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eddiethehunted · 1 year ago

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hey y'all here's yet another "i'll probably never finish this" snippet — this one's considerably longer (near 3k words!) so maybe it's okay <3

post-vecna, fwb, idiot4idiot, you know how it is. trans eddie but it’s not really relevant to this piece lol

18+ for sexual themes and also one usage of the f slur

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Eddie knows he's acting weird—or, weirder than usual—but he can't muster up the energy to care.

He's not really talking, sitting off to the side and kind of just listening in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with anyone, or whatever—it’s that he doesn’t think he can handle hanging out with Steve.

He's successfully avoided Steve all night and he plans on keeping it that way. That is, of course, until Robin, tipsy and warm and happy from the beers she's been crushing all night, gets up and pulls Steve over to the swing chair with them.

Eddie considers fleeing while she’s not sitting on his knee forcing him to stay there, but he’s not quick enough. She flops back down and brings Steve with her, giggling as he stumbles and bitches and complains about it, making the chair swing back and forth and jostle them all together in a way that would normally have Eddie laughing with her.

Instead, all he can do is stare beyond Nancy’s head, rolling his beer between his hands distractedly and wishing the alcohol would hit him even half as hard as it’s hitting Robin. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to fucking bash his head into the wall right now.

He can see Nancy giving him a weird, curious stare, and look, he likes Nancy, really. She’s cool and badass and he’s kind of scared of her, which is awesome. But he’s not about to talk to Steve’s ex about this fucked up friends-with-benefits to maybe-not-even-friends-anymore-and-definitely-without-benefits trainwreck he’s gotten himself into.

Robin sandwiches herself in between them, a sharp elbow digging uncomfortably into Eddie's ribs. Eddie is being absolutely assaulted by Steve's cologne and presence and warmth and he's not okay. His heart feels like it's going to explode and he wants to leave so fucking bad.

Robin starts rambling about graduation and college to Nancy. Eddie tunes out quick, because Steve's arm is flung over the back of the chair and he's rubbing these distracting little circles on Eddie's shoulder, through his shirt. He can feel Steve's eyes burning holes into the side of his face, over Robin's head.

Steve's touch is distracting normally, but even more so now because it's been almost three weeks since Eddie has seen him, and even longer since he's touched him. The last time they were this close, he'd had Steve climbing into his lap, panting and grinding on him and kissing him like he was trying to steal the air out of his lungs. Whispering Eddie’s name like a prayer between breathy little whines as if it fucking meant something.

The painful throbbing in his chest is nearly as bad as the uncomfortable ache between his legs, and he almost forgets that he's trying to distance himself when he feels Steve shift closer. Robin's leaning forward to talk to Nancy, and that leaves plenty of room behind her for Steve's hand to move, to curl into the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck. Plenty of room for Steve to lean into his space and god, Eddie is having a really hard time keeping a grip on his self-control because all he wants to do right now is pull Steve into the bathroom and fucking get on his knees and make it so that he's the only one Steve will ever want.

“Been a while,” Steve says conversationally. Casually. Eddie wants to fucking kick him.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, not willing to give Steve more than that. It earns him a huff, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to see that Steve’s rolling his eyes at him.

His voice is quiet and trickles down Eddie's spine when he says, "You've been avoiding me."

Eddie can't think of a good response, his voice sticking in his throat, his brain full of static. He finally swallows and vaguely says, "You think so?"

Steve's hand squeezes the back of his neck and every single nerve in Eddie's body lights up. Robin is right there. Like, she's half-sitting on Eddie's thigh. This is—its a really bad fucking time for Steve to be touching him.

"Why?" Steve asks him. He sounds hurt, but also a bit angry, and that shouldn't turn Eddie on but it really, really does.

He likes that Steve's hurting. No, really, he does. Because at least it's not just him. (He's never claimed to be a nice fucking person, okay? He knows he's a bit of a selfish asshole, and he's fine with that.)

He's not having this conversation while Robin is sitting on top of both of them, so he jerks away from Steve and gets up, not paying any attention to Robin's indignant shout as he storms into her house. He's been here enough times that he knows the way to the bathroom even with all the lights off, but he doesn't have the chance to shut the door before there's a foot blocking it.

Steve pushes in, looking pissed, and so, so hot. Eddie's knees feel like jelly and his stomach squirms like he's going to be sick. Emotional confrontation is like, the actual fucking worst, and there's Steve, angry and hurt and crowding him against the counter in Robin's bathroom, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His hands are on either side of Eddie's hips and their faces are so close Eddie could count his eyelashes if he tried hard enough. His cheeks are burning, his voice stuck in his throat, and he's annoyed because Steve knows that being pinned like this gets Eddie hot, and that's not fucking fair.

"I'm not," Eddie lies through his teeth. "I've just been busy—"

Steve snorts, cutting him off with a mean laugh. "Yeah, real busy, I bet. Must be hard work pretending I don't fucking exist."

Eddie is like, five seconds away from either punching Steve or kissing him. He hates that this is doing something for him right now, hates how hot Steve is when he's mad.

"Get off of me," he snaps, but it doesn't sound convincing. Steve's gaze drops to his mouth, just for a second, before it flicks back up.

"Did I do something?" he asks desperately, looks at Eddie with those big, dark eyes. Eddie presses his lips together firmly, biting the insides of them, because if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie's gonna let him bend him over this goddamn countertop. Steve seems to take his silence as confirmation, and makes a quiet, sad sound.

"You can tell me, Eddie," he says, a bit softer, like some of the anger has evaporated out of him. "I miss you."

That hurts.

Eddie wants to throw up. "Don't say that to me."

Steve frowns. "Why not? What, I can't miss you? Can't wonder what the fuck I did to piss you off so bad that you won't even look at me?" He backs off, a bit, enough for Eddie to breathe, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "One day you're shoving my dick down your throat and the next you're acting like you hate me. Kinda makes a guy wonder what happened."

"I don't—hate you," Eddie manages, nearly choking on his words because he doesn't want to say them, but the sad, hurt eyes Steve's giving him pull them from out of his chest. "I'm not even—I'm not even fucking mad at you, Steve. I'm not—this is so stupid." He rubs a hand over his face. “I just… I can't keep doing this shit. This—whatever it is.” He gestures vaguely between them. “Hooking up. Whatever."

Steve's shoulders slump forward. He moves back, until they're not touching at all and there's a few feet between them. He sounds exasperated and frustrated when he says, "Okay, so don't! You could've just told me you didn't want to fuck around anymore. I’m not gonna be mad or something. Jesus, Eddie, you can like, talk to me. I give a shit about being friends more than, like, getting some ass or whatever.”

Steve's not getting it, which is maybe for the best, but the distance between them makes Eddie want to pull his hair out. "No, I mean—" He can't help but reach out, tugging Steve a little closer by the loop of his jeans, which makes him flush so pretty. “I don't wanna stop."

"So...don't?" Steve says slowly, warily. One warm hand wraps around Eddie's arm, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. "We can keep... I dunno, doing whatever. Whatever you want. Even just… hanging out. Or watching a movie, or—uh, yeah, whatever.” He swallows, glances down at Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s sure he knows just what Steve’s thinking about.

He can't help but laugh, because he's sure that what he really wants is not within the realm of what Steve is okay with. Sex is fun, but—god, Eddie wants to be allowed to love him. He’s already opened himself up more to Steve than anyone else. Steve already knows things about him that nobody else does, except his uncle. It’d been so easy to fall in love with him.

"That's the thing. I don't think we're on the same page."

Steve looks so confused that it would be funny if Eddie wasn’t on the verge of spilling his guts, of throwing up his heart all over Steve right now.

“I need you to elaborate, man,” Steve says. “‘Cause you’re giving some crazy mixed signals right now.”

“I don’t want to just keep hooking up with you. I know this all started just as fun and it is fun, but it’s driving me crazy,” Eddie lets out a frantic little laugh, feels like he’s going to start hyperventilating, but he’s started now and can’t stop, “I’m so into you it’s insane, Steve. Like, I like you. So fucking much. So much it makes me want to rip my hair out or something. I can’t keep doing this knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you and I can’t keep pretending that the thought of you with someone else doesn’t make me want to die. Okay? I can’t. It—it hurts and it fucking sucks and I can't do it anymore.”

His voice is shaking by the end of it, and he knows by the burning feeling in his eyes and nose that he’s about to start crying. Because this is it—this is what he’s been dreading, all this time: the moment that the other shoe drops, the moment that Steve rejects him. He’s a nice guy, he’ll do it kindly, let Eddie down gently, but that’ll hurt more. Eddie needs Steve to like, punch him in the face and call him a fag, or something. He can’t handle a sweet, gentle, let’s stay friends forever, it’ll all be okay rejection.

Instead of the bright snap of pain he’s hoping for, he feels Steve’s hands slide up the sides of his neck, almost like he does when Eddie’s down on his knees for him. It’s much softer, now, Steve’s thumbs stroking just under his eyes to wipe away the tears that he can’t stop from falling.

It’s too much.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, shaking his head in frantic, jerky movements as his tears just keep coming. He wants to yell at Steve, to tell him to leave and let him lick his wounds in fucking peace, but he can’t make the words come out. All he can do is suck in another sticky, wet breath.

It tears out of his chest as a sob and Steve swears under his breath.

“Hey,” he breathes. He moves Eddie’s hair out of his face gently, tucking it behind his ears. Any traces of anger are gone from his voice now, and it’s soft, quiet, like he's talking to a frightened animal. “Eddie, hey. Shit, I’m sorry. Can you look at me?”

Eddie doesn’t want to, but he’s never been good at saying no to Steve. He forces his eyes open, blinking away the tears that blur Steve’s pretty face.

“If you’re gonna reject me just do it,” he says miserably. His voice feels thick as it comes up his throat. “I can take it, man.”

Actually, he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse to the ground sobbing and maybe even dry heave or throw up the second he’s alone, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

“I’m not—” Steve huffs out a breath, something like a laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Eddie, I’m not rejecting you. I’m—I’m just kind of in shock.”

Eddie stares at Steve with watery eyes. “In shock?” he bites out. “Yeah, dude, that kinda happens when your friend confesses he has big disgusting gay feelings for you.”

“No! Not like—not in a bad way,” Steve clarifies. He has the most adorable pink flush on his cheeks, a frustrated little crease between his brows as he tries to find the words for what he’s so clearly hurting to say. “I’ve been into you for months. I honestly thought you were avoiding me these past few weeks ‘cause you could tell. I’m not, like,” he heaves a sigh, runs a nervous hand through his hair, “good at being subtle, man. I thought you were rejecting me.”

Eddie has no clue what kind of face he’s making right now, but he feels a little bit like he’s floating suddenly. Like he’s just missed the last step at the bottom of a staircase, a heavy, stony pang in his chest, his breath kind of stuck somewhere around his diaphragm. It’s almost like how it felt to flip upside down, weightless, as he climbed through the gate last spring, but only slightly less terrifying.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we hooked up,” Steve admits, and Eddie's mouth falls open, because that was nearly a year ago. “I know we were supposed to be casual, but it… was never casual for me.” His face is a little redder now, but he doesn't break eye contact. It makes Eddie want to squirm. “I shouldn’t have lied and said I didn’t want more. I wanted you. When we—” He swallows and Eddie can't help but glance down to watch the way his throat bobs, wants to sink his teeth into it. "When we’re together, you know, it’s… it’s all I ever think about. Fuck, I think about you all the time. I feel like I'm going insane.” He groans, letting his forehead fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m not doing a great job here.”

Steve thinks about him. Steve fucking wants him. Eddie is literally going to pass out or something.

“No,” he breathes, because this can’t be real, he has to be hallucinating or something, “no, you’re—this is really good. Keep going.”

Steve sighs like he’s frustrated with himself, his breath warm against Eddie’s shirt. “What I’m trying to say is that I like you too, Eddie. A lot. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t, I’m just—kind of not great at this shit.”

Eddie really, really wants to pinch himself, but he can’t fucking move as Steve’s words sink into his bones.

“You like me,” he croaks out. His hands curl into fists in the front of Steve’s shirt. He probably looks a fucking mess right now with tears and maybe snot all over his face but he can’t think about that, not when Steve is so close. “You actually like me? Like, not—not just fucking me?”

“I mean, I do like doing that,” Steve says, lifting his head with a ridiculous grin and eyebrow waggle that makes Eddie feel hot all over. He groans and shoves Steve’s face away half-heartedly, and Steve laughs, turns his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

Eddie just about melts into a puddle on the floor. God, the Steve Harrington charm. Steve’s smile turns a little soft.

“But yeah,” he says, leaning into Eddie’s hand. “I’m kinda crazy about you, man.”

Eddie needs to make sure he's not insane. "Like, you wanna cuddle me and shit? Fuckin’… bake me a cake?”

Oh god, what do people in relationships even do? Is that even what Steve’s gunning for here?

Steve's clearly trying not to laugh. "I mean, I can make you a cake if you want, but I'm not that great at baking. I always put too much flour and it turns out so bad, and this one time I accidentally put salt instead of sugar and Robin still doesn't shut up about it. I can make a pretty solid lasagna, though, if you want—”

"Oh my god," Eddie says, because he's definitely insane, and also because the idea of Steve in the kitchen making him a lasagna like some kind of little housewife is going to make him act fucking stupid, "shut up."

He really does pinch himself, then, and all it does is hurt. Steve’s lips quirk up again, and he steps a little closer, until it would be so easy for Eddie to tilt his head a bit and move in for a kiss. He goes a little cross-eyed trying to keep looking at Steve, trying to make sure this is still real, that this isn’t some Vecna shit and Steve’s about to turn into some kind of fucked up monster and start, like, eating him or something.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Steve asks, grinning so wide Eddie can almost taste it.

“No,” Eddie lies.

“That’s so cute."

Eddie makes a weird, strangled sound, and it’s the most humiliating little noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed about it, though, because Steve moves so their lips are just barely apart.

“Can I kiss you now? I really want to.” Their noses touch. “I know it’s not the first time, but… I wanna kiss you.”

“Like in a gay way?” Eddie blurts, like an idiot.

Steve’s eyes crinkle up a bit when he laughs. “Yeah, dude. In a gay way. I mean, I kinda feel like me licking my jizz out of your mouth that one time was already pretty gay, but yeah. I wanna kiss you for real. If that’s okay.”

#steddie #teehee #posting this then LOGGING OFF BC I AM SCARED OF EVERYONE #desperately craving attention while being so so so scared of you all

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pickingupmymercedes · 7 days ago

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34+35 - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: 34 + 35 - Ariana Grande

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut (these photos of him in a garage did something to me)

wordcount: +3k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

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The heavy click of your heels echoes through the foyer, mingling with the faint hum of music drifting from the living room.

You drop your keys on the console, the sound loud enough to announce your arrival but soft enough not to interrupt him—because of course, he’s home.

And of course, he’s doing something maddeningly nonchalant while you’re practically vibrating with tension from your day.

You walk in, ready to unload the day’s chaos onto the nearest chair—or him, whichever happens first.

But the sight that greets you brings you to a sudden halt. There he is, sitting on the couch in a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted white tank top, his body draped over the cushions like he owns the world.

His curls are loose, a few even falling into his face as he scrolls through photos on his tablet, the soft light of the screen casting a golden glow over his sharp jawline.

Your eyes flick to the photos for a split second, and there it is: him, in his new +44 merch, leaning against a vintage car in the shot, all casual dominance and smoldering eyes.

You swear under your breath. You’re already unraveling.

Lewis looks up and smirks, that slow, knowing grin that’s half amusement, half challenge. “Tough day? Or just can’t get enough of me?”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of your shoes and setting them by the sofa to buy yourself a moment. “Both” you mutter, brushing off the comment.

He sets the tablet down, leaning back into the couch with his arms stretched out over the backrest, watching you with the kind of lazy attention that makes your pulse skitter. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” The word slips out before you can think better of it, and his eyebrows rise just slightly.

“For what, exactly?”

“Lewis,” you warn, though it’s a weak attempt. You’re already losing the battle against the smile threatening to tug at your lips.

“What?” His tone is innocent, but the glint in his eyes betrays him. “Your body is telling me something, you know.

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the arm of the couch to look down at him waiting for him to go on.

“Come here, love. Tell me what is it.” He gestures lazily toward the space next to him.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to sink into the cushions beside him, let his calm energy wrap around you. But the other part—the part still running on adrenaline from back-to-back meetings and decisions—won’t let you.

You shake your head, staying where you are.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, your voice just a little too tight. “The usual chaos. Nothing worth rehashing.”

Lewis tilts his head, studying you like he’s deciding whether to push. He knows you too well, and it’s infuriating how easily he can see through the armor you’ve spent years perfecting.

“Huh” he says finally, his voice slow. “So, you’re pacing the room like you’re about to go to war for fun?”

“I’m not pacing” you shoot back, realizing too late that you’ve taken at least three steps toward the kitchen without thinking.

He laughs, the sound low and warm, cutting through the static in your mind. “Sure, love.”

You glance back at him, narrowing your eyes. He meets your gaze, holding it with a calm steadiness that makes your stomach flip.

“You’ve got that look, you know” he says, his voice softening slightly.

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re trying not to lose it, but you’re already halfway there.”

You exhale sharply, your shoulders sagging just a fraction. He’s not wrong, and the admission stings more than it should. You hate how easily he can disarm you, but there’s a comfort in it too, in the way he sees you even when you’d rather stay hidden.

“Maybe I am” you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis’s expression shifts, the teasing fading into something softer, more intentional. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you before getting up and reaching you on the kitchen.

“Come here,” he says again, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for argument.

And for once, you don’t argue. You take the steps that separate you and settle in his arms, hoping the day would begin to loosen its grip on you.

But regardless of how comforting is the weight of Lewis around you, it’s not enough to quiet the restless buzz in your chest. You stand there rigidly, your back straight and your arms folded like they’re holding the last shards of your resolve together.

Lewis’s thumb rubs slow circles against your back, and while the motion is meant to soothe, it only makes the energy under your skin prickle more.

“You’re still wound up” he says softly, the observation maddeningly accurate. “What’s got you so tense?”

“Nothing” you reply curtly, eyes fixed on the far wall. The response is clipped enough to make him chuckle.

“Liar.”

Your head snaps toward him, a glare aimed to warn him off. But Lewis only smiles, his arm slipping so he can lean forward and face you fully.

“I’m serious,” he says, his tone shifting to that deliberate calm that somehow grates against the storm inside you. “You walked in here looking like you wanted to fight me and the furniture, and now you’re here like the world owes you a fight.”

“I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“No?” He tilts his head, clearly unconvinced. His gaze sweeps over you, and you can feel the weight of it like a spotlight, exposing every crack in your composure.

“You look like you could use some unwinding” he says, his voice low and careful not to push too far.

“I’m fine,” you snap, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended. “Can we not do this right now?”

Lewis lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment, leaning back against a stool at the kitchen island as his eyes linger on you. “Sure. We don’t have to do this. But you know you’re not just gonna sit there and stew all night.”

You roll your eyes and stand abruptly, pacing around under the guise of needing water. It’s an excuse to put space between you and him, though you can feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“You always do this” you mutter under your breath, reaching for a glass.

“Do what?” he asks, following you like a shadow you can’t shake.

“This.” You gesture vaguely toward him, spinning around to find him leaning casually closer, now against the counter, arms crossed and a smirk playing at his lips. “This thing where you sit here all calm and collected, acting like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I do?”

The nonchalance in his voice makes your teeth grind, and he knows it. He shifts closer, his hand brushing against your arm as he takes the glass from you and sets it back further on the counter.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet command.

