And We Love Him For It 🥹

Nightmare Fuel

Summary: After venturing into the woods and stumbling across a statue, Gravity Falls’ newest resident meets her worse nightmare...or maybe her scariest wet dream.

Requested by @fivvy

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. DARK FIC! This fic contains darker themes such as manipulation, possession, violence, dub/con, and non/con! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Aged-up Characters, Bill x reader, Bipper x reader, slight Dipper x reader? (There's some tension), porn with plot, slight MabelxPacifica, asshole!Dipper, mind sex, mind break?, sex pollen-like symptoms?, supernatural elements, horror-like elements, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, revenge sex, choking, asphyxiation, accidental voyeurism. Lmk if I forgot anything! LAST WARNING! DARK ELEMENTS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND NO MINORS!! AGES IN BIOS!! Seriously guys, it’s kinda messed up and I will block minors!

Word Count: 7.9 k

Gravity Falls. The town just west of weird. And your new home. When you were younger your family used to drive through the small, eccentric town on the way to visit family in Portland. Your parents just loved the scenic route, and the great nature of Gravity Falls was about as scenic as it got. You never stayed in the town long, but the curious corner of the world always drew you in. The people you would meet during your occasional diner stops or the stories you would hear piqued your interest. It drove you towards a love of writing and reading, just searching for vibrant characters that might match the town's local color. Which is why you decide to take a year off college and live amongst the people that initially stirred your curiosity.

Stepping off the bus, the sunlight speckles through the trees, the warmth dusting your cheeks, and you are welcomed back to the town of Gravity Falls. The scent of pine trees and maple surround you as you walk towards the town square, a suitcase rolling behind you. Checking the address on the post-it note in your hands, you make your way to the house on the edge of the woods: the Mystery Shack. It was probably more of a gamble than you should have taken to respond to the rooming ad for a place called the Mystery Shack, but it was the only available housing in the small town, so you'd just have to take your chances.

Skipping the town tour, you make your way to the tourist trap, but you take note of the town as you go. Everything seems perfectly normal, like you remembered it, but you hoped that wouldn't remain the case. You needed something interesting to write about, something to spark a flame of inspiration in your head. So far, nothing but your new place of residence seems out of the ordinary. You make it to the Mystery Shack, surprised by the number of cars parked out front. A number of people come in and out of the house, most being led around by a dude in a suit, eyepatch, and fez. Walking closer to what you can only assume to be a tour group, you listen in on the man rifting off facts about the obviously fake attractions.

"And here we have the rock that looks like a face, dudes," the tour guide said.

"But is it a rock or is it a face?"

"No, dude, it's a rock that looks like a face," the tour guide sighs as if he got this question often. "It's-it's not an actual face." This only sparks more controversy for the guide, so you peacefully excuse yourself from the group, bypass the entrance for the indoor Mystery Museum, and trudge around to the backdoor. You're pleased to find no tourists there. From the window, you notice a few people filing around the room and you hope they were the actual residents of the house/tourist attraction. Knocking on the door, you are almost immediately met by a bubbly brunette answering with a brooding blond watching intently behind her.

"Uh, hi, I'm—"

"Are you our new roomie?!" She beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she ushers you in before you even give your answer. Once you’re in the room, you take in each of the girls' features. The brunette smiles at you excitedly, a pair of perfectly straight teeth flashing between glossy pink lips. Her curly hair tumbles down her back, the front of her bangs are held back by a dark pink headband which matches a pair of leggings she wore beneath a white tee with a multicolored shooting star on the front. The blond behind her has straight hair, straight-cut bangs brushing over her long, mascara-covered lashes, a light purple dusting of eyeshadow matching a purple jersey shirt with a white diamond on the front over a pair of black leggings along with a pair of big, white hooped earrings.

"Yeah, yes, hi," you breathed out, apprehension and shock in your tone as you’re pulled in. "Are you Mabel?"

"Actually...I'm your new roommate!" She squeals before deadpanning with a, “But yeah, my name is Mabel.” You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"Well, it's really nice to meet you, Mabel," you say genuinely, a sigh of relief passing your lips along with a giggle.

"This is Pacifica, my gf and our other roommate," Mabel introduces. The blond nods her head, not saying a word as Mabel does all the talking. "And my brother also lives here but he's kinda...busy right now. He's sorry he couldn't be here for the greeting party though!" You brush that off. "How about we give you the tour and then we can get to know each other."

She grabs one of your two bags as she leads you to your room: a dark space with a slanted ceiling, a stained-glass window in the far-left corner which offers a muted colored light, a furnace in the far right, a bed at the center of the left wall, and a closet to the left of the bed. It’s perfect for a shut-in writer such as yourself. Mabel tells you that the room used to belong to her Grunkle Stan who was travelling the seas with his brother, her Great Uncle Ford.

Dropping the bags onto the bed, the three of you made the rounds of the house. Mabel and Pacifica share the attic, Mabel saying she has sentimental attachment to the space. While walking through their home, Pacifica tells you how she had grown up as a rich only child. Her parents had fallen on a bit of "hard times" after her dad made a bad investment in some bonds and they had to sell their mansion to the town kook, Old Man McGucket, and, yes, that is how he prefers to be called. After living with her parents until she was legally able to leave, her now living with Mabel and her brother in the Mystery Shack was not only convenient but is also like a middle finger to her oppressive parents. You learn all of this before you even make it to the living room. You really like how talkative Mabel is. Her extrovert personality counteracts your quiet tendencies.

Coming to Mabel's twin brother's room—who you found out is named Mason but is nicknamed Dipper—it’s a mess. Dirty laundry, papers, and books all scattered over every surface. You barely notice the shape of the bed or couch underneath the piles of clothing and maps. The only thing that seems to be somewhat in order was the bookshelf. It’s stacked to the brim with books except for the top shelf, where only three books rest, all with their covers facing out. Each one is a deep blue, a drawing of a silver Pinetree overlayed with a golden Big Dipper constellation and underneath is printed golden numbers 1, 2, 3. They look like journals, though you had no idea what information could be handwritten there. You gather that he’s either a brainiac or a maniac, and neither tend to have very clean tendencies. But you aren’t one to judge, knowing you could get the same way in the midst of an inspired breakthrough. Your muse could work in mysterious and very annoying ways: ergo the entire reason for moving to Gravity Falls.

"Yeah, my brother tends to be a bit...hazardous when he gets in the work zone," Mabel explains sheepishly. "If it's not his room, it’s the basement that's a mess. Or both. Mostly both."

You’ve stayed relatively quiet the entirety of the tour but your curiosity itches at you brain, prompting an inquisitive, "What does your brother do?"

"Science research...of sorts," she answers through thin lips.

"Of sort?" Your brows scrunch together at the vague implication.

"Yeah, I'm not entirely sure the specifics of his work, just that he has a few Ph.D.'s," she shrugs, a nervous laugh bubbling in her throat, as if it wasn't a great feat to have multiple Ph.D.'s before the ripe age of twenty-four.

