Hey! I'm Not Sure If You're Still Accepting These, If Not It's Totally Cool But You're Writing Is Amazing

How about “I am not letting you walk out this house” “don’t cry sweetheart” and a “you’re safe with me/us okay?” With the yandere fruity four x angelface 😳🙏 I absolutely adore your writing btw 💘

ty!!!! 🥺🥺

ellie's sentence starter prompts

xxxix - "Don't cry, sweetheart."

xlv - "I am not letting you walk out this house!"

xlvii - "You're safe with me, okay?"

You know by the footsteps that it's Steve running after you, hurrying down the stairs of his house to catch up with you at the door. And while you're sure the others will be close behind as soon as they wake up, you keep tightening the laces of your sneakers regardless and haul yourself up off the bench in the foyer. If you don't leave now, you know you never will--and yet, the second you grab the front door's handle to turn it, a hand comes down hard on it right by your head before you can even open it. Steve's slid so fast down the hall he's almost crushed you against it, and thankfully not, because he's so big you probably would've busted a rib--he's just so strong when he's uncontrolled.

"I am not letting you walk out this house," He breathes, panting from the sprint, and brings his hand down just to turn you around by your shoulder and push you back against the door. It lays heavy in the middle of your chest, keeping you pinned where he wants you to be, while the other raises and settles on the other side of your head so he can lean in close. His brown eyes are stormy, hair wild and unkempt from sleep, and Steve is quite clearly more upset than he usually ever allows himself to seem. Above your head, you hear the pattering of more feet.

"You'll die if I don't. You'll all die." You want to keep the tears back, to be strong for him, but it's not working at all. It's even harder when you hear the voices upstairs and the steps coming closer. "The dreams keep coming. Something bad is happening to me, Steve, I...I don't want it to spill over. I don't want to hurt you."

He shakes his head, hair flicking out in every direction. "You're not gonna hurt us."

"I might not have a choice," Your words choke out, each one feeling like it might strangle you as you try in vain to swallow that growing lump in your throat. You're only aware of the tears spilling down your cheeks when Steve catches one, focused less on keeping you from stepping outside and more on thumbing those dreaded things off your face, and he's about to whisper something when a collective smattering of thudding noises breaks your attention away and turns both your heads towards the staircase, where Robin swings around the banister and stops when she sees both of you.

"Baby," She breathes, eyes wide and clear for you, and doesn't even have to make Steve step back because he does it on his own--he moves enough for her to rush past him and grab you, pulling you off the door and into a big, tight squeeze of a hug. As much as you wish it would last forever, she moves off you with haste, and clasps her hands against your cheeks to cup them with a shakiness to her breath. "Don't cry, sweetheart. We're here."

"We" is right. Nancy is only a few steps on the staircase behind, and Eddie close on her heels, the two of them equally as mussed from sleep but just as bright-eyed and focused as the other two. They hurry down the last step and crowd around Robin on either side, looking over her shoulders with outstretched hands to touch your arms, your hair, to assess you like they were worried you'd be hurt in the measly few minutes you've spent out of their reach. A shared look between you and Steve when they question what's going on is all they need to understand, and Nancy looks to you with fear in her eyes that you expected--but it's not from the place you thought it might be.

"You had another nightmare, didn't you? Worse than last time?" You nod, and though it's the truth, it drives a stake into your heart to see hers breaking in her eyes, because she worries more than most about your health and hates to see that familiar sadness etched into your features. Eddie looks over at her, at you, at Steve in that silence in between, and only he seems to break the tension that threatens to spill more tears from your eyes. He drops to his knees, and grabs you by the ankle for you to brace yourself against both Robin and Steve.

"You don't need these, then." He's so quick to unlace your sneakers it's almost uncanny, fingers working feverishly to undo what you had done in a hurry and hold your heel quite tenderly in one hand to slip off your shoe with the other. "Cause you're not going off on your own."

Once he's got both of them off, he makes a point of tossing them all the way into the living room just off to your right, your sneakers tumbling to a stop with one in the middle of the carpet and one rolling underneath the coffee table. You can just feel Steve holding his tongue, but some things are more important than his parent's carpet getting a little dirty.

"You're safe with us, okay? You'll always be safe with us." It feels like only then can you take a deep breath, you can dry the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, and allow yourself to collapse into a hug and a kiss on your temple. While you're certain all four of them would love to go right back to bed, none of them do--they usher you into the kitchen and light some candles to keep it dim, Nancy and Eddie find some milk and a pot to mix a batch of hot chocolate, Robin gets some paper and pencils, and Steve sits right by your side as he coaxes you into drawing out what you saw in your dream. Words aren't enough, and they're too painful for what you saw, but the four of them are so patient. None of them utter a word when you get focused, and when you need a break they take turns soothing you and taking you to the couch for a cuddle or putting on a song to calm you down. Whatever it is, they're there. And they prove to you that they were right--you are safe with them, no matter what haunts you in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind.

nsfw content MDNI (repost)

To be completely honest, anon if I had a dick, I would buy one, it just looks like it'd be fun to fuck- 💀

Both boys have a similar reaction to you giving them the toy. "Yo-Y-You want me to what?!?" and blushing all the way to their ears lol

But moving on to the video part~

Mammon

Mammon is sitting on the couch in his room, pants around his ankles 'n legs spread he got the toy in one hand and is setting a little bottle of lube back down on the table, just next to where his phone is propped up recording.

He looks at the camera and frowns a bit, "Ya see the shit ya got me doin' for ya? Should'a just went to yer room." He pouts one hand rubbing lube up and down his cock.

He looks at the toy in his and finally moves to slide it over his cock~ his movements are slow, but even from the video you can tell he’s holding back.

He want to put on a show 'n make you feel jealous of this stupid toy you're making him use!!! A few low moans 'n grunts make it past his lips and he starts moving the toy a little bit faster, "Wish ya were here! Nothing better, than the real thing, 'n I miss ya so much." It doesn't matter if he saw you 15 minutes ago he already misses you! "Damnit, all w-worked up g-gonna- fuck~" Mammon ends up cutting himself off ‘n cumming faster than he wanted to, he had planed on making a longer video, edging himself a bit more, but all the thoughts of you~ ('n. the fact he was jerking off before he started recording ) didn't help. Just under the video is a text 'When yer done watchin' this head to my room!'

