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venuslore · 2 months

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𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; your valentine’s day takes a turn when what you think is just a surprise from peter turns out to be a lot more than you bargained for.

pairing ; mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

notes ; fluff, some mentions of anxiety, but mostly just peter being an oblivious lil himbo baby! this is a repost from my old acc x

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

with valentine’s day just around the corner, it was easy to find yourself paranoid about the entire holiday and what exactly it meant for you and peter.

while for most people, it was a celebration of love and being able to embrace that, for you, it had become an anxiety-induced menace of a day that had you second-guessing everything.

the worst part of all was that you and peter technically weren’t together.

yet, as the days grew closer and you continued to get your hopes up, it was hard not to feel disheartened when he hadn’t uttered a single word about it. leading you to wonder if he had even given it any thought or if you were simply just getting in over your head about the whole thing.

to any stranger passing you by on the street and witnessing just how affectionate you were with each other, you looked like a couple. heck, you had even shared the occasional kiss, sometimes a little more, and on days when you would go to his apartment to study, it was never long before you’d find yourself snuggling in his bed while he tried to do homework over the top of you.

you never really cared to put a label on your situationship until now, and mostly because you didn’t think you had to.

but when the day finally arrives and peter was yet to exhibit any efforts in the name of romance, you were devastated.

“so, he really hasn’t said anything?” mj asks as you head to your locker, having just finished your last class of the day.

“nope. not a word,” you shake your head.

with her brows furrowing into a scowl, mj exhales, “man, i really thought he would have. i mean… it’s peter. the dude is literally the biggest softie i have ever met.”

despite the sadness you were feeling, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at your best friend’s words. she was the only one that knew how strongly you felt for peter.

after all, she was the one to point it out.

“i don’t know, maybe i’m just looking too much into it?” you lift your shoulders into a shrug at the same time you reach your locker.

“well, speak of the devil,” mj gestures towards the end of the hallway where peter and ned had just rounded the corner.

it only takes them a moment to catch sight of you, and when they do, peter beams with a smile and waves before heading in your direction. even as they passed by multiple girls carrying flowers and the various heart-shaped decorations scattered all over the halls, peter still hadn’t noticed.

“hey! ned and i were talking about going back to mine to study for that test we have coming up, and maybe watch a movie. you guys in?” he asks, tugging on the straps of his bag, completely ignorant to his surroundings.

it was like he had forgotten about the holiday’s existence altogether, or he was actively trying to avoid it. but why?

“i can’t. i, uh, i actually have a date tonight,” mj says, tucking her hair behind her ear as all eyes turn in her direction.

“wait, what? with who?” you ask, this being the first you were hearing about it. honestly, you were surprised she had even told you at all.

shaking her head, she looks down at her feet and shrugs, “just this guy. it doesn’t matter. but, uh, y/n is free tonight so… there’s that.”

the second the words leave her lips, peter’s attention returns to you. and you weren’t entirely sure, but it almost looked like he was relieved that you had no plans.

a small smile dangled on the corner of his mouth, and his deep brown eyes softened as they met yours. “oh, okay. well, uh, do you want to join us?” he sort of fumbles over his words.

while it wasn’t exactly what you had imagined spending the most romantic day of the year with peter would be like, it beat having to sit at home alone wallowing in your own self-pity. even if it was with the person causing it… and ned.

you open your mouth to speak when you’re interrupted by ned’s phone.

“actually, change of plans,” he says. “it’s betty… and she wants to see a movie tonight.”

“i thought you two broke up?” mj narrows her eyes with confusion.

“we did… but maybe she wants to get back together?” he turns to peter with hopeful eyes, and after a moment, the other boy gives him a nudge.

“dude, go!” he laughs. and just like that, ned rushes down the hall in search of betty, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as you let out a chorus of chuckles.

“on that note, i better get going too,” mj says once the laughter faded into sighs and points the same way ned had gone. “i’ll see you losers monday. have fun, studying.”

rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye to the girl, as the thought of being alone with peter all night creeps into your mind.

the idea alone causes your heart to fasten, thrumming loudly in your ears as your mouth becomes dry with nerves. it wasn’t like you at all to be so anxious around peter, and so much so that you almost couldn’t think straight. he was typically the one person you went to when you needed things to slow down, not make them difficult.

you try to play off the effect he was having on you as you close your locker and swing your bag over your shoulder, but the second your gaze meets his again, it only seems to amplify.

“so, it looks like it’s just you and me,” he shuffles awkwardly on his feet, tightening his grip on his bag straps once more.

“uh, yeah. looks like it.” you smile, swallowing the ball that had formed in your throat, and the two of you slowly head towards the exit.

the walk back to his apartment is quiet at first, but the second peter starts talking about the chemistry assignment he had coming up, there was no stopping him. though, you couldn’t shake the feeling like he was purposely trying to prolong the walk.

he insisted that you take the longer route, which you never do, and he even slowed down his pace through the park. and as you were passing the deli-grocery, he stopped off to buy you both a sandwich, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it did add another fifteen minutes to your time.

it was like he didn’t want to get back to the apartment, like the thought of being fully alone with you was something he didn’t want to partake in.

when you do finally reach the apartment, however, he fumbles to unlock the door and almost drops the keys in the process, but the second it’s open, you’re hesitant to even step inside. you had been there a million times before but this time, for whatever reason, felt different.

you wondered if it really were such a good idea for you to be there, to be alone with him when he was clearly opposed to the idea. which was odd considering he had been the one to initiate you going over there in the first place.

“do you want a drink or anything?” he asks as he passes the kitchen to put his bag in his room.

most days, you would follow him straight to his room, sometimes even beating him there, but with how he had been acting, it just didn’t feel right. so you lingered in the living room instead.

at least, until he pops his head out of the door, and with a reassuring smile surfacing on his lips, he gestures for you to follow.

“we’ve got water, juice or soda?” he asks as you enter the room, dropping his bag at the foot of his bed.

“water is fine,” you nod.

“okay, give me a sec,” he nods back, and having to cram past you to get out of the door, his hand runs down your arm so to not squish you. the touch immediately sends a pulse throughout your body, causing you to let out a small gasp.

you were just grateful peter was far enough away that he hadn’t heard it, or if he did, he didn’t show it.

with peter leaving you alone in his room, you take the chance to take it all in like you hadn’t been there before. you drop your bag beside his and slip out of your jacket before falling into a stupor on his bed.

peter’s room had always been comforting to you, though, since the blip, it didn’t quite feel like it was his anymore.

like everyone else that tragically disappeared, peter lost the majority of his belongings, as did you, but he no longer had any of his action figures or comic books. even the nerdy science posters that you would pick on him for, or his lego models - all the things that made peter’s room… his… was all gone.

shaking away the thoughts, you bury yourself in the comfort of his sheets, letting your fingers dance across the cotton as you wait for him to return. but when you move to grab your phone from your jacket pocket, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

it was the smallest glimmer of something red inside his closet, and the door was only open a crack, but it was enough to make your thoughts go wild.

was it possible that peter had bought you something for valentine’s day and this whole thing was just a ruse to get you alone with him? were ned and mj in on it? or had he decided against it, thinking that maybe it was too much, and that’s why it was hidden away in his closet?

perhaps that was why he had been acting so strange and why he had been pretending like today was nothing but any other regular day?

however, before you get the chance to relieve your suspicions, peter walks back in with two glasses of water, and when he sees that you had already made yourself comfortable, he draws in his bottom lip as a nervous smile takes hold of his features.

“something tells me you have absolutely no intention of studying,” he shakes his head.

“something tells me you’re right.” you pat the spot beside you, and he obliges, pulling his laptop from the desk beside the bed and finding a movie for you both to watch.

while you enjoyed laying with peter in comfortable silence, watching the film he had chosen, you couldn’t stop thinking about what was in his closet. the tiny sliver of red teasing you from between the slats, begging for you to confront it.

nevertheless, it takes two hours for peter to finally leave the room again, and within that time, he hadn’t mentioned it at all. which only made you all the more curious.

so the second he stepped out of the room, you set into motion to find out what it was he was hiding. and you knew you shouldn’t have, but not knowing was killing you, and you simply couldn’t help yourself.

you tip-toe across the floor, avoiding the creaky spot in the middle, and after a deep breath, you slowly open the door. though, what you were expecting to be a heart-shaped balloon or a cute stuffed animal that said something like ‘be my valentine?’ on the front, was far from what you had imagined.

instead, hanging on the metal rod was a suit. a suit that you would recognise absolutely anywhere with it’s distinct red and black colours, and who could forget the unmistakable mask with its intricate detailing.

then it hits you, and a shiver of realisation rolls down your spine.

setting out a gasp, you drop the suit to the floor and stumble back into the bed, knocking over a book in the process. you couldn’t believe what you had just discovered, and you barely get a moment to collect yourself before peter comes running to the door.

“hey, are you-” he stops the second he sees the suit, his smile falling as he takes in your bewildered state and it transforms into a look of horror.

“peter, i-”

“shit,” he exhales, cutting you off as he reaches for the material and throws it back into his closet as fast as he can, despite knowing that the damage was already done. “don’t look at that. that’s nothing. completely and totally nothing.”

“peter, was that - are you?” you try to get the words out, but you’re still in so much shock that it seems near impossible to do so.

“no. nope. It’s not…” he shakes his head rapidly, leaning against the closet now. “it was, uh, it was a gift from may. she knows i like superheroes, so, y'know?”

“peter…”

“it’s nothing, really. i promise. it was just a-”

“peter…”

“i was thinking of maybe even wearing it for halloween this year, what do you think? you could go as black widow, or umm, captain marvel?”

“peter!” this time when you say his name, he stops talking, realising that there was no way he was going to get out of this. and if he did, it would be a miracle. but you were smart, smart enough not to believe the nonsense that was pouring out of his mouth, and know that this was for real.

his head falls with defeat, and he drags himself to sit beside you. the air was heavy now, filled with worry as he tried to choose his words carefully. there were only so many ways you could tell someone you had a secret identity being a superhero and he had wanted to do it perfectly - but most importantly, not like this.

“look, i - i hated not being able to tell you but if everyone knew who i was then my life wouldn’t be the same anymore."

"but, this is me we’re talking about peter. i’m the same person that knows you still wear star wars underwear, and that you secretly love it when i choose to watch twilight on movie night.” you sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “you can tell me anything.”

his eyes soften at your remark, and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “i know, but i wanted… i wanted to keep you safe. there are bad guys out there that would like to come after spider-man and you knowing who i am, only puts you in danger."

"who else knows?"

"may, ned and… mj.”

“mj?” you retort.

“to be fair, i didn’t tell her. she worked it out herself and i swore her to secrecy so don’t be angry at her for not telling you.” he raises a finger to further prove his point. “i was actually planning on telling you about it tonight, but every time i thought about it, i got nervous and i couldn’t do it.”

“so that’s why you’ve been acting so weird?” you ask, nudging the boy’s shoulder playfully as relief washes over you. “and here i am thinking that it was me. the only reason i looked in your closet was because i… i thought… never mind it’s stupid.”

he chuckles, “no. you have to tell me now!”

you let your head fall back for a moment, and after letting out a deep breath, you sway your head back down. “okay. i saw the red through the cracks and i thought that maybe… it was a valentine’s day present. i know we never really put a label on… us… but i just, i don’t know, i thought that maybe that’s where we were and-”

your words turn into muffles as peter presses his lips to yours in a swift movement, and you’re taken back by his actions but you don’t push him off. your body feels electric and you kiss him back with a smile, sinking into it more before he pulls away.

he doesn’t pull back much, and instead, rests his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath. your heart thumps in your chest and you’re still so close that you were sharing the same air.

peter had kissed you many of times before, some of them turning into heated make-out sessions but this was different to any of those. this had purpose.

“sorry, you were rambling and i couldn’t help myself.” a coy smile flashes across his face for a moment, before being replaced with a look of uncertainty. “was that enough for you to see how i feel about you? or would you rather i change my relationship status too? or i could just post to the entire world about how much i love you?”

upon hearing the words, you pull away and a shallow gasp escapes you. you weren’t sure if peter had meant to say it, but whether he did or not, it was out there now and your heart pangs inside your chest as your stomach fills with butterflies.

“you love me?” you say between breaths and disbelief in your eyes.

he lets out a nervous laugh as his cheeks redden, and his fingers play with the folds of his shirt. “i mean, yeah… you’re kinda my favourite person in existence. it’d be hard not to.”

“really?”

he nods and walks back over to the closet. “yeah. also if you had of looked in the other side of my closet you would’ve seen this…"

you watch as he opens the closet door to reveal a beautiful bouquet of white and red flowers all wrapped up in bright red paper.

"i was going to give it to you when i told you about… y'know…” he widens his eyes. “but you sort of did that for me… plus, there was also this.”

this time he pulls out a small bag, something that you’d find at a jewellery store, and hands it to you. you look to him as though to be asking permission to open it, and he nods, gesturing for you to do so before leaning against his desk.

“it’s not a lot, and i’ve been saving for a while now to get it for you, but if you don’t like it then we can exchange it or get something else…”

opening the bag, you find a small box with gold detailing around the sides. and when you open it, inside sits a bracelet decorated with charms, but the one in the middle, that you can’t really see unless you’re looking close enough is a 'p’.

after a moment of basking in the sentiment of it all, you lean back and give him a warm smile.

“i love it,” you say, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes as your mouth involuntarily starts to crease. “and i love you.”

“yeah?” peter’s brows twitch, his eyes never leaving yours, and he lifts your palm to his lips for a feather-light kiss. he barely touches you, but it sets your skin alight.

then all of your focus is on him as you stand to meet him, enveloping him in another kiss. hands moving along his chest to fall behind his neck as he wraps his own around your waist and holds you tight. pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

when you do finally pull apart, he clasps the bracelet around your wrist before you slide your fingers through his, savouring the warmth of his skin against yours.

“so, since you have two identities does that mean i get double the love?” you let out a small chuckle and peter matches it.

“i think i could manage that.” he says and places one more kiss on the tip of your nose.

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#peter parker ᰔ #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff

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piratefishmama · 9 months

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Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

#PirateWrites #FindersGiversFiclet #Steddie #Mob Boss Steve Harrington #No Upside Down AU #Shady!Steve #CW: Stalker Vibes #nothing nefarious it's all lighthearted non-threatening stuff #Sugar Baby Eddie who never agreed to be a sugar baby but isn’t complaining.

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badchoicesworld · 8 months

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hello hello hi ! i hope you're doing well ! may i request a miles!42 and hobie with like a butterfly mutated reader (masc) ? ironically he's more bug than beauty and has alot of features that he tries to hide (antennae, long ears and :3 mouth that opens up to a long tongue to suck up food ? he has teeth too but theyre sharp with fangs in the splatoon inkling way. skin is like a bug's sort of hard and exoskeletonly and bro is just really fluffy. like his wrists and neck have fluff)

reader is a result of like a weird science experiment gone wrong so he sort of feels like an alien trying to fit in whenever his features pop out. he just wants to live an ordinary life but somehow keeps on gettinh pulled in the middle of every superhero fight there is :'). also ! ARTKIDDD

im sorry if the req got really specific to work w aha :') hope you have a good one !

hobie brown and miles42 with butterfly mutated boyfriends !

huge fan of these mutated readers, i am however a tmnt man so (i fuckin see you btw, my most active friend and that tmnt blog)

separate, established relationships

warnings: nah

pairing: hobie brown x masc!reader, miles morales!42 x masc!reader

requests: check out my guide/masterlist

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

we all know hobie’s a massive fan of making a statement, so he thinks that you look absolutely incredible with your mutation

will likely go through a phase of insisting you should embrace it and flaunt it, he’s gotta be told a few times that you just wanna live an ordinary life

sounds a little boring to him, but whatever suits you, y’know?

he’s not the guy to go to however for tips on how to blend in, do not ask

you’ve got a butterfly mutation, he’s got a spider mutation- he calls you the bug boys sometimes when he’s feeling hyped up and you can feel how you wanna feel about that

if you ever tell him about your mutation, about the experiments and such, it just fuels hobie’s habit of antagonising authority n all that

you’re like walking proof of the government taking advantage of the people through the systems they put in place to protect them but in reality are just some form of propaganda to give the public false hope and sense of security

yeah, hobie wasn’t surprised when you told him

not too pressed over it either since it’s been and done, no point in getting worked up over something thats irreversible and apart of you now

feels disrespectful to even feel bad to a degree

of course he feels bad that you were experimented on, but he’s not gonna say anything about your actual mutation

does however have something inappropriate to say about ur tongue im sorry

yknow what hard skins good for ? drawing on, let him please

yknow what fluff around you ur neck and wrists is great for ? hobie and his desperation for contact, ur mad comfy dawg

he likes to wear his studded collars and wrist bands in the same places as your fur sometimes, matching innit

hobie absolutely recognised how badly you want to have an ordinary life, so can honestly empathise and sympathise when you somehow manage to find yourself sucked into every super scrap in the city

he can try diverge the fights, but can’t promise a thing since they tend to be unpredictable

hobie’s plenty happy to diverge from large crowds with you if it helps you stick out less, he’ll navigate for the two of you and somehow come up with insane routes to get to where you need to be

will diy you clothes tailored to your mutation, shirts with holes in the back for your wings just so they don’t have to be uncomfortably folded under clothes n stuff

miles42

i feel like with society going up in flames, standing out is something you generally wanna avoid in earth42, just doesn’t seem so safe

so miles definitely goes the extra mile (ha) to make sure you’re not gonna stick out too much

if you’re smaller than him he’ll for sure lend you certain things to wear if they cover you up well enough, he knows just about every nook and cranny in the city to hide in whenever your features decide to make a guest appearance

like if you’re ever just walking down a street then your antenna poke out, he’s very fast to act and doesn’t make a big deal out of it

now you either just chill in an alley together or start making your way home through the intricate backstreets miles can effortlessly navigate

he appreciates your mutation though, it’s one of them things that he can silently admire and daydream about instead of worrying about the future

realistically ? you could be a result of a really shitty human experiment gone wrong at oscorp, god knows they can take advantage of the people without a spider-man to protect them

if you ever reveal this to miles, he’s obviously upset, but it’s probably predicted at this point

i imagine in his universe that they’re a force to be reckoned with

asks his mum to make things for you sometimes, to help you feel better about your appearance and to help hide certain features that you wanna

can completely understand your desire to want an ordinary life, he does too

he’ll help you achieve it, it’s one of his dreams and he can only hope to share it

your mutation takes time to get used to but it gets to the point where miles simply won’t bat an eye at your mutation, he treats you like any other person in the world except he loves you- wants so badly for you to feel normal if that’s what you want

in the least condescending way he will insist from time to time for you to stay home, just for your own safety if he starts to notice a particular rise in stats

he completely understands your desire to just blend in, but it’s not worth it if you’re genuinely at risk

he gets into the habit of doodling butterfly features on scraps of paper, on the back of his hand during classes- you’re on his mind a lot

says that he’s indifferent towards ur fluff but then he’ll fix it up for you after putting a shirt on and it’s a lil outta sorts

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

sorry this is kinda brief and not great, i’ve been out of it for the longest time but i’m tryna provide 💪💪

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

Text

it’s okay, be shy || e.m.

request || i'd love to see a fluff drabble of eddie flirting with a gender neutral senior in high school who was often left out of things and just generally considering a ghost towards social life but eddie would probably coax them out and be so so nice and caring, just..... he seems like the protective bf especially towards social situations.

pairing || eddie munson x gn!reader

author’s note || ok so for some reason it wouldn’t show up in tags so i’ve decided to repost!! sorry guys :(

warnings || shy!reader, social akwardness, protective!eddie, fluff

masterlist

“I’m sorry. What the shit did you just say, Mike?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at the kid, who was now realizing he had fucked up. His eyes were wide as he tried to backtrack—hands up in defense.