"Wow, that's...really impressive," you breath, not knowing exactly how to respond to her nonchalance over the subject.

"Yeah, proud of my bro-bro, just wish he would wash his clothes," she chuckles, faking(?) a grimace and pulling a laugh out of you and Pacifica.

The rest of the tour went on like this, sharing stories and taking cracks at one another, giving you an idea of the nature of the relationship between your new housemates. Mabel went on and on about how much the house means to them, and how much their great uncles mean to them as well. It’s really sweet, and you believe that you’ve found yourself some interesting characters to write about.

Mabel is really nice and, while Pacifica had a very hard exterior, you can see her softer side in the moments when she lets herself slip out of that tough exterior to laugh for Mabel. They both help you unpack quickly, even brightening up the space with a lamp Mabel had decorated herself—crystals hot glued to the base, refracting a cascade of rainbows around the room. You feel so welcomed already.

An ear-shattering bang shakes the house, dust drizzling from the ceiling and effectively startling you awake.

"Fuck!" A voice screams. You follow it with a heart-pounding urgency, leading you to the gift shop where smoke billows into the room. The vending machine swings open, and you startle, a small squeak leaping out of your throat. A figure emerge from the smoke, coughing and waving his arms with a cap in one hand to clear out the black cloud surrounding him. When the smog clears enough for you to get a good look at the man, the first thing you saw was the mop of curly brown hair, much like Mabel's, that is powdered with soot and debris. His pale skin is marred by the caking of dirt over his exposed arms and cheeks, yet the dark circles underneath his eyes were still prominent despite only being illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through glass windows. The dark grayish-green tee with a black question mark on the front was also frosted in a layer of powder. The red flannel tied around his waist seems relatively unscathed until he uses the material to wipe what is still on his face. His arms lifted to rub off the grime, showcasing the ink markings on his forearms. You can’t help but stare at him and the opened vending machine entrance, mouth hanging open at the scene. You wonder if you’re dreaming.

"Trying to catch flies, sunshine?" His deep voice rattles. You know he’s speaking to you despite him refusing to look your way.

"Excuse me?"

"No?" He smugly questions, the sarcasm dripping from his voice that is riddled with sleep deprivation and husky from his dust-coated throat. He finally looks over at you, allowing you to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "Then you should close your mouth." You wrinkle your nose at the snark of his tone. Before you can reply, the girls come down from the attic.

"Nice going, Dipstick, what did you blow up this time?" The blonde grumbles. You make a mental note to never wake the girl from her beauty sleep lest you receive the same venomous tone.

"None of your business, Pacifica," he sighs.

"I don't know why you're in such a piss mood when you were the one to wake everyone up at three in the morning, moron," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes so far back into her head that you’re sure she caught a glimpse of her brain.

"I know that you, more than anyone, need your precious beauty sleep, Pacifica, but my lab is not any of your concern," Dipper snaps back.

"Shut up, Dipshit."

"Buy my silence then, rich bitch."

The tangible tension in the room surrounds the house residents as Pacifica's eye twitch and her nostrils flare. Pacifica, not wanting to put up with his attitude any longer at three in the morning, mumbles a quiet, "Whatever," and turns on her heel, heading back upstairs. You can’t help but admire the great restraint on her part.

"Mason, go to sleep," Mabel utters firmly, tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she speaks. "You're a dick when you haven't slept in a few days." He knows better than to talk back to Mabel when she calls him out like that, especially so when there is a significant lack of a nickname.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he groans, his hand dragging down his face, smearing black back onto the skin he'd just half-heartedly cleaned off.

"And you will apologize tomorrow." It’s not a question from Mabel, the no-nonsense tone leaving little room for debate.

"Yeah, I will," he mutters, followed by a nearly silent, "When Waddles learns to fly."

"Well, he already did," she argues, leaving you absolutely confused. "I'll see if I can't get her to apologize for the ‘dipshit’ comment but yours was worse so you have to make the first move."

"I know the drill, Mabel." She nods at his compliance, turning to you.

"I'm sorry that this is your first impression of my brother," she says sheepishly, though her tone scolds him still.

"This is the Ph.D. guy?" You choke out the inquiry softly towards Mabel, shock clear in your tone. She shrugs, nods, then goes off to find Pacifica.

"You must be the new roommate," he smiles then, though it’s more condescending than friendly. Despite that, he still holds out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you. Stay out of my lab."

"Noted," you scoffs, taking his hand as if in a daze.

"Nice pjs," he smirks, instantly turning your cheeks red as you remember what you wore to bed. Nothing more than a thin T-shirt that barely covers your backside. You snatch your hand back from his hold. "Oh, and welcome to Gravity Falls."

Looking around, you take in the black-and-white space surrounding you. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings wide spread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. It’s like walking into a vintage photograph. Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest, following the gentle stream. The only color illuminating the monochrome forest is yourself and the image of a floating yellow-

"Mabel! I've said it once, I've said it a million times! I don't want any Mabel juice!" The sound of Pacifica's shrieking voice stirs you out of sleep, pulling you from the odd dream.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you walk into the den full of commotion. "What the hell is Mabel juice?" You ask sleepily, mid-yawn. You’re met with coos about how adorable the action was from Mabel, to which you blush and sheepishly wave off, already getting the sense that Mabel found cuteness in almost anything.

"Mabel juice!" Mabel announces proudly and far too loudly for so early in the morning. "A beverage of my own invention!" She shows off, presenting the drink in question that looked like a hot pink choking hazard. "Want some?"

"Hmm," you hum in thought at her hopeful intent. "Thank you, Mabel, but I think I'll stick with coffee. I do appreciate the offer though." She just shrugs, still beaming, and pours herself a glass. The sweet smell of pancakes wafts around the room as you sit at the kitchen table. "Something smells good."

"It's my ultra-chocolate-chip pancakes with sprinkles!" Mabel announces, sliding a plate over to Pacifica with a nicely decorated array of rainbow colors over a cloud of whipped cream in the shape of the Smiledip puppy.

"Wow, is this what breakfast is always like here?" You wonder aloud, Pacifica shrugs, hesitates in thought, and then nods.

"How many pancakes, Sunshine?" Mabel hums, the nickname falling easily from her lips. She obviously makes attachments very quickly.

"One, please," you say politely. Mabel is quick to oblige, whipping up similar masterpieces that look like a kitten judge, complete with chocolate syrup whiskers, a powdered sugar powdered wig, and a bacon gavel. "Mabel, this is really incredible." You can’t even remember the last time you had a hot breakfast. Or any breakfast for that matter. You didn't exactly practice a habit of self-care while taking your college courses...or any basic needs really like a regular eating schedule or exercise.

"Why thank you, Cutie-Patootie." You would respond if your mouth wasn't currently stuffed with the bacon gavel. "Sleep well?"

"For the most part." You nod slowly before your mind drifts back to the three a.m. incident. "Can I ask you something though?"

"Shoot."