Levi

The video is shaky, it's an above view of his cock already inside the toy, and you can hear Levi's soft panting, almost whine like moans right away "S-sorry, needed y-you, s-so-hahh~ so-fuck- so b-bad I almost forgot to record……."

Unlike Mammon, Levi isn't putting on a show, he's chasing his high~! All he did was think of the way your hand brushed his thigh in class, and he was hard. He wanted a quick way to get off!

He was about to just jerk off when his eyes fell on the toy and he remembered you made him promise to send you a video.......

"R-really wish you were here~! This stupid toy isn't enough!"

His whines are getting louder and his moans are in a higher pitch, his hand starts jerking the toy faster, and finally he cums with a cry of your name~

A text quickly follows the video 'Next time you have to help me out!! And you can't say no!!!”

Just a Little More

Stepbrother!Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Summary: Things get out of hand when your stepbrother asks to sleep in your room for the night.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: 18+ content, stepbrother au (tw stepcest), manipulation/dub-con elements (via eren, but don't worry reader is into it), unprotected sex, creampie, includes a very horny eren <3

Notes: Listen, I know this may not be everybody's cup of tea but let me tell you......I am a whore for this man.... that is all, thank u - Enjoy ♡

You don’t know how you ended up here– With Eren rutting his cock against your clothed heat and both of your hushed moans filling the rather small bedroom. What had started out as Eren simply asking to stay in your room for the night–noting something along the lines of ‘not being able to sleep’–had now led to this very predicament you two found yourself in– with Eren on top of you and your bed quietly creaking against the wood floors.

It felt wrong to have your stepbrother on top of you like this. But god, it also felt good. It almost felt too good. And after all, it's not like you two were actually related. His dad had married your mom only a couple of years ago and you were both now in college, so… a part of you didn’t feel too bad about what was happening. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself as your mind conjured up every possible excuse as to why having him on top of you like this wasn’t such a horrible thing. But if you were being completely honest with yourself… you knew this was wrong. You knew it–deep down–that it was wrong to feel the head of his cock push against the thin, damp cotton of your underwear and you knew that it was wrong for your body to shudder at the immense pleasure that it brought you.

~

His clothes were long gone; thrown on the floor after several minutes of dry humping and a small nod from you, signaling to him that yes, he could use your clothed cunt to get himself off. But you, on the other hand, had insisted on leaving your underwear on– It was at least some sort of protection, some sort of barrier that prevented this situation from getting even worse and making it all too real.

But it was real. You could feel just how real it was as his hips frantically moved; his cock desperately rubbing up against the growing wet spot on your underwear.

“What if I just–” he breathes deeply, “What if I just stick the head in?” He urges, caging you with his arms on either side of your head.

“I–” you huff a little, feeling his cock rut against your clit. As badly as you wanted him, as badly as you needed to feel him deep inside of you, you knew it was wrong. “We- We shouldn’t,” you choke out, a little breathless as you feel the weight of his hard length rest along your barely-clothed entrance.

“You really want me to cum like this?” he says, almost stunned. “I thought you cared about me,” he softly chuckles, giving a small boyish grin as though you were punishing him.

“I– I just don’t think we should… right?” you glance up–with nervous desire in your eyes–into the dark emerald ones peering down at you.

That was all he needed to hear from you– That slight hesitation. He knows how badly you want to give in to him. He knows how desperate you are to feel him inside of you. And after all… wouldn’t he be a bad stepbrother to not give you exactly what you want? Before you know it, your underwear is suddenly being tugged down your legs and strewn across the room. You gasp, feeling the cold air rush against your now exposed cunt; the arousal gathered between your folds no longer being hidden away behind your underwear, causing a gentle shiver to run through your body.

“There’s a lot we shouldn’t be doing, you know,” his voice lowers in its tone, his green eyes–full of desire and lust–gaze at you almost as though they’re hiding something. He watches how your lips part in a quiet moan as he rubs his cock against your bare cunt, feeling you coat his tip as small lewd noises fill the air.

He bites his bottom lip–feeling the overwhelming need to bite onto something, anything–as he gently guides the head of his cock through your silken, dripping folds. Sliding easily–almost too easily– between them as he realizes with one little mischievous push, he’d be seated comfortably inside your warm, plush walls… Just one little downward push and he’d have no choice but to completely sheath himself inside of you; your tightness sucking him in, pulling his cock in and surrounding its length in your warm, compact walls. Just as he had always desired.

“What about just the tip, hm?” He questions eagerly. “That’s it, nothing more,” his thrusts become more languid now; slow, yet powerful as he drags his cock along your folds, pushing with the slightest force every time his head nears your entrance, only to then bring it back up to rub against your clit.

“Uh–” you part your lips in a small gasp, feeling his cock desperately trying to get inside of you with every long thrust of his. It was as though it had a mind of its own, seeking out your warmth and needing to be surrounded in it. “O-okay, just the tip,” you agree to his almost too-enticing offer. Surely just the tip of his cock would be okay… It wasn’t as though he’d be fully inside of you. So, it was okay… right?

You feel the warm, flushed head of his cock prod at your glistening entrance, his head slowly easing its way into your tight walls as Eren closes his eyes in pleasure; his face relaxing as a quiet groan lazily falls from his lips.

“Fuck, you feel good,” his voice drawls as he feels you constrict around his sensitive tip. He pulls his hips back slightly, the head of his cock threatening to fall out with the slightest movement as he pushes back in with another groan. His hips slowly begin moving back and forth, relishing in the tight feeling of you sucking him in, only to then hold him tightly as he threatens to leave. The head of his cock aches from the little taste of pleasure he receives from you, his length twitching as though it were mindlessly begging for just a little more– After all, his tip has had the pleasure of being inside of your warm walls, he feels it's only right that his shaft gets to experience that same feeling, as well. He figures it’s only fair…

“Just a little more, okay?” His voice is laced with desperation as he pushes just a little deeper inside of you. You gasp at the feeling. You should be scolding him, telling him that that’s not what you two had agreed to. But that's not what you do at all. No, your hands instinctively fall to his lower back and help him to push in just a little more.