“I don’t need to talk. I need—” The words catch in your throat, your pulse quickening as his gaze locks onto yours.

“What?” His tone is steady, unrelenting.

You hesitate, your lips pressing into a tight line. You hate that he can read you so well, that he knows exactly how to dismantle the walls you’ve spent all day reinforcing.

“I don’t know,” you finally say, the admission bitter on your tongue.

Lewis steps closer, his presence cornering you until there’s nowhere to hide. He reaches out, brushing his thumb on your cheek. “Sure, you don’t” he says softly, his thumb grazing dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.

And that touch is enough to send a crack through your resolve, and the frustration bubbling inside spills over.

“I need you to fuck me senseless so I can get out of my head” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

The moment hangs in the air, thick and electric. His hand drops from your cheek, and for a heartbeat, he’s still. But then his expression shifts, his smirk sharpening.

“Finally,” he murmurs, the word more to himself than to you.

Your heart races as he closes any of the distance left between you two. His hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him, and his eyes meet yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Senseless you say?” he half asks, his voice low and edged with challenge.

You glare at him, refusing to back down. “Right here and now.”

His grin widens, wicked and unapologetic. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

And he’s spinning you around, your back now pressed against the cool marble of the kitchen island. His hands are on you, firm and deliberate, and all the tension you’ve been carrying—the frustration, the restlessness, the overwhelming need— finally begins to slip.

Lewis’s lips claim yours with an urgency that leaves no room for overthinking, his hands gripping your hips like he’s anchoring you to him. Your breath hitches as his mouth moves to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin while his hands roam, tugging at your blouse to free you from it.

He isn’t soft, and you don’t want him to be. You want the fire, the friction, the rawness that only he can give you.

"You're still in your head," he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach tighten.

"Am not" you lie, though even you can hear the tension in your voice.

Lewis pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the bare skin at your waist. His gaze is piercing, like he can see every thought you’re desperately trying to bury.

"Yes, you are" he counters, his tone steady, assured. "But I’ve got you"

The words hit something deep, something tender, and you swallow hard, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself. But Lewis isn’t having it. His hands leave your waist only to slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the island.

"You’re going to let go, babe" he says firmly, stepping between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading them wider as he leans in. "I’ll make sure of it."

A sharp retort rises to your lips, but it dies the moment his mouth captures yours again. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, then his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if holding onto him might keep you from drowning in your own thoughts.

"I hate how you do this" you mumble against his lips, your voice a mix of frustration and surrender.

"Yeah?" His lips curve into a teasing smile, but his hands are anything but playful. They slide up your thighs, gripping firmly before tugging at the waistband of your pants.

"How you make me need you" you admit, the words cutting through the fog in your mind like a blade.

Lewis leans back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression softening even as his hands remain possessive on your hips. "That’s not something you need to hate" he says, his voice a low murmur.

Before you can respond, his hands move again, sliding your pants down and over your hips, leaving you only in your lingerie.

"Look at me," he says softly, tipping your chin up with his fingers when your wonders.

The intensity in his eyes pins you in place, grounding you in a way that makes your head spin. You feel the fight in you start to waver, your grip on control slipping with every deliberate touch, every whispered word.

"You’re here with me" he continues, his other hand trailing up your thigh. "Stay with me, Y/n."

"I’m trying" you whisper, the words thick with frustration.

"I know" he replies, his tone gentle but unyielding. His fingers graze the inside of your thigh, teasing but firm, and you can’t help the moan you let out.

The way he says it, like he knows you better than you know yourself. You exhale shakily, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, your hands clutching at his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

"I hate how much I need this" you confess, your voice muffled against his skin.

"No, you don’t" he murmurs, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulls you closer.

The next moments blur together in a haze of heat and motion. His lips are everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin just below your ear.

The cold of the marble beneath you is a fleeting sensation, eclipsed entirely by the warmth of his body pressed against yours. He’s meticulous, demanding and reverent, as if he’s determined to strip away not just your clothes but every ounce of tension you’ve carried with you.

And he does. Piece by piece, layer by layer, until there’s nothing left but you and him and the steady, grounding rhythm of his movements.

His hands leave your body for only a moment as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, shedding them in a single motion.

You can’t help but reach out, your hands instinctively finding him, wrapping around the hard length of his dick with a confidence that earns you a raised brow and a teasing smirk.

"Handsy, aren’t we?" he quips, his voice warm with amusement, though there’s also a hunger there.

You don’t bother with a response, too focused on the weight of him in your palm, the way his skin feels hot and smooth against your fingers. But your grip tightens slightly, and he inhales sharply, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by primal need.

Lewis leans down, one hand bracing the counter beside you while the other trails up your thigh. When he glances at you, his intentions are clear.

He’s going down on you.

The thought of his mouth on you, of him taking his time, should be enough to unravel the tight coil of frustration lodged in your chest. But it doesn’t.

Instead, the restless energy intensifies, and the idea of waiting—of anything standing between you and the rawness you crave—makes your pulse hammer in protest.

Your hand shoots out, fingers grasping at his biceps and tugging just enough to make him stop.

“Don’t,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

Lewis freezes, his eyes snapping up to yours. For a moment, there’s confusion there, a flicker of surprise that quickly softens into something more intentional.

“You sure?” he asks, his voice low, careful, as his hands pause on your thighs. He searches your face like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re not saying.

Instead of answering, you pull his body against yours, locking your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, leaving no space for doubt.

That’s all he needs.

Lewis captures your lips in a kiss that’s all consuming, swallowing the moan that escapes you as he presses closer. His hands grip your thighs, positioning you at just the right angle, and then he’s there, pressing into you in a way that forces every other thought from your mind.

Even after all this time, the first stretch always takes your breath away. The sheer girth of him, the way he fills every inch of you, is something that never fails to surprise you.

A gasp escapes your lips, muffled against his mouth, and he groans in response, his forehead dropping to yours as he steadies himself.

Lewis adjusts his grip on your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin with enough force to leave marks that will bloom tomorrow—an unspoken promise of this moment lingering long after.

He draws back, his cock sliding almost all the way out before slamming into you again, forcing a broken cry from your lips.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "I know you want to run that mouth of yours, but I don’t think you can right now, can you?"

The words should irritate you—no, they do irritate you—but any retort you might have had dissolves into a moan when he grinds his hips just right, hitting that devastating angle that makes your vision blur.

Your mind tries to fight back, to form some kind of response, something sharp and biting to remind him you’re not completely undone.

"Thought so," he says smugly, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a brief, punishing tug. His thrusts grow harder, more deliberate, and your head falls back against the cool surface of the island.

"You’ve been in your head all day, haven’t you? Spinning, overthinking. Let’s see if I can’t fuck all those thoughts right out of you."

You want to argue. But every time you’re on the verge of saying something, he pulls out nearly to the tip and drives back in, stealing the air from your lungs.

Fuck him.

Fuck this.

Why does he have to feel this fucking good?

"You’re too quiet, baby," he taunts, his hands shifting to grab at your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter so he can pound into you even deeper.

The sharp slap of his skin against yours echoes in the room, drowning out your ragged breaths. "Where’s that smart mouth now? The one giving orders all day?"

Your fingers dig into his arms, desperate for something to ground you. "Lew" you manage to choke out, though your voice is barely audible over the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding.

"Don’t worry, I’m just getting started." he replies, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He adjusts his angle slightly, and the next thrust makes your toes curl and your back arch off the counter.

Your mind tries to claw back some semblance of control, some internal quip to distract from the overwhelming sensations, but it’s useless.

Every sharp comment that tries to form is obliterated the moment he moves, his hips driving into you with unrelenting precision.

"You feel that?" he growls, his voice rough with exertion. His hand slides up your stomach, between your breasts, until his fingers wrap lightly around your throat—just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

"That’s me pulling you out of that head of yours. Don’t think, babe. Just feel."

You’re too far gone to respond, but he doesn’t need you to. His pace picks up, relentless and punishing, the rough drag of his cock against your walls pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his tone darkly satisfied. "You’re mine right now, aren’t you? Just me and my cock on that pretty little head of your."

You can’t argue. You can’t even think of a reason to try. Your mind is blank, your body a live wire under his control, every nerve ending tuned to the rhythm he’s setting.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Let go for me. I’ve got you."

And with one more thrust—perfect, devastating, him—you do.

The world felt like it had shattered into fragments, each piece scattered too far for you to grasp.

You lay there on the cool counter, body limp, chest heaving, utterly boneless. Reality was an abstract concept—one you weren’t even sure you wanted to return to.

When Lewis pulled out, you barely noticed. It was only the warm sensation spreading across your stomach of his seed on your skin that registered somewhere deep in the recesses of your fogged mind.

But even that didn’t fully bring you back. Not yet.

It wasn’t until his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your warmed up skin, that your senses began to reassemble themselves.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him watching you with satisfaction, his dark eyes searching your face. His curls damp with sweat, and his lips were swollen from all the kisses you’d stolen—or he’d stolen from you.

Either way, he looked unfairly good for someone who had just ruined you.

"Okay?" he murmured softly, his thumb pausing in its gentle stroke as he waited for your response.

You blinked up at him, still too blissed out to form words. Instead, you gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his voice dipping into that soothing tone he always used when you were at your most vulnerable. His other hand joined the first, cradling your face now, as if you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

Another nod. Your lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse, barely-there whisper. "On my stomach?"

His lips quirked into a cocky grin, the sharp contrast to his earlier gentleness making you want to smack him—if you had the strength.

"A little souvenir" he echoed, his tone playful but still laced with warmth. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Would you rather a creampie"

"Shut up," you muttered, your voice gaining a little strength now.

"You didn’t want me to shut up earlier," he teased, his thumbs sweeping over your cheekbones. "In fact, I think the words you used were—what was it?—‘fuck me senseless.’"

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the counter.

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and warm. "As long as you’re feeling better"

He kissed your forehead, soft and lingering, and you sighed, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. Your body was still thrumming from everything he’d done to you, but your mind—your perpetually spinning, overanalyzing mind—was finally still.

And damn it, as much as you hated to admit it, he’d been right.

"Yeah, yeah," you grumbled, closing your eyes again as his hand smoothed over your skin "Congrats. You shut me up."

"Didn’t shut you up" he corrected, his voice brimming with that maddening mix of confidence and affection. "Got you out of your head. Big difference."

Your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with the remnants of satisfaction, and found him staring down at you with a stupidly smug grin.

"Right," you muttered, voice scratchy, "I’m going to clean myself up." Your hand motioned lazily to the sticky trail now spreading down on your thighs, the remnants of him painting your skin.

Lewis stepped back, making no effort to stop you as you slid off the counter, your legs wobbling a little before you caught your balance. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, that same infuriatingly cocky smile plastered on his face.

As you padded down the hallway, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes trailing after you. Halfway to your bedroom, you stopped abruptly, glancing over your shoulder to catch him watching you, leaning there like he didn’t have a care in the world.

"You coming, or are you just going to stand there?" you called back, one brow arching as you let your eyes rake over him for emphasis.

His grin widened, his gaze dipping shamelessly down your body. "I am coming," he replied, pushing off the counter with a slow, deliberate motion. "Just didn’t want to rush and miss the view."

You rolled your eyes and turned back around, but the small, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Typical him. Always cocky. Always exactly what you needed.

_____________________________________________________________

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cryiingoutloud · 5 days ago

Text

☽〝 an encounter ( matty healy x reader )

in which you are an extra in a music video, and an ordinary day of work turns into a scorching encounter with the frontman of the band.

warnings: 18+, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, needy matty aaah, like he can’t shut the fuck up for a second. wc: 11.4k

the studio was a hive of activity, humming with an energy that felt almost suffocating. bright spotlights hung from rigging high above, casting harsh white light over the massive set. everywhere you looked, people rushed about with clipboards and headsets, shouting instructions over the pounding bass of the track that played on a loop.

you stood awkwardly near the edge of it all, feeling completely out of place. just an extra— a last-minute addition to fill space in the background shots. the director’s assistant had told you to “mingle casually,” but that was easier said than done when everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing. you felt invisible, and maybe that was a good thing. no one would notice if you just stayed out of the way.

but someone did notice.

he was lounging in a director’s chair near the center of the chaos, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. matty healy. you didn’t need to be a fan to recognize him— the messy black curls, the tattoos peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, the devil-may-care smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face. he looked every inch the rockstar, exuding a kind of casual arrogance that made him impossible to ignore.

you hadn’t expected him to be so magnetic in person. photos didn’t do him justice. there was something about the way he carried himself, the way he leaned back in his chair like he owned the room, that made you hyperaware of his presence. and then his eyes met yours.

it was fleeting— just a quick glance as he took a drag from his cigarette. but it was enough to make your pulse quicken. you told yourself it meant nothing. he probably wasn’t even looking at you. you were just part of the scenery.

but then it happened again. and again.

by the third time, you couldn’t pretend anymore. matty healy was looking at you.

the hum of activity on set didn’t falter for a second, but to you, it felt as though the noise had dulled. the air shifted every time matty’s eyes landed on you, his dark gaze sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the chaos and pinning you in place. you tried to convince yourself it was a coincidence. maybe he was bored. maybe he was zoning out and just happened to be looking your way.

but then his gaze turned deliberate. calculated. his lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more like a quiet acknowledgment. a dare.

you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you felt in this crowd of strangers. you didn’t belong here— not among the carefully curated glamour of the other extras and certainly not in his world. you looked away, fixing your attention on a grip carrying a massive piece of equipment, but the feeling of his eyes lingered, a weight you couldn’t shrug off.

you didn’t realize how close he was until you caught the scent of him— cigarettes, leather, and something faintly spicy that clung to his skin. when you glanced up, he was standing only a few feet away, talking to the director. his body language was loose, casual, but there was an edge to the way he moved, like he was aware of the way every set of eyes followed him. he said something low to the director, and the older man nodded, glancing around the room.

“her,” matty said, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear. the word hit you like a jolt of static. you didn’t process it at first, not until the director’s gaze followed matty’s finger— pointed directly at you.

your breath caught in your throat. no, surely he didn’t mean—

“you,” the director called out, his tone brisk and impatient, like he didn’t have time for hesitation. “come here.”

you froze. your mind screamed at you to move, but your feet refused to cooperate. the director frowned, gesturing sharply with one hand, and before you knew it, someone was nudging you forward, pushing you into the spotlight. every instinct told you to shrink back, but there was no escape. not when matty’s gaze was fixed on you like a spotlight of its own.

when you finally stepped into the center of the set, you felt small, out of place under the weight of so many eyes. matty, however, looked utterly at ease. he stood just a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his head tilted as he watched you approach. the corners of his mouth curved upward in something resembling amusement.

“relax,” he said, his voice low and rich, cutting through the buzzing anxiety in your head. “i don’t bite.”

the director clapped his hands, already moving on to instructions. “we need something raw, something spontaneous. the last scene fell flat. a kiss, unscripted, unplanned— it’ll be perfect.”

your stomach dropped. a kiss?

before you could form a coherent thought, matty took a step closer. he was tall - taller than you expected - and the sharp angles of his face seemed even more pronounced up close. his curls fell messily across his forehead, and his dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something dangerous.

“you’re okay with this, yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost gentle. the question caught you off guard. it didn’t match the intensity of his presence, the raw magnetism that seemed to radiate from him.

“i—” you swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how dry your throat had become. “yeah. i guess.”

his lips twitched into a half-smile, but he didn’t say anything else. he just waited, watching you with a patience that felt somehow more unnerving than the chaos surrounding you.

“all right, places, everyone!” the director called out, his voice snapping like a whip. the crew bustled around you, shifting cameras, adjusting lights, barking last-minute instructions. you barely registered any of it. all you could focus on was matty— on the way he stood so still amidst the motion, like a storm gathering in the eye of a hurricane.

“action!”

the word rang out, and before you could even process it, matty was moving.

he closed the distance between you in a single, unhurried step, his hand lifting to cradle the side of your face. his touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, and then his lips were on yours.

the kiss wasn’t what you expected. you thought it would be quick, perfunctory, something to get the shot and move on. but matty kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like there was nothing else in the room worth paying attention to. his mouth was soft yet firm, coaxing rather than demanding, and the taste of cigarettes lingered faintly on his lips.

your body froze at first, overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy, but then his other hand found your waist, his fingers pressing lightly against your hip, and something inside you cracked. you kissed him back without thinking, your lips parting slightly as he deepened the connection. his tongue brushed against yours, a teasing flicker that sent a shiver down your spine, and your hands moved of their own accord, gripping the fabric of his shirt as though to steady yourself.

the world around you blurred. you couldn’t hear the director shouting for another angle, couldn’t see the camera operators adjusting their lenses. all you could feel was matty— his heat, his scent, the way his body seemed to mold perfectly against yours.

and then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended. matty pulled back, his lips lingering against yours for a fraction of a second before he stepped away. his hands dropped to his sides, and his expression shifted back into something unreadable, the intensity in his eyes shuttered behind a veil of practiced indifference.

“cut!” the director yelled, his voice jolting you back into reality. the room buzzed with activity once more, but you felt like you were moving through molasses, your limbs heavy and your thoughts sluggish.

“not bad,” matty said, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “you might’ve even enjoyed that.”

before you could respond - before you could even process the low, teasing lilt of his words - he stepped away, disappearing into the crowd of crew members and equipment as though nothing had happened.

you stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“not bad,” you muttered under your breath, still reeling. it felt like the understatement of the century.

you spent the next hour trying to focus on anything but him. the director barked out instructions, moving extras into new positions, setting up shots that required wide angles and sweeping camera movements. it should have been easy to lose yourself in the crowd, just another nameless face blending into the backdrop. and for a while, you managed it.

until you felt him again.

matty was impossible to ignore. even when he wasn’t near you, his presence lingered like static in the air, crackling faintly against your skin. you tried not to look at him, but every time you did, he was already watching. his gaze wasn’t subtle— it was deliberate, steady, a pull you couldn’t resist no matter how much you tried. and he knew it. the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wasn’t keeping his distance, either. between takes, he wandered the set with a casual sort of purpose, his strides loose and unhurried. once, he passed close enough that his arm brushed yours, and even that fleeting contact sent a spark shooting down your spine. he glanced back over his shoulder as he walked away, like he was waiting for you to react. you refused to give him the satisfaction, but your heart betrayed you, hammering against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

the first time he spoke to you again, it was barely more than a whisper.

“doing all right?” he asked, his voice curling around the words, low and smooth.

you turned to find him standing just behind you, far too close for comfort. he leaned in slightly, his dark eyes flicking over your face with lazy curiosity, like he was cataloging every detail. his proximity was disarming— his body warm, his scent all-encompassing. you swallowed hard, willing yourself not to lean into him.

“i’m fine,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“good.” he didn’t move back. if anything, he leaned in closer, his voice dipping even lower. “wouldn’t want you to feel… overwhelmed.”

the emphasis on the word sent a flush creeping up your neck. he was teasing you, testing your boundaries, and the smug tilt of his lips told you he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having.

“i’m fine,” you repeated, sharper this time. “thanks for checking.”

his grin widened, but he finally stepped back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “message received.”

by the time the director called for a short break, you were desperate for a moment to collect yourself. the lights were too hot, the noise too loud, and matty’s relentless teasing had left you feeling frayed, stretched thin by a tension you couldn’t shake. you slipped away from the set, weaving through the maze of equipment until you found a quieter corner— a storage area cluttered with spare cables, cases, and forgotten props.

leaning against the wall, you took a deep breath, letting the relative silence wash over you. your pulse was still racing, and no amount of logic could calm it. this was ridiculous. he was just some musician. a man. you’d kissed him, sure, but it was for work. it didn’t mean anything.