"Is your brother always like that?" Pacifica snorts derivatively beside you, as if laughing at her own inside joke echoing in her head.

"Well, if you mean pushing the reasonable boundaries of his own health to finish his current hyper fixation…then yes," Mabel sighs, offering a sad smile. "But the bitchiness, no. He’s usually sweet, just sassy. But he tends to slip into bitchy mode when he hasn't gotten enough sleep…which now that I think about it is whenever he’s on the edge of a breakthrough…So to answer your question: yes."

"Hmm, that seems so stupid, though," you hum around a mouthful of the sugar drowned pancake bite.

"Pardon?" The voice comes from behind you, startling you with a bite of pastry cat judge halfway in your mouth. You would have choked if you'd taken a bigger bite. Turning your head, syrup almost dripping off your pouting bottom lip, you see Dipper. He obviously showered which was quite the improvement from last night. Now that his face is clean you can take notice of his features. You remember the big brown eyes but now, without the smudges of grease and grime on his forehead, you notice the pair of bushy eyebrows and fluffy curls that rest above those chocolate orbs. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a while, a shadow of scruff shading his chin. Instead of the question mark tee from last night, he’s wearing a dark blue sweater with the words "Disco Girl" in bubbled sky-blue font that reminds you of a 70s aesthetic mood board which he accompanies with a pair of grey sweats. You think it an odd outfit choice for the moody man in front of you, the juxtaposition boggling your mind. He cocks his head and raises a bushy brow in question when you take your time to answer.

"I mean, it just doesn't seem very productive," you shrug when you finally shallow the breakfast bite that was stuffing your mouth, the hypocrisy dripping off your words as much as the syrup. "When you don't get enough sleep your neuroreceptors lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine which leads to impaired cognitive function. I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something." You mumble the last part while sipping on your cup of coffee. Pacifica snorts out of laugh, Mabel has to slap her hand over her mouth to cover the traitorous smile, and Dipper stares at you with his nose wrinkled and his brows drawn together, taking in your words and frowning at the implication.

"I'm going back to bed," he announces, immediately turning on his heel. “Save me a pancake gnome, Mabel!”

"Are you a science buff too, Sunshine?" Mabel asks once Dipper has turned the corner. Peering past the wall, you check to make sure he was really gone.

"Nope," you popped the 'p'. "I got that off a tv show. I just wanted to stump him." All three of you erupt in laughter.

"Okay, I’ve decided to like you," Pacifica giggles, leaning back in her chair and giving you an approving once over. "On a trail basis, of course. We’ll see how it goes."

"Honored," you chuckle.

"So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?" Mabel asks. She turns the stove off, carrying over a plate with a llama pancake for Pacifica and her own her has a pancake shaped like a dolphin…with muscular arms instead of fins?

"Well, I wanted to check out the town a bit," you answer with a mouthful of the syrupy breakfast. "Maybe walk around the forest a bit…Any good landmarks to check out?”

"Want a tour guide?"

"Yeah, that’d be great, Mabel," you answer gratefully.

The three of you make a day of exploring the town. Mabel and Pacifica show off every aspect and share all the quirky attributes of the small town. Considering the size of the town, the tour doesn't take long. The last stop is Greasy's Diner where Pacifica works. The three of you eat lunch before Pacifica clocks into work. Mabel offers to walk with you back to the Mystery Shack before she goes back out to the craft shop for more knitting supplies. You politely decline, saying that you can find your way back on your own. You part ways and you take your own time strolling back to the house, taking the long way through the mysterious woods you've been itching to explore.

After living with the trio for a few weeks, you caught on to a few things. Mabel is a being of pure chaos, but she makes it work. She channels most of her energy into her creativity, her job consisting of running an Etsy shop selling knitted sweaters. Pacifica is actually a very chill person. She was rather reserved, and you'd catch her people watching often, especially when Mabel's friends Candy and Grenda would come over. She would often observe them with a small smile playing on her glossy lips. She seemed like the perfect balance for Mabel's wildness. And Dipper hates your guts. You're not sure why, but you frequently found him glaring at you. You're not sure what you did, but the guy always has an evil eye for you. Especially when you get back from your daily walks through the woods.

That's another thing about your time in Gravity Falls that seems odd to you. You're not sure why, but you're drawn to the wilderness. It's as if something in the forest was calling out to you.

Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest. Your surroundings blur and blend into the verdant brush or golden glow of the setting sun. You don't even realize how long you've been traveling until your limbs begin to ache and nothing around you is familiar anymore. You hear and see nothing resembling that of a human touch, only the steady thrum of the natural world you've stepped into. The final rays of the evening sun light your path as you venture further, a meager attempt to find your way back to civilization. However, you curiously find yourself stumbling upon a mossy mass of stone, and time seems to slow down the moment you do. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings widespread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. Coming closer, you see a scrawny statue arm reach out to you welcomingly. Your eyes travel over the attached body, the monument shaped like a personified pyramid. You tiptoe around the monolith, studying the odd artwork. A breeze sweeps over you, a shiver working its way down your spine. There's a sudden subtle tickle at the back of your brain and a slight paranoia settles across your skin. Your eyes find the granite gaze of the one-eyed creature, and goose bumps bloom over your flesh. You don't understand it, but you feel a simultaneous urge to flee as well as an overwhelming draw towards the inanimate figure. The contradiction creates a harsh turmoil within you, and you feel frozen, granting your surroundings the perfect opportunity to whisper advice into the wind. You can almost hear an audible "Run!" from the wood, but you can't bring yourself to follow the orders. Instead, your hand hesitantly reaches out to the outstretched hand, your fingers gingerly grasping the stone and wrapping your digits around the stony hand. However, just as your palm settles against the carved rock, fingers grip your wrist and yank you away, pulling you back into a hard chest. And suddenly, time is back on track. You're ripped from your daze as you're spun around to meet a pair of frantic chestnut eyes.

"What did you do?" he screams, shaking you by the shoulders. His face goes pale, deathly so, and the new ghostly shade causes the dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks to drain along with his rosy completion. You unconsciously frown at that realization.

"What?" you mutter in a trance, your mind rousing slowly from the mental fog.

"What did you do?" he repeats in a panic, the desperation in his voice snapping you out of your stupor.

"Nothing!" you squeak out in defense.

"You don't touch this!" he wails in your face. "Don't ever touch this!"

"I won't!" you cry out, hands pushing at his shoulders and clawing at his fingers gripping painfully at your arms. His eyes are searching, scanning your face and person manically. Looking for what, you don't know. But he stares into your eyes as if expecting something new. Well, new to you, at least. You get the feeling that whatever he thinks he'll find swimming in your irises is something that he is plenty familiar with. When he seems satisfied enough, he pushes you away softly. Instead, he turns to gaze at the granite figure once more. A shaky hand cards through his curly bangs, showing off the constellation of freckles that were previously hidden. The movement nearly nudges his hat off his head, letting it rest haphazardly on his head. After a moment, it seems as though he settles the argument that has been playing out in his head. He grabs your bicep and starts dragging you back to the house, ignoring your protests.