“Well, y-you know, because–”

He clicked his tongue, “because what, Wheeler?”

He looked at his lap, not daring to stare back into the eyes of the metalhead before him. Eddie’s eyes were blown wide, chest heaving up and down.

You were shy. Super, shy. You hid around in the shadows, hoping that no one would notice you. You were well-reserved and avoided crowds at all costs. Eddie Munson, on the other hand, was quite the opposite—running around the cafeteria as people glared at him and screaming his affirmations into the night sky. He was the opposite of shy.

Eddie was one of the only people that had gotten you out of your shell, so sometimes even attending a Hellfire club meeting took a lot out of you. Of course, Eddie was quite protective over you. If anyone picked on you, laughed at you, even looked in your direction, oh, they were so dead. Six feet under the ground, dead.

“You talk about them like that again, and I’ll shove my fist down your throat, you got it?” Mike nodded frantically, mumbling an apology.

“Don’t apologize to me! Apologize to them!” He pointed at you, who sat in the chair next to him, eyes wide at Eddie’s reaction to Mike making fun of you for not going to Eddie’s gigs.

“Eds, it’s okay. He was just joking.”

He just huffed. No one makes fun of his baby. Well, except him. Teasing you was a fun activity but only reserved for him.

“I’ll go, okay? I didn’t want to miss it, anyway.” Eddie inwardly cringed, a bubbling irritation at Mike for making you think that he was bummed you weren’t going to their gig on Saturday. Sure, he wanted you there every time, but he understood that it was nerve-wracking for you.

He never wanted to make you feel that way. Never.

He rubbed his hand back and forth on your thigh. He was leaning forward on his chair, hair falling against his face. “You don’t have to go, baby, I know there will be a lot of people.”

“But-”

He shook his head, pressing his lips against your temple. His honey brown eyes drew you in, staring so lovingly at you that it made your heart flutter. “I’m not bothered by it at all, okay? Your comfortableness is way more important than one gig, sweetheart.”

You pouted, looking down at your hands, “I want to support you, though.” He could tell that your timidness was making you frustrated. You wanted to be on the front row cheering him on as he shredded his guitar, not sitting at home while watching Back to the Future for the fortieth time.

He held your cheeks into his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Sweet baby, you’re my biggest supporter ever. I know you love me and how metal I am.” You giggled, a smile finally making its way to your face.

“There’s that adorable smile. You can come if you want, but I don’t want you to unless you’re absolutely sure.” He paused, smile widening. “Look, I’ll have Jonathan film everything, okay? That way, you can still see it.”

You nodded at the compromise as he swiftly pulled you into his lap. He started pressing sweet little kisses all over your face that made you both erupt with laughter.

Mike grimaced, “ew, you guys are gross.”

Dustin slapped his shoulder, “Hey, those are my parents you’re talking about.”

Lucas groaned, “that’s even worse!”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #stranger things 4 #request

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mannuh0v · 2 months

Text

I went back! ^^ With a Headcanon

=/ Hello people, I disappeared but I'm back maybe I'll be less active but I'll post more that way! What happened was that I have anemia and it's getting worse, insomnia and some other things... But I'm back to writing!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-☆☆_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-

♣︎My Ticci Toby Headcanons ^^

I was looking forward to writing this, as I know the most about Creepy! Besides Sally hihi, I hope you like it, as always my English is not perfect :)

*Small start *

-This boy definitely has a passion for fire and is a pyromaniac; he plays with fire as if it were something simple, but who cares, he doesn't feel any pain!

-"S-shit, uhush, because it d-doesn't hurt" Toby did everything he could to try to feel pain, which didn't do any good and even caused his body to be full of scars, and when he's injured he rarely notices it because he doesn't feel the sting of the wound.

-But he uses this to his advantage, because if any victim tries to fight he will have an advantage because if he is stabbed* or shot* it will not hurt him in any way, which makes him feel "stronger" than his opponent.

- He loves animals, even so he doesn't get too close because he's afraid of hurting them, the fact that his favorite animal is a raccoon makes everything better, Toby feels much better around animals than people

*Appearance*

- Toby is an adult man, over 20 years old, after all he became a proxy at around 17 and 18 years old, his appearance is adult

-Is your skin always very pale, perhaps because of your condition or perhaps because you want to go out more at night? Here's your opinion

-His eyes are brown, almost black, dead eyes, with very obvious dark circles on his face, he doesn't care about it, and he clearly doesn't sleep regularly

-His hair is the size of a Mullet but it is not a mullet, it is tangled and full of curls, perhaps dirt like leaves or even dirt

-Body hair, just like every teenager, he had hair but he never cared about taking care of it, he has hair like anyone else, perhaps very rarely he bothers and tries to remove it but a small cut always comes out, his tics make he loses concentration, which makes him spend hours trying to shave any hair off his body

- "Stupid Ush- Pel-Pelo is sh-shit.. It won't come out" This man has a very dirty mouth, that's nothing new

-He has big hands, with some calluses, he also holds the ax tightly

-He has separate teeth, they are not aligned or much less just white, His teeth are yellowish and a little crooked, but he likes to keep his breath good, so he brushes his teeth slowly to avoid tics, he feels much prettier when he takes care of himself, even if it only happens a few times.

*People*

-He knows very well how to differentiate between friends, victims, lovers, enemies, etc.

-He has long dialogues with victims that he takes a while to kill, even if it could go wrong and the person escapes, he captures them and leaves them tied up listening to him talk for hours, or even days

-If he makes a friend, know that he values it. More like him, he makes people angry, mocks them, humiliates them, but deep down he just wants them to stay there forever, always, ALWAYS

-If he has crushes, that's a problem, he becomes crazy, persecutes, hurts, kills and kidnaps* and if that person doesn't want to, he will get frustrated, at first he would stay still but then he would kill you or something else he comes across your mind

-He doesn't mess with enemies, but if enemies mess with him... Poor things, he won't stay quiet he hates being taken out of the concentration area

*Bônus*

-He doesn't remember Lyra, just small memories or sometimes hallucinations with her, but he forgets. If you are similar to her physically or mentally he will have some dejavus and he will be tame for a while but will soon raise his guard again

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ticcy toby #nina hopkins #creepypasta fanart #bloody painter #jane the killer #jeff the killer #kate the chaser

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pray4byron · 3 months

Note

Hello :) I saw you were doing Hazbin Hotel matchups and honestly I would be very excited to see who you would assign to me (no pressure ofc!!!) so I hope this request is finding you at a good time ^^

ABOUT ME: Feel free to just call me Zo! I’m AFAB and I use she/her as my pronouns. While not officially diagnosed due to growing up in a household who treated it as taboo something that I couldn’t “catch” I definitely fall under the umbrella of neurodivergence. From past research I’ve found ADHD symptoms relate to most of my experiences.

SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC TYPE: To be frank, I’ve always internally struggled when it came to my sexual and romantic identity. Found myself craving some sort of connection that traversed the likes of just platonic bonds but the couple times when someone showed interest in me I’d clam up and push them away. The couple crushes I did have always happened to develop after I had built rapport with them, after we had grew close. So for the sake of labels and for this matchup I’d definitely like to say I’m demiromantic? In terms of sexuality all I got for you is that I’m not repulsed by it??? All I know for sure is if I like them, we’d have to have been friends or at least know each other. (In terms of gender I’m fine with either or! I’m just curious to see who fits the box el oh el ^^)

PERSONALITY: Oh boy. Ok so to start off with I’m an INTP 5w4😼…. My hog warts house is Slytherin. My temperament is Melancholic (my sub temperament is tied up between Melancholic sanguine and melancholic phlegmatic). I definitely fall under the umbrella of shyness, however I’ve also noticed that depending on my company I tend to emulate the majority of the vibe. A half hearted defense mechanism in order to fit in is what I assume it be. I’m told I’m a very emotionally intelligent person, and my friends prefer to talk to me about issues and problems due to the fact that while I can comfort I can also hold them accountable and give them solid advice. They also make jokes on how I should’ve been a psychologist if I wasn’t actively getting a degree in early education. I’m terrible when it comes to changing topics which just makes it me all the more unintentionally hilarious. I’m always more funny when I’m not actively trying to be, I just have this unknown charisma that activates when i don’t try hard being funny </3. I struggle when it comes to maintaining my relationships and also most of my responsibilities, maybe it’s a numbness for my own priorities but it’s so easy to help other people in their own slumps, that when I’m forced to face my own issues and problems I can’t help but make myself numb to it and push it on the back burner. Not for lack of care, but more of seemingly frozen in place, it’s all so terrifyingly overwhelming that I just don’t even acknowledge it. Scarily good at doing that while also avoiding spieling my own feelings on personal matters that my friends always believe I have my all together. So ironically enough while I’m good at helping my friends communicate I’m terrible when it comes to communicating about myself (yippee⁉️ #imworkingonitiswear ) more or less I’m laid back, However I did used to be more of a doormat, luckily I don’t bend backwards for every little thing that breathes now LMAO. I do have a bit of a competitive streak when it comes to games (cough uno cough) and I definitely have a penchant of using my mind and other mediums as a form of escapism. Which can be ok, but sometimes I overdo it.

LOOKS: Medium length dark brown hair, round hazel eyes. I have a round face, and here in the future I want to get wispy bangs to compliment my face shape :D. Pale but not too pale skin, I have the pear shape body type, in the sense that my hips are wide, and I have somewhat big thighs but other wise I’m relatively flat. I do have a bit of chub when it comes to my midsection. Oh! I’m like 5’5 (maybe a little taller????)

LIKES: My cats Basil and Mugwort (literally my sons). I prefer more morose weather like rain. I quite like fall compared to the other seasons. I used to draw a lot but now I don’t as much, still a joyful hobby nonetheless. Recently bought a couple new books and am getting back into the grove of loving reading once more. I will absolutely demolish croutons of any kind. Currently really into mlp, it’s those TikTok infection slideshows I swear (I redownloaded the game….) I like to ramble about my interests like animation and its evolution, cats (the breeds, the care, the everything), and much much more.

DISLIKES: I hate beans. The taste. The texture. If I see beans in food it’s an immediate ick. I will gag. Overstimulating events, like I can bear with it and grow accustomed to it, but that’s doesn’t mean I’ll like it every single time. I hate being/feeling like a burden. Oh and not really a dislike and more of an annoyance(?) the fact that ritz cheese and cracker packs don’t come with the little red plastic spatula to spread your cheese anymore. I assume because it could prove to be a choking hazard, but still I’m just like 😞

LOVE LANGUAGES: Had to really scroll through my gallery because I did take an online test before!! Physical Touch was my highest (ie im extremely touch starved but am too awkward to initiate </3) Something in me just yearns for some kind of comforting touch, but I always tend to swallow it back and push it away for fear of rejection. After that focus, intellect, acts, and words of affirmation were literally all tied not even 5% behind phys touch. I’m just a kind of mentally paralyzed overthinking insecure(ish) gal, my bad bro 😎 But on a real note the confirmation that I’m being seen and heard will make me melt.

Alright!!! Hopefully my yapping was coherent and not a chore to read through!! I think it’s really cool you’re doing this and I’m mainly curious to see who it is you’d pair with me! Because I have a favorite character in mind who’d jump with joy to see, but that’s just because of bias 😭😭

And if it’s not too much of a bother is it alright to ask not to pair me with angel dust? It’s mainly personal preference so hopefully it’s not too much of a bother :))🫶🫶🫶

hey zo! this was quite the adventure to read through haha, after some deciding, I decided to go with…

Alastor !!

I can see you and Alastor meshing well together due to your craving of a platonic bond (you both may or not have a QPR? idk)

Alastor takes deep appreciation for not only your charisma and wit, but also your ability to read the room and match everyone’s energy, it’s helpful in certain situations with him

He isn’t the most touchy feely person you’ll meet in Hell, but he does make an effort, you’ll both usually have your arms loops while holding hands, or he’ll let you lay your head in his lap while he reads and he’ll rub your scalp

But Alastor isn’t afraid to tell you how it is, he makes sure you know your worth, and that he sees you all too clearly

#reqs closed #x reader #mio’s writing ! ☆#mio’s matchups ! ☆#fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x y/n #x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon

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kirbyskisses · 10 months

Text

comfort || suguru geto x reader

cw: oral sex (m!receiving), very soft, gn!reader, geto/gojo/reader are a throuple but gojo doesn’t appear. i passed out from the heat in the middle of writing this (i’m okay!) and it’s 12:30am so don’t judge me for typos.

written for @14thcommander. BLANK/AGELESS/MINOR BLOGS DON’T INTERACT.

geto has a tendency to get lost in thought - lonely and misunderstood. such is the case now as he sits on the outdoor stairs absentmindedly until you wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek and neck.

he flinches but melts back into your touch upon realizing it’s just you, soft lips in a teasing smile but eyes at least somewhat concerned.

“hey, love…” he exhales.

“shoko ran out of the room yelling ‘incoming!!!’” you start, kissing his cheek again in greeting. “did you and satoru get into an argument again?”

suguru doesn’t need to nod or say anything for you to confirm your suspicions – his tired and tense stance says it all for him. instead you opt to help him up and he internally makes note of how soft your hand is, how bright your smile is and how tender you touch as you undo his top knot and stroke his hair.

geto wants to absorb every bit of you, sat on the bed with you in his lap, leaning his head down to bury his face into the comfort softness of your chest. he wants to know the soft drum of your heartbeat constantly – the sweet smell of your uniform and the taste of summer-borne sweat on your skin until he’s learned you so well he would know you blind.

“satoru isn’t like you or me or shoko, darling. he’s literally never known a single second of life where he hasn’t been strong.” you pull back and tilts his head up so you can look at his sharp, brown eyes and stroke his cheek reassuringly. his lips land against your palm in thanks.

“he doesn’t understand protecting the weak like you do - because he doesn’t even understand the concept of being weak. and he’s disrespectful and mouthy sometimes but he’s a lot of good things too - that’s why we both love him.”

“let’s not talk about satoru anymore.” he mumbles, exhausted at the thought of any more moral contemplation of his white-haired partner and you let out the prettiest, most sympathetic little sigh.

“okay, suguru. then let’s talk about the good things i love about you instead.”

you push his black hair behind his ears and move to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then his nose - he lets out a slight groan of want when you actively avoid his lips, if only for a moment.

“i love this handsome face…” your lips connect and his hands pull you to further into his form, straddling his hips. “and I’ve told you how much i love kissing these lips.”

“you have.” he mumbles; there’s some monster of insatiable hunger for you growing in him.

“and this? have i told you how much i love this?” your fingers and lips explore his throat, a singular faded discoloration marking the skin - although you can’t remember if it’s a result of you or satoru, you kiss it and leave another nearby. suguru shivers.

“yeah. you’ve told me that…”

your compliments – like your tongue and lips and nails and the soft pads of your fingertips – travel downward more and more as you discard his shirt and baggy pants and boxers.

perhaps, suguru thinks, he understands gojo’s proclivity for having his ego stroked a bit more now.

being worshipped in body, mind and soul is orgasmic in its own right.

“and this?” your fingers find your way around his length and suguru’s breath hitches - not a thought to be spared about satoru or sorcery, only reflections on how good his tip feels when it’s surrounded by your tongue and lips.

“i love this too, suguru. and how good it feels every time.”