“Wait, no, no– We really shouldn’t,” you suddenly force the words out of your mouth, hating the way that they sound. Their inauthenticity somehow feels even more wrong than what you’re doing with Eren right now. It’s just the thing you should be saying at the moment; the thing you should want and the words you should be listening to as you feel his cock slide in just a bit more. And yet, you feel like a liar as you hear those words leave your lips. You don’t want him to stop, you don’t want that at all.

“I know, I know– but it just feels so good,” he groans, pulling his hips away from you only to sink halfway back in. “Feels good, right?” His eyes are still closed in pleasure as he asks the obvious question. After all, he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is, so there’s no need to ask such ridiculous questions.

“Y-yeah,” you agree, voice shaky with desire. “It shouldn’t though,” you utter.

“But it does,” his quiet groan echoes off of the wall as he suddenly pushes himself fully inside of you. “Fuck, sorry,” he apologizes, although he doesn’t stop his now frantic thrusts. “S-sorry, can’t help myself,” he stammers out, his apologies holding no meaning to them as he eagerly continues his movements.

Not that you exactly want him to stop– It feels too good. It feels too right having him inside of you like this, even though you know it’s wrong. His cock sits perfectly inside of your warm walls, pushing into you angelically and filling you with his thick length, only to then quickly pull away and do it all over again in short, rushed thrusts.

“O-okay, this is fine,” you rationalize, realizing how this night has progressed far past anything it should have, but not having the strength–or desire–to put an end to it. “This is f-fine, just don’t–god–don’t cum in me,” you warn halfheartedly in a hushed whisper, trying to keep your voice down so the others in the house don’t hear.

“Ah–fuck–okay,” he says, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He feels that he’s close, he feels that you’re close… he knows he should pull out. He knows he should. He knows he sh–

“Ahh,” he groans in your ear, his thrusts slowing as pearly white ropes of cum spurt from his tip, filling the inside of your silken walls. He doesn’t stop. No, he can’t stop. Your cunt wraps itself around his cock, pulling him in deeper, draining him of everything his body has to give you.

You gasp, feeling a new sensation inside of you and hearing a small squelching sound as Eren slowly moves his cock in and out of you. You know what he’s done. And you know how fucked you both are. But, you can’t help how much you love the feeling of his cum covering the base of his cock–slapping against you with each languid thrust–as he fucks his milky white essence in and out of you; feeling it begin to drip out of your entrance and onto the sheets below.

“Eren–” you say breathless.

“I know,” he confirms what you already knew. “Wasn’t… fast enough,” he gives one final thrust of his cock, seating himself perfectly inside of your slick walls as he lets out one last lengthy groan.

I know.

Eren came inside of you and only let you know after the matter, whispering those two little words in your ear… I know. But if Eren were being completely honest with himself, that wasn’t the only thing that he knew. For instance, he had known that from the moment he had stepped inside your room, that he was going to find out what pretty little underwear you were wearing. Just like he had also known that he was finally going to experience what you smelled like when you were aroused or what your body felt like underneath his; things he had only ever dreamt of before. But of all the things that he knew prior to laying down in your bed that night, he knew that the most important was that he would not be leaving your room without his cum inside of you.

He had known from the very beginning just exactly how this night would end. With his cum fucked so deep inside of you that there was nothing either of you could do about it. And yet, he feigns innocence as he stares down at you now. Claiming that he couldn’t control himself, that it was a mistake and that he didn’t mean to. That he never intended for tonight to happen the way it did. All lies he whispers as he tells you only what you want to hear. Stroking your cheek and telling you how he’ll make it all better. How nothing bad will come of your rushed affair. How… since his cum is already inside of you, there’s no point in stopping now.

And after all, he had so much more to give to you… It’d be a shame to let it all go to waste…

“You don’t need to worry about a thing,” he coos sweetly in your ear. “Just let your big brother take care of you.”

Tagging: @princess-jaeger @pocks-waifu

GNreader, humiliation, aphrodisiac;;

it's just a small blurb yet I can't stop thinking about jealous Barbatos who don't really like how much time you spend with his Master, so in one of your usual tea parties he put something interesting in your cup and then just keep standing near Diavolo's chair with the most calm and relaxed face, watching as after some time you start panting more and more, blush creeping to your cheeks slowly as it starts to be hard to focus your gaze on something.

Oh, of course, as a good servant he would immediately take your hand, supporting you and helping to get some fresh air. Or at least that's what be said to Lord, before leading you in his room.

..needless to say there wouldn't be any gentle foreplay or even possessive sex, as he sat on his bed and just enjoyed your sobs and whines, while you sat in front of him on the floor, begging to do something. Well, of course our generous Barbatos would lend a helping hand for you. Or should I say a helping leg?

It's so humiliating to hump his foot like that, yet you better experience some mockery from this cunning demon than trying to fight this unbearable heat between your thighs. Your whole body leaning to his leg, as you almost press your whole weight to it, bouncing and gyrating your hips for more friction. But for Barbatos it's the most beautiful view to see, as he absolutely adores your red from shame face, and the way you grasp on his knee so desperately…

Fine, he will help you relieve this aching arouse, but only with the tip of his shoes.. And only after you promise to never get too close to the young Master again. There's much more interesting things in this castle to explore besides his stupid little talks, you know? Barbatos is sure you will find some quality time all alone with him much more …pleasurable.

love's no problem in my hands

includes: barbatos x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.5k | rated g | m.list | cross-posted on ao3

a/n: just had to get this out quick i swear im on hiatus lololol. for @messysketchyobeyme as part of the @omsecretsanta2022 event. i hope you enjoy!!

please reblog <33

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

Barbatos doesn’t know how it started. 

Well, alright, he knows when he first noticed it. But he has a feeling the feelings had been there, building, culminating, for a lot longer than that. 

He first noticed his affection for you on a spring day, one of the warmest the year had seen so far. You’d shed your uniform jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and gone outside during lunch, claiming the quad as your own. Claiming the attention of everyone on the quad. And like moths to a flame, everyone had followed, as they always did. Him included. 