“found you.”

the voice startled you, low and smooth, cutting through the stillness like a blade. you turned sharply, your breath catching as matty stepped into the room. his presence filled the small space immediately, the sharp angles of his face cast into shadow by the dim overhead light. he wasn’t smirking anymore. his expression was something else entirely— intent, focused, like he’d just found exactly what he was looking for.

“you’re not supposed to be back here,” you said, your voice unsteady.

“neither are you,” he countered, leaning casually against the doorframe. “guess that makes us even.”

you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to put some kind of barrier between you and the weight of his gaze. “did you follow me?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he took a step closer, closing the distance between you with an ease that made your pulse jump. he stopped just short of your personal space, tilting his head as he studied you.

“you ran off earlier,” he said finally, his tone soft but pointed. “didn’t even stick around to hear if the director liked the shot.”

you shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “figured it wasn’t my business.”

“hmm.” his gaze flicked over you, lingering on your lips for just a fraction of a second too long. “seemed pretty personal to me.”

your heart stuttered, your skin prickling with heat. “it was just a scene.”

“was it?” the question was barely above a murmur, but it carried the weight of something heavier, something dangerous. he took another step forward, and this time, you didn’t move back. “because it didn’t feel like ‘just a scene’ to me.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. the air between you felt thick, charged with something you couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore. every nerve in your body screamed at you to step away, to put some distance between you, but you couldn’t move. not when he was this close, his breath warm against your cheek, his dark eyes holding you in place like a magnet.

“tell me i’m wrong,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, rough and intimate. “and i’ll leave you alone.”

your throat tightened. you wanted to say it. you wanted to push him away, to break whatever spell he’d cast over you. but the words wouldn’t come. instead, your silence hung heavy between you, louder than anything you could have said.

matty’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more like a quiet acknowledgment of victory. he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.

“you’re not going to say it,” he murmured, and there was something almost tender in his voice, a softness that made your chest ache. “are you?”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. matty’s hand lingered on your jaw, his thumb brushing a feather-light stroke along the curve of your cheek. you felt the press of his gaze, dark and intent, pulling at something deep in your chest. but instead of shying away like you might have earlier, you met his stare head-on.

and you smiled.

it wasn’t much at first - just the faintest curve of your lips - but it was enough to make matty falter, his expression shifting ever so slightly. his brows knit together, like he wasn’t sure he’d seen what he thought he did. that hesitation was all you needed.

“who says you’re not wrong?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, laced with just enough bite to let him know you weren’t going to back down.

the corner of his mouth twitched, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough for you to feel the heat of his skin. “am i?”

you tilted your head slightly, forcing his hand to drop away. “maybe you are,” you said, stepping out of the shadow he’d cast over you. “or maybe you’re just trying too hard.”

matty let out a soft laugh, low and rough, but there was a spark of something behind it— surprise, maybe, or curiosity. you’d caught him off guard, and you weren’t about to let him recover so easily.

“trying too hard?” he echoed, straightening. “is that what you think?”

you shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as your heart pounded in your chest. “you’re laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think? all the staring, the brooding— it’s very… obvious.”

his lips parted slightly, as if he was about to respond, but instead, he let his gaze rake over you, slow and deliberate. when his eyes met yours again, the playful smirk had returned, sharper this time. “you don’t seem to mind.”

“oh, i didn’t say i minded,” you said, your tone sharper now, a teasing edge creeping in. “i just think it’s funny. you don’t have to work so hard, you know.”

matty tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time. “you’ve got some fight in you after all,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

you crossed your arms over your chest, the movement deliberate, designed to draw his attention. it worked. his eyes flicked down, just briefly, before snapping back up to your face. “were you expecting me to swoon?” you asked, arching a brow. “sorry to disappoint.”

his laugh this time was louder, rougher, and it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “i don’t know if ‘disappointed’ is the word i’d use.”

“good,” you said, your voice dropping just slightly, enough to make him lean in closer. “because i’d hate to let you down.”

the shift in your dynamic was almost palpable. where you’d been shy and unsure before, now you had the upper hand, and you weren’t afraid to wield it. matty, for all his bravado, seemed thrown by your sudden confidence, though he hid it well behind his usual smirk. still, you noticed the way his posture changed, the way his eyes lingered on you just a little too long, like he was trying to figure out exactly what had shifted.

and then you pushed it further.

“you’re staring again,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of them. they were bold, teasing, but you didn’t regret them. not when they made Matty’s smirk falter for just a split second.

“am i?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl.

“you are.” you took a step closer, closing the distance between you until you could see the faint flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “i’m starting to think you have a staring problem.”

matty tilted his head, his curls falling messily across his forehead. he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze heavy, calculating. “and i’m starting to think you like it,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “what if i do?” you asked, letting the words hang between you like bait. “what are you going to do about it?”

something in his expression shifted— an almost imperceptible change, but enough to make your breath catch. his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and his hand twitched at his side like he was stopping himself from reaching for you. he took a step forward, and suddenly, the air between you felt thick, suffocating in the best way.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice so low it sent a shiver down your spine.

“and you’re not?” you shot back, tilting your chin up just slightly, enough to make him notice. enough to make him react.

he did.

matty’s hand shot out, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. the movement was so sudden, so sure, that you barely had time to process it before you felt it - him - hard and undeniable, pressing against your thigh. the realization sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and your breath hitched despite your best efforts to remain composed.

“still think i’m trying too hard?” he asked, his voice rough, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel the heat of his breath.

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. instead, you looked up at him, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. his eyes were darker now, heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide with something that made your stomach flip.

“i—” you swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice. “you’re definitely trying.”

his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through the intensity of his expression. “and?”

you knew what he was asking. you could feel the tension coiling between you, thick and electric, begging for release. part of you wanted to push back, to keep playing the game, but another part - a louder, more insistent part - wanted to see how far you could push him.

“and,” you said, your voice steady now, bold, “it’s working.”

that was all it took. matty let out a low sound that was somewhere between a growl and a laugh, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted his hips just slightly, pressing himself more firmly against you. the movement drew a soft gasp from your lips, and his eyes lit up at the sound, his smirk returning in full force.

“you’re full of surprises,” he murmured, his free hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. the gesture was almost tender, but there was nothing soft about the way his eyes raked over you, his gaze smoldering with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“i could say the same about you,” you managed, your voice breathless but still sharp enough to draw another low laugh from him.

“yeah?” his hand slid up from your waist, his fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, and you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out another sound. “what’s surprising about me?”

your breath caught as he shifted again, the pressure of him against your thigh sending a fresh wave of heat rushing through you. “that you’re not as smooth as you think you are.”

that earned you a grin, sharp and wolfish. “you’re lucky i like a challenge.”

“am i?” you asked, leaning in just enough to make him chase you, to make him close the final gap between you.

“very,” he said, his voice a low growl, his lips brushing yours in a way that was maddeningly light, teasing, almost cruel.

matty’s lips hovered just a fraction of an inch from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that his breath fanned over your skin with every shallow inhale. his hand lingered on your waist, his fingers pressing into the curve of your side with just enough pressure to remind you how much control he could take— if he wanted to.

but he didn’t. not yet.

“i’m not smooth?” he repeated, his voice low, teasing, like he was tasting the words as he said them. his thumb traced a lazy circle over your ribcage, sending a ripple of heat through your body. “that’s a bold accusation.”

you smiled, your breath catching as you felt him shift again, his hips pressing more firmly against your thigh. the hard, unmistakable evidence of his desire was searing even through the layers of clothing, and you swallowed hard, your cheeks flaming despite yourself. still, you held your ground.

“bold, maybe,” you said, your voice softer now, but steady. “but accurate.”

matty let out a low hum, tilting his head as he regarded you. his gaze flicked over your face, lingering on your lips before sliding back up to meet your eyes. the weight of it was enough to make your knees feel weak, but you refused to back down. you wanted to see how far you could push him, how much you could unravel that tightly wound self-assurance he wore like armor.

“you’ve got a mouth on you,” he murmured, his smirk returning, sharper this time. “i like that.”

“i bet you do,” you shot back, leaning in just slightly, enough to make him close the distance between you. it worked— his breath hitched, his hand tightening on your waist, and the flicker of surprise in his eyes sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

for the first time all night, you felt like you had the upper hand.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone low and rough, the words more accusation than question.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you let your hands drift down to rest lightly on his chest, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt. his breath caught, and you felt the way his muscles tensed under your touch, the tension coiling tight just beneath the surface. you dragged your fingers lower, just to see what he’d do, and the way his jaw clenched sent a thrill racing through you.

“maybe i am,” you said finally, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “why? is that a problem?”

matty let out a low laugh, his hands sliding to your hips and pulling you closer, the movement so smooth and fluid it made your heart stutter. “not for me,” he said, his voice a low growl. “but you might regret it.”

you arched a brow, refusing to let him intimidate you. “i doubt that.”

“is that right?” his smirk widened, but there was something darker in his expression now, a heat in his eyes that sent your pulse racing. “you think you can keep this up, do you?”

“why not?” you asked, your voice dipping just slightly, enough to let him know you weren’t backing down. “you’re not exactly hard to figure out.”

the moment the words left your mouth, you saw the shift in his posture, the subtle flicker of something predatory in his gaze. he leaned in, his breath brushing over your cheek, and you braced yourself for whatever sharp retort he was about to throw at you.

but he didn’t speak. instead, he rolled his hips forward, pressing himself against you more deliberately this time, the hard line of him dragging against your thigh in a way that made your breath catch.

you felt the heat rush to your face, but you refused to look away, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. instead, you let your hands drift lower, your fingers brushing the waistband of his trousers in a move that was just bold enough to make him tense.

“careful,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, like he was holding himself back by sheer force of will. “you’re playing with fire.”

“maybe i like fire,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words landed with the force of a challenge.

matty’s lips twitched, his smirk giving way to something darker, something hungrier. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“don’t i?” you asked, tilting your head. you dragged your fingers along the waistband of his trousers again, slower this time, just to see how far you could push him. “you don’t seem like the type to hold back.”

his breath hitched, his hands tightening on your hips as his head dipped lower, his curls brushing against your cheek. “i usually don’t,” he admitted, his voice rough and raw. “but you’re making it difficult.”

“good,” you said, your lips curving into a smile that you knew would drive him mad. “i’d hate for this to be too easy.”

for a moment, he didn’t respond. he just looked at you, his gaze heavy, searing, and you felt the weight of it in every inch of your body. his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing the bare skin beneath your shirt, and the deliberate slowness of his movements made your breath catch.

“you’re trouble,” he said finally, his tone low and almost amused. “i knew it the second i saw you.”

“then maybe you should’ve left me alone,” you shot back, the words bold, reckless, but they made him laugh— a low, rough sound that sent a thrill racing through you.

“not a chance,” he murmured, his head dipping lower until his lips were just a breath away from yours. “not when you look at me like that.”

the chaos of the set melted away the moment matty grabbed your hand. he didn’t ask, didn’t explain— just laced his fingers with yours and pulled you through the maze of equipment and crew, his grip firm and insistent. you barely had time to catch your breath as you followed him, your pulse racing and your skin buzzing from the electricity crackling between you.

when he finally pushed open the door to his changing room and pulled you inside, the sharp click of the lock sliding into place seemed to echo in the small space. the air was different here— still heavy with tension but quieter, more intimate, as if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for you both to arrive.

the space was simple but messy, the telltale signs of matty’s presence scattered everywhere: a leather jacket draped carelessly over the back of a chair, an ashtray with a half-smoked cigarette still smoldering, makeup and hair products cluttering the vanity. the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the smell of cigarettes and something faintly earthy— something that was entirely him.

you barely had a chance to take it all in before matty spun you around and pressed you against the door, his body flush against yours. the solid weight of him was grounding and overwhelming all at once, and your breath hitched as his hands found your waist, his grip firm and possessive.

“been driving me fucking crazy,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words spilling out against your neck as his lips found your skin. “all night. watching you, teasing me…”

“teasing you?” you shot back, your voice shaky but teasing. “you’ve been staring at me like i’m the only person here.”

“you are,” he said simply, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. the blunt honesty of his words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you let out a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, kissing and biting a path down your neck.

your hands found his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. his touch was everywhere - his lips, his hands, the heat of his body pressing into yours - and you felt yourself melt into him, your earlier boldness giving way to the raw, desperate need he’d ignited in you.

“matty,” you breathed, the sound of his name spurring him on. he groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding up your sides to tangle in your hair as he pulled your mouth to his.

the kiss was searing, all teeth and tongue and barely contained hunger. he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to devour you whole, and you gave as good as you got, your fingers tangling in his curls as you pulled him closer. his lips moved against yours with a deliberate intensity, and when he nipped at your bottom lip, you let out a soft moan that made him press harder against you, his hips rolling into yours in a way that left no question about what he wanted.

“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and strained. “you’re—”

he didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t have to. the way his hands roamed your body, his fingers skimming the curve of your waist before gripping your hips, said more than words ever could. he lifted you just slightly, pinning you more firmly against the door, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him like your life depended on it.

the heat between you was unbearable, each kiss and touch stoking the fire that threatened to consume you both. when matty finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire, you felt like you might collapse without the support of the door behind you.

“we need…” he trailed off, glancing around the room like he was searching for something. his eyes landed on the vanity, cluttered with makeup brushes, compacts, and an open water bottle. he smirked, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “come here.”

before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you the few steps to the desk and setting you down on its edge. the scattered items clattered as he pushed them aside, but neither of you cared. his hands were back on you in an instant, gripping your hips as he stepped between your legs, his body fitting perfectly into the space you’d made for him.

“you’re trouble,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “i fucking love it.”

you didn’t have a chance to respond before he kissed you again, his mouth hot and demanding as his hands roamed over your thighs, squeezing and caressing in a way that left you trembling. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and the low groan he let out at the contact sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

matty’s hands slid higher, his fingers brushing the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath it to explore the bare skin of your waist. the rough pads of his fingers against your soft skin were intoxicating, and you arched into his touch, your head falling back as his lips left yours to trail down your neck.

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice muffled against your skin. “you feel so good.”

“matty,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way to your collarbone, his teeth grazing lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue. the combination of pain and pleasure sent a shiver down your spine, and you tightened your legs around him, grinding against him in a way that drew a strangled moan from his throat.

the sound was addictive, and you wanted more. you wanted to see just how far you could push him, how much you could unravel that carefully cultivated control he carried like a shield. you slid your hands down his back, gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it upward. he pulled back just enough to let you strip it off, the fabric catching briefly on his curls before falling to the floor.

your breath caught at the sight of him, his lean frame littered with tattoos, each one a story you wanted to unravel with your fingertips. you reached out, your hands roaming over the smooth planes of his chest, the hard lines of his stomach, and he shuddered under your touch, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you were sure you’d bruise.

“jesus,” he muttered, his head falling forward to rest against yours. “you’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of a tattoo on his ribs. “good.”

he laughed, the sound low and rough, before pulling you into another kiss. this one was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. his hands slid to your back, pressing you against him as his lips moved against yours, and you felt like you might come apart under the weight of it all.

the edge of the desk dug into your thighs, but you didn’t care. all you could think about was the way matty’s body felt against yours, the way his hands explored you like he couldn’t get enough. when his lips left yours to trail lower, kissing and biting a path down your neck to the hollow of your throat, you let out a soft moan that made him groan in response, his fingers digging into your hips.

“say my name,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and pleading. “i need to hear it.”

“matty,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way to your collarbone. the sound of his name seemed to spur him on, his lips and hands growing more insistent as he claimed every inch of you he could reach.

you didn’t know how much more of this you could take, the tension between you stretching so taut it felt like it might snap at any moment. but you didn’t want it to end. not yet.

not when it felt this good.

matty’s lips trailed lower, his kisses growing hotter, wetter, and more insistent as they mapped out every inch of your neck, your collarbone, the delicate line of your throat. his hands gripped your hips tightly, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin just below your shirt, and every touch, every press of his mouth, sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you.

your head fell back, hitting the mirror lightly as you let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his dark curls. he groaned at the sound, the vibration of it humming against your skin, and the edge of his teeth as he bit gently into your collarbone sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“you’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. his fingers slid lower, brushing against the hem of your skirt, and his grip tightened as his lips moved back to your mouth, capturing you in another searing kiss. this time, there was no hesitation, no careful build-up— just pure, unrestrained hunger.

his hands, warm and rough, slipped under the fabric of your skirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. the feeling was electric, and you gasped into his mouth, your hips jerking involuntarily toward his touch. that reaction seemed to spark something in him, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes heavy with lust as they locked onto yours.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, but there was an edge to it, a tremor of barely contained desire that made your stomach flip. his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your underwear, and you saw the exact moment he felt how wet you were.

he froze, his breath hitching sharply as his fingers pressed more firmly against the damp fabric. “fuck,” he whispered, his voice low and strained, like he was barely holding himself together. he looked up at you, his eyes blazing. “you’re already this wet for me?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. instead, you nodded, your cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze. his smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, and he let out a low, rough laugh that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

“you’re gonna drive me fucking insane,” he muttered, his fingers hooking under the fabric of your underwear. his movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring every second, but the tension in his body told you he was holding himself back by sheer force of will.

and then he snapped.

with one sharp tug, he tore the flimsy fabric down your legs, his movements rough and impatient. you gasped at the suddenness of it, your thighs clenching instinctively as the cool air hit your heated skin. matty, however, seemed completely oblivious to anything but the scrap of lace now dangling from his fingers.

he brought them to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled deeply. the sound he made - a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from deep in his chest - was almost obscene, and it sent a shiver racing through your entire body. his fingers tightened around the fabric, and he looked at you with a kind of raw, unfiltered hunger that made your heart stutter.

“fuck, you smell so good,” he murmured, his voice thick and unsteady. he pressed the fabric to his face again, his eyes slipping shut as he let out another moan, his hips twitching slightly as though even the scent of you was enough to push him closer to the edge.

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, couldn’t process the raw, shameless way he was indulging himself. it should have embarrassed you, but instead, it sent a rush of heat straight to your core, your thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache building between them.

matty noticed, of course. his lips curved into a wicked grin as he tossed your underwear to the floor and dropped to his knees in one fluid motion.

he looked up at you from his position on the floor, his curls disheveled, his lips parted, and his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. the sight of him - so shameless, so utterly consumed by his need for you - made your breath catch.

“spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice rough and commanding but laced with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.

you hesitated for only a moment before obeying, your thighs parting slowly, deliberately, as you leaned back on your hands for balance. matty’s gaze never left yours, but you could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

“good girl,” he murmured, the words soft but heavy with praise, and the sound of them made your cheeks burn. he slid his hands up your thighs, his palms warm and rough, and the deliberate slowness of his movements made your skin prickle with anticipation.

when he reached the apex of your thighs, his thumbs brushed over your slick folds, and you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. matty groaned at the sound, his eyes flicking down to where his fingers were exploring you, and the heat in his gaze was almost unbearable.

“look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “so fucking perfect. so wet.” he spread you open with his thumbs, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of you, and you felt like you might melt under the intensity of his stare.

and then his mouth was on you.

the first touch of his tongue was soft, almost tentative, as though he was testing your reaction. you let out a shaky breath, your hips jerking slightly, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his tongue moved over you with slow, deliberate strokes.

you let out a low moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into his touch. he groaned in response, the sound vibrating against you, and the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body.