“then make it feel good, love?” that brings to your praise-filled mind another detail you never fail to notice about geto.

satoru demands, he teases his way into whatever it is he wishes for with full confidence that with only his name and his power he can receive it. geto doesn’t demand, he asks - he suggests and quietly sews the seeds of a request into mind with a soft, handsome smile and in this case a throaty moan until he achieves his prize.

this is his prize.

suguru thinks he could die happy here, length progressively sinking down into your welcoming, warm, wet mouth - no distractions just pleasure that rocks and pulsates deep inside him.

slow subtle thrusts of his hips start up, pushing across your tongue at a measured pace until reaching your throat.

he curses, a hand gripping the sheets of your bed as the other holds an even stronger grip on your hair.

he feels a hum from you, strained but pleasure and in turn, he speeds up without hesitation. you really are a sight, on your knees in between his legs - happy and willing to take him down as far as he needs to clear his head of any anxieties.

yes, you love satoru but he’s the one you love right now, the one you refuse to let wallow or sit alone and cold.

“beloved…” he strangles out, your pace quickening when he releases his tight hold. he wants to stay like this forever but know that’s impossible - he’d at least like to spend some of eternity inside you properly rather than solely being exalted by your eager mouth.

with a few more pumps all the way down your open, tight throat suguru cums hard and heavy - his eyes roll back and his lips part to let out a quiet call of “my jewel…” before coming down.

the young black-haired sorcerer usually hated messes and anything being out of order - but he delights and moans at the sticky drops left on your tongue and lips and dripping from him to your chin as he slowly pulls out.

suguru feels himself twitch and curses again watching you swallow it all down - it’s your turn to be praised as he sighs out “thank you, beloved” - feeling thoroughly vindicated and comforted.

your tongue cleans his mess fully off of him before he can fully catch his breath. suguru lies back, black hair splayed beneath him and with one last kiss to his tip you pull back and lie beside him.

he thumbs your mouth and whispers.

“so amazing, taking all that. you didn’t waste a drop…” worried momentarily that it might have been too much, suguru sighs in relief when your lips rest against his again.

“feel a bit better?” you ask, genuine and reassuring.

his eyes study you. you’re this cursed and smart yet incredibly soft being who’s his and - at least until he reconciles with gojo tomorrow morning - his alone. his hunger to know every inch of you has not subsided as he rolls to be above you. soft, silky lines of black hair fall from behind his shoulders and neck, shielding both of your faces.

“much better. let me return the favor.”

#suguru geto #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru #satosugu #gojo daddy #satoru gojo x reader #smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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honeytae · 1 year

Text

8:36pm

hello lovies! i found a very old version of this in my drafts and decided to revamp it, so here’s some good old namjoon comfort. reader is seriously going through it, but joonie is the sweetest boyfriend ever!

word count, genre: 900+, angst/fluff

trigger warning - this drabble deals with themes of depression and anxiety

You were halfway between consciousness when the chime of your doorbell sat you up straight. Rubbing at your eyes, you stretched your legs, rolling your eyes as the doorbell rang out again.

Huffing, you stood from the couch and made your way to the front door, socked feet dragging along the floors of your foyer.

Realization dawned upon you as you tugged on the door handle, the tightness in your chest easing a bit at the memory of the soup you’d ordered an hour ago.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the delivery person standing in your doorway, trading the tip in your hand with the paper bag in theirs.

You had nearly forgotten you’d ordered anything.

Lately things had been off. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but your energy levels were all out of wack, your head felt heavy all of the time, and you were much too sedentary for typical comfort.

You got like this sometimes. It had happened enough that you knew you’d find the light again. That didn’t make you feel any less uneasy, though.

Heaving a sigh, you made your way to your living room. The shades were closed, just as they’d been for the last week. There wasn’t any reason to open them and let daylight blind you. You were also actively avoiding the fact that everyone else was out there living their lives while you sunk deeper and deeper into your funk.

You set the bag of food down on the coffee table with a sad crumpling noise, settling back into the couch cushions and watching as if it would suddenly unpack itself.

You aren’t sure when you fell back asleep, but you wake to the smell of noodles and a gentle weight on your forearm.

Blinking your bleary eyes open, you can just barely make out the sight of your boyfriend leaning over you, a gorgeous smile pulling at his lips.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” he crooned as you slipped further out of slumber, the cushions below you shifting as he lowered himself beside you.

“Hey,” you spoke around a yawn, “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” you shifted closer to him, nuzzling into his side as he threw an arm around you.

“Hm, me neither. Finished up a little early,” he paused to pucker his lips against the top of your head, “and I missed you,” he spoke into your hair.

Shifting your gaze up to him, he leaned back to accommodate you, brown eyes glittering back at you being one of the only light sources in the dark room.

“I missed you too,” you sighed, meeting his soft lips in a chaste kiss, reaching up to soothingly scratch at his scalp.

He hummed against your lips, his touch leaving you for a moment as he leaned over to the coffee table. It was only then that you realized he had heated up your food from earlier, a steady lump swelling in your throat as he took a cup in his hand and guided it into your own.

You thanked him with a shy smile, faltering a bit when you saw the concern tainting his eyes.

“You’re worrying,” you squinted at him, watching triumphantly as his lips twitched just the slightest in response to your accusation.

It’s not necessarily that you’re trying to hide your struggles from Namjoon. You’d been with him long enough that you could read each other super easily, so there was no doubt in your mind that he knew you were in a major slump. You just never wanted to be the reason for Namjoon’s stress, reaching out to poke his cheek until you were met with that dimple you loved oh so dearly.

“Of course I am,” he started, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you anxiously stirred the spoon in the soup, giving him your full attention as he laid a palm on your thigh.

“I just,” he blinked, pausing for a moment, “I want to help you so bad. No matter what you’re telling yourself, your problems are my problems, baby,” he sighed, fingers massaging into the back of your neck at the first glimpses of tears gathering along your waterline.

“We can talk all night - hell, all week if you need to, okay?” he murmured, his soft tone eliciting more hot tears to run down your cheeks. They were immediately intercepted by Namjoon’s thumbs, your trembling lips soothed by soft puckers of his own.

“But please,” he pouted, his hand leaving your thigh to wrap around yours holding the warm cup of food, “please eat your soup,” his plea making you chuckle as you filled the spoon full of broth again.

Namjoon watched fondly as you guided the spoonful into your mouth, gently sliding his hands beneath your thighs to shift you sideways onto his lap.

“Okay?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked into your glassy eyes for confirmation.

You nodded, sniffling as you spooned the soup into your mouth. It was warm, comforting, just like your boyfriend.

“Okay,” you agreed, letting out a deep exhale as he wrapped his arms around your torso to hug you to him, laying his head on your shoulder as you continued to eat.

“Thanks for being my rock,” you swallowed the salty broth, watching Namjoon’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your shorts.

“You’re your own rock,” he affirmed, “I’m just the rainwater that washes away the dirt and grime.”

You snorted at the dorky sentiment, tilting your head to watch as his eyes crinkled in laughter at himself. You dropped your forehead on his shoulder, smiling at the sound of his healing giggles. You pressed your cheek to his shoulder, exhaling as he rubbed the warmth of his palm up and down your spine.

“Well, thanks for being my rainwater, then.”

#bts x reader #bts fanfction #bts fluff #bts angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst

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floredaqueen · 5 months

Text

💋Besos Castos💋

Part 2 to Curiosity at First Sight!

Billy Hargrove X Isabela Wheeler (OC)

Strangers - Friends - Lovers

♡

⚠️WARNING(S)⚠️: Suggestive Writing, Cursing, Bad/Graphic Writing, Billy Hargrove being Billy Hargrove, 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Sexual Inuendos, I'm not good at writing :>

♡

...

It was a normal rest of the week... that is if Isabela could count the unsettling feeling of a specific pair of ocean blue eyes boring into her soul every time she sat in Algebra class normal. Those gorgeous blue hues belonged to the new guy, Billy Hargrove. So far, he was already stealing Steve Harrington's spot as the King... whatever that was supposed to mean. Guys wanted to be him. He was inching closer and closer to the team captain spot on the basketball team. Girls wanted to be with him, and Isa could see why.. she kind of did, too. The way Hargrove would smile mischievously at the other girls against their lockers, hover over them while speaking a soft whisper of all the things he could do to them. Not only that, but he was already making out with a few in the halls.

Isabela would catch herself gazing sometimes, watching the pretty boy's cheeky smile persist as he talked up the girls who fancied him. Her doe brown eyes would also glance at the hungry kisses he'd give them, forcing herself to put the thought of it being her his hands gripped around while their lips locked in the far back of her mind. Although, she couldn't stop picturing the images of him taking their breath away, shoving his tongue in their mouth, and even his lips sloppily trailing to their jaw and neck. It was a sight to see.. like two wild animals in their natural habitat. Still, Isa kept herself focused and mostly unbothered. The more she did that, the easier it was to avoid him.. until Calculus. They had two classes with one another, but she would always hide behind the bleachers. The guys were out and playing basketball. Other than that, math was the only time she was caught out like a deer in the headlights.

As the week passed, the Guatemalan girl found a rhythm, coming to school, finding time for her friends and academics while also completely avoiding any eye contact with the dirty blonde whore she sat next to 2 times a day. In those 45 to 50 minutes, Hargrove takes his sweet time trying to get her to notice him. The first time, he just tapped on her shoulder. Isa would look over to the side, her eyes finding his blinding smile and wandering eyes. Although, when he tried to introduce himself, she had already turned back around, flipping her hair right behind her before tuning in to the daily math lesson. This would persist for the rest of the week. He'd keep tapping her shoulder, pull her chair back against his own desk, and his tight grip would even find its way to her dark brown locks only to pull at them, not a second later. And every time, she'd look back at him with a look. Irritated, annoyed, and/or pissed. It was one of those, but Billy couldn't tell which one.. he didn't care either. To him, any attention was good attention from her, just to see her pretty face turn to him, to see her nose scrunch up when she got upset, or even see her flip the bird to him. She was feisty as hell, and that made him want to keep chasing...

Then she'd flee. She felt stupid for her behavior sometimes, wanting to give him a chance. At the same time, something could go wrong. She'd overhear talk about the relationships her friends would have and how if the guy was too pretty, he'd be unattainable, especially in high school. The guy would hop from girl to girl. While she was tempted to be one of those girls, the timid girl was looking for something a lot more long-lasting. So every time, the adopted Wheeler would turn away or pretend like she didn't hear him whenever Billy tried to make any advances.

Today, though, was different.

Isa was jotting down notes on the board, putting them in a particular neat way before she felt a tap on her shoulder. I'm routine, the Latina looked to the side she was tapped on, annoyed, meeting eyes with the new infamous pretty boy. As her doe eyes did their best to keep steady one his, Billy's oscar winning smile appeared while taking in her features thoughtfully. God, was she cute. With the way she presented herself, she must know it. It was a few seconds before he began.

"Hey, do you understand this question?" He asked, leaning over to her to point to the 5th question on their worksheet. When he did, she got a whiff of his cologne, her cheeks tiniting a soft pink because he smelled of a fresh ocean breeze.. and a new car? It was soothing apart from the hint of a cigarette smell around. She examined the specific equation, scooting closer to him in habit when helping others. In turn, his eyes focused on her concentration. Considering she had already finished her own assignment, Billy had an inkling that Isabela was good at this type of work. Her eyes glanced up to meet his again, only for her to blink away as she spoke.

"You have to use the unit circle method before using the other formula to find the final equation," the studious girl explained, tapping her pencil nervously to the glossy wooden finish of her desk.

"Okay.. how do I do the unit thing again?" Billy's question had Isa's right eye twitching. He really wasn't listening in class, which was super annoying, considering it was only causing confusion. Shaking her head, Isa pulled out a fresh piece of notebook paper. Billy watched slightly disoriended as the quiet girl began doodling a quick "how to" on the notebook paper and handing it to him. For once, he understood what he was doing in this shitty class. Isa cut it down into pieces for him on this piece of paper, and so he continued to use her formula before handing his own worksheet to her. She checked it, nodded to him and handed it back.

It was a simple interaction. Something she was personally proud she got through without anything going south. Soon enough, the bell rang throughout the school, the young woman grabbing her bag and confidently leaving the classroom as quick as she usually did. He was contemplating running after her, but instead walked up to the group of guys that seemed to follow him into almost every party he's crashedso far. He listened for a bit, leaning up against the lockers before his eyes settled on a certain girl with long chestnut hair. Soon the conversation he was listening to was muffled as he not-so-secretly peered at Isa while she gathered her things for her next class.

"What do you guys know about, that girl over there?" Billy pointed to her, Tommy looking over at Isa before a smirk came to his face.

"Oh, Isa? I think she's like Mexican or something like that- She's super hot, but she's a nerd.She doesn't even talk much, at least not to guys. Nancy, Nova, Chrissy, Chelsea, and Rex are the only people she talks to in and outside of school." Tommy explains, Hargrove listening while his vision was glued to the girl they were speaking about. He had half the mind to ask him why the hell he knew so much about her, but he didn't. Soon, Nancy and Nova walked up to the hispanic scholar, watching her lips move while trying to make out why they were saying. Soon enough, his focus is on Nancy and her when he turned back to Hagan.

"Isn't she a Wheeler?" Billy asks, crossing his arms as he gets more comfortable against the metal doors behind him.

"She's adopted. A total charity case.. 'though it definitely wasn't a bad idea," Tommy's eyes followed Isa's polyester clad ass as she shut the door and walked off. She could feel the eyes, the heat of embarrassment rushing to her face and causing her to walk faster. Billy found himself mindlessly watching her hips sway back and forth, her foreign curves excentuated in her form-fitting pink tee and colorful maxi skirt. He wasn't even a foot guy, but he couldn't help by appreciate the way her sandals made them look even more dainty and smooth. There was a word for someone like her that the new king couldn't quite figure out yet.

♡

The next day after Calculus, Isa was once again at her locker, it being a routine at this point. Her right hand reached into the small metal compartment to reach one of her notebooks. As Isabela turned to peak into her bag, she was startled, Billy Hargrove standing in the only space she had. She jumped and groaned in annoyance at his quiet stature. He was hovering, Isabela eyes struggling to stay steady on his.

"What do you want, Billy?!" The timid girl pressed herself against the lockers away from him. She assumed he came over here to ask her something. Whatever it was, she was intent on saying n-

"Can you tutor me in Calculus?" He asked, his confident demeanor at a low simmer as he asked. She hesitated, curling inside herself more but standing her ground.

"Why should I..?" Isa's left eyebrow raised, and the nervous girl blinked a few times so her face wouldn't heat up.

"C'mon, it'll only be a couple of times," He continued, watching as the shy girl barely kept her cool. He could tell he was getting under her skin. His hands subconsciously hovered over those voluptuous hips of hers but settled on his own instead. One of his hands rested itself on the metal beside her head, completely trapping her.

"Hell, you know I need the extra help,"Once she shook her head, he rolled his eyes, and a groan escaped him that Isa's spine shiver. Her head turned away, a soft pout coming to her cute face.. then his face got really close, feeling the slight heat of his breath against her ear. That seemed to have no problem heating her up, the Guatemalan going as far back in her shell as she could, but it wasn't working. Hargrove already got Isa where he wanted her.

"Pleeease~?" He pleaded hotly, his voice entering a lower register as that stupid smirk of his curling on his lips as his blue hues longed on her ever blushing cheeks. If she had the right mind to push him away and flee, she would, but at the moment, she was considering it. She didn't mind helping him with his education.. and God was he handsome. Handsome enough to have you mentally laying out the pros and cons of the situation. Pro: You had the upper hand on where to hold the study session. Con: It had to be public, or he'd most likely start aggressively flirting. Pro: She'd tell him her rules of tutoring, hoping he would abide by them. Con: He wouldn't do that at all.

"...I'll think about it," Isa muttered in that voice she'd use sometimes when she wasn't sure about something. The Latina girl would turn back to her locker, only to shut it quickly before booking it to her next class. It was English, so she had finished her work fairly early, which gave her more time to think about it. Another pro: it could be fun. Another con: he might not even pay attention to her because he's just interested in getting into her pants. Another pro: she could actually help him learn something important, and maybe he'd feel more confident in his academic abilities. Another con: He'd get bored with her and leave. Another pro: Maybe they could have fun, and she'd be able to see that smile on his face again. She kept tally on a loose sheet of notebook paper, coming up with more pros than cons.. albeit as biased as they were.

♡

Later that day, Isabela made up her mind, forcefully dragging herself over to a table a group of boys sat at during lunch time. There, Billy sat, stuffing his face with fries and whatever else was on his tray. That was the first time she's ever seen him eat. It was good to know that he did. She wasn't sure, considering all she saw was him putting a cigarette to his lips.

"Hargrove!" The smart girl called out to him, his head sharply rising to see her eyes nervously meeting his. Once she was close enough, she handed him a sticky note. It had the address of the Wheeler residence on it, her eyes looking away from his when he looked back at her.

"My house at five-thirty. Don't forget!" Billy's grin appeared, his eyes half lidded as he chewed on a couple of seasoned sweet potato fries. He shrugged, then nodded. Isa nodded in return, wanting to leave as quickly as she got there.

"Bye," Isa trailed off as she turned away, almost leaving skid marks behind with how quick she was walking. It had the pretty blonde smiling hard, his boy's casually cheering and egging him on while his eyes remained on her until she was no longer in his vision. For the rest of the day, Billy's mind was clouded with thoughts of Isabela, so much so that he stopped a sloppy, hot make-out session with Tina Kingston mid way just so he wouldn't be late for their tutoring session.

Tina was one of the hottest girls in school, aside from Rebecca, Nova, and Chrissy. Most guys barely had a real chance with them, but with Tina hanging on his trail, Billy couldn't pass up a chance to taste something close to heaven.. Heaven was something Billy believed to be somewhere else, like at the Wheeler's house. It wasn't long 'til Tina was kicked out of his car, her scoffing and cursing being shadowed by the rev of his engine as he drove off. He's never been on time for something in a long time, Isa hearing his loud engine at the end of the road of the parking lot. The foster Wheeler looking at the clock on the wall. It was 4:25 p.m.