“It feels so nice out,” you’d chirped, face turned up to the non-existent sun, and Barbatos had become aware of a buzz under his skin, a curious warmth that he’d never really felt before. It didn’t take a genius for him to place the feelings, and he accepted them a lot easier than he thought he would, with them clicking into place like the last piece of a previously hidden puzzle. He finally understood what everyone was talking about, finally understood why people were pushed to invent, to create, to conquer in the name of love.

Of course, while he was going through all of these realizations and acceptions, time had moved forward, and you were now surrounded by everyone, with him on the outside, like always, slightly distanced, the few feet like an uncrossable gorge. But you, you with your crooked half-smile and wonderful gleam in your eyes, had looked through, to him, smile somehow widening just for him, and that had made it all okay, made that gorge seem like nothing more than the few feet it actually was.

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” you tease, poking him lightly with the blunt end of your pencil. He blinks, coming back to himself, coming back to the club meeting, and gives you a half smile. The club was one you both co-ran, some ‘community wellness’ thing that you were a lot more passionate about than he. But he put his everything in it, for you.

“I apologize, I must have been distracted. Remind me of our discussion,” 

“Barbatos? Distracted?” Your face is bright, cheerful. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Barbatos?” 

“Funny, really,” he returns, and the laugh he is gifted with is quickly saved, pressed into the scrapbook of his memories, to be taken out and admired every now and again, treasured close to his chest. 

“Anyway…” you pull him back into the meeting with vigor, with enthusiasm, as with everything you do, and he lets himself be pulled willingly. What a fool he must be, to take the chains from your hand and wrap them around his wrist himself.

Once the meeting is over you check your D.D.D., cursing. He directs an inquisitive look at you, and you grin guiltily. The school is dark, and mostly empty, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“It’s a lot later than I thought it was,” you explain. “Is there any way I can beg a ride off of you? I’d be really thankful.” 

“I suppose,” Barbatos replies, making a show of being long-suffering. You draw out his humor in a way no one else does, and he’s grateful, so immensely grateful, that you see his dry, deadpan remarks for what they are and don’t just think he’s dreadfully boring. 

“Thank you so much!” You squeeze his side in a hug, apparently not feeling the staggering static that emanates from where the two of you touch, that sends shivers of electricity up and down his entire frame. “I owe you one.” 

“You always say that,” he accuses lightly. “At this point, I believe you owe me a lot more than that.” 

“Probably.” You shrug, unrepentant. He really shouldn’t find that shamelessness so charming. 

Being in a car with you is like torture. Torture he can stand, revels in, delights in. 

You’re close, within touching range. Not that he’d ever put his hands on you without your express and explicit permission, but the forced intimacy gets to him. You’re so comfortable in his car, shown by the way you commandeer the radio, the way you dig through his glovebox like it was yours for the taking. 

(Everything of his is yours for the taking, for the having, for the keeping.) 

“What’s this?” you ask, more to yourself than anything, but he looks over anyway. You’ve got a CD in your grip, reading the back. 

“That,” he says, “is my favorite CD. So be careful with it, please.”

“It’s your favorite?” 

He nods, and you give him that crooked smile, ejecting the CD that was in the player, exchanging it out. 

“We don’t have to listen to it,” he tries, and you wave him off. 

“Of course we do! It’s your favorite, and I want to hear it too!” 

 You pull pieces of him to the surface, almost by accident, and he stands there in front of you, exposed. But you’re always careful with the new parts of him that are revealed, treating them as preciously and as kindly as you’d treat an invaluable glass sculpture.

The first track starts and he keeps his gaze on the road, humming along. He can feel your eyes on him, and eventually, eventually gives into the urge to look over, meeting your eyes. 

“I can see why you like it,” you murmur, quiet for once. “It’s very…” you hold the words in your mouth, tasting them, savoring them. “It’s very you.” 

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re quite welcome.” 

It’s quiet in the car, aside from the CD, of course, but he doesn’t mind the silence. Never has. Others feel it as a pressure, but he doesn’t, and knows, despite your propensity to talk and laugh and be in constant motion, don’t either. It’s a comfort, to be in silence with you. 

The drive to the House of Lamentation takes forever. Isn’t nearly long enough.

When he pulls into the circle drive, past the immaculately pruned bushes and other ostentatious landscaping, he resists the urge to go slower, to coast at a snail’s pace. He’s better than that. Barely. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as he pulls to a stop, lowering the volume of the music. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he says. “You know me. Barbatos: butler, glorified babysitter, and part-time chauffeur.” 

He’s rewarded again with your laugh, but it fades into something thoughtful, something intimate.

“You’re so much more than that,” you say, and when he looks over at you in muted surprise, you’re not returning his gaze, instead focused somewhere in the far-off distance, maybe in the far-off past. Either way, you blink and come out of it quickly, but don’t take your words back. Instead, you do something, that even with all of his overthinking, his planning, his habit of examining every possibility, he’d never seen coming: 

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

Your lips are warm, and dry, and un-lingering. He stares at you in shock as you pull away, heart pounding a mile a minute. 

“Well,” you say with another laugh, much more high-pitched and nervous than the others he’d heard from you, “thanks again. I’ll be going in now.” 

You slide out of his car quickly, crossing the distance between it and the door in seconds. He almost thinks you’re not going to look back, until you do, that damned crooked smile on your lips, fluttering your fingers in a wave, even as embarrassment and joy war in your eyes. 

It takes a long time, too long, for him to pull himself together enough to pull away from the House of Lamentation, and he has to take the most convoluted way home he can think of to fully rid himself of his blush– a herculean task, considering that kiss plays on repeat in his head, the memory of your smile almost tangible. Who would have thought a simple kiss on the cheek would have been enough to bring the always-composed, always-distant Barbatos back down to the realm of unstoppable, human emotion?

Maybe you returning his feelings isn’t as far-fetched a possibility as he’d thought. 

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

I’ll Bandage You Up (Michelangelo)

Pair: Michelangelo x Reader

Word Count: 3,578

Rating: T for language, blood, and fluff.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Blood, attempted assault.