“fuck, matty,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

he didn’t respond, didn’t look up— he was too focused, too intent on making you fall apart. his tongue moved with maddening precision, tracing every inch of you, teasing and exploring until you were trembling under his touch. he alternated between soft, languid licks and sharper, more insistent movements, his lips and tongue working together in a rhythm that had you gasping for air.

when he finally found your clit, his lips closing around it in a gentle suck, you let out a loud, broken moan, your thighs clenching around his head. matty growled, the sound low and primal, and his hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open as he worked you with an intensity that left you dizzy.

his tongue circled your clit, his movements slow and deliberate, and you felt the pressure building with every stroke. your hips bucked against his mouth, desperate for more, and he groaned in response, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he pulled you even closer.

“you taste so fucking good,” he muttered against you, his voice muffled and wrecked. he didn’t wait for a response— just dipped his head lower, his tongue slipping inside you as his nose brushed against your clit.

the sensation was too much and not enough all at once, and you let out a choked moan, your fingers tugging at his curls as your thighs trembled against his grip. he fucked you with his tongue, the movements slow and deliberate, before pulling back to focus on your clit again, his lips and tongue working together in a way that made your vision blur.

“matty, i’m—” you didn’t finish the sentence; you couldn’t. the pressure inside you was building too quickly, too intensely, and all you could do was hold onto him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

he seemed to sense it, his movements growing more focused, more insistent, as though he was determined to pull you apart. his tongue flicked over your clit, his lips sucking gently before releasing, and the alternating sensations sent you spiraling.

when you came, it was with a loud, broken cry, your body arching off the desk as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. matty didn’t stop, didn’t slow— he kept working you through it, his tongue and lips coaxing every last aftershock from your body until you were trembling in his hands.

finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his expression equal parts smug and reverent.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “you look so fucking beautiful when you come.”

you couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but stare at him, your chest heaving and your skin flushed as you tried to catch your breath. matty smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning up to kiss you again, and the taste of yourself on his lips sent a fresh wave of heat through your already spent body.

matty rose from his knees slowly, almost reluctantly, his hands sliding from your trembling thighs as he stood. his face was flushed, his lips swollen and glistening, and the hunger in his dark eyes hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. if anything, it burned brighter, sharper, like he was fighting to keep himself in check.

you were still catching your breath, your thighs trembling against the edge of the vanity as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled through you. your head felt light, your body boneless, but the heat in your belly hadn’t fully subsided. if anything, the way matty looked at you - his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving - rekindled the fire almost instantly.

you reached for him instinctively, your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders. your fingers brushed against the soft skin of his neck, and you could feel the rapid pulse beneath your touch. he groaned softly, leaning into your hands, his lips parting as though he was going to kiss you.

but then you moved lower.

your fingers drifted down to his stomach, brushing the waistband of his trousers. you felt the hard line of his erection pressing against the fabric, and when you let your palm graze over it, his entire body tensed. a low, guttural sound escaped him, his hips jerking slightly into your touch.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained. His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could go any further. “don’t.”

you looked up at him, your lips parting in surprise. “don’t?” you echoed, your voice breathless and confused. “i want to—”

“i know,” he said, cutting you off with a shake of his head. his grip on your wrist softened, but he didn’t let go. instead, he leaned down, his forehead pressing against yours as he took a deep, steadying breath. “i want you to, but… not now.”

his words were quiet, deliberate, but there was a rawness in his tone that made your stomach flip. he was holding himself together by a thread, and you could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

“i need to feel you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m too fucking close. i can’t wait anymore.”

the honesty in his words, the way his voice broke just slightly at the end, made your heart stutter. you nodded, your breath hitching as his hand slid from your wrist to your waist, his fingers curling around you as he lifted you effortlessly from the vanity.

matty carried you across the room like you weighed nothing, his grip firm but careful, and you clung to him instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck. he set you down gently on the plush couch, his hands lingering on your hips as he stepped back just slightly, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“you’re still shaking,” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with something darker, something that made your breath hitch.

“i’m fine,” you said, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and breathless as you tried to collect yourself.

matty’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no teasing in his expression now— just raw, unfiltered want. he let out a soft hum, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he knelt in front of you once again.

“you’ll be fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “but not yet.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours in a kiss that was slower, softer, but no less consuming. his hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he guided you back against the couch, the plush fabric cool against your skin.

when he pulled away, his dark eyes locked onto yours, he shifted to sit back on the couch, his long legs sprawled slightly apart, his body relaxed in a way that was entirely deliberate. one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other rested on his thigh, and he tilted his head as he watched you with a smirk that was equal parts lazy and commanding.

“now,” he said, his voice low and rough, “take care of this for me.”

you followed his gaze to where his erection strained against the fabric of his trousers, the outline of him unmistakable, and your stomach tightened at the sight. the sharp line of his hips, the way the waistband of his trousers dipped just slightly, the bulge pressing against the zipper— it was all enough to make your mouth go dry.

your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, sliding over his thighs and stopping just short of the waistband of his trousers. his breath hitched, and when you glanced up, his eyes were locked onto yours, his smirk faltering as you dragged your fingers slowly over the taut fabric.

“you’re teasing me,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained.

“am i?” you asked, your tone deliberately innocent, though the way your fingers lingered over his zipper betrayed your intent.

“don’t play with me,” he said, his voice dipping lower, his fingers curling into the couch cushions as though he was trying to hold himself back. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“oh, i think i do,” you said, your lips curving into a small smile as you finally slipped your fingers under the waistband of his trousers. his hips lifted slightly, a silent plea for you to continue, and you took your time, dragging the zipper down slowly, deliberately, just to watch the way his jaw clenched.

when you finally freed him, pushing his trousers down to mid-thigh, you let out a soft gasp, your breath hitching at the sight of him. he was big, the length of him curving slightly upward, the tip red and glistening with precum. the sheer size of him made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, from taking in every detail.

matty groaned softly, the sound rough and needy, and when you looked up, his head had fallen back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as he dragged a hand through his messy curls.

“fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you’re killing me.”

you couldn’t help but smile, the sight of him - so utterly wrecked, so shamelessly undone - filling you with a rush of confidence. you let your thumb drift over the head of him, brushing against the bead of precum and spreading it slowly. the movement was soft, almost tentative, but it was enough to make him hiss sharply, his hips jerking into your touch.

“fuck,” he said again, his voice tight as his head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

you didn’t answer— not with words, at least. instead, you let your thumb brush over him again, slower this time, and the way his entire body tensed beneath your touch sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

your thumb grazed over the slick head of his cock again, this time with a little more pressure, and the sharp hiss that escaped matty’s lips sent a shiver down your spine. his hips jerked involuntarily into your touch, his breath catching in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around him, your grip firm but teasing. the weight of him in your hand, the heat of him, made your pulse race, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you slowly began to stroke him.

“jesus,” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his head fell back against the couch, his curls spilling over the cushions, and his chest heaved as his hands gripped the edges of the seat. “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you smiled, your confidence growing with every broken sound that spilled from his lips. your strokes were slow, deliberate, and you tightened your grip slightly, your thumb brushing against the sensitive underside of his tip. his reaction was immediate— a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his hips bucked into your hand, seeking more.

but just as you started to pick up the pace, he stopped you.

his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with enough force to make you freeze, your movements halting as you looked up at him in surprise. his dark eyes were wild, his pupils blown wide, and his expression was so desperate, so raw, that it made your breath catch.

“no,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. “i told you, not like this.”

you blinked, your lips parting to speak, but he shook his head, his grip on your wrist softening but not letting go.

“i need to feel you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. he leaned forward, his free hand cupping the side of your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “i need you. now.”

the sheer need in his voice, the way his body trembled beneath your touch, sent a wave of heat rushing through you. your heart pounded in your chest, your skin buzzing with anticipation as his words sank in. he wasn’t asking— he was begging. and the realization made your head spin.

you kissed him then, slow and deliberate, pouring every ounce of your own mounting desire into the press of your lips. matty groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours with an urgency that left you breathless.

when you pulled back, your breathing ragged, you didn’t hesitate. you rose to your knees, your thighs bracketing his hips as you positioned yourself over him. the heat of his cock, hard and heavy against your inner thigh, sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and you bit your lip as you reached down to guide him to your entrance.

matty’s breath hitched as the tip of him brushed against your slick folds, and his hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like he was holding himself together by a thread. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you’re so fucking wet.”

you couldn’t respond, couldn’t find the words to express the way you felt as you shifted your hips, pressing yourself down slowly. the slightest pressure was all it took— your body yielding to him with an ease that made you both moan, your wetness allowing him to slip inside you in one smooth, effortless motion.

you settled over him completely, your thighs bracketing his hips as his cock stretched you impossibly full. he was buried deep, every inch of him, and you could feel him throb inside you, hard and slick from your wetness. matty’s head fell back against the couch, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as his hands gripped your waist almost too tightly, like he needed the anchor to keep from losing himself.

“fuck,” he groaned, the word drawn out, desperate. his fingers flexed against your skin as his hips twitched, pressing deeper, testing the limits of what you could take. “you’re— jesus, you’re so tight.”

the overwhelming stretch and fullness made you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders for balance. he filled you so completely it bordered on too much, but the delicious drag of his cock against your walls had your head spinning. you shifted slightly, rolling your hips experimentally, and the way he groaned- a low, guttural sound that made your stomach flip - spurred you on.

“you’re so big,” you murmured, your voice breathless and shaky. the words weren’t meant to tease, but matty’s reaction was immediate. his eyes snapped open, locking onto yours, and the hunger in his gaze sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“don’t,” he warned, his voice hoarse, strained. his grip on your hips tightened as you rolled your hips again, slower this time, testing his resolve. “don’t fucking start.”

“why not?” you asked, tilting your head as a faint smile played on your lips. you rolled your hips again, and the way his jaw clenched, his head falling back against the couch, made satisfaction bloom in your chest. “you don’t like it?”

“too much,” he muttered, his voice rough and wrecked. his hips jerked upward instinctively, and the sharp thrust made you gasp, your thighs trembling against him. “fuck, you’re too much.”

you leaned forward, your hands bracing against his chest as you began to move in earnest, slow and deliberate. every rise and fall of your hips drew a broken sound from his throat, his head snapping up to watch you, his dark eyes wild and heavy-lidded with lust.

“look at you,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven as his hands slid from your hips to your thighs, gripping tightly. “you’re fucking perfect. riding me like that, looking so— fuck.” his words cut off as you sank down on him again, grinding your hips just slightly, and his entire body tensed beneath you.

the sheer size of him, the way he filled you so completely, made your breath hitch, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “you feel so good,” you murmured, the words spilling out before you could think to stop them. “so fucking good.”

“yeah?” matty growled, his voice low and wrecked. his hands slid back to your hips, his grip firm as he guided your movements, his hips bucking up into you with sharp, deliberate thrusts. “you’re so fucking wet. squeezing me so tight— i’m not gonna—” he stopped himself with a sharp hiss, his jaw clenching as he fought to hold back. “shit, i’m not gonna last if you keep—”

“don’t hold back,” you said, your voice shaky but teasing as you braced your hands against his chest, matching his thrusts with your own. “i want you to lose it.”

“you’re evil,” he muttered, his voice rough and wrecked. his head fell back against the couch as he fought to keep up with your pace, his thighs tensing beneath you as he pushed up into you with every roll of your hips.

the rhythm between you grew frantic, your bodies moving together in a desperate, almost primal rhythm. the sharp snap of his hips, the way his cock dragged against your walls with every thrust, sent sparks of pleasure racing through your body. you were dizzy with it, drunk on the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his broken groans and curses echoing in your ears.

“fuck, you’re gonna ruin me,” matty growled, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. his lips brushed against your skin, hot and wet, as his thrusts grew sharper, harder, his restraint unraveling with every second. “you’re so fucking perfect. so tight, so wet, so— jesus christ.”

you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his messy curls as you buried your face in his shoulder, muffling the sounds spilling from your lips. the tension between you was unbearable, every thrust and grind building the pressure higher and higher until it felt like you might break under the weight of it.

matty was trembling beneath you, his body taut with tension as he fought to hold himself together. “i’m close,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained. his hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as his hips snapped upward again, harder this time. “too fucking close. shit, i can’t—”

“hold on,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you leaned back, your hands bracing against his chest to steady yourself. “just hold on a little longer.”

“fuck, i’m fucking trying,” matty growled, his dark eyes locking onto yours as his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully. “but you’re— jesus, you’re fucking perfect. i can’t—”

“matty,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he thrust up into you again, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur. “just hold on.”

your body trembled as matty thrust into you, each movement raw and desperate, the slick heat of his cock dragging against your walls in a rhythm that had your head spinning. his hands gripped your hips like a lifeline, his fingertips pressing into your skin as though holding you there was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“fuck, i’m coming,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, strained. his dark eyes were half-lidded, his curls damp with sweat as he stared up at you. the desperation in his expression was palpable, his lips parted as he panted for breath, every muscle in his body taut with tension. “i— fuck, i’m gonna—”

you leaned forward, your hands bracing against his chest as you kissed him deeply, swallowing his broken moan as you slowed your movements. the kiss was messy, hungry, your lips and tongues tangling as you rode him slower, deeper, until you felt him twitch inside you, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“let me,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft but commanding. “let me take care of you.”

his groan was raw, guttural, and he dropped his head back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands slid from your hips. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “do whatever you want. just— just don’t stop.”

you smirked, leaning back slightly as you placed your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms.

Your eyes drifted downward, and you bit your lip at the sight of his cock, still buried inside you, glistening with your wetness. the tip was flushed an angry red, a bead of precum dripping from the head, and you could feel him throb inside you, his body begging for release.

“look at you,” you murmured, your voice low, almost teasing as you lifted yourself slowly, letting him slip out of you. he groaned at the loss, his hips twitching upward instinctively, but you pressed a hand against his stomach, keeping him still. “so desperate.”

“fuck,” matty muttered, his voice rough, his hands fisting in the couch cushions as you wrapped your fingers around him again, stroking him slowly. “you’re fucking killing me.”

you smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw as your hand worked him, your grip firm but deliberate. his cock was slick with your arousal, making every stroke smooth and effortless, and the sounds he made - the sharp gasps, the broken curses, the low, desperate groans - sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you.

“don’t hold back,” you murmured against his ear, your voice soft but insistent. “i want to see you.”

his breath hitched, his hands gripping your thighs as his hips bucked into your hand. “i can’t— fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” you said, your voice firmer now as you kissed your way down his neck, biting gently at the sensitive skin there. “let go for me.”

that was all it took. matty’s entire body tensed, his hips jerking upward as his cock twitched in your hand. “fuck,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his release spilled over your fingers, painting his abdomen in hot, thick ropes of white. his head fell back against the couch, his mouth falling open in a silent moan, and his entire body trembled with the force of it.

you didn’t stop, your hand working him through the waves of his orgasm, drawing out every last drop until he was panting beneath you, his chest heaving and his thighs trembling. his cock twitched in your grip, still sensitive, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him— utterly wrecked, his hair sticking to his forehead, his body glistening with sweat and the evidence of his release.

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice barely above a whisper. “you’re— jesus fucking christ.”

you didn’t answer. instead, you leaned back, your eyes drinking in the sight of him. his release coated his stomach, dripping down his skin, and the sight made your mouth water. you licked your lips, your gaze flicking to his as you shifted, sliding down his body.

“what are you—?” matty’s question cut off with a sharp gasp as your tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe up his stomach. his cock twitched against your wrist, still leaking, and the broken sound he made as he watched you clean him with your tongue sent a fresh rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, you’re insane,” he muttered, his voice shaky as his hands found your hair, gripping it tightly. “you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“good,” you murmured, glancing up at him through your lashes as you licked another drop of his release from his skin. his cock twitched again, harder this time, and you smiled against his stomach, your tongue swirling over the sensitive skin just above his navel.

matty groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his fingers tightened in your hair. “you’re fucking evil,” he muttered, but his voice was thick with arousal, his body trembling beneath your touch.

you took your time, your tongue tracing every line of his abdomen, cleaning every drop of his release until his skin was glistening, slick with your saliva. his cock jerked again, leaking another bead of precum, and the sound he made - a low, desperate whimper - sent a shiver racing down your spine.

when you finally finished, your lips trailing up his chest to his neck, matty pulled you close, his hands fisting in your hair as he kissed you deeply. his tongue swept into your mouth, tasting himself on your lips, and the kiss was so raw, so consuming, that you felt your knees go weak.

he groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down your back as he pulled you closer, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. when he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours as he held you tightly.

“jesus,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “you’re fucking unbelievable.”

you smiled, your fingers brushing through his messy curls as you caught your breath. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

he laughed softly, the sound low and warm, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you against his chest in a way that felt almost protective. the silence that settled between you was heavy but comfortable, your bodies pressed together as you let the heat of the moment slowly fade.

“can i see you again?” matty’s voice was soft, tentative, and it caught you off guard. you pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his, and the vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache.

you smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “i think i’d like that.”

his answering smile was slow, lazy, and it made your stomach flip. “good,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back as he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming. “because i don’t think i’m done with you yet.”

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #the 1975 smut

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 13 days ago

Text

Tear of salt

Azriel x Mermaid OC

Word count: +6300

Summary: He sneaks into enemy territory to spy/assassinate someone and while sneaking through that person's manor he finds a large tank holding a sad mermaid.

Warnings: Azriel doing his job - killing; mentions of blood, wounds, torturing, starvation

Based on this prompt by @ghostedgrim @azrielappreciationweek Day 7: Free Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Azriel crossed his room, attaching last daggers he had prepared, to his gear. He got a mission, a very easy one. There was nothing that could go wrong and he even didn't feel sorry for what he was about to do. Sneaking into manor of some bastard who was kidnapping lesser faeries and human children all around Prythian and selling them as slaves on continent, was way too easy for him. Azriel could have sent some of his spies to handle this, but after witnessing what was left of one of the victims, he wanted to do it personally. He wanted to see that bastard suffering as much as those children suffered before he would allow him to die.

The shadows swirled around his arms and wings, gathering at his ear. "It's time," they whispered in their silent soothing voices.

Azriel closed his honeyed hazel eyes, releasing a deep sigh through nose while shadows swallowed him. When he again opened them, he stood on a hill at the edge of the forest.

It was night, a valley bellow was plunged in impenetrable darkness as heavy dark clouds swimming across the firmament, hid all the stars and moon. Air was filled with a smell of rain and static energy of coming storm. Azriel didn't mind it though. He was used to the darkness and saw his destination almost as clearly as during the day.

At the bottom of the shallow valley stood a manor surrounded by garden and high fence. Only certain people knew about its existence or how to get there. It took him just a few hours to find the right people and follow them to this place and next several days he spent spying around, counting coming and leaving wagons. That bastard was so arrogant that he kept only a small unit of guards to secure such big estate. Killing him couldn't be more easier. Even from afar Azriel could say that whoever cast the wards around the estate, did a very poor job. He cracked through them the second he came without any problem and not a single soul noticed it.

Azriel waited for an hour after the last of the lights turned off in the manor. The wind was getting stronger, playing with his dark hair as he stretched out his wings. The guards were so negligent that they rather hid from the coming storm than guarded the place. This really couldn't be easier.

Azriel quietly slid on the wind down to the garden close to the servants entrance, but then he changed his mind and with smirk he landed on a driveway. There was no need to hide in the shadows, the darkness of the night covered his tall figure dressed in black perfectly fine. Rhys would certainly call him a show-off for this later. His noiseless steps led him up the staircase straight to the main entrance, hand casually resting on a hilt of his favourite dagger on his hip.

The shadows swam out from beneath the massive doors, climbing up his body to whisper into his ear. Azriel huffed when they told him that nobody was keeping an eye in the main hall nor anywhere nearby. How convenient. His blue siphons gleamed in the darkness as he reached for handle. It wasn't even locked. How could such amateurs manage to kidnap so many people and even had an audacity to think that nobody would notice and come for them?