When you make it back to the Mystery Shack, Dipper drags you through the attraction side of the house, stopping in front of a vending machine. He punches in a code before pushing you through the entrance that reveals itself. You're welcomed into a dark, dusty hallway lit only by a gas lantern. You then ride down in a creaking elevator, watching the numbers change through broken display glass. Once the metal elevator gate opens up again, another room is unveiled, and you soon realize that it's the basement laboratory, the one that he specifically, in no uncertain terms, told you to stay out of. You believe it was the first sentence he said to you, actually.

This room is by far more well-kept than his bedroom, but it also seems more lived in. There are contraptions, books, papers, and writing utensils scattered over every surface, but it at least seems like there is controlled chaos.

He maneuvers you to sit on an uncomfortable wooden stool in front of a wall of monitors and computer keyboards. You don't know why you've let him direct you so easily thus far, but you might be more afraid of what would happen if you resisted. He seemed so shaken, unstable even after you touched the statue.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel cold metal atop your scalp. You whip around to see Dipper attempting to fit a rusty colander with tubes sticking out of it over your head. You jump up finally, drawing a line in the sand.

"What the hell is going on?" You screech, a heaviness weighing on you as the fog is finally gone and you begin to understand the possible gravity of the situation.

"Relax," he sighs. "It's a cranium scanner. It's harmless. It's just meant to scan your thoughts."

You scoff. "Why do you need to do that? Why should I believe that's what you say it is? Why were you so freaked out about that statue? Why were you even there? Were you following me? You need to work on your communication because you just drag me down here and try to hook up some terrifying machine to me without my permission and without explaining and this is freaking me the fuck out!"

His jaw ticks with every word that quickly leaves your lips. Silently, he lifts the device to his head and fits it on his scalp. The moment he does the monitor comes to life. Green words dance across the screen and mumbles buzz from the speakers. You see and hear phrases like "Fuck, this girl is annoying...I need to run these tests...We have to hurry...gotta make sure he's not back...keep everyone safe, have to keep everyone safe...Man, I'm starving...When was the last time I did laundry?...Nah, that's a waste of time...Disco girllll, coming throughhhh, that girl is youuu...Shit, now that I look at her she's kinda cut—" He rips the machine off his head and clears his throat before shrugging his shoulders and waving his hands as if to say "I told you so" in a single motion. "See? Harmless. Now put this on."

You shake your head. "I still need an explanation."

He sighs out in frustration, taking the stool for himself as he runs a trembling hand over his exhausted features. "Look, this town...it's not normal, okay? There are things here...things that can't be explained...including that statue." You stare at him tentatively, noticing the way his fingers fidget together and his brow shines with sweat. "Just...do this and we will never speak of this again." You watch him for a moment, trying to gauge whether the knot in your stomach is intuition or just nerves over his odd behavior. You don't think you can trust him...but you feel like he needs this...whatever it is. And you hope that it'll calm his erratic behavior. Plus, you're a little amazed by the mindreading device, and you kind of want to know if it's accurate or not. You cautiously step forward, nodding minutely. He rises from the seat and allows you to take it. You do, wiggling around a bit to get comfortable on the incredibly irritating wood panels.

"Can I at least get a better chair?" you grumble.

He actually chuckles, a breath of relief leaving his lips as he nods. He drags an old, velvet-upholstered chair that sits next to a chess table. He smacks the cushion and allows a layer of dust previously caked on the fabric to fly into the air. You can live with it more than the splintering stool. You settle into the seat and allow Dipper to place the appliance on your head.

First comes the shock as all your thoughts are displayed on the monitor at a mile a minute, including the thoughts of your shock. Next comes the processing as you watch Dipper take a seat and start scribbling notes as he observes the monitors. You watch as every one of your thoughts is displayed and you begin to feel exposed as every one of your anxieties are advertised. Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter close, trying your best to relax.

The next moment you open your eyes again something feels off. You scrunch your brow as you look around the room, trying to figure out what's different. Looking over to Dipper, you notice that he's stopped writing. Instead, he sits staring up at the screen. You miss how the screen no longer projects your every thought and only produces static. Your skin bubbles with pins and needles, a sudden chill filling your bones as Dipper remains unmoving with his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. You can't see his face and that alone unnerves you as the silence persists.

You hesitate to speak. "Dipper?"

His hands separate, palms placed flat on the keyboard top. Other than his arms moving, nothing else does. The anxiety is slowly pressing into your chest as you patiently wait for his next action or word. You're beginning to think you should run.

"Y'know," he starts. His voice sounds different, higher pitched, and echoing slightly. "The human mind is such a delicate thing...so fragile and easy to manipulate." He stands then but still doesn't face you. When he turns towards you slowly, his features backlit by the sinister green glow of the monitor, his movements are casual, and he leans back against the desktop with his arms crossed. You can see his eyes. They're different from the chocolate chip orbs that you saw before. Now his pupils consume the entirety of his irises, and it seems as if they're slanted like cat eyes. They almost glow yellow. They nearly remind you of...

He laughs suddenly, wobbily stalking towards you as he shakes his head mockingly. His voice morphs as he continues to make the maniacal sound. It becomes high and pitchy, echoing a shrill, unsettling quality in the sinister cackle that makes your stomach drop. "I mean, look at you! Look at how easy it was to lead you to this moment. You didn't even fight it!" Your hair stands on end at his words and your limbs tremble as you're reminded that you were worried that this would happen. Is it possible to tell yourself 'told you so'? "You just followed me through the woods. I didn't even have to trick you into taking my hand, you curious little thing!" You flinch as Dipper cages you between him and the seat, his face inches from yours as his eyes study you.

"What are you talking about?" You squeak out, your voice finally working once again. Now that he's so close, you know exactly where you've seen such odd eyes before. The statue in the woods.

"Ahh, there it is," he giggles. A hand comes up and grips your chin between his thumb and index. He shakes your head from side to side while pouting at you derisively. "Figure it out?"

"What—how?"

"Hmm, maybe not," he chuckles. He taps a finger into your temple slowly, but the gentle touch feels far more frightening to you, as if it's the calm right before the raging storm. "And here I thought you were a smart girl." His voice has morphed once again, two voices bleeding into one. You hear Dipper's voice being overtaken by that discordant tone that he laughed at you with. His eyes drag down your body then, a darkness seeming to seep into those unsettling ellipse pupils. "It's always odd to look through two eyes. Everything seems so much more...third dimensional. Much more graphic. For instance," his hand cups your throat, the touch so gentle and soft, but there was an obvious threat there, "if I squeeze, I'd be able to see your skin turn red and maybe even blue if I cut off your air for long enough." He absently chuckles, as if lost in the image of what he's imagining. He leans in closer, running his nose along your jaw. "I'd be able to see your veins popping out. Maybe I'd feel your windpipe crushing too." His eyes drift up to yours, as if only now remembering that you're there. He offers a smile that could possibly resemble something sweet, but it only turned your stomach. "Don't worry, Sunshine," he whispers, gently pecking your cheek, "that's not what I want."