Authors Notes:  Thank you all for being patient with this next round. I wanted to upload this last week, but some self-care was needed. Please enjoy! If you want to read versions featuring Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello, just click!

Generalization:

The night was the perfect late-spring, early summer temperature. Few cars rolled along the city streets, and the alcohol kept your mind comfortably buzzed from your rare outing with friends to the local Barcade. You should’ve known better than to walk home alone. Perhaps you had grown overconfident knowing there were four pairs of protective eyes watching over the city in every shadow. Not only had you befriended the hidden protectors, but one had occupied your mind even while you daydreamed. Knowing he was out there made the giant city less terrifying. And the thought of him kept you warm and content during your monotonous day-to-day routine.

Especially when you were alone…

Perhaps that’s why it didn’t seem so strange when the sensation of being watched prickled at the back of your neck. Why, you had ignored the tick in your legs that urged you to run. Why you had been so surprised when a set of hands shoved you into an adjacent alley. Why your limbs refused to move as if rooted in the asphalt.

There were six of them. Strange men of various heights and builds; some had hair, some didn’t. Some had weapons in their hands, others boasted kneading fingers and eager palms. The only thing they had in common were the devilish grins and terrible glares on their faces, the sight of which made your blood run cold.

Your voice caught in your throat as your mouth opened to scream, holler, anything for help. Only one thought flooded your mind as dread nestled itself in the center of your chest.

Tonight, you were going to die.

A massive shadow dropped in front of you just as one man lunged forward. The assailant bounced off the wall of muscle; the stunned stares from the rest of the group could only mean one thing…

“Stay behind me.” A familiar voice commanded, deeper and rougher than you were used to. 

Your lips parted, and eyes widened at his timing. Before you could form thankful words or ask how he knew where to find you, the group charged forward. Save for one man that had sense enough to run out of the alley.

You stumbled back at their charge and your heart pounded in your ears as you watched the fight unfold…

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don't leave me be, be with me - yandere fruity four

plot: regardless of how much you love your partners, their love for you grows stifling now and again. and the best way to remedy that is to be a little rebellious, which is what leads you to sneak out with Robin and go for a little joyride and on a quest for breakfast in the middle of the night.

cws: gn!angelface, yandere fruity four, st 4 spoilers, polycule, post s4, eddie lives arc, PTSD-related coping mechanisms (alcohol abuse, isolation, reckless behavior), drinking, robin and angelface are drunk, drunk driving, scars, hurt/comfort, implied sexual dynamics, softcore, very mild jealousy, mentions of violence, fluff.

word count: 3.6k

spice level: 0.5/5

"Where the fuck are they?"

Steve's pacing again, shoes heavy on the carpet as he tries not to lose his temper. There's music blasting in Eddie's room, but the door is shut, and Nancy doesn't even want to try and knock right now. She doesn't have any answers for him, and it would just stress him out more. While it's been months since he's gotten out of the hospital, he's still healing in…other ways.

"I don't know, Steve."

"Yeah, well, they have to be somewhere, Nancy! They can't just disappear, not unless-"

"Steve, don't go there. They took the van, they're probably off getting ice cream or something–you know how those two are. The only danger they're in is Robin driving without a license." Nancy bites her lip. She doesn't know if that's the truth, she just wants it to be.

"Oh, God, what if they got into an accident?" But Steve's practically inconsolable–he always gets like this, his brain is hardwired to sense danger even when there is none. Probably. But there's a chance, so he's sniffed it out and won't stop fussing until he has you in his arms again, she's sure.

"Steve-" That look on his face is definitely not a good one, that sudden realization that means he can't stay still any longer–even though he hasn't been, it's shocking that there isn't an indent in the floor from where he's been pacing back and forth for the last hour. He marches over to the couch and grabs his jacket, throwing it on one arm at a time as he slides past Nancy and heads towards the front door. "Where in the world are you going?"

"Gonna drive around town and look for the van." Typical. His solutions are largely straight to the point, if not a little over the top. The second she opens her mouth for a rebuttal, he holds up a hand to stop her. "I'm going, Nance! Don't try to stop me."

She knows how stubborn he is, it's a good if not occasionally frustrating quality. And in all honesty, he has every right to be as fretful as he is.

All four of them nearly didn't survive the horrors that Vecna brought to Hawkins, but Steve and Eddie definitely experienced a new level of physical torment that she knows she won't ever fully be able to sympathize with. You're the only one Steve's ever really told the full story to, the one he's cried to and held so close for fear that if he didn't, you'd be taken away yourself. They've all seen each other's scars, but you've taken care of each and every one of them–you know them intimately, know the pain and the story and the way they've healed but never gone away, and never will. You're what Eddie calls their "cleric", but he always refers to you as an angel. And you are one.

Speaking of Eddie, he hasn't been the same either. None of them have, but he's different–quieter. The hospital seemed to numb him after the demobat attack, barely alive and clinging to life for so long that even Nancy didn't believe he would really make it. But you did, you never gave up on him, and eventually he opened his eyes and smiled that sweet smile at the sight of you, and she'll never forget the wails you let out as you hugged him so tight the nurse tried to pry you off–the memory usually brings a smile to her face. Steve got kicked out of the visiting room for a week after locking her out of the room, just so the four of you could hold Eddie as long as you wanted and kiss him, stroke his hair, tell him you love him…they were hard days, but good ones. But now everyone is just trying to survive normal life, and that's mostly to your credit. You make life just a little more bearable…and when you're gone, like you have been for the last couple hours, they're all on edge.

Nancy hurries after him out the door to the trailer, knowing good and well that she can't let him run off on a rescue mission by himself. He's too reckless with himself and too tunnel visioned when it comes to you, and it's certain not to turn out well if he really freaks out without someone there to calm him down. And that's when the familiar sound of crunching gravel hits her ears and she stops to watch the sight before her, Steve having only gotten to the bottom step before he freezes too.

That familiar van pulls up slowly, slow like the driver is trying not to draw attention, and comes to a stop just about a foot off of the mark that carves out the driveway from the rest of the grass. The pause between the vehicle stopping and the passengers getting out is suspiciously long, but when the doors crack open and the two of them get a glance at you, they're sure they know why.

