan’s foot juts out, his hands sliding down your body as he kicks the door to the trailer shut. Immediately, you push him up against the closed door, hands sliding into his hair as his hands come up to cup your cheeks with vigor.

“I knew you were into that,” he groans, smirking.

“Shut the fuck up,” you retort, forcing his head back down to yours so your lips can re-meet. His laugh cuts off into a moan as you pull his hair, and he suddenly flips the two of you around, parting your legs with his foot as his hands cup your ass.

The next day, you drag yourself into hair and makeup, ashamed. You know Sam, your makeup artist, is gonna want to kill you for all the goddamn hickies on your neck. Honest to god, it looks like you’ve just crawled out a leech-infested lake.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” Sam gasps as you take your usual seat. “You get mauled or something?”

The woman lifts your hair as she peers at your marked-up neck, assessing the damage. She seems more amused than pissed off, thankfully, but it does nothing to quell your embarrassment. You just hope you didn’t mark Dylan up as much as he did you, or else someone might just put the pieces together. You do not want people thinking your standards are low enough to sleep with him—they might think you’re some sex-crazed satanist if they know you fucked the devil last night.

“Yeah, something like that,” you sigh, irritation lining your tone. It just so happens that, at that moment, the trailer door opens and in comes Dylan. Your eyes meet immediately, just as they always have done when the two of you have found yourselves in the same room. You glare, but you find it’s half-hearted and, unlike usual, he looks away and goes over to his own seat, seemingly searching for something.

Huh.

“You gotta tell me who did this to you,” Sam whistles, still in shock, apparently. “Slip ‘em my number, maybe.”

You can’t see Dylan entirely, his back half-turned to you, but you see the corner of his lips turn up as he tries to suppress a smirk.

“You know what they say about guys who put on a show,” you shrug, eyes narrowed in Dylan’s direction. He’s pretending to search for his phone still, but you saw him slip it into his pocket already. Nosey fucker. “It’s a little somethin’ called overcompensation.”

Sam lets out a loud cackle, turning to grab something out of her bag, and Dylan, done with pretending to look for his phone, whirls his head around to give you a subtle glare and a raised eyebrow, a smug look on his face like he knows you’re lying. (Which you, very begrudgingly, have to admit to yourself that you are.)

You hate Dylan. Despise him, even. More than you’ve ever hated anyone; you can rationalize why last night happened easily enough. The amount of hatred and tension and the pressure from Jeff to get that scene right all blew up. That much emotion had to be exhausted somewhere, and, well, it was. It was a blip in the timeline, some kind of glitch in the matrix, but it happened and there’s an easy explanation. What there’s not an easy explanation for, however, is why you liked it so much. Why you’re lying, trying to pretend it wasn’t nearly as good as it was, trying to pretend you’re not still thinking about how it felt to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him… There is no logical explanation for that.

In fact, it’s entirely illogical, the mushy way you feel inside when you met his eyes, covered with a glare that you wish had half the hate in it that it normally does. It’s weird and it’s wrong, because you’re not supposed to have butterflies when you think of the way his hand had caressed your face, the way he ran his fingers through your hair, the way his arms felt, wrapped around you. You’re supposed to be revolted.

He’s smug and he’s pompous and you cannot stand him, let alone stand the thought of kissing him. And yet, although you hate the fact that the thought exists, you yearn for it. You find yourself excited, even, to go to set and get yelled at by Jeff because you simply cannot help yourselves when it comes to one another. You hate it, every second of it, every second of him. You think you hate him so much you might actually love him. And with the wink he sends over his shoulder as he leaves the trailer, eyes dark as they peer at the hickies Sam is frantically trying to cover up, you think he does, too.

#dylan obrien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader

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