"What do you want then?" you ask, your voice surprisingly harsh despite how your insides knot up and your throat feels as if it's closing up.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his gaze away from your temptingly delicate throat.

"Just saying hi to an old friend," he answers, releasing his hold on your neck and placing his hands on either side of your head. As he leans into you it's as if you're witnessing a real-life glitch as the man in front of you shifts from Dipper to a lanky, tan blonde. Wild locks peek out from a tiny top hat atop his head and sweep over his bangs that cover one of his eyes. He'd look like a normal person if he weren't wearing such a predatory grin that reminds you more of a monster instead of a man, the ethereal yellow glow that radiates off his skin, or the cracks at the edges of his face with a galaxy peeking through the unnatural jagged breaks of flesh. But just as quickly as the image of the new man appeared, it was replaced by Dipper once again. He wiggles his fingers in a small wave. "Isn't that right, Pine Tree?" He stares into your eyes but it's as if he's looking through you, instead. He's not talking to you.

Suddenly, his fingers clamp over the nape of your neck, the painful pressure causing your muscles to tense and you're at his mercy. He uses this to throw you towards the dusty couch along the wall. Now that you're out of his immediate vicinity you try to get up and run but he moves like lightning and he's over you in an instant.

"Sorry, Sunshine," he says as he swings a leg over yours, locking your body in place as it's trapped between his thighs. The image of his body continuously glitches from Dipper to the person you saw before. Your arms thrash as you squirm and kick and try to get away, but he pays no mind to your struggle, capturing your wrists easily in his grasp. His fingers dig into your skin as he grips your jaw painfully. "It's nothing personal. Well, not towards you, at least." He laughs as if he said something so funny, an inside joke only for him. "Actually, I should be thanking you. You freed me, your pretty little mind is going to be my new home. And in light of that, I think you deserve a little treat, huh?" Despite your struggle, the man easily held you down with a hand wrapped around your wrists. His other hand smooths down your sides, goosebumps raising in the wake of his touch. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your lips, his tongue slipping in and scavenging your mouth. And the taste of his tongue rubbing against yours is…intoxicating.

It’s like the sweetest of ambrosia seeping into your tastebuds. You feel like you should be fighting more, struggling harder against the man's advances. You feel the way your veins fill with ice at the realization of what he is planning to do. But your mind feels foggy, your movements sluggish and out of your control; the same way you felt while walking in the woods. Your mind is only consumed by the taste of his lips and how it fills your every being. You need more. Your skin feels hot, burning but in the best ways possible. The feeling slowly begins to thaw the ice in your bloodstream as his touch lights your nerves. You vaguely hear the light chuckle in his voice as your lids flutter halfway and you focus on the featherlike trail his fingertips left over your skin.

You open your mouth, but no words leave your lips, and that shrill laugh rings out again.

"See?" he coos, a mixture of Dipper and the other high-pitched voice resonating through the small room. "So easy." His hand releases your wrists, but your limbs stay in place, unmoving even with their newfound freedom. His thumbs knead into your sides as they slip underneath your shirt, slowly rolling the fabric up your body. "Bet Pinetree is squirming in his seat right now. Better give him a show, huh, Sunshine?" Despite every alarm bell in the back of your mind going off, you find yourself agreeing with the strange entity, knowing nothing but the need for more, more, more. His lips curl up into a sinister smirk as he watches the confusion etch into your brows but you do nothing to stop him.

His shirt is ripped over his head in an instant, displaying Dipper’s pale skin and the curly brown hair of his happy trail before his image shift into a mirage of the other man. Golden brick-like tattoo lines and crack of glowing galaxies along his body mar the perfectly tan skin of the unfamiliar man. And the glitches stop, you notice. He is no longer Dipper. He is only the fabricated personified image of the statue in the woods.

Dark fingers that look like they were dipped in ink and absorbed up to his elbows drag over your frame, cutting away each scrap of clothing covering your body. They fall away so smoothly, as if they were merely delicate drapes just waiting for a breeze to brush them away in a gentle sigh. You want to move your hands and cover yourself, but you can’t bring your limbs to listen. They belong to him now. All of you belongs to him now. And the smirk on his face tells you he knows that.

"Wish I had a real body to truly enjoy this, y'know?" He murmurs, gaze hungrily roving over you. He unhurriedly brings himself to lay on the couch chest down between your legs, the dark tendrils of his hands curling below your hips as his head nuzzles into the side of one of your plush thighs. His hair is soft, you notice. Softer than any earthly object. And you are choosing to focus all of your attention on that fact rather than the hungrily look he gives you. "But taste is more of a mental construct, isn’t it? I don’t need a real tongue to thoroughly enjoy a meal." It’s the only warning you receive before a devilish tongue is ravishing your inner walls. Despite his initial nonchalance, he moves quickly to pick you apart with only one muscle. Your eyes flutter shut at the pleasure but just as quickly, a fist closes around your throat and your eyelids fly open once again. "Eyes on me." And you listen, keeping your eyes on the golden iris trained in you as your jaw drops open in a silent scream while he brings you to completion under his skilled tongue. You don’t make a sound until his hand claps down in your thigh, signaling the need for an audible response to your climax. You oblige, letting a high-pitched moan escape your lips. He looks satisfied enough as he comes off of you with a wolffish grin.

You keep your eyes trained on him as he leans over you once again, as if you are incapable of closing them again. You’re not entirely sure if that inability is because of your own will or because of his command. Either way, you watch as the man hovers over you, causing you to jerk when his cock surprisingly taps your sensitive entrance. You look down then, watching the angry red, mushroom head sliding between your folds. Your body seems conflicted, trying both to get away from the friction and seeking to catch the bulbous tip on your weeping opening. You realize that he’s teasing you, however. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that he won’t do anything until you beg for it. He wants you to beg for it.

You listen to his sinister chuckle, the maddening sound bouncing inside your head…or are you both already inside your head…?

"Oh, you figured it out, Sunshine!" He chuckles in that echoing voice of his. "Now you know what I want, so do it." Your mouth opens without your permission but no words escape. "Oh, c’mon, Sunshine. I know you want it too…just give in."

"Please," the word is barely audible as it escapes your lips, but he hears it, perking up at the sound.

"Please what?"

"Please…please fuck me!" You can’t keep the whine out of your voice as you finally plead for what this has all been building up to. You don’t know this man—Creature? Ethereal being?—or what kind of spell he put on you. All you know is that you need it. Everything will be better once you feel his cock pummeling in and out of you. And that’s exactly what he does, plunging into you the second the last syllable leaves your lips.