"Naaaaaancy!" You giggle, your footsteps so wobbly as you move around the hood that you have to use it for support, while Robin hops out from the driver's seat and throws it closed before stumbling towards you. The two of you have to cling to each other, your hands clutching Robin's arm, to even hope to make it up the driveway and towards the front door–and when you get close enough, Nancy's nose crinkles as the smell of liquor wafts over and hits her like a train. So does the realization–you two have been drinking, and drinking hard.

"Can I have a kiss, Nancy?" You cackle, tripping over your own feet and nearly hitting the ground, if not for Robin's surge of strength as she pulls you back up with a goofy smirk on her lips. One glance at Steve, and she can see it clearly–he is absolutely pissed, his scowl mean enough to burn a hole through concrete.

"Where the hell were you two?!" He didn't mean to yell, Nancy knows that, but you two don't even flinch. You're not even all there, too caught up in your own world and in each other's mouths as you capture Robin in a kiss instead.

"Pancakes! Errrr, and other stuff.." You giggle around a mouthful of Robin's tongue, your playful wink just earning you a furious huff from your big, strong protector.

"Oh nooooooo, I think we're in trouble!" The two of you can't contain your laughter as you break off and nuzzle against each other, Robin's arm clutched in your soft hands as she whisper-yells that into your ear. She even cups her hand to make it seem like she's trying to be subtle, and she probably is, she just doesn't realize how loud she's being and how late it is.

"You're drunk." Steve states bluntly. It's not a first for Robin since the Vecna incident, unfortunately, but it's surprising for you.

"Just a liiiiiittle," Robin pouts, her fingers pinched together to show just how 'little' you and her have been drinking. From the smell of you two alone, it has to have been at least a full bottle of straight liquor between you two, maybe more.

"Don't get mad, Stevie! We were havin' fun."

"You were being stupid. You were driving drunk! Without a license!" He's almost vibrating with anger and frustration. Robin's blasé tone pisses him off on a good day, and after putting your life and hers in danger, it does even more so.

"Bite. Me!" You share an even more girlish laugh at Robin's outburst, each word punctuated by a middle finger, like it's the funniest thing in the whole world. "You guys suck ass, you're suffocating us–you guys hate fun!"

Nancy would probably be grabbing Robin's tongue for that foul comment, but she's so out of it she knows that there's no use. She'd probably just laugh it off, or cry, and she doesn't want either of those two extremes to deal with right now. But there is something she has up her sleeve that always works.

"You two made Eddie very upset, you know." Nancy lays her hand on Steve's shoulder as she speaks, silently relaying to him that she's got it under control. A soft "Eddie?" passes your lips. It's incredible how quickly you both snap to attention when she mentions his name, sharing a look between you two before both turning back to listen intently.

"Mhm. He's been up all night worrying about you two. He doesn't like it when you're gone, it makes him scared. You know that." Her voice is stern, but still gentle enough for you two to take in. The 'mom voice' as you, Robin, and Eddie like to call it, which is largely reserved for when she really needs to get firm with one of you. Or all of you.

"Eddie? Where's Eddie?" Your tone wavers, giddiness turning to concern in a matter of syllables.

"Tell us, Nance!" Robin tugs at her sleeve, eyes big and wide with worry.

"He's in his room." Both of you rush past them, hurrying up the steps in a frantic bid to find your beloved boyfriend. You love them all equally, of course–but Eddie is sensitive. Sweet. He's always been that way, but it's increased tenfold since Vecna and caused you to be even more protective over him than you were before. You just want to protect that precious smile no matter what.

"Eddie! We're home, baby!"

It's when you both stumble through the front door that you see him at once. Frazzled, his curly hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes from worry. His nails are bitten down almost completely, bad habit he struggles to kick when he's anxious. He's standing in the living room like he heard the ruckus and had come to see what was happening, but his eyes are clear and set on one of you at a time, switching between like he's assessing that you're both here and both safe.

The two of you rush forward and knock him right off his feet, a startled shriek pulled from his lips followed by a grunt as his back thuds against the carpet, and the two of you collapse on top of him with your full respective weight in a hug so tight he couldn't squirm away if he tried. Even being taken off guard, Eddie squeezes both of you tight in a hug as best he can, a relieved smile flickering across his face as you press desperate kisses to his cheek.

Nancy and Steve step inside, and the sight at their feet just raises a sigh. They might not be happy, but they are glad you're unharmed and in relatively good spirits.

"We're sooooorry, Eddie! Soooo sorry!" You babble, pawing at his neck and his face to plant even more kisses on his lips. He turns only to ruffle Robin's hair and peck her on the forehead, but otherwise his mouth is occupied by yours, and gladly so, if his muffled little gasps and mumbles of "missed you" are any indication.

"What about us? You have an apology for scaring the crap out of us?" Steve asks, irritation still lacing his voice. Part of it is definitely a spark of jealousy, Nancy can tell better than most. It takes you some work and the aid of Eddie's hand, but you get up and stumble over wobbly feet, and throw one arm around Nancy's shoulder and one around Steve's to loosely hug them both.

"M' sorry, Nancy…sorry Stevie….I love you guys soooooooo much.." You maw on each of their cheeks as well, leaving wet kisses by their ears and down their necks as if each one is to make up for one of the many minutes you spent away from them.

"We love you too." Nancy squeezes you back, eyes screwed shut, a breath caught in her lungs as she tries to keep it all in, to keep it together. Breaking down and crying because she was so worried about you would only hurt you.

"I've been bad…"

"Yeah, you have been bad." Steve's hand is in your hair, and despite reaffirming your realization, he's still so gentle with you like you're made of porcelain. As frustrating as he can be, and as much of a dad as he acts like sometimes, he's still so softhearted when it comes to you that it's honestly comical.

"Sooooooo….you gonna punish me?" You pull away to look at both of their faces, and giggle when their eyes widen, and they share a look like they can't believe what you just said. They haven't really seen you drunk very often, so they're not used to the…mood you sometimes get in.