Tugging his wings closer, Azriel stepped in and closed the doors behind. The main hall was literary made of white marble that covered not only floor but also walls and ceiling. Great portals on the both sides of the doors led deeper into the house. However, Azriel's attention was trained on the two staircases winding around an enormous tank. The bedroom he was looking for, was certainly up on the second floor. Though that didn't bother him so much at the moment.

A soft greenish light was coming out of the tank full of dirty water, the only source of light here. As far as he could say, Azriel didn't see any fish swimming in it. He couldn't explain it, but something was drawing him to that tank. With hammering heart he stalked closer, trying to get a better look of what was within the glass walls covered with slime. It took him awhile to recognize the shape of a great rock in its middle. At first he thought that the tank was empty except of the rock and kelps swaying in the dirt. He was about to return back to the purpose of his visit when he noticed a faint gleam of something metallic. Not metallic, he realized. A fish scale. Now when he knew where to look, he could see it. A long fish tail attached to a human-looking torso. He hadn't seen any of this creatures with his own eyes, yet he immediately recognized it.

A mermaid.

The only known mermaids lived in the ocean near the shores of Summer court, occasionally ranging water lines of Spring. They lived in well guarded communities, but once every few centuries there was a curious mermaid who came out from the water looking for an adventure on land. Their rare offspring with fae or human, however, were excluded from their community and had to stay on land. They usually had just little if anything of their mermaid ancestors anyway and they could be easily mistaken for high fae.

The mermaid was lying on her side, limp. Her eyes were closed, dark shadows loomed under sharp bones of her cheeks. Her skin had a sickly greyish tone, by the state of her starved body, she could be already dead.

Azriel clenched teeth and pressed his palm to the thick glass, its surface cold like ice. No wonder this room was so cold compared to the stuffy night air of late summer outside. His stomach hollowed, the pain wrapped around his heart like hand around tiny bird and squeezed. He felt sorrow for the poor creature who ended up imprisoned in this tank, starved to the death. That wasn't fate he would wish even for his worst enemy.

As leather of gear on his hand touched the tank, it caused the small thud echoed through the water. Mermaid's long eyelashes flickered and she so slowly opened eyes. Her gaze was empty, dulled with suffer and tiredness, sliding down the glass to the place he stood at.

When their gazes collided, Azriel gasped and took a half-step back. The jade like eyes struk him straight to the heart, sending waves of the sweetest pain to his veins. His heart expanded to create space for a golden thread that bounded him to the female in front of him.

Her lips parted, soft moan slipped from between them. She felt it, too.

However, the thread was weak, disappearing as the life gradually drained from her. It took some time until it fully formed and he got a straight link to her. Enormous hunger and pain flooded his system and he needed a moment to separate her feelings from his own. He couldn't do anything right now to help her, except of sending his strength and assurance to her.

Her hand, bones and tendons wrapped in skin, slightly moved toward him.

Azriel's jaw tightened as his gaze flickered to the second floor for a brief moment.

"I'll return for you, I swear. Just give me a second to finish that bastard. I'll make him suffer on your behalf." He only whispered the words, but water carried them to her and she weakly nodded.

Not wasting another second, Azriel ran up the steps, taking three at time. The game was over. There was no need to hide in the shadows, sneaking around. The rage was tearing through him, seeping from his pores like a toxic cloud. He was the Death and the Death was him. Nothing could stop him now. Every person who took part of enslaving and torturing of his mate deserved nothing better that slow death. Those who saw her and decided to do nothing weren't any better.

As if they felt it, several residents of the manor appeared in the hallway, blocking his way. Azriel didn't even as much as blink when his scarred fingers closed around hilts of daggers. He moved smoothly as a dancer, cutting a path through bodies. Once he got them, he didn't glance their way anymore. There was no need. He was trained killer, with every blow he delivered fatal injury. Some died immediately, some shrieked on the floor, blood flowing from the cuts like unstoppable river, others were drowning in it.

Azriel swiftly followed the lead of his shadows showing him the shortest way to the bed chambers of the head of this group. He didn't count the number of bodies he left behind. Spattered with dark crimson liquid, he smashed the door open - the real demon looking for his next victim.

The bastard was hidden behind his bed, trembling like a little girl with small knife in hand. Azriel wrinkled his nose as an odour of urine hit him. He snorted. That bastard pissed himself. If Azriel had time, he'd love to play with him to make him pay for all ruined lives, but his mate was weakening with every second he spent here. He needed to hurry up. He moved toward the hiding male who shrieking threw the knife at his head and tried to run away. A big mistake! No one could outran the Death.

Azriel caught the flying knife mid air and tossed it aside. The tendril of shadows wrapped around males neck, yanking him back. Careful not to break his neck, they lifted him into the air. The male was making choking noises, kicking feet around in attempt to find something, anything to stand on. Shadows squeezed his neck more firmly until his eyes rolled back in his head.

Azriel waited. The shadows loosened their hold before the male could die. It was their master's turn to strike the final blow. Azriel promised that he would make him suffer and so he did. He made a tiny cut to the artery on male's arms and watched as his life dripped out of him, drop after drop. When male in agony shuddered for the last time, shadows tossed him into the puddle of his own blood and swam to their master.

Spymaster turned on heel and ran back down to the entrance hall. He searched whole tank on his way down the stairs, but there was no hole, no opening. It was built only for one purpose and that enraged him even more.

Azriel put both palms on the thick glass, gathered all the power from his siphons and released it at once. The glass turned into fine dust, the mass of dirty and stinky water spilled on Azriel and all around the room. He shook himself dry like a dog, wiping the disgusting slime from his face and climbed inside. He waded in knee-deep dirty water to the rock in its middle, slippery algae binding his legs and making the progress harder. The mermaid just lay there helplessly, her chest heaved with difficulty, gasping for air.

Without hesitation, Azriel opened the upper part of leathers and stripped the T-shirt beneath it. He jumped up on the rock and started carefully wiping off the dirt from her face and especially from her nose, mouth and gills on her neck.

As soon as he was done, she took a deep breath, savouring fresh air. She tried to lift her head, but she was too weak.

"It's over now," he spoke lowly to her, his voice soft. "I know that you felt it, too. I won't let anything bad ever happen to you again."

He brushed her long wet hair from her face. Even with a thick layer of dirt on, she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. As the wild creature of depths of the ocean she was, she undoubtedly wanted to return home, but Azriel already knew he wouldn't be able to let her go. He would gladly follow her even to the bottom of the ocean. She was his mate after all, the missing half of his soul. They were made for each other. That had to mean something.

"Let's get you out of here."

He so carefully scooped her in his arms, but her tail was so long that it dragged behind. Shadows wrapped around the scales and lifted it up, helping to their master. Her head with still closed eyes fell on his naked chest. His body shivered in answer and he groaned. Only thanks to the years of discipline and restrains he didn't crush her in his arms. Right now she needed healer, food, care and love. He had to wait until she would be healthy and then they would talk about the bond.

Azriel released a deep breath and called in the shadows that obediently swallowed them. When Azriel opened eyes again, he was standing in the middle of Madja's office at healers center, the dirty water was dripping from their bodies on perfectly clean floor. Old healer was leaning over the table, her hands swiftly taking one pouch after another, mixing medicine with precision of many years of practice.

The shadows immediately flew to greet her. The healer didn't even as much as sigh in surprise when they touched her hands, helping with the pouches.

"Good evening, Azriel," she spoke in a tired voice. "I hope that you know what time it is and that the injury you have, is really serious."

She slowly turned to him, her moves sluggish after a long, hard day. She gasped when she noticed mermaid in his arms.

"I know it's late and believe me, if it wasn't a matter of life and death, I wouldn't bother you. But.. she needs immediate help and you are the only one I can entrust her to."

"At last you found the one," she smiled at him knowingly, her hands already picking up everything she would need. "Put her on the bed."

Azriel did as she asked and carefully set the mermaid down on simple bed for patients. When he made sure she is comfortable, he moved to the tail that hung from bed and gently scooped it into his arms, holding it off of the cold floor. Looking closely at it, he noticed quite big areas with only reddish skin without scales and his heart clenched. Even now he felt unbearable pain and hunger seeping from her end of the bond and he wished he could kill that bastard again.

Madja got to work, swiftly looking the pacient over. Azriel watched her while his shadows assisted to her. When Madja was done, she sighed and wiped her hands clean.

"She is heavily malnourished. That's the cause of the other issues like loosing the scales and tiredness. Looking at you two, I assume that the numerous inflammations are caused by too long stay in stagnant dirty water. The very first thing she needs, is a bath. I think it's something you can deal with. Just treat her carefully. Right now she is very sensitive, more sensitive to touch than your wings."

Azriel nodded. "Got it."

Madja put together all the medicines and ointments while explaining him how and when to apply them and what to expect in the following days. At last she told him to call for her, if her state worsened.

Azriel listened carefully, thanked to the old healer and winnowed with the mermaid to his apartment in the center of the city that he kept secret from his family. It was his place to retreat to when things started to be too much and he needed silence, peace and time to recharge.

The apartment was enough big to accommodate him and his wings, equipped only with a necessary basics like bed, closet with some spare clothes, bathroom, sofa near the hearth, small kitchen area where he could prepare a simple meal, and few shelves with books. It wasn't much, but it suited his needs. The whole building was located next to the park, with Sidra flowing behind it. That was the main reason why he decided for this apartment. None of the windows was directed to the street so it was a very quiet place, exactly what he was looking for.

His steps immediately led to the bathroom with bathtub enough big for giant Illyrian warrior. Some of his shadows return as soon as they heard about the bath to prepare it. Bathtub was full of warm water, the steam was rising from its surface.

Azriel hesitated for a moment unsure whether mermaids were fine with warm baths. He sat down on the edge of the tub, placing his mate on his lap. He gently took her hand and let it slowly inch after inch slip into the water. Mermaid groaned softly, but she didn't seem to be in pain. He lifted small hand up, inspecting it closely. The colour of her skin seemed to be normal, there were no blisters or redness, so he assumed it should be fine and carefully dipped her whole body. After that he took off his dirty leathers and shadows took care of them. It was so dirty that it was better to throw it away than to try to clean it. Shadowsinger dipped to the water, sighing with relief as warm liquid worked its wonders on his tired body. He made sure to wash himself properly before touching female opposite him. Then he moved to her, gently washing off the dirt from her body and hair.

The water turned muddy after the first wash, so he refilled the tub again and again until it stayed clear. Then it was finally a time for the most hardest and delicate work - to wash her tail. Shadows brought him a new soft toothbrush from cabinet under the sink and he started to gently brush one scale after the other. It took him hours to get from the top to the bottom, but he didn't mind it at slightest. For his mate he would do it even thousand times and gladly. When he looked at her clean tail from afar, it had a light sea green colour with metallic accent. However, looking closely at the scales, each one had a pearly iridescent colour. It was fascinating.

Mermaid was whole time unconscious, but the bond between them was growing stronger and steadier which was a good sign. Azriel checked on her every now and then to make sure he wasn't hurting her.

She was calm, her expression relaxed as he pulled her out of the tub, wrapped her in towel and carried her to the bed. Her hair was so tangled that he decided to just wrap it in another towel and deal with it later. Gently wiping her body he moved to her tail. As soon as the towel touched it, it started to melt beneath his hands like ice. Azriel's eyes widened in shock, panic gripping his heart. That wasn't suppose to happen, was it?

He quickly ran back to the bathroom to run another bath. When he returned, he stiffened on threshold. Instead of mermaid, a Fae-like female was lying on the bed, her long pale legs riddled with red wounds.

Azriel dropped to his knees, wiping tears away as he drew hands down his face. He stayed like that, watching her chest rise with every steady breath until he calmed down. She was fine. He cursed under his breath. Madja certainly knew this would happen, she should have warned him.

Sitting on the edge of mattress, he took out the ointments the healer gave him. Mermaid, now female, was completely naked in this form and it took everything in him to ignore the fact. He quickly finished this tormenting activity, bandaged the wounds and dressed her in one of his spare T-shirts. Once she was safely tucked under the blanket, all tempting parts covered, he released the breath he held entire time.

He needed a minute to cool down, so he dressed and went to clean the mess they made in the apartment. When he was done, he took comb, climbed on the bed and began untangling her long hair. Free from dirt and slime it was the deep shade of auburn, slightly wavy and soft to touch. By the time he braided her hair, gave her medicine from the healer and exhausted fell asleep next to her, it was already a lunch time.

The next few days he hadn't left his apartment. As Madja warned him, mermaid got a fever caused by infection in numerous wounds. Even the most shallow ones took twice the time to heal than it normally would. Azriel patiently replaced the bandages several times a day, applying the ointments on wounded skin of legs. He was worried, yet he couldn't but appreciate this opportunity. It gave him enough time to think everything over.

She was still unconscious, so she wasn't able to eat solid food, which left Azriel with only one option - soups.

When he tried to feed her the very first meal, he hit an obstacle. He tried every possible method of getting liquid into unconscious person he knew of, failing terribly. The soup simply spilled from her mouth or she started choking on it.

He was sitting helplessly on the edge of mattress, watching her. According to all the stories and little information his kind had, it was well known that mermaids were beautiful. Their physical appearance was hard to resist to and where their beauty failed, their voice managed to break even the strongest individual. Singing of mermaids was legendary. Depending on what the mermaid wanted, the effect of their song could differ. Azriel hadn't heard her voice yet he was already lost. Whether she wanted or not, she had him wrapped around her finger. Sleeping peacefully her features were soft, she looked quite young and like a good person. He assumed that she liked to smile a lot because corners of her mouth were permanently turned upward. He really hoped to see her smile someday.

However, her sunken cheeks were causing him a pain. When he was changing her bandages after waking up, he noticed a lot of details that early in the morning he missed out in agitation. Every time he touched her and felt no muscles, only bones and thin tissue under the skin, it hurt him like a stab straight into the heart. Desperately wanting to get the food to her belly, he was just sitting there, gazing at her, his eyes clouded with sorrow. There had to be some way how to do this.

Brooding over it, he didn't hear his shadows when they spoke to him at first. The darkness swirled around him, gathering near his ear, whispering. When he didn't answer, they tried to get his attention by cool gentle touches. It didn't work either, so they moved to master's mate, creating wall between them.

"What is it?" Azriel frowned, pushing them away.

"We are trying to talk to you. Why don't you listen to us?"

"She needs food," he stirred the cooling soup with spoon. "I'm trying to come up with some way to feed her."

"We might know about something you haven't tried yet."

"I tried everything," he shook head. "Maybe I need to ask Madja. I should write her a message. Will you deliver it?"

"Nope," they collectively dismissed. "First, try our method."

"Are you sure that it will work?" he raised a brow at them.

"For 100%! But if not, we will deliver the message."

"Fine, so what do I need to do?"

The shadows explained him their idea in detail. Azriel's eyes grew wider with every their word and he blushed fiercely.

"I can't do that!" He covered his mouth with hand, stuttering. "It's.. it's disrespectful to her.. I need her permission to do something so.. naughty."

"In this state, she will hardly give you permission. It's your only chance, boy. She doesn't have to know about it. Think about it!"

He hated to admit it, but they were once again right.

"It's going to be just feeding.. Only feeding.. nothing else," he grunted giving up and shoved spoonful of soup into his mouth.

His cheeks burnt with bright red colour as he leaned over sleeping mermaid. He gently opened her mouth and sealed his lips over hers. The jolt of energy surged through his body at that simple touch and he groaned, closing his eyes. He needed a moment, unable to move. He wanted to taste her, but thankfully his mouth were full of soup.

Come to your senses! It's feeding.. It isn't a real kiss, he scolded himself, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"That's it, boy! And now slooooowly," shadows were encouraging him, floating so close they were almost touching them. A growl rumbled in his chest and they recoiled.

"Fine!" If they had eyes, they would roll them now. "Just don't drown her." They flew back behind his shoulders and observed the situation from there.

Azriel sighed through nose. He let a few drops of soup slip from between his lips into her mouth and waited. Nothing happened at first and he was about to call it off when her throat worked under his tender touch and she swallowed. Female moaned and her brows knitted together as her lips moved slightly, looking for more. Happy, Azriel caressed her hair and let another small amount flow into her mouth.

Gradually, he fed her half of the soup in the bowl. It was quite a slow process, but how could he mind? Being so close to his mate, the bond between them awoke, pulsing in unison with their heartbeats. It came in handy in this situation. As her belly filled, the bond shone with satisfaction and Azriel knew it was time to stop. She had to start carefully to keep the food in. He put the bowl aside and pulled warm blanket higher, tucking her in. Mermaid frowned, her lips looking for more food.

"Soon. I'll give you more very soon," he murmured, caressing her cheek lovingly. "You are safe here. I'll give you as much food as you need. I'll give you anything you want, just.. give me a chance."

He hoped his prayer would somehow reach her and she wouldn't refuse the bond as soon as she opened eyes.

Azriel decided to feed her with small amount of soup every two hours and see how her body would react to that. And in between he gave her tea from herbs Madja gave him. It took him only a half day to turn this into a routine. His body got used to the repeating motions. Cleaning of wounds and applying ointments, changing bandages, little bit of tea with medicine, few mouthfuls of soup.

All of that required a lot of time and the short breaks between the individual actions, he spent gazing at his mate, committing details of her face to his memory or cooking some food for himself and soup for his patient.

At beginning, he always tried to feed her with spoon, but when it failed, he gladly pressed his lips to hers. It was like a remedy and while he was balancing between keeping it professional, detached, and giving in to his needs, he hardly noticed anything else. Two days later he didn't even bother with trying spoon anymore. The fever was finally gone and she seemed to be getting better, her starved body was healing, too. Yet she didn't awoke even once. As his mouth sealed over hers, he closed eyes, fighting his usual battle and imagining what could be.

Azriel didn't notice the startled move of hand nor felt the body under him tensed. He let small amount of soup slip into mermaids mouth and she swallowed. Suddenly pair of hands pushed him away. It surprised him and he started choking on the soup, coughing violently.

"W-what are you doing?" Her voice was still weak and full of fear, but she was definitely awake.

Azriel finally stopped coughing and took a deep breath, wiping away tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do anything bad," he put his hands up. "While you were unconscious, you couldn't eat and this was the only way how to get food into you.. I swear I tried everything else before.. you know.." The blush climbed up his neck, burning his cheeks. He watched her with plea.

"I-.. You are that male, the one who saved me.."

"Yes, it's me," Azriel nodded eagerly, biting on his bottom lip and waiting whether she would mention the bond.

"I have to thank you for saving my life. I was sure that I will die there and I really would die, if it wasn't for you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Her voice was the sweetest melody Azriel ever heard. He was trying to stay focussed, but with every word that left her lips it was harder and harder.

The bond in his chest stirred and flexed with expectation. He knew that she felt it, it snapped for both of them at the same time after all, yet he wanted to wait until she mentioned it. While he was waiting, they introduced to each other, sharing some basic information. She even told him about how they captured her and confined her in that gigant tank.

Several days later, Mer was enough strong to stand up on her own. She didn't need Azriel to help her anymore. Her wounds healed without leaving any marks and she was able to eat solid food. Not even once she mentioned the bond and Azriel had a bad feeling about it.

With each passing day she was getting restless. She often watched Sidra flowing under the window of sitting room, her gaze vacant.

"Where does the river flow?" she asked him for the third time that day.

"It flows into the sea beyond the city," he answered her patiently, his voice sad. "Why?"

"I want to go home," she murmured under her breath, but he heard it. It was the first time she mentioned it and his heart clenched in pain.

Azriel swallowed hard, preparing to hear something that would break him into pieces. "Do you want to return home, Mer?"