The stretch is painful and you aren’t sure if the scream you release is because of the pain of his dick tearing through you or the pleasurable drag you feel on your inner walls. It’s like you want to scream, cry, push him out, but you can’t. You can only take it, take it, take it, just as he orders you to while he snaps his hips into you. You realize that you are crying, but again, you have no idea if the tears are from the wonderful stimulation or the searing shame of this moment. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if Dipper knows. You ask yourself what he thinks of you in this moment and if you even care when you’re being speared on a fat cock.

Again that demented laughter rings in your ears, reminding you of the demon you’ve officially sold your soul to that’s treating your body like his personal property. Maybe that’s his now too, along with your sanity. You can’t seem to say much besides moans and whines and pleas for something you’re not sure you want.

"Oh, I really wish you could see her face right now, Pinetree," he giggles, as if talking to himself. "You’d fucking love it. I know I do." He chuckles then, like he made an inside joke before his hand curls around your throat and makes sure your eyes are on him solely. And he speaks but not to you, to something he’s looking at through you. "But I really wish I could see your face right now. You getting off on this, Little Dipper? I bet you are. Freaks like you and me, we gotta enjoy these little moments when we get them." His grip tightens on your throat then and the panic sets in again. Whatever it was that lulled you into a false state of complacency is gone. You feel the oxygen struggling to fill your lungs as his hips snap faster in and out of you, his lanky fingers bullying your button as you’re starting to swim in asphyxiation.

There’s a twinkle in his eye that was never there before as he watches you struggle. You realize that his sadistic demon is getting off more on torturing you than he has this entire time. The smile that spreads across his face is one you know will haunt your very being. And you hate yourself as his digits circling your clit brings you to release just as your vision blackens at the edges. You barely register the warmth flooding your insides as you’re finally allowed to close your eyes.

You wake again with a start, your body shooting up in the chair again, the odd helmet once again gracing your crown. Your eyes land on Dipper whose back is turned to you and you wander if the nightmare is only restarting again. But when he turns around, you see the dark dusting of color on his cheeks and know that this isn’t the demon you just dealt with. But if the boner in his jeans is anything to go by, you do know that he watched the whole thing.

Dipper clears his throat, awkwardly shifting as he faces you, his hands fruitlessly hovering over his crotch and his eyes refusing to meet yours. "Umm," he squeaks. "I think we need to talk."

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Goal for part 2 is set up on my Ko-fi ☕️! Thank you! ☺️🫶🏻

friends

Well…I accidentally posted what I have of Nightmare Fuel part 2 instead of saving to draft…so I hope y’all enjoyed the sneak peak while it was up! Lol 😅🥲😂

CLASS-1A 

― ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI 

― ♡ IZUKU MIDORIYA 

― ♡ TODOROKI SHOUTO 

― ♡ KIRISHIMA EIJIROU 

― ♡ KAMINARI DENKI 

― ♡ SERO HANTA 

CLASS 1-B 

― ♡ MONOMA NEITO 

PRO-HEROES 

― ♡ AIZAWA SHOUTA 

L.O.V 

― ♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA 

― ♡ DABI

OTHER 

― ♡ SHINSO HITOSHI

― ♡ NATSUO TODOROKI 

TWITTER SHITPOSTS 

Bibliophile Brew Vol. II

Summary: When managing your parent's book cafe while they're away, you meet Wonder Duo Dynamight and Deku.

Warnings: SFW. No smut yet but suggestive so Minors DNI. Fluff, aged-up characters, educational polyamory discussion for clueless/inexperienced reader (I think those discussions are important and wanted to include it), language. Lmk if I forgot anything!

This one is a little shorter, but I felt like I made y'all wait long enough for another part and just wanted to get something out there. And there is still more to come! But lmk what you think!

100 likes and 25 reblogs for part 3!

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Word Count: 2.6k

You don't know if you've ever been more nervous than you are right now. You constantly question whether you picked the perfect dress to come off as elegant, the right heels that wouldn't cause you to trip over yourself from the height, or the best lipstick shade to bring out your smile. Your hands shook as you smoothed your hair down, letting out a brisk sigh while staring out the window of the sleek black car that Bakugo sent to pick you up.

When the car rolls to a stop in front of Nonpareil, the elite restaurant catering exclusively to pro-heroes as a sanctuary from paparazzi and fans—a haven established by Midnight as a side business venture—you see your date for the evening waiting for you at the entrance. The blonde stands in a black suit, the black button-up under his jacket is halfway unbuttoned, showing off the star-like scar on his chest. You truly didn't feel worthy of the sight, and all the nerves came flooding back to you.

You feel like you had earlier in the evening, scrambling to make all the right decisions as you had a mini panic attack with Sukki on the phone. You felt like a mess then, and you feel the same way now on the inside. The door opens and a quirk-heated hand is offered to you, vermillion irises staring down at you appreciatively. You place your shaky hand in his sturdy grasp. And suddenly, those nerves dissipate at the sight of the upward corner of his lips, your date caught with a rare smile as his eyes take you in appreciatively.

“So much better than that cafe apron,” he murmurs, and you flush at the tone, looking down at the dress you picked out. And you have to admit that he's right. You do look good. Not that you need his approval, but having this Adonis of a man view you so preciously gives you that inkling of confidence that you need to gracefully slip out of the car, your fingers curling around his. At your full height, you still have to crane your neck to look him dead in the eye. The height difference sends the butterflies in your stomach to flutter, but the way a thick finger comes up to gently brush an eyelash from your cheek is what morphs those butterflies into birds beating against your rib cage. How can such a simple action turn your insides into a chaotic birdcage?

After a few moments of appreciating the shade of each other's eyes, you eventually break apart. He takes your hand and delicately tucks it in the crook of his elbow, leading you into the prestigious restaurant.

That's when your nerves come back, though. You've never seen so many pros in one place, and the sheer power of the beefy bodies buzzing around the room was overwhelming. You wouldn't call yourself a fangirl by any means—you didn't even recognize the number one and two heroes at first—but you could match faces to names mostly. However, you didn't need to know who these heroes were to know their importance and ability to snap you in half if they so choose to. Dynamight could snap you in half if he so chooses to...It makes you feel small, but you can't seem to decide whether that is such a bad thing or not...at least not in Bakugo's presence. At least not with the way his big hand settles on the small of your back, a protective weight to guide you through the unfamiliar setting. You can’t say you dislike that at all.

The further you two walk into the establishment, the more you notice how the crowding of people starts to dwindle. You’re ushered to a set of stairs, leading you to a floor above the bustling and chaotic atmosphere of the bar area. Instead, you’re both in an area that seems designed just for dimly lit booths set with elegant tables and meals. Was that Kmaui Woods? And Mirko? Oh shit, that was definitely heroes number three and fifteen Frostburn and Creati on a double date with rescue hero Uraviti and speed hero Ingenium! Looking around you realize that this floor seems only designated for the top thirty with a particular area on a slightly raised platform in the middle just for the top ten pro-heroes of Japan. Yeah, your nerves are shot at the moment.