"Not now, baby. But you are gonna make it up to us, later." Nancy tenderly takes your arm off of her and rubs it, trying to be strict but it just comes out soft.

"Aww, Nancy…" Your eyes draw towards Steve, who still has some frustration lingering on his features. He'll never realize how sexy it is–how sexy he is when he's mad. You slide that free arm around his other shoulder, and lean into him for your lips to just barely brush his.

"C'mon, Stevie, wanna feel you inside me…" His shoulders stiffen up and his chest tightens, his lungs at a standstill at the sight of you rubbing your body up against his. And then you lean up, and your lips ghost over his ear, and you whisper that dreaded pet name that sends a shiver up his spine and has him tilting his head up that he wasn't ready for–not in front of the others, at least. "..Wanna be good for you. Promise."

Your little attempt to get him all worked up, and your teeth nibbling at his adam's apple, is interrupted by a soft groan, one that turns all three of your heads towards the two lumps on the floor. When Eddie sits up, he moves to clutch Robin's limp body as she lays against him, who is very clearly asleep and sighing quietly into his neck at the movement.

"Okay, bedtime! C'mon!" With a face still flushed and hot, Steve hups and squats down to wrap his arms around your thighs, before he lifts you up to throw you over his shoulder and starts walking towards Eddie's room. Every step is another bounce and your grin is still loopy and enthused as he does so, while Eddie hauls Robin up to her feet and Nancy supports her by her other arm to lead her the same way. Thankfully it's a short ride, and when Steve flips you back on to the bed and kneels to take your shoes off for you, Robin hangs off your other friends before collapsing into bed beside you. She's so pretty with that red flush to her face, warm and dizzy from the alcohol and laid out on her back, her breasts heaving as she breathes quietly before opening her eyes and turning them towards you.

Once Steve's hands are occupied with carrying off your shoes and no longer ghosting against your ankle, you find yourself moving up on your knees and throwing one over Robin's waist, her fingers lifting up to brace your thigh as you sit gently enough on top of her for it not to hurt. The words have left her vocabulary, but the pleased sigh that she emits at the feeling of you pressed up against her is enough for you to understand.

"Robbie," You lean down to kiss her, and moan the nickname into her mouth. "Wanna do what we did in the backseat…"

"Uh huh…" She whimpers, hands laid out by her head in total submission. Her hips are already rolling against you, mind clearly muddled by need that you apparently haven't satisfied quite yet. Your hands move to unbutton her jeans, your gaze set and tongue flicking out to lick your lips–when Steve grabs you by the wrist and your head tilts to look up at him.

"Prude," You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at his familiar interruption. Robin wasn't totally wrong, sometimes Steve is such a stick in the mud. He looks genuinely hurt, though, and his eyes fall from yours like he's trying not to show you what he's really feeling.

"Noooo, not the puppy dog eyes…m' sorry for pissin' you off, baby.." His grip loosens on your wrist, but you just grab his instead to pull him close enough for your foreheads to touch. He can't look away now, not even if he wanted to.

"I wasn't really mad, I..I was just…scared." His voice is so rarely this shaky, unsure, that it almost doesn't sound like Steve. Not your confident, headstrong Steve.

"Why?" You smile so innocently, it's nigh impossible to still be mad at you. He knows that, and yet he can never, ever resist it. "I'll always come back, Stevie. Not going anywhere."

A tired smile tweaks at his lips, and he moves to turn away–but you don't let him, and you grab his face to hold it in place.

"I'm not going anywhere, Steve." You sound more sober in that one breath than you have since you got home. More than you ever have, maybe. And he has nothing he can say that can encompass his feelings in that moment, so he just simply nods, and shares a kiss with you that's so damn sweet even with the taste of liquor on your teeth.

Having been relatively quiet until now, Eddie crawls into bed beside you two, his sneakers kicked off but his clothes from the day still on. Nancy's busying herself with pulling up a blanket off the floor to throw over you three, nudging your arm for you to slide off of Robin and cuddle up between the two of them so she can do so. Eddie's breath hitches when your fingertips brush the scars beneath his shirt, the flesh of his belly torn up and only now having healed into what he thinks are ugly scars.

"Eddie's so pretty…" You mumble as you turn to face him, already nodding off with the warmth of both their bodies cushioning you like big, heated pillows. Robin snuggles up to your back and drapes her arm over your waist, and Eddie wedges his arm beneath you two so you can both use it as a pillow, his fingers laced in Robin's hair to help her fall asleep like it always does.

"You're prettier, angelface." His warm breath on your face draws a chuckle from you, and with your eyes closed he kisses your brow before finally settling in to drift off with you. And when Nancy's finished tucking you all in and Steve shuts off the lights, each of you sharing your "I love you"s and "good night"s, the two of them shut the door quietly behind them to leave the three of you in relative peace as you slumber.

It feels like the day has dragged on so long, and in some sense it has–the time is nearing three am if the clock in the hallway is any indication. She and Steve have been awake for far too long, but it doesn't look like he's in any mood to rest by the expression on his face.

"You think we were a little too-"

"Harsh? No." Steve cuts her off abruptly. He knows exactly what she's thinking, he usually does–but this time, for once, Nancy really has no clue what's running through his mind.

"I'm gonna make them regret that tomorrow. I'll slash the tires on that stupid van if it keeps them here." The sudden surge of emotion in his voice takes her by surprise. Almost always, your touch and a few gentle words in that beautiful voice of yours are enough to calm him from whatever is bothering him. He's infamous for falling for your reassurances, giving in to you so often that it's like you're a siren to him, his certainty so often falling to the wayside when you sway him into believing whatever it is you're telling him.

"They might just steal your car, Steve. You know Eddie's got those magic fingers." She waggles her fingers teasingly, she's trying to lighten the mood, and he does chuckle a little at the joke. But the way his face sets immediately after is…intense.

"Not if I break their legs first."

"Steve," Her hand reaches for his arm, but his eyes and his mind are somewhere else.