Isabela sat out the fruit bowl she made for him five minutes ago onto the dining room table. She rushed herself to the front door, although the scholar waited for him to knock on the door. When he did, she opened the door a few seconds later, greeting him with a nod before leaving the door open only for Billy to shut it once he entered.

"Just put your things on the table and we can get started," She spoke as she went upstairs to grab her own work a clean worksheet she took to work on with him before leaving class.

While she was upstairs, Billy took in the environment. It was warmly lit and smelled like fresh raspberry and sweet cinnamon. It explained why she smelled so good every time he got close to her. It was clean as well, the tiled floor shiny, and the carpet away the couches vacuumed and sprayed down. The pillows on the sofa were neat and the only thing on the round table were two bowls of cut fruit. She made that for him while she waited? Billy sat down, setting his work onto the table along with a pencil before taking a bite of a piece of green apple that was in his bowl. His ears focused on the sound of her coming back down, turning himself in the chair.

"What's up with the fruit?" He asked, just wanting to see what she'd say about it. Isa pouted at the immediate hard time she was having.

"Well, you're eating it, aren't you?" She'd rebuttal, setting her own work down on the table. Already she could tell this was going to be an interesting few hours. She could see the smug look on Billy's face at the corner of her eye.

"I'm not the type to pass up free food. Why'd you make it?"

Isa bit her lip, shrugging as she thought what to say other than 'Because I wanted to make it for you,'. Out of kindness, out of her crush for him, out of he'd notice both, which he definitely could sense. Instead though, what came out of her mouth was,

"Fruit is good brain food.. also, you had lunch at one, so I thought you'd want a snack or something," Isa confessed, sitting down only for her eyes to meet his suggestive ones. His smile was genuine, appreciative of her little gesture to him.

Soon enough, the tutoring started, Isa's were carefully curated as she broke her notes down to the infuriating charming Billy Hargrove. His eyes never looked away from her, except for when he was told to focus on the problem at hand. Her teaching was the most easy-to-understand instructions he's ever had, and she's not even a teacher. Billy had felt relieved to get the material down finally. He was ready to call it quits and fail the class, although Isabela had reminded him that he needed this credit to graduate, and so he was here, studying.. wishing he was doing something else with her that required a bit of a workout.

"How come we can't go up to your room?" He'd ask, Isa snapping towards him in aw. Did he really just ask her that? Did that just come out of his mouth? It did. He was curious about it, usually being able to finesse himself in a girl's bedroom to snoop. He was definitely the type to find himself going through a girl's diary for kicks.

"Because it's my bedroom.." She looked over at him, her statement almost posed as a question. Billy grinned playfully, watching the heat rise up in her cheeks. He scoffed, leaning in to continue his flirtatious ways.

"You afraid I'll find the love letters you made for me?" He'd tease, his irritating smirk persisting as Isa held eye contact with him. She was struggling, though, her eyes wanting to divert back to her homework, she was already done with. While she was done, she still retreated to her finished work, going over her answers while avoiding Billy's goregous, lidded hues.

In time, the sweet hispanic gal once again felt the exasperating presence of the handsome bad boy. Isa felt light traces from the eraser part of his pencil stroking itself up and down her arm. Jesus, can't this guy just concentrate?? The young woman flinched, turning to snatch the wooden graphite piece out of his hand only to huff frustratingly at him a second later.

"Do you need help, Hargrove??" She whined, Billy biting at his pretty bottom lip teasingly in return, his eyes traveling down to her blouse. He noticed something about it as he took his quick peak. She wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples gentle peering out. They weren't big, nor were they small either, but they were perky enough to have dirty blonde horndog's mind racing with thoughts it groping them while whispering sweet nothings to the latina.

"Not with my homework, no," His hand gripped around her face gently, pulling her in while scooting himself closer. Isa feels the heat rush to her cheeks, his digits ribbing into her smooth side.

"Sweetness, the only thing I need is your attention," He cooed to her, her face flaring up more and more as he seemed to get closer and closer. She'd flee again, her heart beating so fast she thought she was gonna pass out. Billy'd whine a bit, leaning over her seat as she anxiously grabbed all of her things.

"Listen.. I-I'm glad I could help you out, but-"

"Isa, wait-" but it was already too late. Isa was already hurrying herself. Once she had made up her mind, she wouldn't turn back.

"But, if you don't need anything else, please leave. Have a good night!" And she takes her stuff and quickly woddles upstairs to her room. Billy sighed, shaking his head while leaning it near the table. He ate the last of what was left in his fruit bowl before taking the hint, grabbing his own things, and heading for the door. He turned back, looking near up the stairs where the pretty girl was hiding... his pretty girl. Sooner or later, that was gonna be her title.

♡

The next day, the popular bad boy was surrounded by his usual crowd. That day, he was sporting his denim jacket with a white tee, which hugged his Adonis physique perfectly. It had girls drooling as he walked by, Tommy H. and Jason Carver on either border of him alongside a few other dudes. While the other boys talked of sex, booze, parties, and basketball, Billy's mind was on something else. His head rang the sound of Isabela's voice, the image of her soft, plump lips, long goregous hair, sweet doe eyes, warm hands, pretty tits--

Although his fantasies were interrupted shortly after he made it to his locker, Tommy asking about something. Billy snapped his view to the asshole, giving him a look of confusion.

"The hell are you on about, Hagan?" He'd question, Carver rolling his eyes.

"We just wanted to know how your 'study session' went?" Carter explained, a smug look on his pale face as he took to question his 'friend's sneaky whereabouts. Billy looked back at him, glad he was able to put his thoughts back on the pretty hispanic scholar who did her best to tutor him.

"It was fine." Billy lied, obviously hiding a whole bunch of details from last night. He decided he'd like to keep what happened to himself.. even though the truth was nothing happened. He scared her away and shoved her back into her well-kept turtle shell. Plus, he enjoyed their speculating. It was entertaining.

"Wait, you had it with Isa, right?" Tommy remembered, looking over to Carter with a little smirk. They both giggled boyishly, Tommy shoving his hands in his pockets while Carter tapped on Hargrove's denim clad shoulder.

"God, I just know she'd look so hot begging," Hagan imagined, sighing like the lover boy he wasn't. Billy was, though, now thinking of the soft peeps that would escape her as he grabbed her every way. Whatever way it was, he was certain it was going to be near her. It was nice thought. The popular boy was soon interrupted once again by his sheep's words, looking back at Carter when he spoke.

"What the hell did you say?" Billy's tone was low and fierce, but calm as if he was ready to strike under any sort of pressure. Unfortunately, Jason didn't pick up on his quick irritation.

"I said, 'How long did it take her to spread her legs?' I gotta know man-" Billy scoffed, that domineering smile coming to his face as her turned to completely face the younger basketball player. He even chuckled a bit, but his anger was boiling under the playful surface that was his own misconception.

"I don't know, Jason. How long would it take for your legs to spread when I shove a pool stick up your ass? How about we find that out, yeah?" The charming smile of Billy's remained on his face for a long moment before he eyes deadpanned and his curved lips flattened. He was dead serious. Jason knew it too as he backed up, his hands raising in a surrendering position.

"Alright, man. Jesus," He backed off real quick, Billy turning back to his locker to grav his things before slamming the metal door and heading towards Isabela's locker.

There she stood, the prideful whore finding the sweet girl at her locker. He noted the cotton thin, long sleeve, cropped pink shirt she was wearing. He also noted those nice jean shorts that looked let they were barely holding on to that ass of hers. Did she work out, or was she just naturally gifted with those curves around her torso and the perfectly quafted muscles on her thighs and lower legs? Soon enough, he was behind her, the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she turned to meet his eyes. She just winced, his face so close to hers, but his eyes diverted to her lips. His expression was eager, yet concentrated as if he was holding himself back.

"God, Billy! You scared me," Isa huffed breathlessly, him seemingly taking in her immediate flustered state as his presence. He chuckled in view of it, a soft pout coming to her pretty face.

"My bad, sweetness. 'Just wanted to know if we're still on for today?" Billy would suggest, Isa rolling her eyes almost immediately at his usual flirtation.

"Don't call me that," She spat before shutting her locker.

"Okay, Sugar–"

"Don't call me that either"

"Whatever floats your boat, Babydol–"

"¡¡Dios mío!! I have a name, y'know! A-And It would do you some good to use it.." And as she turned, he'd meet her halfway, standing in front of her whole turning uo his charm meter ten times as much. It was obvious he wasn't a very serious guy, even when he was trying to be serious.

"Isa, listen, I just need to know if you want to tutor me today..?" Isa knew he wouldn't admit it, but Billy was pleading at this point. It might be small, but he was so used to getting what he wanted. He wasn't one for desperate measures, but he liked her.. a lot. Soon enough, he got to her, Isabela sighing softly before glancing up at Billy again. Gosh, he really was persuasive.

"...Don't be late, okay?" She spoke softly, exchanging her notebooks for her previous class for others. Out the corner of her eye, Isa could see the grin on Billy's pretty face. Even if it was for just a moment, the young woman felt her face heat up a bit. She wasn't used to it, and whether she admitted it or not, Isa couldn't deny the obvious feelings she had for Billy either.

Once again, it was 4:15 I'm the afternoon, and once again, Billy found himself sucking face with some other pretty girl to take his mind off of Isabela. Although he couldn't this time, this time all he could do was picture her . Her big does eyes, her flustered expression whenever he got a rise out of her, how soft her hands were, how tight her shirts were. Even if he couldn't see much, he could see enough. He subconsciously pictured it was her lips he was planting kisses on , and it was her soaking wet core he was plunging himself into.

It took all of five minutes for him to finish, the pretty girl under him moaning with him before giggling. Billy was just panting, pulling himself out and quickly buckling his pants again. Immediately when she began to speak, the popular pretty boy kicked his distraction out, the revv of tuning out her cursing as he drove away. He took a shortcut to make sure he wasn't late, looking around his Camaro to see if he could find his spare cologne to freshen up with.

By the time he knocked on the door, Isa had brought out the strawberry cream cheese she had hid from Mike, as well as the two bagels that were left in the pantry. The timid Latina had just finished cutting one of the apples she had bought yesterday after their session when she heard the doorbell ring. She almost ran to get it, opening it quickly only to be met with the heavily smell of cologne overriding the smell of sex as Billy practically forced himself inside.

Billy himself attempted to ignore that he smelled like a good rutting, sitting himself down at the table with her only for her to get started on her work. Today was easier, Billy finding his way through a couple of mathematical obstacles and even jotting down notes. He'd continue his silent, flirting, stealing glances of the girl beside him. How thick her eye lashes were when she blinked and how defined the curls of her coffee brown locks. He admired her look of determination to understand and comprehend oamrthing she wont ever need in her life.. like ever. Billy continued to gaze at the petite young scholar while she worked and bit on the end of her pencil..

"So how was it..?" Isabela question, her eyes still glued to her paper filled with equations. Billy's expression turned puzzled, his jawline sharpening itself while he slowly raised his perfectly quafted eyebrow.

"How was what?" He slightly scrutinized, her gorgeous, siren blues zooming in on the way she but her cheek.

"The girl you were almost late for. Was she any good? You still smell like her.." Yes, it was obvious! She couldn't help but think about it, the scent of cheap lavender and the thought of him.. getting his rocks off while she was preparing a colorful snack for him. It made her head pound and her stomach turn in.. greed.

Greed for the way he looks at her when she's not looking or when she's looking directly at him. Greed for his hands hovering over her hips before desperately wanting to touch them. Greed for the raunchy flirting, the pleading, the succumbing to his effortless charm, the surrendering to her blatant kindness. Isabela thought what they had was raw and filled with potential.. and he had to throw away with a quick fuck before he even got here.

"And that's any of your business because–"

"Because it would be great if you didn't come in here smelling like a brothel," She'd say roughly, Billy paying it no mind to the Latina's snappy attitude. He only responded with a chuckle and his usual response to a girl getting pissed at his slightly reckless antics.

"It comes with the territory, sweetness." He'd coo, leaning in only for her to get another whiff of wooden apple and hot, sweaty sex. The frustration in her eyes was very telling. All of her skin flushed the more she thought about it. The more she wished she was the one who wrinkled his shirt, and the one to be kissed dumb, and the one to be manhandled with such passion.. but she never wanted it to be once...

...

...But— but she never wanted it to be just once, and she never wanted to be one of Billy's girls. Her hands sweated and her cheeks burned at the thought of being Billy's girl.. Billy's only girl. It was a stretch, a shark jump even, but she was an 18 year old girl with hopes and dreams.. and the hopes and dreams were stubborn and vivid and goddamn delectable.

"Break! We need a break.."

When Isabela had realized her face visibly red, she stood, exhaling hotly before hastily walking around back to the kitchen counter. All the while, she was silently cursing herself, trying to regain focus instead of feeling like she wasn't worthy. She wasn't the one who was supposed to be feeling like that. It was supposed to be the son of a bitch who was sitting at the dining table and gazing knowingly at her. As if Billy knew her feelings, as if he knew what she yearned for. He was just dangling the goddamn carrot in her cute, doe eyed face.. and it hurt.

What Isa didn't know was that Billy did know.. he knew deep down. He knew she wanted to, but he didn't know why he kept stopping herself. He knew she was too good for him, but that never stopped him before. That never stumped his drive to get see it to the end. It wouldn't stop him now either. He stood from his seat, pulling off his denim jack only to show off that goregous Adonis physique Isa knew he loved to show off. It was paying off.

"Need any help?" He'd suggest through that sweet, promising smile that he's shown to her once or twice. It always got her hopes up about him and his motives.. and if he actually liked her. Isabela shook her head, finishing up the slicing and dicing of a green apple in the eighths. Soon, she placed the bagel smeared with hazel nut and cocoa spread with a few apple slices on top and the side of a plastic plate. She handed the plate to him soon after before making her own plate. He stood still though, finding time to make his move while she was distracted by her own thoughts.

Suddenly, his being was behind hers, Billy slightly scoffing at the immediate tense up he could feel from Isa. His hands gently gripped at the skin of her wrists, Isa instinctively stopping her rushed plating, only to feel his smokey breath against her jawline and neck.

"Either you move aside, and let me help, or have to force you back to the table.."

...That.. she wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting his want to help or him even pushing himself to do so. Isabela was quick to move, Billy amused as he ogled strutting her cute butt to the other side of the island counter. Her arms crossed against her chest, her cheeks puffed out and her full bottom lip pouted as she frowned. She watched him finish up her plate, even going as far as to place some of the slices strategically on her spread.

"I don't like this" She didn't like it.. she loved it.

"Yeah, yeah.. and your scrutiny is very effective," Billy knew she liked it. He knew she liked being helped, and flirted with, and looked at like she was something.. she was something. That's what Hargrove thought.

"Hurry up. I don't like this.." She turned back to the dining table, feeling the ocean eyes behind her admiring her back side. She mean mugged him in response, getting flustered at his cheeky, and quite frankly charming, response.

. . .

After they had eaten their snack, things started to lighten up. Isabela and Billy had continued their tutor session, the Guatemalan girl giving him notes and suggestions while the pretty boy simultaneously made jokes in return. Isa of course didn't listen to most of them, but she did laugh at one.

She laughed. It was a cute laugh. Squeaky and light, and enough to make the pride in his stomach swell. He leaned in a bit close, his tongue brushing against her teeth.

"Ah, I finally got one outta ya," He'd gloat, slightly kicking himself with how easily he was fawning for that sweet smile. He's never felt like this before.. jesus, he could gawk at the curling of her plump lips anytime of the week.

"Yeah, well don't get used to it.." She huffed, shaking off her laugh and attempting to turn back to her work.

"But your laugh is cute, I should make you laugh more often." Suddenly, it was agonzing to keep eye contact with Billy. He must've known his was pouring a thousand sultry poems into her soul. Her face was burning. She was definitely giving herself away. His smile didn't help either. He got closer.

"There are a lot of things I'd like to make you do.." Her arms crossed again at his mild attempt at seduction.. it was working.

"Like what..?" She questioned, Billy's smirk persisted.

"Oh don't ask me that idea tell ya.. well," their lips are only an inch away from yours.

"How about I show you..?" She could feel the heat from her cheeks, as he moved close, his lips lingering over hers for a moment. Isa attempted to back out..

"Billy, that's not–" He didn't even fathom the thought of listening to her after that, closing the very small gap between them and melting into the whimpers and peeps Isa was giving off. He grunted against her soft lips, feeling her hands grip his thinly clothed bicep and watch ridden wrist. Billy noted that she tasted of peaches and the hazelnut chocolate spread she just had. Billy on the other hand was an "aquired taste", Isa savoring the taste of a smokey bagel and a hint of.. mint?

For a second, Isa practically dissolved, the warmth of his mouth and tongue blurring her thoughts. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered with desire as he attempted to pull her closer.. then she realized this was exactly what she was trying to avoid. The needy kiss only lasted for a second, but even then, that second, she was plotting her their house plan and a trip to California.

The next second, Isabela was realizing how hard she was falling for the guy over a kiss. And so the absurdity of the situation hit her over the head with a brick.

She pulled away, hysterically getting up and grabbing her things.

"You need to leave," Isabela breathed hastily while she was booking it towards the stairs.

"Isa, where–"

"LEAVE!" She'd yell from the top of the stairs, her eyes wide in and filled with tears. Her mixed emotions frustrating her til no idea. It was silent for a moment, his bewilderment multiplying the more he went through it in his head. He charmed her up, helped her out, made her feel special.. and yet she was special. She was different. She wanted more than the others, more than just a quickie or a flirt. He couldn't put a pin on what, but he knew it was something. Eventually he did leave, Isa hearing the front door slam shut on his way out.