Looking at Katsuki, he seems to notice the sudden recognition in your eyes at the setup. His smirk is on full display while continuing to lead you to the center of the room, the tables meant for number one and number two. When you finally manage to reign in your shock and anxiety a bit and pull your eyes away from the blonde hunk of a man escorting you, your eyes land on a certain head of emerald curls sitting at the very table you’re being led to. Izuku sits in the middle of the booth, the dim light of the table lamp glinting in the reflection of the flute brought to his lips. However, to you, the way his eyes flash the same soft light is far more distracting than the glare from the glass. He stares right at you, deeply into your soul before his gaze roams down your figure, and when he pulls his drink away you can see the appreciative smile on his lips. This seemed to be a far cry from the boyishly charming man who came into your cafe the other day. This man seemed incapable of shying away from whatever he wanted. And the way his eyes trailed your every movement screamed that he found exactly what he was craving.

You stop dead in your tracks when feeling the flush crawling up your neck and cheeks. You look up at Katsuki with an air of confusion.

“What’s going on?” Even your voice sounds so small to you while you look up at the behemoth blonde before you. You can’t keep your teeth from worrying at your lip, fearing you’d done something wrong by agreeing to both of their date propositions.

This was already an issue that you had struggled with accepting until Sukki finally talked you down from that ledge. No, you weren’t a bad person for accepting both dates. You aren’t committed to either, you shouldn’t feel bad for dating around. But you were also worried because these weren’t just two guys. These men were Japan’s saviors and protectors. They were best friends and men that anyone would kill to get close to. And you were asked out by both. You had to keep reminding yourself that you weren’t playing them; they both asked you out of their own accord and you never pushed for either of them to do that. But then again, these were Japan’s saviors and protectors. Maybe they were the ones playing you. And even if they weren’t, you’d eventually have to break things off with one of them. You can’t date both of the top heroes, right?

“We’re having a date,” Katsuki said obviously. He nods his head to Izuku who stands and greets you both when you reach the table. You stand between them both, dwarfed by the two well-dressed giant heroes, your head shifting back and forth to each of them.

"Umm..." You take a step back, looking at both of the men in front of you, taking a moment to study them, trying your best to figure out what is going through the two pros' heads. "I'm sorry."

Izuku's brow furrows as he looks at you. "Sorry? For what?"

"I-I should've been honest about accepting both of your date invites..." you start, your fingers fidgeting with one another as you watch your feet, face burning in shame. "But...is this necessary? Or just a joke? I-I don't really—"

"No!" Eyes around the room turn to the three of you at the loud panic in Izuku’s voice. You tense up and awkwardly look at the surrounding pros watching you while you send stiff waves and strained, close-lipped smiles—a truly poor attempt to ease your own social anxiety. Izuku clears his throat a bit, straightens his dark sage suit jacket, and smiles sheepishly, scratching at his cheek anxiously. "Uh, sorry, I meant to say, no, that's not what this is." His hands wave frantically as he speaks. "Can-can we just have a seat?" He motions toward the booth as the rest of the room dissolves back into their previous conversations. You nod hesitantly and slide into the semicircle booth, a blonde flanking your left and a greenette to your right, effectively trapping you between the two hard bodies.

"Please relax," Izuku begs softly. "There is nothing to be sorry for, and we didn't invite you here for anything other than your company."

"Then—"

"It's a date still," Katsuki answers your unasked question.

"With both of you?" Your voice sounds soft and unsure, uncertain that this is really happening. They share a look over your head as you look to them for answers. Izuku offers you a soft smile.

"How about we get some food and then we can continue to talk about this over dinner, yeah?" As if in sync, Katsuki hands you an opened menu the moment the last syllable leaves Izuku's lips.

"The spicy curry is good here if you're into heat," Katsuki offers while looking at his own menu.

"I like the katsudon," Izuku mentions. "What looks good to you?"

"Umm..." your eyes scan the dishes quickly. "The sukiyaki sounds good..."

"Sukiyaki it is then, yeah?" Katsuki promptly says, smiling softly. Looking at his gentle expression, you think that his ability to code-switch so suddenly from coarse to tender never ceases to give you a bit of whiplash.

Katsuki gives everyone's orders and menus to the young waiter who had appeared practically out of thin air before turning back to you. His arm comes up to rest against the back of the booth behind your head and his body angles in towards you. By the sound of shifting on your other side, you can tell that Izuku did the same.

"Umm, so...can someone please tell me what's going on?" you ask meekly.

The boys share another silent conversation with their eyes over your head. It seems to be heated according to how Midoriya fidgets and Bakugo's brow furrows expectantly.

"Start, nerd," Bakugo snaps at Midoriya to cease the incessant silence permeating the space between the three of you. Your shoulders jump slightly at the suddenness of his deep, gruff voice. Your head turns to Izuku, eyes shining in expectancy. He clears his throat.

"Right, umm, where to start?" He mutters to himself, bringing a scarred thumb to press into his bottom lip. "Well, first of all, we're dating." Maybe not the best place to start. Your mouth drops open, your head snapping between the two of them in quick succession. "Oh, shit, wait. Backtrack! Umm, we really like you."

"Fuck, nerd," Katsuki groans, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sinking lower into his seat.

"Uh, I-I think I'm even more confused..."

"We're dating, we like you, we're bi and poly, and wanna date you," Katsuki grunts out. "There. Pretty fucking simple. How the fuck did you fuck it up so badly, Deku?"

"I was going for a more romantic approach, Kacchan," Izuku pouts. You simply freeze, your mind struggling to catch up to what is being said to you.

"Oh." It's the only thing that manages to escape your tight throat, and the simplicity sets both of the men on edge.

"Is...That's all ya got to say?" The blonde grumbles, but you can hear something underneath the edge of his tone, something more vulnerable than you were prepared for.

"Kacchan, be patient," his green-haired counterpart scolds. "That was a lot of information to just bombard her with. Give her time to process."

"You...both like me?" The men in front of you share a soft look, a silent conversation before nodding their joint affirmation. "You're dating each other, and you both also want to date me?" Again, they nod. You bite your lip for a moment in thought before continuing. "How—I've just never...dated this way before. I mean, I don't have a ton of experience in general so...what would the three of us dating look like?"

You watch Izuku's eyes soften on you. "Well," he begins, scootching closer to your side, his large frame dwarfing you further as his thick arm comes up on the back of the booth. It's a quality of his that you hadn't noticed before, but with his impressively imposing body pressed so close into yours now, you couldn't ignore it now. "It's just like normal dating, just with more people than the majority of relationships have."

"And more communication," Katsuki reminds, knowing this to be a particular relationship quality that he constantly needs to be aware of, especially when it comes to something as delicate as introducing a new member into the relationship that has been shaping for twenty years. Izuku nods in agreement.

"And there's just no jealousy or anything?"

Katsuki smirks at that. "I don't know. Let's see." The tips of calloused fingertips kiss the smooth skin of your upper thigh, dancing gently along the hem of your dress. Your breath picks up at the tickle of his touch, your blood rushing in your ears to the point that you nearly miss the words tumbling from his lips. "Deku, this make you jealous?" You feel his lips brushing against the skin behind your ear, hovering ever so slightly as they graze downward on the side of your neck. You wonder if those sinful lips can feel your pulse in their proximity.