"Don't." He warns. There's not enough conviction in his voice for her to really be worried about that–at least not now, when not enough has happened for him to really think that's at all a good plan. You haven't scared him enough, but…it does frighten her to think that it's still a possibility, albeit a very small one. Even though it would work, she hates to see you in pain, to see you scared. "Wasn't even my idea. Eddie talks in his sleep."

He steps away with those words lingering on his lips, heading towards the front door to drop your shoes by the others–but not before he reaches over and grabs the bat he's kept since that first night he realized that the world wasn't as safe as he thought it was. He throws the door open, and leans back to call to her before he takes a seat on the step and waits to see if anyone–or anything–followed you two home. Like always.

"...So do you, Nance."

i feel so bad because i love this place and i love the people that have stayed with me on here but like hm

"My own death does not frighten me. But yours? Oh, that is my greatest, deepest fear."

Perfume and Demonus filled your nostrils, expensive in equal measure. His arms held you tight but gentle; soft were his hums as his chin rested atop your head, nuzzling into you with a relaxed sigh. Longing he was. Melancholic in the face of his drunken state that you knew all too well, and yet... He still radiated that certain fragility he so desperately wished to hide, failing only when it came to you.

"Lucifer...", a low mumble to his chest. He didn't move.

"Just a moment." He whispered. "Just a moment..."

We’ve seen bully!eddie, but what about obsessed worshipper!eddie?

Like he sees the reader as this untouchable deity and he absolutely worships the ground she walks on, everything she does is perfect. He doesn’t feel worthy of her but he just has to have her, he just can’t let anyone else taint her

obsessed worshipper you say? ohoho.....

(cws: worshipper!eddie, f!angelface, self-esteem issues, stalking, delusions, masturbation, stick and pokes, punishment-centric self-harm, eddie literally licks your boots w/o you in them, mutual pining.)

he twists his rings whenever you walk by the table he sits at, a little squeak squeak squeak as he fidgets and fiddles until you're completely out of sight. he has to stare but he can't be idle, he's rarely ever idle, so he watches and ogles until it's a running joke at the Hellfire table that Eddie's whipped for the new girl.

maybe. no, not really--he's just in awe. probably. you're really pretty. and you don't seem at all like the fake people that far outnumber him and his comrades, he knows you're more genuine than they are because he's not scared of you, and you're not scared of him. you tell him good morning when you see him, your lockers separated only by a single one between them, and when he says it back you always smile and seem so happy. but it's not because people don't like you; you're so warm that everyone likes you. why wouldn't they? how could someone dislike you? it doesn't compute in his mind even somewhat.

it's always weird being around you, but good weird. like butterflies in his stomach that turn into hurricanes when you smile, or laugh, or when you get close to lend him a pencil and he smells your perfume. so pretty. he buys a bottle just to spray it in his room so it always feels like you're around, and that's a little creepy, but he's already a freak so it probably isn't any worse than what people think he gets up to. it's not any worse than when he's pricking his own arm with a homemade needle to tattoo your initials into his skin, or when he cuts a tiny lock of his hair off and sneaks it into the bottom of your backpack. you just need something of his, he needs people to notice that you shouldn't be messed with--he needs people to stay away from you because they don't deserve you. they don't deserve your kindness when they turn around and terrorize other people, and they shouldn't get to take away your smile when someone's rude to you and you flinch away. they're all beneath you.

when he starts following you home is when Eddie knows he has some kind of problem. at first he convinced himself it was just to make sure you got home unscathed, but soon he realizes that it's just because he needs more time with you. there aren't enough hours in the day for him to spend looking up at your godliness, and while he's gone from egregious truancy to a near perfect attendance, even worshipping you at home isn't enough after awhile. he can only practice so many love songs before his fingers bleed and his throat aches, and gripping his own cock as he drowns himself in fantasies of you can't satisfy him forever. he needs something of yours, but what he really wants is you. stealing one of your shoes is the next big infraction, although he reasons it out that because he brought it back it wasn't a big deal--even though he came all over the toe of your polished doll-like dress heel, just so he could lick it off and feel like he was polishing them for you. touching himself later that night was especially brutal, as he punished himself with as much pain as he could bear in some sort of confessional apology you don't even know about--mostly bruising pinches to his inner thighs just as he's about to finish, and a tight, dry grip that leaves him sore and shaking from his own abuse even though it felt so good.

after a while, he even worries over whether or not you're getting enough release yourself. you're so perfect, do you practice self-pleasure? how often? how do you do it? how long? what do you think about? do you use your hand, or....those questions and thousands more cycle through his head on a daily basis as he fixates on his new idea of you, but they don't stop and only get stronger the closer the two of you get. soon enough you're friends, he spends time in your room, you spend time at band practice and Hellfire. he loses his mind at the sight of the bed you sleep on and the furniture you touch every day, with the clothes that wrap around your body and the bits of makeup that cling to your perfect skin. he wishes he was all of that and more, he just wants to be around you, on you, 24/7. he has a moment of clarity one night, where he's so deliriously worried for you after a degrading comment was made earlier in the day by some jock, and he has to physically punch himself in his own stomach to stop himself from crawling through your window and cuddling up next to you as you sleep. after that he has to distance himself, worried he may encroach too far and scare you into fearing him.

but Eddie is beyond happy to find that's not the case when he finds whispers of his name in your diary entries. flipping through them becomes a passing hobby when you're not home, and once he's gotten through quite a bit to start reading more recent entries, his breath hitches as he discovers some passages from when you first moved to Hawkins.

"sometimes the only good thing about my day is seeing Eddie. I feel so worthless most of the time, but he makes me feel special."

"maybe he's lying when he says I'm pretty, but I don't care. I really like him. I feel like I've known him forever."

"this is so embarrassing, but I think I might have a crush on Eddie. I feel like he's with me all the time--I can't get him out of my head. but how could I tell him how I feel? how could he ever like someone like me?"

it's a dream come to life, but it's bittersweet all the same. among those glorious admissions of your feelings for him, someone so low and unworthy compared to you, there are so many sparks of doubt and self-hate that just kill Eddie inside. as your most loyal follower--your only follower--he can't allow that to stand.

so this time, he'll wait. and when you get home, oh, will he have so much to show you to prove that you're so much more divine than you seem to believe.