Billy hadn't really grasped the idea of being in an actual relationship. He thought he wasn't good enough, thought the girls only cared for one thing.. the facade he put on. The front inflated his ego and kept him feel like more than he actually did. After he'd had his fun, he'd trail right back to what he actually felt. For a very long time, Billy had felt empty, angry, heavy-hearted.. but when he's with Isabela. Billy sped through the road as his mind raced through the suspicions.. it was like she sees potential in him, to be better.. it was like she could see right through him, past all the bullshit bluffs and party personas, and whatever else he used to build this image that kept him together for so long. Hell, it had only been a few weeks, and she probably knew so much about him.

He had to approach her another way.. and as much as he hated the idea.. he had to do it, honestly.

Billy had let few weeks pass before he even thought of asking her to tutor again. Her constant avoidance of him as if he were the plague helped his plan. When Friday came around, he hoped Isa calmed down enough to at least hear him out. Throughout the entire week, Isabela had noticed something crucial that's heightened her desires. He didn't fraternize with other girls.. at least for the last 6 days. Not that she's heard of, and she definitely would've heard of Billy's sexual escapades.

As Isabela frantically walked home, her thoughts were accumulating. She went through the effects, seeking to decipher the cause. Of course, her biases got the better of her, the heartache she was experiencing, yelling for it to be about her. . .

It was 7 p.m., Isa finishing up her studying when she heard a knock at her window. Her wide eyes wavered up to the pane, weary only for a moment considering there was a tree a bit too close to the side of her house where her bedroom was. But again, a few seconds later, after she turned her attention back to her homework, she wind of the three panged knock.

Isa slightly panicked, slowly rising from her dainty organized desk, but not before grabbing a sharp pair of scissors. Slowly, she stepped over to the pan, and her vision narrowed as she quickly put aside the curtains. When she figured out who it was, her she heaved a sigh, her hands moving to her hips.

"Billy, what the hell are you doing here? You can't be here!" She was pretentious about it, of course. Why was he here? Did he come to try again? God knows Isa definitely wasn't in the mood for more of his schemes.

"Wow, swearing does not suit you," Billy began to climb from the window and into her room. Of course, she protested the entire time, but in the same breaths, she made sure he wouldn't get hurt as well.

"Why are you here, Bil??" Isabela, her arms crossed, waiting for a response. She stood, only to watch him sit on her comforter. When her maneuvered his way through her window, she got a whiff of him, the man smelling decent enough to not stink up her whole room. Also, he was wearing that red shirt.. jesus, the way he could pull off something so simple made her want to fold right then and there.

"This is a nice mattress is real nice! Mind if I borrow it for–"

"Billy, Lo juro por Dios!!" Sensing her sincerity, Billy dropped the act, gesturing a surrender as he held his hands up.

"Alright, alright! There's no need to switch the language up on me," He'd assure her, standing up from her lavender made bed.

"Do you not like me or somethin'?"

"What?"

"You've been avoiding me for 2 weeks. I literally screamed your name across the hall."

"I-I didn't hear you,"

"Bullshit, you looked at me.." Isa could see Billy's annoyance written on his sleeve. She remembered that day, Isabela ignoring Billy and Nova immediately figuring it out what was going on. "You're avoiding him because you're infatuated with him.." She predicted, Isa completely denying it immediately after. So far the most annoying thing about Nova was that she was a hell of a reader.. which meant she was always right.

"I.."

"You–"He'd mock, stepping a little forward towards her.

"I do like you, Billy I jus-" She hesitated, still looking for the words to clarify her actions to him. He seemed like he was amused with his impact on her. Isa could feel very cheeks crimson and her palms got sweaty.

"You kissed me back," He'd state, putting it out there that she yearned for the burning passion between them just as much as he did.. if not more.

"I know... I.. want to keep doing that. I want to keep kissing you," Isa observed the growing smirk on the lone wolf in front of her.

"We can do that.."

"I want to kiss you everywhere. At the Alley, the skating rink, the Starcourt, at your house, at my house, in my room, in the backyard, in the cafeteria, in the halls, before and after classes–" She exhaled, her face hurting from how flushed it was.

"–I wanna go on dates, I wanna cook you food, and have not-so-study study sessions. I want to watch movies with you, laugh with you, be there for you. I don't wanna drive you away, but God damn it, Billy, you make me nervous! Every time you choose to be around me, my hands get clammy, my face resembles that of a tomato, stomach starts to hurt, my heart beats like I'm having a goddamn heart attack!" She paused again, watching it sink in for him.

"You're insufferable, Billy Hargrove, but I really like you... and i don't wanna be just 'one of your girls'. I wanna be.. the girl.." The smitten girl shut herself up after that, suffocating herself as she let the agony of his response sink. He didn't respond for a moment, still aiming to decipher the thought that she would even want to spend more time with him. Most girls usually just want a taste, an appetizer. Shit, Isabela wanted the full course, then the entire buffet. Whether good or bad, she'd taste it all.

Billy hasn't fathomed the thought of someone by his side for a long while, thinking that he was only good enough for a quick adrenaline rush for most people. He was the life of the party, but when the party ended, people didn't want much to do with his life. But she did. She actually wanted to get to know him.

The silence was long enough for Isa to assume his rejection, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. Thank God her hair was long enough to hide her face. She knew this was a bad idea, but she had to know. She took a step back, gesturing to her bedroom door.

"You can, uhm.. leave through the front door," Isa's voice started to break, the girl trying her hardest to hide the way her heart was sinking and at the same time rising up her throat. But instead of heading straight for the door, Billy stepped to Isa, walking slowly and letting the wait of his boots hit her carpeted floor.

"So.. I make you nervous?" Immediately, she was baffled, her cheeks heating up tenfold.

"Billy–" Isa looked away only for the rougish guy to keep her in place and against the wall. His hand went up to her chin, forcing her to look his way.

"Eyes on me," His eyes.. they were expressing something very crucial.. His answer. His answer had her folding like a deck of cards. It was enough that her entire face was betraying her, but her fingertips and ears got in the blushing mood.

"Y-you have my back to the wall here," And to top it all off, what Isabela expected to happen was thrown out the window.

"Good," Billy moved to pull down the tanktop she was wearing under her sweater, leaving her shoulder bare. He leaned down to peck at her smooth collarbone, his hand moving to her wrists to gently holding onto them as he tended to her.

The more he kissed the more passionate he got. He stayed at her shoulder blade for a moment, moving uo to her neck when she started to mutter to him. The light whimpers and whines only egged him on. Soon Isa could feel his breathe become heavy against her earthnut spread skin.

"God, you smell fucking good–" He huffed against her skin, groaning while he inched closer and closer to her lips. He kissed at her chin, then the pink of her cheek, then she corner of her soft lips.. his eyes flickered to hers, hungrily looking for her approach. Her eyes told him it was only green lights, her hazily brown hues yearning in silent response.

The dream-filled teen felt herself nod rapidly, inhaling as his goregous face got centimeters, millimeters closer than before. Then.. and only then did Isabela get to experience the true sensation of Billy's soft lips against hers, locking in complete passion and trust. It felt like the kiss went on forever, their lips tugging and pulling on one another, dancing with such rapture and animation. His calloused hands gripped at her hips, and her cocoa butter covered hands gripped at the red shirt he was prancing around in prior.

Billy seemed to have been starving for some action, Isa feeling the tug at her polyester clad waist. She let the arousing kiss go on for a little long before pulling away, warranting her over-stimulated expression and kiss bitten lips open to Billy's gaze. Somewhere in there, Hargrove could sense the overbearing hope.. then he realized he never really answered. He let his hands hover over her petite waist, thinning about the various was he could ask her out.

"You doin' anything tomorrow..?" Hed asked, immediately watching her expression straighten and light up.

"I-I'm free," Isa almost spat out her answer, she was so quick to speak. It made him chuckle, she realized how cute she was when her excitement about something blasted through. It was like a laser beam, putting a whole though his brain and making it mush while the appendage in his chest swelled.

"How 'bout I take you around town then? Buy you somethin' pretty, then show you off.. You are my girl after all," With that, Isa was smiling like she had just fulfilled her sweet tooth to its maximum capacity. It was big, silly, and it had Billy smiling too, genuinely and even more so when she embraced him. Her arms were tight around his waist, and her head snug against his chest, but the warmth she gave off was so welcoming. It had him thinking he was worthy of something that was honest and raw. As real as the sweet kisses he continued to give Isa as she walked him back downstairs and to his car.

Once he made it to his Camaro, he'd salute her off, taking a long exhale after he wanted his first person to walk back inside. It took guts to do what she did. To be able to dump her feelings, she's had for the past several weeks into his lap and hoped he'd understand. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have cared to.. but it was her.

It was the woman who walked up to him just to accept his suggestion of tutoring him. It was the woman who took everything he threw at her. The flirting, the raunchy behavior, the way he approached her in the first place. It was the woman who took time out of her busy day to help him with his school work, make sure he understood the material, and made him all kinds of snacks so he wouldn't complain about being hungry. It was the woman who showed she cared.. through her heckling, sometimes bold statements, sudden actions, and just being there.. She was truly Billy's girl... ♡

. ♡ .

Thank you so much for reading all the through! I apologize that it took me so long to finish, but here it is! Hopefully, I'll finish the other one as well! Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!♡

Thank you @buckysgrace for your help finishing this.. very long fic

P.S. If you'd like to be tagged when I post the next part, please let me know in the comments!♡

#stangerthingsoc #stranger things #original character #artists on tumblr #stranger things art #original art #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x original character #oc x canon #oc x cc #oc #original character x canon character #isabela wheeler #Isabela Danielle Valentina Vasquez/Wheeler

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yeagerfate · 10 months

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camp spiderpine

characters: miguel o’hara, miles morales, hobie brown, gwen stacy

notes: this is a camp au! i love writing these so much. for my AOT followers i promise i will be posting some more stuff soon and hopefully i will get some AOT reqs. as of rn i have one that i am excited to write but i think it might take me a bit as i really wanna take my time with it. sorry i didn’t include pav in this, just wasn’t feeling too inspired with him. might add him later lol. not proofread!

warnings: none!

Being a counselor with Miguel is both fun and exhausting. Your campers have a great bond, which is always lovely to see, but they are so energetic that it is tiring. It’s always fun to do it with Miguel though! He is always super helpful, especially with things like putting on sunscreen. His hands are gentle when he rubs it in, though they seem… hesitant? When he pulls away, his face looks strangely pink, but he says it’s just because of the sun. Strange. Sometimes, Miguel will guard at the lake while some of the kids swim. It’s hard not to check him out. Yet, lately you’ve been a bit… tempted by him. His lips look more enticing than ever, his voice is sweeter to listen to, and he seems more eager to be near you. It doesn’t surprise you when you two share a kiss late one night, outside the cabin on the porch. For each other’s sake, and to avoid the nosy questions from campers, you and Miguel agree to keep it secret. You think some of the campers are noticing with the amused smirks that they give you, and the way Lyla, another counselor, giggles when she sees how close you sit together. It’s all extremely exhilarating and lively, but the summer’s ending soon, and Miguel has to go back home…. which is hours away. Will you two stay in touch?

Miguel’s favorite camper is Miles, but he always denies it. He supervises many different activities for each camp season, but the ones he does the most often are diving, paddle boarding, and baseball. He always forgets to put on bug spray, so every night you see new bug bites all over his body. Sometimes, he accidentally spends too much time in the shower. Gets yelled at for it. Loses his only towel on the first day of camp.

Miles is a nervous camper. It’s his first time at Camp Spiderpine, so it takes him a while to adjust. For his activities, he chooses kayaking, basketball, arts & crafts, and mountain biking. His bunk is right above yours. It’s nice to be bunk mates since Miles is super respectful of your space and your luggage. He shares candy with you, tells you questionable stories from his school, and lets you do messy face painting on him. You’re a bit bummed out after you finish your face painting session on him. Not because you don’t like what you painted, but because you wanted to stay being close to him. His warmth is comforting, and so are the brown hues of his eyes. The next day, when Gwen asks you if you have a camp crush, she laughs when you say Miles. She tells you she’s been waiting for you to realize since the beginning of camp. On the night before the last day, Miles finally gains the courage to kiss you, and it is glorious. It’s messy, extremely nerve-wracking, and not perfect at all, but it’s amazing. Miles promises to stay in touch with you to see where the relationship goes. You’re his first girlfriend, and he wants to make it work.

Miles loses his flashlight early into the camp session, so he trips all the way to the bathrooms in the night. During his first time kayaking, he somehow flipped into the lake, and it took him 5 minutes with your and the instructor’s help to get back in. He laughs it off but is super embarrassed. Has so much trouble getting up so early in the morning that one time he just walked around all day in PJs. Kills all the bugs for everyone who is scared of them.

Hobie’s a veteran camper, and he’s been going since he was 6. He knows where pretty much every cabin and building is at camp. He always ends up helping new people get around. For his activities, he chooses BB-Guns, guitar, paddle boarding, and hiking. The two of you meet when your counselor, Miguel, partners you up with Hobie for the first day of camp. He is required to help you find your way around, and answer any questions you may have. Soon, you learn that you get along great, and become great friends. The two of you partner up together for paddleboarding, but he always falls off. He also gets bit by the fish a lot when the two of you are in the water. Your face feels warm when he helps you get back on when you fall off. His touch is so much more… captivating now? You find yourself wanting more. Now, when he guides you around camp, his hand is rested on the small of your back and his other one lingers near your waist. It’s very alluring. At night, you wonder if maybe it could be more? Are you imagining things? Or is this real?

Hobie plans on becoming a counselor himself when he’s older. Miguel rolls his eyes when he hears about it. All of the campers know him. He’s super popular!Always comes in clutch during ultimate frisbee. His team almost always wins just because of him. Knows all of the camp songs and cheers, but his face is deadpanned when it’s time to sing them.

All the counselors know Gwen as “the quiet one”, but that’s just how she acts around them. Around her friends, Gwen is always laughing and doing weird things like “rating people’s feet”. For her activities, Gwen chooses arts & crafts, creative writing, volleyball, and snorkeling. She is the first to help you find a bed in the cabin you’re both assigned to. The two of you decide to do arts & crafts together, where you make bracelets for your water bottles and tie-dye shirts. One day, during a camp game, you’d taken a horrible fall. You tore a muscle in your leg and could barely walk around. Gwen immediately volunteered to help you to the nurse with your counselor, Miguel. Even though you were in agony, the way Gwen’s supportive words were whispered to you made you feel hot. Suddenly, you began to see her in a different way, especially when she still helped you around camp. Her caring hold was so… comfortable, and wholehearted, and swiftly your heart began to beat faster when she was around. Camp’s ending soon, and you desperately want to tell Gwen how you feel… will you?

She smells like sunscreen and sunshine. Has so many stickers on her water bottle, and half of them are peeling. Dyed her hair pink at camp so her dad wouldn’t know. Miguel was too tired to do anything about it. Her hair takes hours to dry, so her clothes are always sopping wet after she gets out of the lake.

#atsv fluff #atsv x reader #itsv fluff #itsv x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy fluff #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fluff

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mushroom-snake-coding · 11 days

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Does anyone ever wonder if Sophie had a friend in the human world? It never mentions anyone in the books… but I wrote something where she would meet a human friend.

The Human Friend: First Day At School

Part 1

(So, I got an idea and wanted to write something about KOTLC that is a bit like fan fiction (I think that’s the word I am supposed to use). It’s kind of stupid, but I wanted to write something instead of endlessly scrolling, to get some creative dopamine or whatever.

PLEASE NOTE: I am not the best at writing and I sometimes have trouble keeping flow and stuff. Also, I may not be the most accurate because the events of which this takes place is before I was born or when I was a toddler, so I don’t have first hand experiences. It probably won’t be perfect, but I just wanted to write something so keep scrolling if you are bored. Another thing, the new character’s name is my nickname on this site. It just made more sense to me because the new character will have a bunch of my characteristics and honestly is just me, just in KOTLC.)

It was “ugh” day at school. Even though she was the first day in, Sophie despised every second of it. Most of the students already hated her, giving her weird looks. Being the famous child prodigy, wasn’t all it was cut out to be. Even worse, though, was all the noisy thoughts she heard around her. The burden she felt since she was five, she could never escape.

Sophie’s first class was AP Environmental Science. Her counselor practically forced her into an advanced placement class, last year, because of her high grades and “brilliant mind.” But all this seemed to do was make her stand out more. She noticed the glances and whispers from the people around her, which was just fantastic.

Their teacher, Ms. Cobbler, was already planning something torturous… partner work. Usually, Sophie would avoid that and just do the task herself. However, when they everyone grouped into partners, Ms. Cobbler said the words that made her insides shrink.

“Anyone without a partner, please stand up.” Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out the urge to pluck out her eyelashes (something she frequently did while nervous) and stood up, dying internally. Sophie felt her stomach squirm as she felt the stares around her.

Similarly, there was another girl at the front of the class, who was having the same sickening feeling. Though, her thoughts were a bit different. Instead of an internal voice saying Look at them all staring at you, like a freak, like Sophie’s, the girl’s mind immediately went to mental pictures of the rest of the students whispering and gossiping about anything that could be wrong with her: her clothes, her hair, her acne, her nose, and more insecurities.

“Great, that works out perfectly. You two, group together,” Ms. Cobbler’s voice rang out, bringing Sophie out of the girl’s thoughts. The girl brought her stuff over to the empty desk next to Sophie.