Izuku's lips turn up in a grin that rivals Katsuki's own mischievous smile. "Not at all. What about this?" Your chin is pinched between a crooked thumb and index, your head being tilted towards those dangerous emerald eyes and plump lips that brush against your own teasingly. The deep scarlet of the tiny lamp in the middle of the dinner table is no competition for the glowing blush on your cheeks.

"Nah," the blonde on your other side chuckles, his fingers unconsciously kneading the fat of your thigh. "Fuck, yeah, nah, no jealousy here. That's fucking hot. Do it again." The greenette's breath tickles your skin as he snickers, though you're not sure how he could be laughing in this moment while you were fearing cardiac arrest because of their slightest touches. Your heart was overreacting to the gentlest of skin-on-skin contact and you have no idea how you're meant to survive these two masses of muscle if this is how you react to their powers of seduction. "What about you, huh? Whatchu think about this, honey?" An arm reaches around you to grip at the jade curls at the nape of Izuku's neck, redirecting his lips to another pair that move against his right in front of your face. You're instantly mesmerized by way they react to one another, the motions practiced, perfectly in sync in a way that only comes from pure trust and love.

And they did love each other and trust each other wholly. You suddenly realize the depth of what they were asking of you, what they were inviting you into. And there isn't a hint of jealously as you witness their heavy kiss, the rest of the restaurant fading away with the show. Yeah, your poor heart won't be able to survive this relationship, but you're willing to risk a heart attack.

They part ways only for viridian and vermillion to look at you expectantly.

"Can we go back to your place now?"

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Masterlist

PROMPT LIST • REQUESTS CLOSED

STRANGER THINGS STEVE HARRINGTON EDDIE MUNSON THE MARAUDERS REMUS LUPIN SIRIUS BLACK

OUTER BANKS JJ MAYBANK

Stranger Things Masterlist

Guide to the stories!

Smut = ❥

Fluff = ✿

Violence = ➼

Characters

Steve Harrington

╰─► First Kiss ❥ (Steve Harrington X bestfriend! Reader)

╰─► The letters ✿

╰─► I promise you ✿(Steve Harrington X Fem! Reader)

╰─► I love you ✿(Steve Harrington x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Bratty Much?❥ ✿(Steddie! X girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Car Trouble ❥(Steve Harrington x Girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Tricky ❥ (Steve Harrington x Girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Enough ❥ ✿(Steddie x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Hate me ✿ ➼ (Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader)

╰─► Access ✿(Steddie x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Look here ❥(Steve Harrington x (Afab) Fem! Reader)

╰─► Ask nicely ✿ (Steddie x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Don’t worry ✿(Steddie x little! Reader)

Eddie Munson

╰─► innocent love ❥(Eddie Munson x innocent! Reader

╰─► Bite me ❥ ➼ (Vamp!Eddie X Girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Munson ✿ (Eddie x Harrington! Reader

╰─► The letters ✿(Eddie Focused)

╰─► The princess and the freak series ✿ ❥ ➼

╰─► New tattoos ✿ (Eddie munson x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Sweetheart ✿(Eddie Munson x Girlfriend! Reader.

╰─► Sex on fire ✿(Eddie Munson x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► I’m your god ✿ ❥( Eddie Munson X girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Bratty Much? ✿ ❥(Steddie! X girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Enough ❥ ✿ (Steddie! X girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Moving on ✿ (Eddie Munson X ex! Girlfriend reader.

╰─► Never leave ✿(Vamp! Eddie x Fem! Reader)

╰─► Little Gremlins ✿(Eddie Munson x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Access ✿(Steddie! X girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Better man ✿ (Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader)

╰─► Bite mark ✿ (Eddie x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Ask Nicely ✿(Steddie X Girlfriend! Reader.

╰─► Don’t worry ✿(Steddie x little! Reader)

╰─► Attention ✿(Eddie x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► If by chance ✿(Eddie X Ex!Girlfriend reader)

Jim Hopper

╰─► Hopper’s Favorite (Hopper x Fem! Reader)

Robbin Buckley

╰─► The letters

╰─► Missed you (Robin Buckley x girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Robins Ribbon (Robin Buckley x girlfriend! Reader)

Billy Hargrove

╰─► Play along (Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader)

╰─► Bikes (Biker! Billy X girlfriend! Reader)

╰─► Tired of it ❥(Billy x (afab) Fem! Reader)

Dustin Henderson (aged up)

╰─► To be written

Mike Wheeler (Aged up)

╰─► Little Bunny (Mike Wheeler X age regressed girlfriend!)

╰─► Helper ❥(Mike wheeler X girlfriend! Reader)

heyyyy , don’t mean to rush you or seem rude but , is Bibliophile Brew going to be out soon ? ( love you and your work 🩷)

Heyyy 👋🏼 thank you so much for your interest in my writing!! It really means so much!

And we’re so close to me releasing it! I’m just waiting for 100 like and 25 reblogs on the first part of Bibliophile Brew before posting part 2! I just gotta set these goals for myself and my writing as a little motivator. And I’ll put the goal at the beginning of each post. So make sure to share with your fellow bkdks!

However, as we get closer to May, it may also take a little bit longer even if we meet the goal. I’m in my last semester of college so I’m dealing with finals and graduation until May 11th. I’m working on the second part in my moments of free time, but it’s just a bit difficult with everything going on. But it is coming!!

Anyway, thank you so much for your patience! It means so much that so many people seem to like this fic! I can’t wait for everyone to read the next part! And thank you again! 🙏🏼😊

3 days 🥺💔😭😭

unfriendly reminder that today's march 22nd which means we lose eddie munson in 5 days.

Masterlist

Hey there! Now bear with me as I'm not tech savvy so this won't be as pretty as some Masterlists but I'm doing my best, darn it!

My name is Kathryn :), She/Her Pronouns, early 30s but feel older lol'

I do take a requests! Please send me any requests or suggestions. I always read them and write them down.

I write mostly for Eddie and Steve but I'm down for others.

Pedro Pascal

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Sebastian Stan

Joel Kinnaman

I feel like there's more but my brain is blanking lol just ask and we can talk :)

Characters

Eddie Munson

Unattainable Series

In the Eye of the Beholder

In the Eye of the Beholder Part 2

I Got You

Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds Series

Pushing the Barrier series (ongoing kinda)

But What If I Want to Stay

Always Behind You

Always Behind You Part 2

Eddie Asks

Steve Harrington

Date Night Series (on going until I run out of ideas) Playing the Game series

A Virtual Romance series

Steddie

Good Neighbors series

We're a Family Part One

We're a Family Part Two

Steddie Dream Drabble

I'm in Control series (on going)

Kurt Kunkle

A Toxic Lesson