"Yes," she replied simply and finally looked at him. "When will you let me go?"

That hurt more than he expected. Balling hands into fists, he turned his back to her.

"I can't.."

He was hardly keeping it together. Shadows swirled around his shoulders as if trying to comfort him. His wings rustled as he abruptly marched to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of bed, putting head into his hands. Mother had a very strange sense of humour, punishing him by giving him a mate who didn't want him. The only person who was supposed to love him and stay by his side, wanted to leave him.

He felt unwanted his entire life, first by his own father, then in the camp by his own people and later even by the first love of his life. He was scared to love because people who really mattered to him, didn't want him in their lives. Five centuries later, it was still hard for him to comprehend that Cassian and Rhysand liked him, that they called him their brother and he dreaded the day they would stop.

Mer quietly followed him, watching him with puzzled expression.

"Did you save me only to imprison me again?" Her voice was calm, there was no trace of hatred or accusation in it.

He took a shaky breath and shook his head. He hadn't seriously cried since he was thrown into dungeons as a small boy. He didn't cry even when his hands were burnt and it hurt badly, but now he felt like doing so.

"I can't possibly let my mate leave me just like that.."

She sighed and walked over to him, crouching in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. He looked at her in surprise. It was the first time she touched him. Ever since she woke up, she was refusing his toich. Now she was searching his face, her expression unreadable, her small but strong hands holding his.

"You know that we belong to different worlds. I can't stay on land for too long and you can't survive under the water. That's just how things are. We can't change it."

She was so calm that it was killing him. Was he really so unworthy? Was he really not good enough even for his mate, the one he was made for? Azriel was never pushy with people he cared for. He was always putting others, their wishes and needs before himself. He could count on fingers of one hands the times when he revolted and stood his ground. In this case, he didn't want to give up easily. He wanted to give it a try and fight with everything he had to change her mind, to prove her that this could work.

He closed fingers around her hands, holding them firmly and looked straight into her eyes with determination. Small sparkles whirled in them as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I always believed that the real love can overcome anything. That once I find my mate, she could love me despite of looking like this," he nodded to his scarred hands. "That she will see me, the real me under all the darkness and blood staining my hands and yet choose to stay by my side.." He searched her eyes, looking for a hint of agreement, a hint of longing, anything. "There's nothing I wouldn't be willing to do for you. Nothing. I would even try to learn to live under the water, if you asked me for that. Please, don't shove me away.. Don't refuse the bond.. Give me at least one chance to prove myself as worthy of you.. I believe that this relationship can work and I will do anything for that.. Please.. Just one chance.."

She listened closely. When he stayed quiet, waiting for her respond, she narrowed eyes on him, thinking about it. It felt like forever until she gave him an answer, his heart treating to explode with emotions that were wrestling with him.

"Fine," she sighed and nodded, squeezing his hands back. "Let's try it. But what if it won't work? What then?"

"I'm sure it will work, but if not, we will talk about it then. I won't give up though."

She smiled at him gently. "I think that you are good male. So don't take it personally, but I really need to go home. I mean to the water. The time I can spend on land is still quite limited because I am young. The longer mermaids live, the longer they can stay without water."

Azriel's brows raised. "Oh.. I didn't know that. I'm so sorry. Your kind lives in depths of ocean, secluded and we have a little to nothing information about mermaids. You are more like a legend from fairytale. I don't like to admit it, but my knowledge is limited. However, I will learn it all, I swear. Just give me time and guidance, please."

He helped her to sit on the bed and headed to the bathroom to prepare bath. When they visited Madja last day, the healer said that she should be okay from now on, but she needed to take it slowly and especially to avoid dirty water because infection could still return. She also had to keep taking the medication healer gave them.

When bath was ready he returned to bedroom and scooped her in his arms.

"I can walk," she protested weakly.

"And I know it, but as I told you before, I want to prove myself. Carrying my mate when she is sick and needs to take it easy, is my responsibility that I'll gladly do," he smiled at her. "I want to be a good mate. And not just now, it's forever."

She didn't protest at slightest when he offered to help her strip from his T-shirt that looked like dress on her and carefully lowered her into the bath. As soon as her skin touched the surface of water, the tail reappeared and she sighed in relief, diving in. Azriel watched her to swim in small circle, glad his bathtub was enough big, but he was already thinking about getting a bigger one. She emerged and watching him, she swam closer.

"Azriel?" she called at him and his attention immediately was fully on her. "Uhm, you know I'm not water spirit, right?"

He blinked, confused. "Sure. I couldn't possibly mistake you for one."

"I see," she pouted her lips, playing with water. "So you remember when I told you about my home. In ocean."

"Of course, I remember everything you told me," he laughed and then tensed as the realisation hit him.

"Salt water," he breathed out, blushing fiercely. How could it not occur to him sooner? "You need salt water."

Her head tilted to the side as she observed his embarrassed form. Azriel dashed from the bathroom and returned within seconds with small container of kitchen salt.

"Would this do?" he hesitated.

Mer burst in genuine laugher and the thread connecting them sang. Soon Azriel joined her, sitting down next to the bathtub. She swam to the edge and he took her hand, placing kiss on its back. When they calmed down, he locked his gaze with hers, serious.

"I'll learn it, I swear. I meant it when I said that I want this to work and I'll do everything I can for that. Please, trust me. Can you forgive me for the mistakes I'll do at start? I promise that I will get better."

Mer bit on her bottom lip and leaned closer. Her lips gently brushed over the corner of his lips in lovingly kiss. Flushed, she smiled.

"I want this to work too. Let's try it! Together."

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donelywell · 1 year ago

Text

October 5 2023

I changed things up because it's got Frontiers Final Horizons Spoilers. I know the updates been out for like 2 months now but I'm being really cautious.

Super Sonic was really fun to play in the base game, having the auto combo thing on and just seeing so much bombastic energy and over the top moves being thrown at giant titans was so much fun.

I did however, not read the instructions where they tell you to hold the parry, I thought it was a perfect timing thing like a normal parry. So fighting Giganto and Wyvern for the first time was a nightmare for me until I actually read the instructions. =v='

For the design, I didn't change much, Super Sonic is really cool. I basically just changed the green parts of his shoes to red to reflect his new eye color.

Super Sonic² was so cool! The casual backhand slap, the sass, the move where he basically does the idw move, the finger point when he gets back in the game!

The only issue I had is that I didn't understand at all how to fight the final boss. I didn't 100% complete the map so I didn't get the hints. (I am still stuck on the stupid ball hoop map puzzle thing, I swear there is no way to do it) So unfortunately, I had to look up a guide. That kinda dampened the experience, but there was no way I was fighting Supreme over again, getting to the same glitch because I killed him too fast, and then fail the final boss fight again because I didn't know I was supposed to press r2.

I made his quills seem like they are turning into flames at the tips, I made his torso kinda have a sun symbol on it, I made his secondary fur white and his base fur/ quills bright yellow to kinda give it more sun imagery. His arm patterns are a little more detailed, his gloves have kinda formed into the body, making the cuffs look like they're on fire too. His socks turned into bandages and blue rings floating on him with the soles of his shoes kinda smoking on the back. It was a lot of fun interpreting this design differently, giving it a more ancient vibe with a modern twist. The original design is still really cool too!

Cyber Super Sonic... one of the coolest forms in my opinion and yet we see him for less than a minute in only a cutscene. I'm not complaining, the cutscene was so cool! Me and my sibling were star struck when we saw it!

I love the Fleetway elements! The sharp teeth, the crazy eyes, the chaotic behavior that almost made it seem like if Cyber Super Sonic wasn't being literally shot out to his enemy, he'd not be able to tell between friend or foe! God, it was so cool!! Even if it was just limited to a cutscene where you can barely see the entire design in a single image!

I did actually have a static version of this image too, but I'm not including it because it gave me eye strain, and I don't want to hurt you.

For the form I actually decreased the amount of polygons on Sonic. If you look, he's more angular & simplistic and his legs and arms are rectangles! I thought it'd help give him more of a Cyber Computer vibe. I used the blue static and made it kinda an accent color so you can see where things are. I don't really know why, but I also made some parts of him detached? The inside parts have the white spirals that Cyber Super Sonic's eyes were.

The update was a lot of fun to play when it came out, even if it was EXTREMELY challenging for a casual player like myself. Almost made me quit a few times and a couple guides were begrudgingly looked up. Playing as Tails and Amy were definitely the highlights of the update for me though. I hope it was as much fun for you as it was for me. :)

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanart #sonic frontiers: the final horizon #sonic frontiers #super sonic #super sonic 2 #cyber super sonic #The backhand slap was probably the coolest thing Super Sonic has done in a while. In my opinion.

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radio-writes · 8 months ago

Note

It's about time for your blood to spill + you should sleep + we were soulmates

(Congrats on the 300 followers btw!)

Now, The Echoes Interlace

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Blood, physical injuries to reader, ambiguous major character death(s), angst

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"You always have looked so pretty in red, Al." You hummed as your combed your fingers through his soft hair. You pressed your fingers against his scalp, lightly massaging against his antlers.

The light static that varied in volume crackled. "Fuck you." Alastor managed to say as his head laid on your lap.

His smile was strained—present, of course, as it always was, but strained. The trail of blood from his mouth dripped from his chin, joining the warm pool under both your bodies.

"Rude." You scolded him. Your breath coming out in a hiss as Alastor dug his claws into an open wound on your leg.

"Must you continue to hurt me? You're already dying." You glared down at him as you would at a misbehaving pet.

You leaned forward, easily removing his hand from your body without much of a struggle. He only had so much strength left after all.

"Fuck you." Alastor repeated, static morphing his voice this time around.

"Yes, well, I get that you're mad, Al." You continued your casual tone. "But it was about time for your blood to spill, don't you think?"

You grunted as you leaned your back against the cold wall again, sighing as the tension on the wound across your stomach was lessened.

"F—"

"Fuck me, yes yes." You cut him off. "Save your strength or you'll die out faster."

Alastor didn't mean to listen to you, but he just felt far too tired to argue otherwise.

Your hand returned to his head, damp with sweat and blood, and yet somehow still so adorably fluffy. Leave it to this guy to still look so presentable even when dying a second time around.

Your fingers scratched at one of his tufts of hair, causing it to give a slight, involuntary twitch.

"So they are ears." Your voice was soft. "I always assumed but was never really sure, you know?"

Alastor didn't respond. His red eyes continued to glare at you.

He adjusted his hands to lay over his chest. A weak attempt to slow his loss of blood. He didn't even have enough energy to press on it anymore.

"Hey, Al." You wheezed, breath slightly knocked from you. You had adjusted the way you sat so the demon could lay more comfortably on your lap. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"You told me that cheesy pick up line. How'd it go again?" Your hand paused as you tried to remember.

A rather dashing demon slid up to you at the bar; charming, sharp smile, on full display. You've seen all sorts of sinners by now, but none so happy while rotting in hell.

You expected him to sell you drugs, or quite bluntly tell you to sleep with him. What you got instead was a very corny:

"You must be buried treasure, because I am absolutely digging you." You let out a tired laugh, hand continuing to pet Alastor once more.

The sound of static crackling again was the only response you got. You think it meant fuck you.

"Well you must be treasure as well, Al. Because it seems I'll be burying you tonight." You met Alastor's harsh glare with a soft smile.

"What? That absolutely was funny, you can't deny it." You defended yourself.

Alastor didn't think him dying was funny at all, actually, but he didn't exactly have any energy left to say that.

His smile was a tight, close lipped one, but you see his lips try to curl just a tiny bit in what you assumed would have been a snarl.

"You always thought I was hilarious." Your own hand moving over the gash on your neck as if it was a mild inconvenience. You titled your head as you looked down at the demon on your lap. "What changed?"

Alastor merely glared at you.

Your eyes traveled down his body, staying on the deep wound oozing across his chest.

"That's not fair, Al." You laughed tiredly, eyes staying on his bloodied torso. "I always thought you were incredibly handsome—sinfully so really. But your attempts at killing me never changed that."

"Fuck you." The static over his voice was gone now. His tone was as spiteful, angry, and condescending as always, but much, much weaker.

Your eyes drifted back to his face. His smile was still present, but his lovely red eyes seemed more unfocused than they were a second ago.

Your hand in his hair stopped their movements. For a moment, the world was still as you wondered if your company had already left.

But it was merely for a heart beat, as a ragged breath from his lips snapped time back into motion.

You pealed your fingers from his hair, bringing them down to softly rub your knuckles down his cheek. He doesn't so much as flinch, but, you knew he would have had he been able to.

"Hey, old pal." You cooed softly. "You should sleep, you look so very tired."

His fingers on his chest twitched once, but you didn't get much of a reply anymore after that.

You sighed heavily. Your hands rested on his face as you leaned your head against the wall behind you, face craned upwards to the red sky that covered all of Hell.

Your own eyes closed, realizing just how tired and weary you yourself were.

Still, you were never one to be silent around a friend—or foe. It had always been unclear to you when it came to Alastor.

"We were soulmates, wouldn't you say so, Al?" You continued softly. "But in a funnier way, I think, where we were always meant to destroy the other."

Alastor's skin felt as it always did beneath your fingers. The stench of blood heavy as it always was around him. You felt his familiar eerie presence by you, as you always did.

And yet, you were unsure if he actually was still there. You were quite conflicted about how you were supposed to feel about that, truth be told.

"Fuck you, old friend." You sighed, eyes remaining closed, smile tiredly stretching across your own lips.

#tw: physical injuries #tw: major character death #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #follower event #they're fine #i think #maybe #ending left intentionally ambiguous for those at the back who don't actually want to kill Al #but also for those who do so i didn't expressly put if they were saved or not #anon really saw the event and thought #im going to kill this man :)

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ellswritings · 1 month ago

Text

Sparks Fly

Steve Rogers x Reader

TW: Enemies to lovers, Steve and reader are both jerks to each other, Tony being a little shit, spicy near the end but no smut.

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

The briefing room in the Avengers Tower was already buzzing with conversation as Nick Fury strode in, trailed by a woman none of them had ever seen before. Tony Stark, as always, leaned back in his chair, sipping on a cappuccino with a casual smirk on his face. Natasha sat next to him, calmly tapping her fingers against the table, while Thor’s deep voice carried through the room as he recounted one of his many Asgardian exploits to Bruce Banner. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, stood near the window, arms crossed, his gaze drifting toward the city skyline.

Fury cleared his throat, immediately silencing the room. "Team, meet Y/N L/N," he announced, stepping aside to reveal the woman standing beside him.

Her presence was palpable. She exuded confidence, her posture straight and assured, with an unmistakable glint of sharpness in her eyes. Energy seemed to hum faintly around her, like static electricity that hadn’t quite dissipated.

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the room with measured scrutiny. "Nice to meet you all," she said, her tone steady but not overly warm. Her eyes lingered briefly on each Avenger as Fury continued the introduction.

"Y/N is a new addition to the team," Fury explained. "She’s got experience in covert ops, but what makes her stand out is her ability to manipulate energy—plasma, electricity, heat. I’ve worked with her in the past, and she’s someone you’ll want on your side when things go south."

Tony raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Energy manipulation, huh? That's gotta come in handy at parties," he quipped, already leaning forward with that trademark grin of his.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smirk, meeting Tony’s challenge head-on. "I could fry your circuits in a second, Stark. But I’ll save that for when I really need to shut you up."

Tony’s grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, clearly delighted by her response. "Oh, I like her already. It’s about time someone besides Pepper was capable of shutting me down."

Natasha gave Y/N an approving nod. "Looks like Fury didn’t just bring you here for your powers. You’re quick."

Y/N chuckled, a sharp, low sound that made Bruce smile faintly from his corner. Even Thor seemed intrigued, murmuring something about the strength of Midgardian women.

But when Y/N’s eyes landed on Steve, who still stood apart from the group, her demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t smiled, hadn’t said anything to acknowledge her presence, his jaw clenched tight.

Fury, ever the perceptive one, noticed the undercurrent and turned toward Steve. "Rogers, you gonna say hello?"

Steve straightened, walking over with that stoic air he always carried. His blue eyes flicked over Y/N with an unreadable expression. "Welcome to the team," he said, his voice polite but distant, as if her arrival was nothing more than a minor formality.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the half-hearted greeting. "Don’t sound too enthusiastic, Cap," she shot back, her tone laced with playful sarcasm, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

Tony let out a loud laugh, earning a playful elbow from Natasha.

But Steve remained stoic, his expression unmoving. "Let’s just hope you’re as good as Fury says," he replied, his tone clipped, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Y/N’s smirk widened, but there was something colder in it now, a challenge flickering behind her eyes. "Trust me, Rogers, I won’t slow you down."

The tension in the room was palpable. The rest of the team exchanged glances, picking up on the brewing undercurrent between the two.

Tony, always the instigator, nudged Natasha with a smirk. "This is gonna be fun."

Y/N took a step back, folding her arms as she addressed the rest of the team. "So, what's the usual around here? Stark throwing more one-liners than punches? Or does everyone else get a turn?"

Natasha chuckled under her breath. "He’s definitely an equal-opportunity quipster. You'll get your turn."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at Tony. "Is that right?"

Tony shrugged, all amusement. "I like to think of it as part of my charm. Keeps the team morale up."

Y/N rolled her eyes, her tone teasing. "Right. 'Morale.' Must be tough for everyone else to keep up."

Bruce snorted softly from his seat, barely managing to suppress a laugh. "You’ve got no idea."

Thor gave a booming laugh, as though the banter between them were the most entertaining thing he’d heard all day. "Truly, Stark's tongue wields more fire than most weapons."

Y/N smiled, enjoying the back-and-forth. It felt like she was starting to find her rhythm with them—most of them, at least. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve watching her, his expression stony, arms still crossed. His silence was louder than anything Tony or Natasha had said, and it grated on her.

She locked eyes with him, folding her arms as she spoke again. "You don’t like people much, do you, Rogers?"

The question was sharp, and the room went a little quieter as everyone’s gaze flicked toward Steve.

Steve’s jaw tightened. "I like people just fine."

Y/N hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head. "You sure about that? You’ve barely said two words to me. Starting to think you don’t approve."

Tony leaned in, thoroughly entertained. "Careful, Capsicle. She's got you pegged already."

Steve’s eyes flickered to Tony, then back to Y/N. "I don’t need to approve. I just need to know you can do your job without putting the team at risk."

Y/N’s smile froze, her posture stiffening slightly. "I’ve been doing this for a long time, Rogers. I don’t need you to babysit me."

Steve didn’t back down, his gaze unwavering. "I’m not interested in babysitting anyone. I’m interested in keeping my team safe."

The words hung in the air like a heavy cloud, the tension thick enough to cut through. The rest of the team looked from Y/N to Steve, unsure of where this sudden hostility was coming from.

Natasha, ever the diplomat, broke the silence with a raised eyebrow. "Is this gonna be a thing?"

Y/N shook her head, exhaling slowly as she forced a smile. "Nope. No thing here. Just Rogers and I... finding our rhythm, I guess."

Steve didn't respond, his expression hard, but Tony couldn’t resist the urge to lighten the mood. "Oh, there’s definitely a thing here. This much tension could fuel my arc reactor for a week."

Natasha smirked, while Thor chuckled deeply. Bruce, however, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not enjoying the rising tension.

Y/N turned back toward Fury, trying to push the interaction with Steve aside. "So, what's the mission?"

Fury glanced between Y/N and Steve, his expression unreadable, though he certainly wasn’t oblivious to the friction. "We'll go over the details soon. For now, you’re getting acquainted. I trust you can handle that."