The girl looked of Indian descent: her warm medium-brown skin; her black wavy hair; her dark brown, almost black, eyes; and her long lashes giving it away. She seemed like a sophomore. The girl’s more personal features included slightly frizzy hair, chapped lips, little acne here and there, some headphones around her neck, and an Iron Man themed beaded bracelet.

“Now this will be your partner for the first quarter. It is crucial in science and discussion, that we learn to work together. Our first activity will be getting to know each other. Your first assignment will be an easy 100: get to know each other.”

The class erupted into conversation. The new louder thoughts gave Sophie a headache. Oddly, the girl seemed to also hate it. Her mind erupted in images of just putting her headphones over her ears and listening to some songs on her pink Mp3 player. Although, that followed with a mental image of the teacher yelling at her, so she decided against it.

“So… what’s your name?” the girl asked.

“I’m Sophie Foster.”

“Cool, cool, I’m Pri” the girl responded.

There was an awkward silence between them. Pri’s mind tried going to where she heard that name before. Eventually, her mind went to some conversation she overheard about an eleven-year old in high school. Sophie mentally prepared herself. This was usually the moment people loathe her, and Pri did…

Wow, she must be so lucky. Pri’s mind thought, in a bitter mental voice. But then her mind then flooded with her own experiences. She got higher grades, but she could never really socialize. And Sophie is with high-schoolers as an eleven-year old. Damn, that must be hard.

Pri’s earlier thoughts of her insecurities faded. Why would an eleven-year old talk badly about her to anyone? Sophie didn’t really know how to feel about that. It is annoying that she is treated differently because of her age, but this girl seems more comfortable because of it. That’s a first.

Suddenly Pri interrupts the silence between them.

“So, what is like to be an eleven year old in high school?”

Sophie never really got this question before, mainly since no one talks to her, but she immediately assumed Pri was just making small talk, so she used the default.

“It’s good.”

But Pri pressed on, actually curious.

“Are you sure? I was placed in a higher math last year, and if anyone found out I was a freshman, they acted weird. I’d imagine that’s like six times the amount for you.”

Sophie never knew of someone who actually cared about stuff like that. It felt like something clicked, and almost instantly, Sophie told Pri all about how skipping grades really impacted her.

“Not really, it was tough. People always felt jealous of me. And me being younger, there’s like a separation between me and the other students. It’s like they think I’m a baby or something.”

Pri’s thoughts flashed to something like Finally, someone gets it. She remembers how she tried socializing with people her age, even, and they always seemed to treat her condescendingly.

Pri blurts out, “And do all people think you’re so lucky and say you’re so smart, but they treat you the exact opposite?”

“EXACTLY!!!”

Sophie didn’t know how much more spot on Pri could get. Both of them talk about their experiences of how it felt like being outcasted. Pri rambles on about how she feels she can’t fit it with anyone even though she tries her best. Sophie continues and goes on a rant of how stupid some social rules people follow are. Finally, they reach the last five minutes of class. Pri checks the time.

“We’re about to leave. What class do you have next?” she asks.

“PE,” Sophie replied.

“Ah, I have Visual Art 2.” Pri pauses. “So, do you, have anyone to sit with, at lunch?”

“No, not really.” Sophie was embarrassed to admit.

“Well, meet me in the cafeteria, then. You can be with me, if you want.” Pri smiled.

This was a pleasant surprise. Sophie was thrilled and Pri’s thoughts were genuine.

“Yes! Sure. I will.”

———————————————————————

I hope you liked that. Being frankly honest, Pri in this is exactly like me irl. The details were spot on, and so was the conversation. (I also do have a small pink Mp3 player and headphones.) I always related to Sophie in a way, feeling outcasted like this and the overwhelming thoughts was really similar to the overwhelming sounds. I would have loved to befriend her if she were real and in my school.

I might write more because my original plan was to have a few scenes planned out, which are currently fun lil daydreams in my head. But I am studying for some tests rn, and this was mainly the result of a random creative spark. But if I write more, these will be the scenes:

Lunch in the Library (probably Sophie’s pov)

Sleepover: Breaking into on the Nosy Neighbor’s House (Pri’s Pov)

OMG Who is Mr. Teal Eyes? Wait… HOW TF DID THEY DISAPPEAR LIKE THAT (Pri’s pov)

Also again, reminder, THIS IS NOT THE BEST. I KNOW IT. I JUST WANTED TO SHARE MY DAYDREAMS WITH YOU GUYS.

And this is based on the Keeper of the Lost Cities Series by Shannon Messenger if you didn’t already know.

Have a lovely day!!! :)

#kotlc sophie #kotlc #sophie foster #fanfic #the human friend

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techs-ass · 1 year

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Shark Dump: Lemon Sharks!

Some of you seemed to enjoy my shark facts and honestly, if I can get the chance to rave about sharks, I will. So here are some shark facts starting with my favorite, Lemon Sharks!!

If you guys enjoy this, feel free to leave me a request with the name of a shark you'd like to learn about and I'll be happy to info dump on them. I'm thinking about posting one every Sunday (Shark Sundays!!! :D )

Technically I was supposed to post this earlier but I didn't lol oops-

Conservation Status: NEAR THREATENED

This cute guy here is a Lemon shark or Negaprion brevirostris! They get this name from their yellowish skin and yellow bellies but they can be anywhere from brown to olive colored. Lemon sharks are mostly native to the Atlantic Ocean and parts of the Pacific where they occupy coral keys, mangrove forests, bays and even docks. Most populations can be found in Gulf of Mexico, the West Indies, and the Caribbean.

They can grow up to 11 ft long which makes them one of the larger species of sharks but don't let their size scare you! These guys are mostly scavengers that hunt for food near sandy in-shore areas. Most of the lemon sharks diet consists of bony fish, crustaceans and stingrays although they occasionally snack on seabirds or smaller sharks. They hunt using electroreceptors on their nose, called ampullae de Lorenzini, which help them detect fish and other creatures, even buried in the sand.

(Remember, sharks don't have hands so they rely on their nose and mouth to explore the enviroment around them!)

Lemon sharks usually live in oceanic waters that are no deeper than 188 ft although some have been found in waters at depths of up to 300 ft. They are one of 43 sharks that can swim in freshwater but usually don't travel very far into these waters as they can't survive for long periods in them. If you see a lemon shark in freshwater, they're probably just there for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the ocean.

Fun Fact: Bull sharks are the only shark that can survive in both salt and fresh water! They're also one of the dumber sharks and will try to eat anything that fits in their mouths.

Despite how scary they look, lemon sharks are actually a favorite among divers and marine biologist because of their docile behavior! They rarely attack humans (As of 2011, researchers had found only 10 cases of lemon sharks attacking humans, and none of these cases were deadly), in fact, they are very shy and usually try to avoid us. Though if they do approach, they're usually just being curious and will bump you with their nose.

But my favorite thing about lemon Sharks? Once they get over their shyness, they LOVE getting belly rubs! They find the sensation very pleasant and will actively seek out the divers who pet them, even chasing other sharks away if they feel the diver’s giving them too much attention. Sometimes, if you rub their belly too much or if you stimulate the tiny sensory pores located on their snout, you can put them into something called tonic immobility.

Tonic immobility is a reflex that causes a temporary state of inactivity in an animal. Similar to hypnosis! Researchers aren't sure why sharks do this as it's usually thought to be a prey instinct so apex predators like sharks shouldn't have this. But most researchers have found that the sharks aren't stressed when they perform this behavior so it might just mean they're really relaxed! This is backed up by the fact that when in this state the shark’s muscles relax and their breathing becomes deep and rhythmic. Sharks usually enter tonic immobility in less than a minute and they can remain in this state for up to 15 minutes. It doesn't hurt them at all and researches use this to help subdue them.

Lemon sharks (like many other sharks) are imperative to keeping our reefs alive and healthy. Without them, we've already begun to see a major decline in coral reefs and seagrass beds. By taking these sharks out of the coral reef ecosystem, there's nothing to keep the larger predatory fish in check and they overfeed on the herbivores. With less herbivores, macroalgae expands and coral can no longer compete, shifting the ecosystem to one of algae dominance causing the reefs to eventually die out.

Now, back to lemon sharks and the most important fact I have about them: their conservation status.

Lemon sharks are considered to be near threatened. This means that they are likely to become endagered in the near future. This is because they are targeted by commercial and recreational fishermen primarily due to their highly prized fins. Their meat is also in high demand and is considered a delicacy in many areas. Further, the continuing destruction of their habitat has led to the severe decline of lemon shark populations.

But thankfully, there are steps already being taken to help protect these sweet sea puppies. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission prohibits the harvesting of lemon sharks in state waters. Any lemon shark that catches onto a hook is to be released immediately, either by removal of the hook from the shark or by cutting the shark free—whichever will release the shark quickest. Some countries are also slowly starting to put in protections for them as well.

You can also help! Many people view sharks as blood-thirsty monsters due to decades of slander campaigns and hollywood scare movies (I'm glaring at you Jaws). But we can change that view by showing the world just how beautiful and intelligent these creatures really are! The more informed people are about the sharks, the more we can do to help them. Just by reading this post and learning about lemon sharks, you're helping! Now, the next time you hear someone talking smack about sharks, you can smack them with some cool shark facts! Then hopefully with enough smacking, we can change how people see these lovely predators and get more support for their protection.

#science #marine biology #sharks #shark facts #marine life #lemon shark #conservation #shark conservation #i just love sharks man #sea puppies #that's all they are #sea puppies with very sharp teeth

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shimmerwindow · 5 months

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I Never Really

Part Three

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2k

Playlist | Masterlist

Friday crawled by at a snail’s pace. You normally hated Fridays. The campus was always buzzing with so much activity on the weekends, and it made it hard for you to focus on your studies. Saturday and Sunday were the days you would reserve for working on big projects, but it was difficult sometimes when every other dorm room in a 100-foot radius was blasting music. Part of you felt like a grumpy old man, wanting to go bang on doors and shout turn it down! A smaller, quieter part of you was envious of those who had the time, and friends, to party.

You dragged yourself over to the dining hall after class, your mind filled with thoughts of the party you’d be going to tomorrow. It gave you butterflies to think about it. Meeting new people wasn’t something you were great at, nor enjoyed, and big parties were far from your favorite thing. You stared at the sky, the clouds brushed a gentle pink as the sun set, and wondered if it was too late to cancel.

The dining hall was something you typically avoided if you could help it, preferring your microwaved noodles over any of the slop they served there, but you’d been a bit burnt out on the styrofoam-y taste of chicken-flavored cup noodles lately. You managed to find a quiet corner, and sat down with a tray of the few things in the place that looked edible.

Across the room, you watched a group of jock-type guys make their way in, shoving each other and laughing. One of them locked eyes with you, and you quickly turned your head away and pulled out your phone, opening whatever app came up first, trying to look busy. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone making their way directly to where you were sitting. You’d been hit on at this god-forsaken place more than once, and it appeared it was about to happen again. You sighed, and turned your eyes up to the potential suitor.

You blinked a few times. Of course it was Sam. Why did it always have to be Sam?

“Hey!” He called.

You gave him a wave and a small smile, not really in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to eat in peace, but that would have to wait, as he pulled out the chair across from you, dropping his tray onto the table and sitting down.

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I don’t usually partake in the unholy abominations they serve here.”

He laughed, holding up a slice of utterly unappetizing pizza he had on his plate. “What, this doesn’t make you hungry?”

“Not exactly.” You picked at what was on your plate, wishing you’d simply settled for noodles tonight.

“You excited for tomorrow?” He asked between bites.

You put on a brave smile, lying through your teeth. “Totally.” You wouldn’t describe your feelings as excited, necessarily. Terrified was more of the word you were looking for.

“It starts at, like, 8. I think. I dunno. I’ll let you know.”

You nodded. That was somewhat good news – you could use the I’m tired excuse after only an hour or two.

“What should I wear?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I got this, like…vintage sweater thing I wanna wear.” His eyes lit up, clearly excited about it. “It’s blue and brown and it's got all these cool designs on it, and it’s so comfy. I love it.”

You couldn't help but soften up a bit, seeing how excited he got over something as simple as a sweater. He was so enthusiastic when you asked him where he got it, going on a tirade about all of the thrift stores in town while you ate and listened, and he told you all about how they had so many hidden gems if you knew when to look.

“I should go to some of them some time.”

“Absolutely! I’ll take you there!”

He was so sweet sometimes it was almost annoying. “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah! Like, a little thrift store date.”

Cold silence froze the air between you two, his smile fading, your face prickling with a rising blush. Date.

“I mean, not like that. I meant like, friend date. Not date. Just going to thrift stores together. Like friends. Are we friends?”

There it was once again, that rushed, frantic tone he got when he was flustered.

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say back, looking out the window and back to you a few times, silent. You needed a cigarette.

“Well,” you sighed, standing up from the table. “I’m gonna go smoke.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll text you.”

You’d half-expected him to ask to join you, a little surprised he didn’t. Maybe even a bit disappointed. “See you then.”

It was starting to feel like you couldn’t have a normal interaction with him. Every time, it was something. Though, seeing him tonight seemed to wash some of your worries away. He was kind, and from what you knew about him, he seemed like a good companion to have at a party of strangers.

Sleep came easily that night, thankfully. You drifted off peacefully, finally exhausted from the week before. And in your dreams, you found yourself in a familiar place. If it was possible to get deja vu in dreams, you were feeling it.

You were at the top of a skyscraper in some city you didn't recognize, the wind blowing hard enough to throw you off the edge, but you didn't move. The sky was clear and full of stars, galaxies streaking across the blackness and lighting everything in a delicate purple.

Sam was next to you, pointing at the sky, saying words that were carried away on the wind, but somehow you knew he was explaining the stars to you. He would point at a section of sky and it would glow, as if he held dominion over the stars. Like he told them when to shine.

And then, you were in a dorm room, similar to yours but not quite right, the layout was all wrong. You laid on a bed that was too big for a dorm, and just above you, Sam was there. His face hovered just above yours, his hair hanging down to brush the sides of your face. You knew he was going to kiss you, and you welcomed it gladly, your body melting into his. He was made of warmth and light, and love, so much love.

* * *

Your eyes opened to daylight, the dream ending abruptly, leaving you disoriented when you finally came to your senses. These dreams were starting to get ridiculous. He wouldn’t leave your head, even when he wasn't around. You put your mind to work immediately to push any thoughts of him aside, getting out your laptop and starting up your to-do list for the day.

The minutes ticked by slowly, your eyes always watching the clock, waiting for a text from him, dreading the night ahead. I’ll show up to be kind, have one drink, and disappear. Nobody will even notice when I leave, you thought. Though, nothing seemed to be that level of straightforward around Sam.

You successfully kept yourself preoccupied, until you decided to work on your joint project. He’d written quite a bit since the last time you looked at the document. It was endearing, like you were getting a glimpse into a part of him very few people knew. His style was brutish, getting his point across in as few words as possible, with the most blunt language he could muster. It was cute, in a way.

Time seemed to speed up while you occupied yourself, and before you were anywhere near ready to do so, it was finally time to get yourself ready for the party. You did so in silence, working the party over in your mind. It wasn’t too late to cancel. But you couldn’t do that to him. You imagined how his face would fall when you would tell him you couldn’t go anymore, and it broke your heart a bit. You wouldn’t do that to him. Not after that dream you'd had.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, knocking you out of your thoughts. Sam’s name was on the screen.

leaving soon, you ready? he’d sent.

ready when you are

You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror, memories of your dream from the night before washing over you once again. Staring into your own eyes, you willed it away, pushing the memory down to the deepest recesses of your consciousness until it was lost with all the other thoughts that wandered around in there. You could not possibly face him with such a dream still knocking against the forefront of your mind.

When you finally met Sam on the first floor, you were a bit taken aback at just how…nice he looked. He was wearing the sweater he’d told you about, the patterns and colors complimenting his features perfectly. He had on a faded pair of jeans with a few square patches of fabric sewn into them – one with an elephant on it, another with a detailed drawing of a star. His hair was down, flawless and glossy as always. He gave you a toothy grin when he saw you, his eyes briefly running up and down the length of your body.

“You look nice,” he said, the words catching in his throat a bit.

“Same to you,” you replied, trying to keep a level head with his words repeating over and over in your mind.

“Thanks!” He looked down at himself. “I made these myself,” he motioned at the jeans. “Well, I didn't, like, make them, but I found these cool patches and put ‘em on.”

“You can sew?” You asked, a bit surprised.

“Of course I can. My mom taught me when I was a youngin.”

The thought of him sitting in his dorm, delicately sewing patches onto his jeans, was almost too much for you to bear. “Wanna get going?” The daylight had already long faded from the sky, the few stars obscured by a blanket of clouds.

“Absolutely, miss eclipse.”

“Don’t call me that, cornball.”

“Missus eclipse? Ma’am?” He cocked his head to the side.

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip against a smile. The things he said, coming from any other person, wouldn't even solicit a grin from you half the time. But something about him…you couldn’t help but laugh at every one of his jokes. “Let’s go already.”

The two of you made your way out of the hall and out into the night. There was a surprising number of people out tonight – though, that was only your perception. You didn’t leave the dorms much on Saturday nights if you could help it. Too much commotion, too many drunk men. Walking with Sam felt safe, though.

You made light small talk as you walked, discussing things like the coming winter, how you’d heard it was going to be a pretty bad one this year. You’d expected to feel more nervous at this point, but your body and mind both felt rather calm; as calm as they could be in Sam’s presence. There was something about him that radiated calm, like a lit fireplace or the smoke from incense. Walking with him, even in silence, felt right in a way you couldn't place. And between words, you imagined how it would feel to hold his hand as you walked.

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the-scandalorian · 1 year

Text

like a moth to the flame, part II

Pairing: monster!Din Djarin x female!reader Rating: E, 18+ Word Count: 7.9k Warnings: monster!Din, dark!Din, stalking, predatory/obsessive/possessive behavior, creepy shit, hunting and gore, blood, masturbation, size kink + references to reader being small but only relative to monster!Din who’s like 7ft tall and massive, smutty monsterfucking thoughts Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEKEND, MY BELOVED MONSTERFUCKERS! Thank you to @ezrasbirdie and @dincrypt for the help! xx

Part I | Masterlist

YOU

It’s one of those summer nights that feels like a sun-baked, scorching noon. The air is hot and heavy and completely still. Even lying in bed completely naked, blankets tossed off and scrunched up below your feet, you’re sweating. All the windows in your room are thrown wide, the drawn curtains unmoved by even a hint of a breeze, the crickets outside chirping rapid and relentless in the heat.

You’ve been tossing and turning for hours.

It doesn’t help that the Mandalorian’s smoke-dark growl of your name has been playing on repeat in your head. You’ve only heard the actual thing three times, but the sound—the tone, the inflection, the cadence—is seared there. And it plays.

Again and again.

It’s been happening a lot lately—forcing its way into your mind like a mantra, especially at night when you’re trying to sleep. Usually, making yourself come helps. But you’ve already done that tonight—while you unapologetically imagined those big gloved hands on your body. Sometimes distracting yourself in other ways tires you out, but you’re too restless to read, too overheated to want to get up and do anything else.

Plus, you’re too busy ruminating on the fact that tomorrow is Saturday yet again, and it will likely be as much of a disappointment as the last few.

Each week, you wait hopefully. You watch him enter the market street—even if you aren’t actively looking for him (which you always are), how could you not immediately notice his blinding glint in the morning sun?—and anticipation draws up tight in your stomach. You tell yourself that you’ll be ready this time. You’ll actually speak to him; you won’t just ogle the devastating spread of his shoulders or think about what he smells like. You won’t be distracted by the gentle but significant weight of his large hand on your cheek if he ever decides to touch you again. No, you’re determined to make a connection with him. He asked what you liked. He asked where you were going. You want to know what he likes, where he’s going.

Except…he hasn’t stopped at your kiosk again.

Instead, every week, you watch him effortlessly part the crowd, moving down the busy street with purpose. He turns his helmet to look at you as his long, decisive strides take him past. You meet his spotlight gaze, and you get a…perfunctory nod. But that’s it. He never stops, never comes near enough to even exchange a verbal greeting. The fact that you get a subtle jerk of his helmet while he never acknowledges anyone else doesn’t soothe the sting of his avoidance.

You want more than this.

And it’s driving you crazy.

A bead of sweat drips down your temple. You sit up in bed and decide you’ve had enough.

Fuck this.

The lake is so close, and the moon outside your window is paperwhite bright.

You climb out of bed to throw on a light dress and pull on your socks and boots, sliding your sheathed blade into the space between your ankle and the leather. The little fawn is tucked in a tight circle in her basket by the foot of your bed, fast asleep. You decide not to disturb her—you don’t want to have to worry about losing her in the dark or protecting her from hungry things if she follows you.

Keeping her wasn’t your initial intention, but she seems to have imprinted on you. You were hoping to help her heal and let her go, and instead you have a dappled nut-brown shadow. After only a few days, you knew that keeping her temporarily was never an option. She’s a baby—old enough to be weaned but young enough to still be unsteady on her skinny little legs—and she’d never have survived alone, even without the injury. So during the day, she trails behind you as you go about your work, sifting through the undergrowth to nibble at the softest shoots as you harvest or prune or fertilize or weed. And at night, she curls into that same tight circle, her dark nose tucked against the white bandage on her healing ankle. She’s sleeping soundly tonight, her tiny belly moving almost imperceptibly as she breathes slowly and deeply.

You decided to call her Luna because when she looks up at you with her big, bright eyes, you think the inky depths could contain a night sky of their own.

You toss a flashlight and a towel into a bag, sling it over your shoulder, and you’re out the door. Outside, the air is just as stifling and oppressive. Not a single leaf or blade of grass is stirring. You don’t really need the flashlight. The moon illuminates the landscape, and even if it didn’t, you know your gardens and orchards and the nearby forest by heart. Your feet follow a familiar path through your vegetable patch, down a row of cherry trees, and into the woods. After a few minutes of picking your way through the ferns, the trees open up onto the lake.

Moonlight paints the glassy surface in long, luxurious strokes of silver. The water looks black and deep, though you know it’s not. You skirt the edge until you reach the most inviting stretch of pebbled shoreline and slip out of your dress, shoving your things into a pile on a boulder. You step over the smooth rocks with bare feet, careful as they shift underfoot, until the water laps against your toes. You splash your way toward the deeper water, falling forward into its inviting embrace, reveling in the instant relief.

You swim laps in the moonlight until you’re satisfied to simply float. You let yourself drift and enjoy the cool.

You’re not thinking about the Mandalorian.

You’re not thinking about what it would be like to remove his armor, piece by piece, and coax him into the water with you.

Would he ever let you? Would he ever trust someone else with that power?

A branch snaps somewhere in the forest, the loud sound jolting you out of your reverie, and you right yourself immediately in the water, looking to the place where the sound came from.

You hold still and strain to hear anything else.

Something is definitely moving; a black shape shifts in the shadows between the trees for a moment then stops. You can’t make out any details, its silhouette obscured by the darkness, but you can tell it’s large. And all you can think about is how long it would take to swim to the shore and reach the boulder where you left your things. And your vibroblade.

Fear slips a new filter over your surroundings. The grasping dark around you is hungry now. You start to paddle your way to the shore as quietly as you can, your gaze still fixed on that spot in the trees.

Panic churns hot in your stomach when an even worse sound rends the silence. There’s a low, rumbling growl, an even louder snarl, and then what might be the scuffling of clawed feet on the forest floor—no, you’re sure of it.

You freeze for a second, treading water again, feeling intolerably vulnerable. There are two indiscernible shapes moving in the shadows now, the larger one approaching the smaller until they’re a few feet apart.

A standoff.

You're almost to the shore, and whatever is out there seems occupied for the time being, so you force yourself to swim the rest of the way toward the shallows as quickly and quietly as you can and hurry out of the water, painfully aware of your naked body. You snatch up your dress to pull it over you and grip your blade, shoving your feet back into your boots.

The whole time, you keep your eyes on the place amidst the dark trees where you witnessed what looked like the start of the skirmish.

It’s silent.

All is silent.

All is still.

Then, for a moment, a strange, dull glow emanates from amidst the trees…but when you blink, it’s gone. It’s over so fast that you’re not sure if you imagined the light and the familiar shine of silver that reflected it. But when you blink again, the shape is imprinted on your eyelids—you can see the negative space around that imposing silhouette.

It’s him. He’s here.

Like you conjured him straight out of your fantasy.

Some combination of confusion and excitement and apprehension whirls around in your stomach.

Why is he here?

What else is out there?

What if your eyes are playing tricks on you in the dark?

What if it isn’t him?

What if it is…and he isn’t as harmless as you want him to be?

It’s too much—too risky, too overwhelming. Your blade still clutched in your hand, you back up slowly, only turning when you reach the place you’d cut through the forest on the way to the lake.

Then, you turn and run.

***

The questions eat at you for the rest of the night. The sky outside your window lightens from midnight blue to cobalt until a smudge of rose gold breaks across the horizon. The rising sun brings a reluctant morning breeze.

Was it him?

You’ve decided one thing by the time you get up, dress, gather your things, and head into town for the Saturday market: enough is enough.

You’re tired of waiting for him, and you have to know.

Was it a crazy coincidence that you ended up in the same place at the same time?

Was he watching you?

Was he even there?

You’re determined to find out.

You decide to catch him on his way to the market. It means you have to stick a Be back in 10 minutes! sign on your stall in the middle of the first morning rush. But he always shows up around 10:30, half an hour after the market opens. So you help the first group of customers as quickly as you can—you have to hurry Terek, your regular who always lingers to remind you he could date anyone in town he wants but isn’t, through his usual string of slightly intrusive small talk—then slip away when there happens to be a few-second lull, setting out your sign and zipping off toward the entrance to town.

The Mandalorian shows up right on time, like clockwork. He’s coming through the stone archway that marks the entrance to town just as you’re coming down the side street that intersects the main one.

You fall into step beside him, lengthening your strides to keep up with his gait.

He doesn’t startle. He isn’t surprised. As far as you can tell, at least.

You realize that’s what you want from him—it’s the bare minimum of what you want from him. A break in his composure. You’re desperate to get something from him—a reaction he can’t hide behind his beskar. Something he can’t choke back.

You want to know him.

“Hi,” you offer, looking up at his helmet, which is still trained forward.

“Hello,” he says, inclining his head to nod in your direction without actually looking at you.

You walk in silence for a moment, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else. He doesn’t. He just continues stalking down the street, his gloved hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. His pace seems to flag just the tiniest bit, though—as if he’s noticed that it’s hard for you to keep up with him.

You want to ask him about last night, but just the thought makes you clam up. It would be a ridiculous accusation if he wasn’t there.

You decide to take a different tack.

“So you hated the peaches.”

He swings his helmet down to look at you, betraying a little surprise. “No?”

You smile up at him, pleased. “Well, you never came back, so I had to assume that meant you didn’t like them.”

“There are other places that sell produce,” he points out, his calm composure returned, visor pointed forward.

“Not ones that sell better fruit than I do.”

“Oh yeah?”

You can detect the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

He’s teasing you.

“Of course, I’m sure,” you say.

“How?”

You scoff and peer up at him again, and he’s looking down at you. “I mean, do you disagree?”

“No.”

“So you agree.”

He bows his head slightly. “I do.”

“Okay, so then why go somewhere else?”

“None of the other vendors harass me about the quality of their fruit.”

You crack a wide smile and look up at him. “You just made a joke.”

He hums in a noncommittal way.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s actually looking straight ahead, where his helmet is staunchly pointed, or if he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. Something tells you it’s the latter.

As soon as the market street comes into view, Mando stops in his tracks, turns toward you, and as if he just realized, asks: “Shouldn’t you be at your stand right now?”

“Of course,” you say, looking up at him with another bright smile, “that’s where we’re going right now.”

It feels so fucking good to have his full attention, even just for a moment, his body squarely facing yours, his black visor fixed on your face. It feels like stepping outside into the warm embrace of the spring sun after an especially cold winter, like you can finally thaw. You wonder how rare it is in a context other than a fight—how often he actually engages this directly with another person outside of violence.

He looks down at you, completely still but for the rhythmic expansion and contraction of his chest. What would it feel like to rest your head there? To feel the steady rise and fall of his beskar plate against your cheek? To be constantly reassured that there is a beating heart under all that metal? To know that it endures.

You stand there, drinking him in, and an uncomfortable truth unfurls in your mind: you hope he was at the lake for you. You hope he followed you there. You have to suppress a shiver when you think about him watching you from the trees. You hope he saw all of you.

It’s fucked but it’s true: what should scare you, what would scare you about anyone else, makes him all the more alluring.

“Come on,” you beckon, jerking your head toward your stand. “I have something for you.”

He cocks his head in question but turns to follow when you don’t explain.

DIN

He watches the hypnotizing sway of your hips as you head up the market street, staying close in your wake. His presence parts the crowd, and he likes keeping everyone at a safe distance. He likes the illusion of having you to himself. Watching and protecting you without anyone else knowing is one thing—having you know, having others know is something else all together. It feels good. Too good.

Like a claim and a warning.

Din shoves the thought away.

He watches you and wonders if you know. If you saw him at the lake.

You’d say something if you did? Right?

When he wandered his way to your house last night, you weren’t there. The windows were all open, the sheer curtains drawn, but the only detectable heat signature was the tiny snug fawn sleeping at the end of your bed.

You were always there at night.

You had been there every single time he’d shown up.

Until last night.

Panic had slid into his stomach like molten metal as he’d gotten closer to your house than he ever had before—close enough to stand by your open bedroom window and look down at your empty bed through a gap in the curtains. If he’d reached out, he could have touched your rumpled sheets. He thought about slipping his glove off to see if they were warm, if you were there recently. He didn’t.

He didn’t know why that felt too invasive after all the shit he’d already done, but he honored the arbitrary boundary.

All he knew was that it was midnight, and you were gone. There was no sign of a struggle. Your front door looked secure. And you wouldn’t leave permanently with the fawn still inside. The fact that you did plan to leave for good rankles at the back of his mind all the time these days, but it couldn’t be that. Not yet.

Maybe you were with someone.

A growl rumbled through his chest. He didn’t like that idea one bit.

Throwing caution to the wind, he had eased his helmet up and off his head and taken in a lungful of balmy air. He could smell you. It confirmed his suspicion that you weren’t home but told him that you had been recently…and you’d left.

He followed the delicate, lingering traces of you, retreading your path across your vegetable patch, down one of the lines of the cherry orchard, and into the forest. He followed the hints of you that clung to the curving ferns and low-hanging tree branches, the ones that had skimmed your legs as you’d walked, until he found you at the lake.

Alone and vulnerable.

Din watched from the cover of the trees as you made quiet ripples on the surface of the dark water, your bare shoulders just visible enough to tell him you weren’t wearing anything at all. That knowledge made his armor feel heavy. Tight and suffocating. You shouldn’t have been out there—alone and far away from him—like that.

He watched you swim, free and happy, and he wanted to strip off his beskar and join you, to splash into that black water and capture you, hold you against his chest and kiss your cold-water lips breathless. He wanted to scoop you up and carry you out of there.

He thought about warming you up, about laying you out on the moss-covered edge of the forest under that perfect spilt-silver moonlight and licking the beads of water from your skin until your shivering ceased and he could feel—and taste—the heat of your blood pumping through your veins.

He’d slide his tongue over the dips and rises of your body until you begged and whined, your grasping fingers tangled in his wet hair, your back arching, and he’d growled: What is it, sweet thing? Tell me what you need. And he’d wait until you were so desperate that you said it aloud, spelled your need out in words for him and told him to drag his mouth down—

Din’s spine had stiffened then, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention as he realized yes, you were vulnerable, but no, you were not alone out there. He had picked up the scent of something else—something close, prowling the forest edge on the opposite side of the small lake.

This one wasn’t a fawn. He could tell right away.

It smelled territorial and hungry—warm-blooded and predatory. A hunter. And it was stalking you, pacing back and forth as it waited for you to emerge from the water, circling the end of the lake where you’d stowed your belongings on a rock. Din didn’t have to wait long for the creature to notice him. A breeze stirred lazily through the trees, and the distant orange shape stopped its patrol to stare in his direction. When Din flipped off the thermal readout on his helmet, he could just barely make out the two yellow pinprick eyes gleaming through the black curtain of night.

And when he lifted his helmet just a little and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the night air again, he could detect others not far off. The pack, ready to come when called.

He didn’t give the thing the chance to come to him or to call for reinforcements. He wouldn’t risk wasting any time when it was closer to you than he was, when he wasn’t sure when you’d decide it was time to go home and walk right into its trap. Din made his way quickly and silently through the forest, the dark saber in hand, a brutal satisfaction roiling in his chest. The idea of killing this thing for you was pleasing to him. For once, the hilt in his grip didn’t feel unnaturally heavy. It felt right—balanced and poised for action. It wanted blood.

The creature met him halfway, waiting for him between two wide tree trunks.

They assessed each other for a moment.

It stood on four legs, with thick, dark fur, hackles raised in warning and pointed ears pinned back. It was tall, looming over the undergrowth, its head almost as high as Din’s chest. Definitely an apex predator, the top of whatever food chain existed on this planet. Its viciously clawed feet looked the perfect size and shape to make the gouges he’d seen in the ground and the tree trunks.

The beast growled, its snarling lip revealing a jagged set of white fangs, and without intending to, completely on instinct, Din answered. The sound tore out of his chest like thunder, as he automatically fell into his defensive stance, feet spread wide and muscles tensed for a fight.

Right away, he knew you’d heard it.

It was loud. The sound had carried.

He wanted to look at you, to assess your reaction, but he kept his gaze trained on the creature before him. He knew you were in the middle of the lake. He had time before you could get close enough to see either of them.

But..if he slaughtered this thing like he wanted to—like his salivating mouth was begging him to do—he would risk drawing your attention even more than he already had, would risk completely exposing himself. He needed to take care of this quickly and quietly. So he gritted his teeth and forced himself to silently scare it away instead, flicking the activation on the hilt of the saber. It hummed to life, and Din dragged it back and forth in a quick motion, slashing the dark air with the lightning-struck blade. The beast hesitated immediately, the beam of light reflected in its blown pupils as it fell backward a few steps.

Din pushed his advantage, surging forward and letting out another growl—this one much lower. A subtle, seething warning.

It was enough.

As soon as the creature turned-tail and raced away from him, Din retracted the blade and turned back to the lake.

And there you were.

You were standing at the edge of the lapping water, wearing a white dress that clung to your wet skin, staring at the place illuminated mere seconds ago by the saber. Staring at him. There was no way you could make him out from that far away though, not when he was under the dense cover of trees.

Right?

If he could see every tiny detail of your body limned in moonlight—down to the pert attention of your nipples through the damp fabric—then he had to admit that you might have been able to make out the general shape of him in the dull glow of the saber. But he couldn’t be sure. His eyesight was excellent, better than the average human now.

He waited, remaining completely still, and watched as you backed your way toward the forest, turned, and broke into a run. Din let out the breath he was holding. After a moment, he followed, lagging behind to ensure you made it home safely. He didn’t leave until he heard the click of your front door lock.

Now, he watches you walk down the market street in front of him, and he wants to ask.