Y/N gave a nod, though the corner of her eye remained fixed on Steve, whose stony silence still irked her. Why was he being so difficult? It wasn't like she’d come in guns blazing. Well, maybe a little attitude, but nothing she hadn’t done with any other team.

As the team began to disperse, Tony, Natasha, and Bruce began chatting amongst themselves, but Y/N lingered near the door, her mind racing. She hadn't expected her introduction to go this way—especially not with Captain America.

Natasha approached her, raising an eyebrow as she glanced back toward Steve. "Don’t take it personally. Steve's a bit... cautious when it comes to new team members."

Y/N snorted softly, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah, I noticed. Guess I’m just gonna have to prove him wrong."

Natasha smiled faintly. "Just give it time. He’ll come around. He always does."

Y/N tilted her head, looking over at Steve, who was now talking quietly with Fury on the other side of the room. "I’m not the most patient person."

Natasha laughed softly. "Neither is he. Should be interesting to watch."

In the following days, Y/N integrated into the team—well, most of it. Tony, as expected, took an immediate liking to her sarcastic sense of humor, and even Bruce opened up more around her. Natasha and Y/N trained together, and Thor respected her power and confidence, even suggesting that she spar with him one day to "test her strength."

The only hiccup in the team dynamic was Steve.

Their arguments became a regular occurrence. Whether it was during training sessions, tactical meetings, or even casual conversations, Y/N and Steve couldn’t seem to get through a day without butting heads. The rest of the team watched their interactions with bemusement, Tony and Natasha often making side bets on how long it would take before one of them snapped.

One day, during a mission debrief, Steve and Y/N clashed yet again, this time over strategy. Steve favored a more cautious, methodical approach, while Y/N argued for a direct strike, using her powers to neutralize the threat quickly.

"You don’t get it," Y/N snapped. "We don’t have time to play it safe. HYDRA’s not going to wait around for us to make the perfect move, Rogers."

Steve’s eyes narrowed, his voice clipped. "I’m not playing it safe. I’m making sure no one gets killed because of a reckless move."

"Reckless?" Y/N’s voice rose. "I’ve been in more of these situations than I can count, and I know when to strike fast. If we sit around and plan every detail, people die."

The rest of the team sat in silence, watching the heated exchange. Tony leaned over to Natasha, whispering, "I give it two more minutes before one of them explodes."

Natasha smirked. "I’m betting on Y/N. She looks like she’s ready to throw something."

Steve crossed his arms, his jaw clenched. "This isn’t about how many missions you’ve been on. It’s about working as a team. You can’t just go rogue whenever you feel like it."

Y/N scoffed, stepping closer to him. "I’m not going rogue. I’m making the call that’ll save lives. You can either get on board or get out of my way."

The tension was thick, and for a moment, it seemed like Y/N and Steve might actually come to blows. Y/N’s eyes flashed with that same energy she controlled, and Steve stood rigid, unflinching, his eyes locked on hers.

Tony raised an eyebrow at Bruce. "Think we should step in, or…?"

Bruce shook his head. "I think they need to get this out of their system."

Fury, who had been watching the entire exchange with a neutral expression, finally stepped in. "Enough," he said, his voice firm. "You two can hash out your differences later. Right now, we need to focus on the mission. Rogers, L/N’s got a point. Time isn’t on our side."

Steve clenched his fists, but he nodded, stepping back, though his gaze remained fixed on Y/N. "Fine. But we do this as a team."

Y/N held his gaze for a moment longer before she finally nodded, though her jaw was still tight. "Fine."

Fury gave them both a stern look before continuing the debrief. But the air in the room remained tense, and it was clear to everyone that Y/N and Steve weren’t done with their argument.

Later that night, as the team prepared for the mission, Y/N found herself partnered with Steve. Much to her frustration, Fury had insisted they work together on this one, despite the obvious tension between them. She wasn’t thrilled about it, and judging by the look on Steve’s face, neither was he.

They moved through the HYDRA base in silence, their communication reduced to clipped, professional exchanges. Y/N used her powers to disrupt security systems, her hands crackling with energy as she sent short bursts of electricity to fry the cameras and alarms. Steve moved ahead, leading the way with his shield in hand.

"Left corridor is clear," Steve said quietly, his voice coming through her comm.

"Roger that, Captain," Y/N replied, her tone laced with sarcasm despite herself.

Steve shot her a look, but he didn’t respond, opting to focus on the mission. As they moved deeper into the base, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of his disapproval, like a constant presence at the back of her mind.

She hated it.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall. HYDRA agents. A lot of them. Without thinking, Y/N raised her hand, preparing to send a pulse of energy toward them.

"Wait," Steve hissed, grabbing her wrist. "We can’t just—"

Before he could finish, one of the agents fired a shot, aiming directly for Steve’s head. Without hesitating, Y/N yanked her wrist free from his grip and sent a wave of energy crashing into the HYDRA agents, knocking them all back like rag dolls.

The hall was silent again, the agents down. Y/N turned to Steve, her heart racing, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"You’re welcome," she snapped, her voice edged with frustration.

Steve glared at her, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "I had it under control."

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. "You had a bullet heading for your head, Rogers."

"I don’t need you to save me," he shot back, his voice low and angry.

"Could’ve fooled me," Y/N muttered, pushing past him as she continued down the corridor.

Steve followed her, clearly not ready to let it go. "You keep rushing in without thinking. One of these days, you’re going to get someone killed."

Y/N spun around, her eyes blazing with energy. "I’m not the one who nearly got my head blown off because I wanted to play it safe!"

They stood toe-to-toe, both breathing hard, the tension between them palpable. For a moment, it seemed like they might start arguing again, but instead, something else crackled in the air between them.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to Steve’s lips for a split second before she snapped her eyes back to his. She saw his eyes do the same.

Neither of them moved for what felt like an eternity.

Then, before either of them could think better of it, they were kissing.

It wasn’t gentle. It was heated, desperate, full of all the anger and frustration they’d been holding back. Y/N’s hands gripped the front of Steve’s uniform, pulling him closer, while his hands settled on her waist, holding her tightly.

For a few moments, the world around them faded away, and it was just them—no mission, no team, no arguments. Just the two of them, caught in the heat of the moment.

In a fury of teeth and heavy pants, Steve quickly swoops her up in his arms, Y/N instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. He shoves her roughly into the wall causing a low whine to escape her lips. Steve growls lowly at the sound before nipping along her neck to invoke a similar sound. Y/N digs her fingers into Steve’s scalp, lightly pulling at the hairs there.

He returns to her lips and she wastes no time in nipping at the plush skin. He groans as she pushes herself further into him. Even in such a heated situation, they still happen to compete with each other, find something to beat the other at.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing heavily, they stared at each other, eyes wide with the realization of what had just happened.

Steve was the first to speak, his voice hoarse. "This… doesn’t change anything."

Y/N smirked, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

Without another word, they continued down the corridor, but the tension between them had shifted. There was still fire there, but it wasn’t just anger anymore.

Tony's voice crackled over the comms. "Everything okay over there, lovebirds? Thought I’d check in, seeing as it’s been awfully quiet."

Y/N rolled her eyes, glancing at Steve, who looked just as irritated. "We’re fine, Stark."

"Good to know," Tony replied, a grin evident in his voice. "Because I’ve got five bucks that says Cap’s blushing right now."

Y/N bit back a laugh as Steve muttered something under his breath.

"Oh yeah," Tony added, "this is definitely gonna be fun."

After the mission, Y/N and Steve continued to bicker, but there was a new layer to their interactions—something unspoken but undeniably present. The team noticed it too, especially Tony, who never missed an opportunity to comment on the "undeniable chemistry" between them.

Natasha, however, was the only one who approached Y/N about it.

"You and Steve," she said one day during training. "It’s… interesting."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Interesting?"

Natasha smirked. "Let’s just say, I’ve seen this kind of tension before. It usually leads to something."

Y/N didn’t respond right away, wiping sweat from her forehead as she caught her breath. "You think it’s that obvious?"

Natasha shrugged. "Obvious to the people who know how to look."

Y/N glanced toward Steve, who was across the training room, sparring with Thor. He caught her eye for just a moment, and she quickly looked away, feeling her heart race again.

"Great," Y/N muttered under her breath. "Just what I need."

Natasha chuckled. "You’ll figure it out. Or you’ll just keep fighting until one of you gives in."

Y/N sighed. "Something tells me it’s gonna be a lot of fighting."

Natasha patted her on the shoulder, her smile amused. "Just don’t let Tony see you slip. He’s got money on this."

Y/N groaned. "Of course he does."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel #tony stark #steve rogers imagine #natasha romanoff #chris evans #thor odinson #bruce banner #nick fury #the avengers #enemies to lovers

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Show Me

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Too much Merlot and a challenge neither of you will back down from...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, mutual masturbation, mutual orgasm.

WordCount: 2.4k

Author's Note: Anon request fill from HERE (request: modern Anthony masturbates for reader), with thanks to some lovely mutuals (@colettebronte and @eleanor-bradstreet) who helped me decide for this to be a mutual masturbation fic and the former for beta reading too. Sorry it's taken so long to write this, Nonny, but I hope you enjoy! <3

“Oh, Please. I know everything about you,” you wave a hand dismissively at him, relaxing onto the chaise of your sectional sofa, wine glass in hand, after hosting duties are over.

The dinner party was done long ago, but he’s still here, even after all the other guests have left.

“No, you don’t,” Anthony frowns, swallowing the last dregs of his red wine from the glass.

You snort derisively. “Okay, go on, I dare you, say something that would shock me,” you goad, only half-joking.

He raises an eyebrow at you and puts down his empty glass. Then he leans back and places both elbows on the cushion behind, manspreading with arms and legs.

“I think about you when I masturbate,” he offers casually.

When he utters seven words, your whole world grinds to a halt. That is NOT what you were expecting. For a few seconds, you are stunned into silence, a static buzz in your ears as your brain supplies an enthralling mental slideshow.

“Haha, very funny. No, you don’t,” your retort echoing into your glass once you find your tongue again.

“Oh yes, I bloody do,” he asserts, and as you turn to look at him now, there’s a thread of tension in the air.

You have sparred with this man so much over the years you’re surprised he has any feelings of attraction towards you. Although, if you think about it, somehow, it’s right on brand for him—fighting and fucking somehow being on the same continuum. A sudden acute curiosity about where this might go, not wanting to think too hard about what it could mean.

“Show me.”

It leaves your lips before you can stop yourself—the wine speaking for you. One of his eyebrows raises archily again, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that looks so dangerous.

“You always surprise me. It’s so fucking sexy,” he says low and gravelly.

The spike of euphoria makes every cell of your being fizzle with energy like a storm approaching. To hear him call you sexy is the hottest thing you have ever heard. It makes you bolder.

“Show me,” you repeat, staring him down, the power and crackling potential of this moment enthralling, even if you are almost sure he will back down now.

He licks his lips and then pushes back onto your oversized sofa, settling into the plump cushions. You twist to watch him as he holds your gaze and drops a hand to his fly. The sound of his zip fills the room as much as your slightly laboured breathing does.

Fuck, is he actually going to do this?

Your disbelief is only matched by the rapid beating of your heart. The most vexing, and yes, okay, most attractive man you know is about to masturbate for you. Surely a fever dream.

He flicks the button at the top of his jeans, and you see boxer briefs that are slightly tented and bite your lip. Still, he stares you down as your eyes ping between his face and his lap. Then he pulls down his underwear, and you see his cock spring out, already sizable, half hard and very delicious looking. That theoretical mental slideshow from just moments earlier is nothing compared to the real thing.

He fists himself and stares at you challengingly. Then ever so slowly, as a tease, he raises his hand and then drops it down with a slight curling action, emitting a tiny groan as you watch his cock twitch and come to life in his hand.

“Y/n.”

The way he says it is dark, delicious and pitched so low you throb between your legs, almost painfully, a prickly feeling runs over the base of your scalp—a spike of arousal so rough it catches your breath.

“Anthony…” slips out of your mouth. It’s breathy, and you barely recognise it as your own voice.

“God, say it again, just like that,” he hisses, and you watch his fist flex around his cock.

“Anthony…” you repeat, slower this time, throatier, intentionally pitched to arouse.

He groans, and his hand speeds up. All you can do is watch. Your clit pulsing in sync with your heartbeat, with his motions. Your strongest urge is to strip off your underwear and climb on him before he can come to his senses. But you don’t dare; you just sit there routed to the spot a few feet away, unable to look anywhere but him - at that glorious cock and handsome face.

His tongue peeks out and swipes over his bottom lip, then he groans slightly, fractionally pushing his hips off the sofa.

“Join me,” he dares, his hand speeding up slightly as he hissed through his teeth. “Touch yourself.”

A shiver ripples over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Just the thought of masturbating in front of him while he does the same is enough to make you flood.

You stare briefly into the rich, ruby pool of Merlot in your hand, then tip your head back and down the rest of the glass without thinking, placing the glass aside. Your eyes back on Anthony, delicious cock in hand, stroking gently and staring at you intensely.

“Liquid courage, I like it,” he nods, smirking with a wink that is far too seductive. “Go on, prove me wrong. Show me you’re not the person I think you are.”

You know he’s trying to manipulate you, not at all subtly, with flattery. But you let him.

“What sort of person do you think I am?” you challenge, toying with the hem on your dress, revelling in how his eyes linger on your fingers as you do so.

“Too repressed to do in front of me what I know you would do if I walked out right now,” he goads with an empty threat.

“You’re wrong on both counts,” you counter brazenly, the wine coursing in your bloodstream now, letting your hands slide up your outer thighs, taking your hem with them. “There’s no way you’d walk out of here right now,” you posit with a knowing smirk.

His eyes flash in the low lamp light, his hand still making languid strokes of his cock, as you reach the sides of your underwear and peel them down your legs, angled away slightly so he can't see between your thighs, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

“Oh fuck yes,” he hisses as you pull them from your feet with a flourish and toss them across the room. “Come closer,” he adds velvety, his free hand patting the cushion next to him.

“I'm staying right over here, Bridgerton,” you warn even as you lick your lips unconsciously as a bead of precum forms at his tip, him still pumping himself slow but steady.

It feels too much like jeopardy to be right next to him, uncertain you could stop yourself from doing anything to him, begging him for everything he is willing to give. Desire tugging low in your gut, making you impulsive to do things you could never walk back. The distance between you feels safer.

So instead, you slide your fingers under your dress, heel digging into the plush fabric as you widen your stance, and he growls at the sight. All he can see from his angle is your arm wedged between your legs; that is how you want to keep it. A tease, not letting him see the whole show. But dammit, if you aren't going to give him a spectacle anyway. Arching your back and throwing your head onto the cushion behind, you inhale sharply as your fingertips slide into your folds, temporarily taken aback by just how soaked you already are, your clit swollen and aching. It won't take much.

“How wet are you?” he demands, the tone needy and wrecked already, the hand wrapped around his cock moving faster now.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” you grit out defiantly, the antagonism still broiling under the surface.

“Yes, I fucking would - tell me!” it's impatient, through gritted teeth, and you shoot him a sideways simper.

“Never…” you tease as your fingers slide through the slick, viscous pool. The blistering lingering look you share is anything but animus.

“I can hear it from here,” he growls, and you can't stop the hitch in your breath in response, knowing there is a wet sound as you flick across your clit in a rousing motion.

Your sight is locked onto his hand as he speeds up, squeezing his cock more insistently now, the tip getting pink and slick. It takes every fibre of your being not to slide to your knees before him and lick him clean. Just that thought has you pushing your knees further apart, your other hand reaching inside your neckline to tweak a nipple, pebbled and aching to be touched.

“Fuck, y/n,” Anthony stutters, temporarily stupified by the undulating movement of your body as you bear down on your fingers and pinch the hardened tip of your nipple until you hiss.

“Don't you dare stop,” you warn through gritted teeth as his rhythm falters, transfixed by the sight of you bringing yourself close to the edge.

He snarls at your command and seems to snap back to it, fisting himself even tighter, his hand almost a blur now, huffed, hungry noises escaping his lips as he stares at you, wild-eyed untamed, goading you to break with him.

The room feels too hot, the flush of alcohol coursing through you, the smell of sex in the air as you both push your bodies rapidly towards completion, the texture of the sofa catching the back of your thighs as you squirm on your hand, honeying your fingertips, desperate for him to reach out and demand to suck your fingers clean, to push your legs onto his shoulders and dive face first into your slit.

“Put a finger inside yourself,” he urges, rushed and ragged. “Please,” he amends with a throaty whine.

Unable to stop yourself, not wanting to either, you obey. Sliding your middle finger lower as you keep your index finger circling your clit. The heated, soaked cling makes you hiss in surprise, so on fire for him; you hold his gaze as you push deeper, your mouth opening into a small O at the sensation.

“That's it, fuck, I bet that feels amazing,” he snaps, his tone feral, his eyes just inky pools staring you down.

“Tell me you want to fuck me…”

It takes a split second to realise it was you who said it. Unwilling to back down, meeting Anthony’s stunned, hungry expression head-on, fingers sliding fast over your clit, spiralling so close so soon to something extraordinary.

“I want to fuck you,” he enunciates slowly, dripping with intent, making a low, almost grunting noise with each pull on his delicious cock.

Your responding moan is lewd, and you are uncaring of the noise your body makes as you rapidly fuck your finger into yourself over and over, wishing it was his perfect cock that you stare at now, both openly panting.

“Don't. Fucking. Stop,” it's his turn to say it now, each word a heaved, wrecked sentence.

There is an inevitability to this moment that somehow feels fated, apt, perfect, almost. As if this is the only way the searing tension between you would ever be resolved: a literal release.

“I’m so close,” he grits out, and you nod rapidly to agree, moving your other hand to touch your clit as you now slide two fingers into yourself, rapid, deep, craving release, feeling the telltale fluttering around your fingertips.

With a brief glance up to his handsome face, you watch his plump lips moan your name, long, loud, low. His body going rigged as an arc of cum shoots out of his cock, painting a glistening line over his knuckles and the rug between his splayed feet.

The sight makes you shudder from head to toe and pushes you over the edge, your pussy trapping your fingers in a vice-like grip as your body bows, and you call his name in release, the tension snapping in what feels like every cell of your body. Unable to stop and uncaring to do so, you ride the cresting sensation for what feels like forever and no time at all. You can hear him swearing and barking filthy encouragements, but it's muffled as if through cotton wool, the rush of blood in your ears and the spots dancing before your eyes, screwed tightly shut, all you can concentrate on.

When you sag back into the sofa cushions, utterly spent, letting your fingers slip from your body, mortification starts to creep into your edges. You feel unable to meet his eyes as you primly push down your dress where it had rucked up around your hips, even as you feel your own juices smearing over your skin as you do so.

“Don’t…” it's gruff and beseeching. “Don't you dare regret this. Or feel embarrassed. That was amazing,” he exhales shakily as he rezips his fly, his raw sincerity taking you back slightly, even as you stare at the floor.

“You owe me a new rug…” It's the strangest non sequitur, but it's what your brain has decided to say in response, eyeing the mess he has left.

He barks a laugh so loud you can't help but join in.

“That I do,” he admits, slumping back and turning his head towards you, a softness in his warm brown eyes as you finally pluck up the courage to look at him again.

“I don't regret it,” you admit quietly after a brief silence. “I just can't quite believe we did it…”

“Merlot…” he offers laconically, eyeballing the empty collection of bottles on your kitchen island.

“Definitely,” you giggle.

A grin tugs at his lips. “Got any more?” he inquires.

“One more bottle,” you gesture vaguely towards the wine rack.

He gets up and saunters over, bending to pick it up as you admire the fit of his jeans around his bum. He nods at you to pick up the empty wine glasses and then walks away, gesturing for you to follow.