And he can’t, of course. He won’t.

But he wants to.

You slip around the back of your kiosk and smile brightly up at him when he settles his gloved hands on the counter in front of you.

“What can I get for you?”

“You said you have something for me.”

You smile again and drop a pint of shiny red cherries in front of him.

Of course.

Sweet and ripe and perfect.

“Thank you.”

“Need anything else?” you ask.

He nods and looks around, starting to gather his weekly staples. You watch him as he does; he can feel your gaze fixed on his helmet. He works quickly; he needs to get out of here, needs to put more distance between your body and his, more than just this wooden countertop—one that would splinter so easily if he put any weight on it. He looks down at the pile of produce he’s gathered, reaches into his belt for credits, and holds them out to you, hurrying the transaction along.

You ignore the proffered credits and reach for the pint.

You select a perfect polished-garnet cherry from the top of his box and bring it up to your mouth, the thin stem caught between your fingertips when you pop it between your lips. Din’s helmet follows, like the cherry itself is a magnet for beskar. You know you have him—Din can tell you know—so you make a show of trapping it between the white lines of your teeth and biting it slowly, piercing the flesh until berry-red juice bleeds freely, staining your teeth and seeping onto your lower lip.

Din is standing, outstretched hand frozen in midair, transfixed. The air is thick with what neither of you will say but both of you know.

This is spiraling.

You watch his visor, eyes dark, as you dip your fingers into your mouth to pucker your lips and suck the fruit away from the pit, making a soft, borderline obscene sound that he feels in his cock.

You’re doing this on purpose. You know. You know you’ve trapped him.

Does this mean you know he’s been following you? That he wants you?

How much do you know?

You make it all even worse when you swipe up the lingering drop of juice from your bottom lip with your thumb and flick your pink tongue out to lap it up. Slowly.

The glint in your eye and quirk of your lips when you swallow tells him you absolutely know what you’re doing to him. You’re teasing him. Testing him. Torturing him. And having fun while doing it.

He likes it just as much as he hates it—likes that you’re doing it for him, hates that he can’t do anything about it.

Most of all, he’s mad at himself. You feel like you’ve figured him out—because you have figured him out—and you’re comfortable enough to push him. He should have been more careful, less friendly. He shouldn’t have let this get so far out of his hands.

The fire of this burgeoning obsession is just a fraction of what it could become if you know how to stoke it. It will devour you both if he doesn’t snuff it out now. What started as a spark will rage and burn if he lets it—if you learn to feed it so generously.

Din slaps his credits on the counter and shoves his purchases into the bag slung over his shoulder, pointedly looking anywhere but your face.

You shouldn’t feel safe enough to tease him.

You have no idea what he’s capable of.

So he swallows back his thanks and leaves without a word. He doesn’t turn around as he stalks away, even though he’s desperate to see the look on your face—to rush back and soothe you if you seem hurt, to be furious and bitterly satisfied if you don’t.

Instead, he angles his helmet toward the ground and lets his feet follow the familiar path to his house, to the dead part of the forest where he can be alone.

***

Din grits his teeth and steps through the drill again, his muscles straining against the reluctance of the blade in his grip.

The quiet of this place was supposed to help him clear his mind, to settle his thoughts, to allow him to make a plan. Instead, it’s starting to sit heavy on his shoulders and ring in his ears. Oppressive and ever-present and irritating. The perfect silence of the forest isn’t peaceful when he can’t focus.

And it seems like he can never focus these days.

There’s always something vying for his attention: Grogu, his covert, his constant hunger…you.

Right now, thoughts of Grogu are winning.

Is he happy? Is he safe? Are they feeding him enough?

Din knows he won’t get the answers to those questions for a long time. He is unwilling to let himself visit the kid—no matter how much he wants to—until he feels like he has a handle on whatever is scratching so incessantly at the inside of his skull. Until he knows for sure he isn’t dangerous.

So he tries not to dwell on the kid, which means his thoughts wander to other things.

…to you.

A droplet of wine-dark nectar on the perfect bow of your lips.

A white dress, almost translucent with moisture, clinging to the secret curves and planes of your wet body.

All of you, your familiar silhouette, edged in the soft halo of moonlight.

Din finds himself taking breaks from his drills to roam for miles, thinking and seeking…something. Anything but the burden of silence. He walks until he can hear life. The titter of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

And when he can stand it, he picks up the dark saber again, and forces his way through the drill.

Ehn.

Solus.

T’ad.

The blade is still fighting him. Or he’s fighting it?

He can still hear the crackle and drag of the saber against the metal grating of that catwalk. He can still hear her words.

You are too weak to fight the dark saber. It will win if you fight against it. You cannot control it with your strength.

What the Armorer had tried to explain to him then has not become any clearer in the months since. He thought something had clicked into place the other night—hoped that meant he was making progress—but all he knows now is since that shining moment of its cooperation by the lake, the saber has been just as heavy and unyielding as ever. He thinks back to the Armorer’s exact words, trying to parse them for the thousandth time.

Your body is strong.

But your mind is distracted.

She wasn’t wrong about that. And that’s still true now. The part that doesn’t make sense to him is why that matters. Why is an inanimate object dissatisfied with his concentration?

Why does his state of mind have any bearing on the behavior of a stupid fucking laser sword?

Din does sense some fuzzy, amorphous presence on the edges of his mind when the dark saber is humming in his hand, though. It’s the blade itself, he thinks. It brushes against his consciousness faintly, like a spiderweb he can’t see in the dark. But when he flips the proverbial lights on and tries to grasp it in his hands, there’s nothing there. Even the spider herself has skittered beyond the ring of gold.

I am focused, he had insisted. He had lied.

The blade says otherwise. The Armorer had seen right through him.

It doesn’t make sense.

None of it makes sense.

Din had been so tempted to ask the Armorer more about the saber, as they ran through those impossible drills, to ask if she had any real idea what was happening to him. To ask if the dreams and the pain were normal.

He might have. If they were truly alone.

But Paz was there. Watching, listening, waiting in the wings.

Paz had waited until he’d witnessed Din struggle with the blade. He’d waited until he’d felt confident enough to stroll in and challenge him. Classic Paz—only willing to bluster and provoke when his victory was all but assured. It had made Din’s entire body sing with defiance. In that moment, he’d have done anything to keep the saber from Paz’s hands.

He did.

Din shakes his head, letting the saber zip closed. He can’t relive the rest of that right now.

After an hour of continuous drilling, his head is pounding, and his body is sore. The trees ringed around him are scored by deep lacerations, some of which are still flickering orange and red as they smolder. The ground, too, is torn up from the places the blade dragged against the hard-packed dirt. The air smells like wildfire.

He makes the long, slow walk back home. He limps inside and rips off his armor and his clothes, letting it all fall into a heap, before stepping into a scalding shower. The hot spray feels soothing on his tight, overworked muscles, so he stands under it until it starts to run cold.

When he emerges, toweling himself dry, he can’t bring himself to put his armor back on right away—even his soft underlay or his flight suit. He looks at the pile, knowing he needs to put it all on anyway, and he balks. It’s so rare that he spends any time without it anymore. It’s not safe without it. He’s not safe without it.

Being trapped in a beskar prison when his body is aching to change is more painful than anything he’s ever felt before—but it works.

But, right now, his sore body and pounding head are screaming for reprieve, so he pulls on some loose sleep pants and sits on his bed, back straight against the headboard and lets himself be unweighted.

He’ll relax for a little while, just a few minutes, and then he’ll put everything back on.

It’s a mistake.

***

Din wakes up, completely splayed out on his bed, lying face-down.

Before he even opens his eyes, he knows two things:

One, he’s changed.

He can tell by how heavily he’s sinking into the give of his feather mattress, by the fact that he’s too long for his bed, his feet hanging off the end. His once-loose pants are tight across his hips, stretched taut over his quads. Each inhale through his nose brings with it a bevy of nuanced information: a hundred different scents of the house and the forest outside, each of which he can untangle and identify. Copper pipes. Old, dry cedar wood. Moths. The apple on his kitchen counter. Pine needles. Dusk.

The twin spots on his head, just behind his temples, are throbbing. He flexes his clawed hands, and his sharp, half-moon nails catch on the fabric of his blanket. He stretches out his wings, extending them until he can sense complete darkness close over him, even through his closed eyelids.

And the second thing he knows? He’s ravenous.

He’s vibrating with hunger—the type of need that won’t be ignored is singing through him, making his jaw ache and his palms itch. He doesn’t even entertain the idea of changing back before he finds something to eat. He’s in the perfect form to hunt like this. Why deny it?

He’s not sure he could change back if he tried, but he doesn’t want to think too hard about that. He doesn’t think too hard about anything aside from his base instincts—food, water, sex, sleep—when he’s like this. It’s like his rational mind is muffled, buried too deep to hear, and his hindbrain is brought fully online. The animal in him is awake. And in charge.

Din hauls himself out of bed and pushes his way out of the creaky front door. He doesn’t even need his helmet or its night-vision setting. It doesn’t fit when he’s like this anyways. And he’s so sure that no one could ever catch him off guard like this, sneak up on him and see his face, that there is no risk whatsoever to his Creed.

The forest outside smells like possibility. Like snuffling midnight scavengers and rich, damp soil, and searching vines. It smells like life.

They’re not close—all the things that make his mouth water—but his sense of smell is so acute when he’s like this. He can pick up the faintest whiff of a beating heart within a several mile radius. Hot blood calls to him, drawing him in like gravity.

He stalks through the tall trees, silent as he moves through the shadows, and something else—something aside from the base allure of a pulse—beckons him. His clawed feet are ignoring the siren call of a sure kill in favor of a familiar path, one he’s tread almost every night. The monster inside him isn’t bothered by this, though. In fact, that growling, snarling beast in his chest seems to be sated just by the fact that he’s moving closer to you. It doesn’t make sense.

Maybe this hunger he’s feeling isn’t all physical.

The forest lightens around him slowly. Distant stars blink in the coal-black sky visible through the ever-thinning canopy above him.

He passes a myriad of small game, things too insignificant to warrant his attention. A rabbit isn’t worth his time. He needs to sink his fangs into something substantial tonight, something that will twitch and struggle bodily when he severs its carotid artery with his canines. Something he has to hold down with his own weight while it thrashes.

Not yet, though.

First, he needs to see you. He needs to be sure you’re okay.

It’s become almost too easy to watch you when he’s himself—and when he’s like this? It’s laughably easy. There are no barriers for him—nothing he can’t sense, no creature he can’t kill.

Stalking has been his job for decades. He perfected the art of hunting when he was chasing bounties. He’s always been a hunter by profession, and now he is one for pleasure. And by physical design.

He hovers on the edge of the trees, lurking in the dark safety of the shadows, when your cottage comes into view. It looks so tiny tonight, like something from a fairytale, nestled in a little hollow amidst the encroaching forest and orchards and gardens, like it could be swallowed by green in the blink of an eye. Your bedroom window is half open, and no lights are on anywhere in your house. It’s hours before dawn.

He takes a deep inhale, filling his lungs, and amidst the tangle of scents he can pick out several distinct things: you, which is a scent he has yet to name, something like rain and lavender and sunshine; the warmth of the fawn and some other little things that scurry in the night; and of course, all the richness of the orchards. Fruits and flowers, pollen and honey, vegetables and wriggling worms.

The moon is shrouded by thick clouds tonight, so Din lets himself get a little closer to your house than he usually would. He steps through your yard and hugs the gnarled oak that stands sentinel outside your window.

Your curtains are not completely drawn. He can see you through the small gap, fast asleep in your bed, the tiny fawn curled up in the crook of your bent knees. That makes him smile. You look serene and comfortable. Safe.

A warm contentment settles in his chest. Despite his ever-present physical hunger, he almost feels sated. Standing here, watching you, he feels still.

He wants to stay.

But, eventually, he forces himself to pull away and do a perfunctory circuit of your property, his usual perimeter check. All clear.

Satisfied, he finally moves toward something that will slake the gnawing hunger in his gut. The farther he gets from you, the more acute the feeling becomes.

He stalks through the woods with purpose. He doesn’t just know what he wants; he knows which he wants. He wants the thing he didn’t get to kill that night by the lake.

He wants the one that wanted you.

It’s easy enough to find the pack, to follow their pungent scent all the way to the place where the flat ground of the forest buckles and rises into rolling hills. They’re grouped loosely around the mouth of a wide cave, asleep. Even in the dark, he identifies the one he wants right away—it’s the biggest of the group, its fur the color of pitch, swallowing the wan light of the moon. Din is too hungry to enjoy the long, satisfying fight that would inevitably involve all these creatures if he woke even a single one. He’d get the bloody brawl he truly wants—he’d get that brutal satisfaction that comes with barely walking away with his life—but he’s waited too long.

Plus, he can’t eat all of them at once. It’s smarter to pace himself.

So he moves through the group silently and snaps his target’s neck before it even detects his presence. He’s gone, the limp body of his still-warm kill slung over his shoulder, before the rest of them even wake. He listens to their far-off mournful howls as he makes his way back home, content in the knowledge that there is one less thing in the night that poses a threat to your safety.

He’s already looking forward to picking the rest of the pack off one by one, slowly, until they’re gone. He’ll savor each one. For as long as he can, for as long as you’re here, he’ll clean out the forest of anything that could hurt you.

Another idea occurs to him halfway home, and he changes course one last time, heading back to you. Some innate part of him knows what to do. He sets down his kill and walks the wide perimeter of your property one more time. He slashes his blood-wet claws across random tree trunks, carving through the rough bark almost as easily as the dark saber would. He rustles through the underbrush, ensuring his natural musk will cling to the leaves.

A warning. A claim.

He doesn’t know how he knows it will work, but he does.

He marks his territory in blood, and then he shoulders the carcass again, turning for home.

***

None of the beast remains by the time Din gets home. He has left a scattered trail of shredded hide and cracked bones and ribboned viscera in his wake—a path no creature would want to follow—and eaten the rest. His hands and forearms and face are sticky and tight with drying blood, his claws encrusted with it.

He closes his front door behind him, and the old house shakes with the impact. He doesn’t have control of his strength like this; it seems like he’s always misjudging it and leaving things broken.

Right now, he doesn’t care.

He strips off his pants and pushes his way into his bathroom, into the shower, turning it up to a scalding heat. Now that his hunger is sated, he can only think of one thing again.

You.

Din’s resolve is paper thin, his self control a single fraying thread, when he’s like this. He doesn’t even bother working up a sense of guilt when he steps into the shower and wraps his hand around himself.

He has to keep his wings folded tightly against his back to fit in the small tiled alcove. His head looms higher than the shower head, so he bows slightly to feel the hot spray on the crown of his head. He lets it rush through his tousled hair and run down his forehead, his brow, his cheeks and jaw.

The water picks up traces of the tacky blood drying on his face and races faint red lines down his throat and chest. Steam fills the confined space, and Din closes his eyes, bracing one hand against the slippery wall in front of him, as his other works himself with a tight stroke.

He thinks about how you looked tonight, safe in your bedroom, your features soft and sweet in sleep.

For a thing so much smaller than he is, you spread out in your bed a surprising amount, your limbs splayed and relaxed, fingers tangled in rumbled sheets. He thinks about what it would be like to gather you up, to feel you stir molasses-slow from sleep, and wrap himself around you, to pull you on top of him and hold your weight on his chest, your thighs bracketing his hips.

He can hear the drowsy, contented noises you’d make as you roused to find him under you, the gentle smile that would pull on your lips as your eyes fluttered open, the way your hands would start to wander his shoulders, his arms, his chest—the pass of your fingertips leisurely, then exploratory, then greedy.

He thinks about how easy it would be to wrap an arm around your waist and flip you both, to hold himself over you, ducking his head to graze his teeth over your fluttering pulse. He’d be able to taste the iron tang of your blood, even through the thin layer of your skin, if he slipped his long tongue out to tease you. He thinks about how you’d look trapped under his huge body. How you’re his perfect opposite—soft and good and sweet—and that’s everything he wants.

You’re not just sweet, though, and he likes that. He thinks about that knowing look you gave him at the market, a challenge in your darkened eyes, framed by fanned lashes. You’d wear that same expression if he let himself want what he wants, if he let you see how mad you drive him.

You’d be thrilled to watch him unravel over you. He can picture so perfectly how you’d smile up at his black eyes in invitation. In encouragement. Your small hand would slip down to stroke his throbbing erection, where it rested heavy against your inner thigh.

Din tightens his grip and moves his hand faster. His cock is slick with water and diluted blood running in rivulets down his forearms.

He’s bigger like this. Bigger everywhere. He thinks about how small your hands would look wrapped around him, how easy it would be to slip two of his fingertips under the edge of your panties and snag his claws in the threads of the thin fabric, tearing them away from your body. He’d brush the torn scrap out of the way and retract his claws to slip just the pad of one finger into the slit of your sex, rubbing gently against your clit.

How long would it take for him to work you open, he wonders, petting and licking and biting and coaxing, until you were dripping and ready to take him? He wonders if you actually could.

If you’d want to.

He imagines what your lips would look like forming the words, “Please, fuck me.”

The water running down the drain is still a pale, bloody pink when Din comes over his own clenched fist in a series of hot pulses. He growls his way through it, his abdominal muscles tensing and hips stuttering forward, jaw clenched and lip pulled up in a low snarl. The hand he’s leaning on contracts reflexively in pleasure, and he cuts a series of short, deep scratches in the white tiled wall, silver claws gouging easily into stone.

Din leaves himself four lines of evidence, stark proof of his own lack of self control, something for him to stare at tomorrow when the painful clarity of reality returns to him.

#dark!din #monster!din #tw monsterfucking #like a moth to the flame

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