“Where are we going?” you frown, pushing off the sofa to catch up with him as he wanders down your hallway.

He spins to look at you with an expression so heated you stumble to a halt and almost drop the glasses.

“Don't play coy, you know where,” he rumbles and kicks open your bedroom door with a flick of his foot.

It turns out your encore performance had a different director, but after you come screaming onto his hands and face, you decide it might be worth ordering a wine subscription.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

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theamazingdigitalraceway · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWELVE

Welcome to Jurassic Park I mean, the Clamouring Cretaceous Claypits! Enjoy the scenery while it lasts and take photos of the dinos that cross your path! Be mindful of the carnivores, but don't worry! They only want to play! This is my game. My world. I will tear it apart to make it my own again.

A/N: special thanks to @paper-fowl for the track!

WARNING: digital body horror, peril, angst

~~~

Caine slowly hovered around the dark prison cell. The glow of the gold binary illuminated him from below. Light blue chains of code held out to the unseen walls, binding the prisoner in place. "Long time no see, Abel. Nice to see you're still holding out. Would hate for abstraction to take you away from your punishment too early."

Abel didn't respond. Didn't even move. His casual work office attire hung loosely from his tired body. Long, curled black hair hung over his face as he stared at the floor. A short unkept beard obscured the lower half of his face.

Caine visually inspected each part of the cell as he made his way around. "You look just as awful as the day I threw you in here. Tell me, so you still feel hunger? Thirst? Exhaustion? Everything a human body craves?" He used the head of his cane to lift Abel's chin. Thick curtains of hair covered Abel's face, but Caine could see his eyes cracked open. Piercing blue stared weakly back at him.

Caine tilted his head in mocking curiosity. "To be so close to death, and yet it will never come. One would think you should be pitied."

Caine turned swiftly, dropping Abel's head. The coded chains rattled lightly from the movement. He left the hidden cell and looked at Abel one last time before reactivating the firewall. "Captivum aeternum." Heatless fire closed around Abel and he was hidden from sight once again, beyond the void.

Abel lifted his head slightly as the light from the void beyond the fire faded. He glared at Caine's silhouette, blue static sparking in his iris. His body went limp as the static arced from his eyes and went through the cell floor.

Pomni sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the mystic galaxy rose. She slowly rotated it in her hand, the light butterfly fluttering around her wrist. Tears welled in her eyes. She was so overwhelmed by everything. She didn't know what to do, who to trust, so she cried. She was so lost in her emotions, she didn't even register the knock at her door.

Ragatha peeked inside. "Hey, sorry for intruding. It's just, we're worried about you, Pomni. Is it okay if I come in?"

Pomni didn't have the energy to answer. She let her tears drip onto the rose in her hand. Ragatha sat next to Pomni and put an arm around her. "Today was a lot. Do you wanna talk about it?"

Pomni sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve. "It's more than that. So much more."

"Is it about us pressuring you to get answers out of Caine? We're desperate, but if this is too much, I understand-"

"Things are getting complicated." Pomni sighed, trying to stop crying. "Ragatha, does the name Abel mean anything to you?"

Ragatha thought for a moment. "No, why?"

"This person? Entity? Ghost? By that name has been talking to me. He says he can fix the exit. All I have to do is keep Caine distracted, but...I don't know if I should trust him. He seems a bit...unstable."

"A ghost is telling you he can get us out?"

"I know, it sounds crazy, but he's real. He's the one that been causing the crazy glitches. He was the reason the beast went berserk on the Fairy track. He said things will get worse because he's getting close to the mainframe, whatever that means."

"Pomni, I want to leave as much as the next person, but that does sound crazy. Have you told Caine?"

"No. I don't know if I can trust him either. He controls everything. What's to stop him from lying to gain my favor. To think I might be falling for it..." Pomni dropped the rose. "And now it turns out he has a twin brother of sorts??? Some [%$!#]head biker that makes the races even harder?? Like, WHY??"

Ragatha smiled sympathetically. "Caine's gone to some pretty strange lengths to keep us entertained. He's always seemed genuinely remorseful when someone abstracted, even if he kept his distance." She picked up the rose. "He's more human than I've ever thought possible, that's for sure."

"Enough to have real feelings for..?" Pomni mumbled.

"Maybe."

"Do you think he'd really let us go if the exit was fixed?"

Ragatha hesitated. "...I don't know."

"That's what scares me." Pomni held herself and leaned on Ragatha's shoulder.

Ragatha held the rose in from of Pomni as she comfortingly squeezed her shoulder. "I dont know much, but I don't think falling in love is a bad thing. If it helps, I know for a fact that he's never done this before."

Pomni stared at the beautiful rose. The voice in her head telling her it was all a sham to make her want to stay was getting quieter, overridden by her heart starting to crave his interaction. The very thought of him made her feel butterflies. "It's like Jax said...we either succum to the madness or get broken by it. I suppose I'm choosing the former." She scoffed at herself.

Ragatha sighed, thinking of her casual relationship with Loo. Another AI. "Whatever helps you cope."

"Thank you, Ragatha."

Ragatha smiled and leaned her head on Pomni's. "Anytime."

The next day, everyone sat silently in the lounge while waiting for Caine. No one ate, the air was too tense. Bubble chef hovered over the table, confused as to why they had no food requests.

"I'm fine. Please, stop staring." Pomni said from behind her hands as she leaned on her knees.

"Are you sure your ready to race?" Gummigoo asked.

"As long as nothing weird happens, I'll be fine."

"I'm pretty sure weird things happen no matter what." Gangle commented.

Caine popped in. "Hello, my bouncy baby beans! I hope you're ready to have a good race, because I've revamped an old favorite for today! Some our long term racers may remember a certain Clamoring Cretaceous Claypits??"

"Oh, yeah." Kinger spoke up. "That one was fun. We saw giant insects."

"That you did!" Caine twirled his cane. "I've improved the graphics and AI of the roaming dinosaurs so it's more immersive than ever before! The objective is the same: take photos of ever dino you see! They will be judged based on species and pose, giving you bonus points to potentially move you up a place in the ranking."

"How do we take pictures if we're driving?"

"I'm glad you asked, Pomni!" Caine snapped his fingers. Strange goggles fit over everyone's face. "Just blink, and a photo is taken! Don't worry, it only activates when the race starts. Who's ready to go back in time!?"

Nobody said anything or got up.

"Oof, tough crowd today." Caine tugged his collar. "Come on, everyone! Let's get those engines warmed up!"

The racers got up and filed out of the garage. Outside was a vast grassland than led off into a clay colored crater. Looking around they saw distant thick forests and a lake. The track didn't have as many crazy loops or jumps, as the focus was on the objective of taking photos. The racers karts were lined up at the start and ready to go, the stands were full of the cheering NPCs. Bubble waited at the start with the light.

Gangle timidly approached Caine. "There won't be any scary dinosaurs, will there?"

"I can assure you, the track is completely safe. Spared no expense on keeping the asset AI on it's set directive. Some of them will be more playful that others. This is like an interactive safari, but with dinos. It'll be fun!" Caine reassured.

Gangle nodded with a smile and went to her kart.

Kinger tried to adjust his goggles on his lopsided eyes but he could only cover one at a time. "...this is fine."

Zooble also has a hard time with their goggles fitting on their asymmetrical head. "This is stupid." She grumbled.

Jax rapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. "Just take photos. How boring. The least he could do is make them try to eat us or something."

Caine could feel beads of nervous sweat on his top jaw. The disaster that was yesterday's race had clearly affected everyone's energy. Today's wasn't anything too complex or crazy. He hoped it would help his racers feel more accomplished again. Before starting his race announcements, he went to Pomni.

"I wanted to apologize." Caine removed his hat, hovering at Pomni's eye level. "You worked so hard to help me with the Fairylight Forest, only for it to go off the rails. You didn't even get to finish the race properly. You had to rely on SETH to get you across the finish line. Normally, I would commend a racer for doing so well as to trigger the new challenge, but honestly, he really isn't necessary. The tracks have been acting weird anough as it is without a new player in the mix. Maybe I have too many racers. The max has always been eight, but that was a long time ago and-"

"Easy..." Pomni said calmly. "Don't worry about the whole Fairylight thing. We tried something new and it didn't work. That doesn't mean it's your fault."

"But it does. I'm supposed to keep all of this running as smoothly as possible. Anything that goes wrong falls on me as Racemaster. Which is why I integrated the newer code in with some of more active dinos. To help salvage the experience that the Fairlyight Forest was supposed to be. I promise to make it up to you, Pomni."

"There's really nothing to make up for, but if you're offering...maybe another date?" She asked tentatively. She wasn't sure why she was still going a long with this but she wasn't sure what else to do.

"Why not?" Caine chuckled. "But something that doesn't involve tracks or karts or racing at all. Something just for you and me. Would you like that?"

Pomni searched Caine's eyes. If he held another motive, he hid it well. "Yeah...I would." Pomni smiled.

"Wonderful." Caine smiled back.

"I, uh, really like that flower you gave me."

Caine swooned. "I'd give you a thousand if I thought the game engine could handle it."

Pomni looked away shyly. "Maybe you can give me another when I win this race."

Caine brightened. "That's what I'm talking about! Go out there and win this, Pomni!" He lowered his tone. "And when you do, I'll have you swimming in roses."

Pomni ran off to her kart before her fluster got the better of her.

Caine couldn't stop smiling through his announcements. "Prepare yourselves for a race 66 million years in the making! Run with the troodons! Fly with the pterosaurs! Weave between the massive legs of the long-necked sauropods! Keep an eye out for secrets and WHATEVER YOU DO: don't get caught by the carnotaurus! RACERS! START! YOUR! ENGINES!!"

The karts came to life and the countdown began.

First light

Pomni adjusted her goggles. She heard a click and a high pitch whirr as she blinked. The camera was active.

Second light

She looked around for signs of Abel. No blue static or glitches to speak of.

Third light

One last look at Caine. He was staring again. Her heart fluttered from his attention and she resigned to it. It was getting harder to deny what she felt when he looked at her that way.

GREEN!!

Pomni's head wasn't in the game and she had a rough start but managed to keep up with the rear of the pack. They started with a wide run around a lake with dinosaurs of all sizes roaming around. It was nothing short of majestic. Caine's touch ups on the dinosaurs made them look lifelike. A massive, earth shaking dinosaur with legs the size of large tree trunks slowly meandered over the track, forcing the racers to drive underneath it. Pomni blinked at every neat dino she saw, not worrying about ranking or items. This was nice.

The grasslands became wooded, shrouding the racers but not plunging them into darkness. Gummigoo was nearly knocked off his bike in surprise when a medium sized dinosaur jumped out at him and ran along with him. The dino was thin and fast on two legs, keeping up with the karts no problem. It looked at Gummigoo, seemed to think for a moment, then moved on to another racer. It ran with Zooble then made a chirping noise. Suddenly, several of these fast dinos appeared from the trees, moving with the racers like a herded unit. They swarmed Zooble, snagging an item and disappeared as fast as they came.

Pomni got several pictures, laughing at the cute track interaction and Zooble's frustration. To add insult to injury, she got the next item before Zooble could.

Caine laughed. "Looks like those troublesome troodons found what they wanted! Watch your items, racers! Ragatha has the lead but we'll see for how long! Pomni is moving up and so is Gummigoo! Come on, Kinger! You can keep up! You've done this track before!"

Jax got an item that was relatively rare after the top hats and purple shells. A clown horn. He lifted it up in the air, surrounded by other racers. "Let's get this party started!" He squeezed the horn and it created a deafening sound that crippled the others. He sped off ahead, leaving the woods to were the track was surrounded by tall grass.

Pomni thought her ears would bleed, she was right next to Jax when he set off the horn. She claimed an item, hit a boost and rocketed after Jax. Ragatha and Gummigoo right behind her.

Kinger turned hard left, leaving the main track. However, instead of being wrangled by a bunch of bubbles, he kept going. He had found a shortcut. Gangle and Zooble followed. They weaved in between trees, following Kinger over rough wooded terrain to a clearing. The side path track circled a lone brick building. A sign out front said "visitor center".

"And the track secret has been found!" Caine proudly announced. "Our veteran racer has found the visitor center, who's photograph is worth the most amount of bonus points! Get those snapshots! But watch out for the residents."

Kinger took a photo and gave Gangle and Zooble a thumbs up. Gangle waved appreciatively but then screamed as something large jumped onto the track in front of her. She swerved around the utahraptor as it snapped it's jaws at her tires. "AAAAH KINGER!! WHY DIDN'T YOU MENTION THE RAPTORS!?"

"I forgot they were over here." Kinger shrugged. He spun out as another raptor pounced his kart, digging it's massive hook claws into the hood.

Zooble took out a popper and expertly avoided an attack. "You got the photo!? GO!!" She threw the popper and it exploded right in the middle of the small group of dinos. They screeched and dispersed, opening the track for the racers to flee.

The three zoomed off, the raptors in hot pursuit. They left the clearing and drove single file through the thick brush. Zooble was in front, she didn't know where so was going or where this side track was leading to, but she was focused on leading Gangle away from the raptors.

Pomni, Ragatha, Jax, and Gummigoo all aggressively vide for first as the track wound through the tall grass. As Ragatha was about to throw a shell, a roar to her right. A massive bibedal dino rushed out of the grass and charged the racers. Ragatha screamed and threw her shell at it. The shell bounced off the dino's nose with a hollow THUNK. It didn't have any effect.

Zooble, Gangle and Kinger all came bursting out onto the scene from the shortcut. The raptors long gone, but now they had a much bigger problem with a lot more teeth.

"There he is!" Caine excitedly announced. "The big bad carnotaurus has found our leaders and will hold back the slowest racer! Drive like your rank depends on it!" Caine double checked every POV of the track. So far, so good. No glitches. No unusual AI behavior.

Caine sighs and leans against the control panel. "Bubble, do you still feel yourself? Any more memory gaps?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, boss." Bubble hovered next to Caine, usual blank-eyed grin on their face.

"Nevermind." Caine watched the carnotaurus chase and snap at Jax. At least he seemed to be having fun. "Almost to he crater. That was Kinger's favorite, once upon a time."

"He did like driving on the walls, boss."

"Maybe I'm too hopeful, but I really need this to go well. Everyone is on edge and I'm...heh, I'm loosing my mind. I checked absolutely everything. There is no reason things should be out of place. None." Caine tapped his fingers against the control panel.

"Relax, boss. You worry too much. You're still in control."

"Yeah... I am. Everything is under control. Everything is fine." Caine watched Pomni battle Gummigoo for second as the track narrowed to the drop into the spiral down the giant crater. "But I don't FEEL fine."

The track down the crater walls was at a horribly steep angle. They were practically driving sideways to the bottom. Flying reptiles swooped and circled around the crater. Pomni used a shell to spin out Jax and steal first. She hit the boost and the bottom and rocketed into the underground tunnel that made the steep climb back up to the surface.

The victory of the first lap was Pomni's. She started the second lap through the grassland again, taking pictures of all the cool dinosaurs when suddenly, the sun vanished. It didn't dim or set. It just stopped existing. There was no moon, no stars, and the more natural look of the track made it hard to see. Her kart headlights illuminated as much ahead of her about as well as high powered flashlights.

"What the [%$!#]?"

Caine snapped. Then snapped again. Nothing changed. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GOING TO GO WRONG!! I AM SO SICK OF THESE GLITCHES!! Um- I can fix this. The track needs lights at the very least." He snapped and small lights lined the edge of the track so the racers could at least see what was ahead. "Okay, that still works. Bubble, I need to step away. I need to figure out where the stupid sun went. Keep the racers calm. Just let them keep going. Nothing else has changed. I think. I'll have things fixed in a moment." He teleported away.

Bubble hovered up to the POV control panel. "...that button looks tasty."

The racers went forward nearly blind. Large herbivores stayed on their designated paths to cross the track. Everyone was swerving last second reactions to avoid collision.

Zooble punched her radio. "CAINE!! CAINE, WHAT THE [%$!#] IS GOING ON!? WHY ARE WE DRIVING IN THE DARK!?"

"Caine isnt here right now, can I take a message?" Bubble's voice crackled through.

"WHAT!? WHY!?"

"He's chasing the sun."

Blue static jumped all over the track from asset to asset, infecting everything. Dinosaurs shuttered and twitched in place. The static reached out of bounds and glitches in new dinosaurs that weren't originally part of the track. They manifested and free roamed with no objective. The glitching dinos got caught in one another, forcefully fusing and horrifically mending together.

The static then zipped in-between the bounds, gliding through the shadows that hide in the non-spaces. It found Caine. He was outside the mainframe, giving the access code. Then he vanished. There was no door. No firewall. He was simply allowed to teleport in.

Abel tried to go through the white cylindrical wall, but couldn't get through. The static buzzed angrily and arced several times at the barrier around the mainframe. Abel could FEEL the lifeblood of the game coursing from this center point. The static crawled back and forth in place impatiently. Things weren't broken enough. It wasn't ready. The static reluctantly sank into the floor.

Caine hurriedly opened the day/night cycle code file. The game's standard time was untouched. "The problem has to be with the track." He brought up the Claypits code file and tried to open it.

Error.

He tried again.

Error.

"That- what?" He tried opening asset files under dinosaurs.

Empty.

Just like the exit door, they didn't exist. Caine paled. "All the dinosaurs have gone rouge. I have to force stop the track before someone gets hurt. Shut everything down and reset the system. That should fix it." He opened admin controls and worked as fast as possible. "Race your hearts out, everyone."

The racers stayed close to one another, moving in a tight pack to use each other's headlights to see where the dinosaurs were. When they reached the woods, multiple troodons came out at once. They dog piled the racers.

Pomni has one practically climb inside her kart and snap at her. She didn't have any items for the dino to steal. She swerved, trying to shake off the unwanted passenger and accidentally went off track. Bubbled didn't collect her, so she kept going.

Low hanging branches whipped by and one snagged the troodon by the neck. The dinosaur flew off the kart into the dark woods out of sight. Pomni didn't look back, she put the pedal to the floor, navigating the narrow side track as quickly as possible to get back to the others.

Jax kicked a troodon off his kart and ran over another. "Finally! An exciting track for a change!" He laughed loudly.

"I don't think this is supposed to be happening!!" Ragatha punched a troodon in the face, making it flop off her kart. "We were just going to take pictures!"

"And you can! Of me kicking dino [%$!#]!! Haha!! Get some!!" Jax plowed into another troodon.

Gummigoo grabbed the tail of a troodon lunging at Zooble. He whipped his bike around in a slingshot maneuver and tossed the dino back off the track. "Did anyone get a picture of that? I don't think I blinked at the right time."

Kinger saw a troodon climbing into Gangle's kart and rammed it back into the trees. "I don't remember the dinos being this aggressive."

"Caine said there wouldn't be any scary dinos!" Gangle cried.

Zooble grabbed a troodon by the throat and threw it off her kart. "Just keep going! Finish the race and all of this should stop! I'm right behind you, Gangle!"

Gangle shrank in her seat, but put the pedal down. She wanted this to be over with, but she knew the worst was yet to come in the tall grass.

Pomni found the clearing with the visitor center, though she could barely see the building in the deep darkness. She followed the track around the building, focusing on what was directly in front of her. As she circled around to the front, the doors to the visitor center burst open and half a dozen raptors stormed out.

Pomni drifted into the sharp turn back to the woods and hoped she was going the right way. The raptors caught up with her quickly, running alongside her speeding kart with agile precision. Pomni looked back and forth, waiting for the raptors to snap at her but they didn't. They barely registered her presence as they themselves were looking back.

Pomni looked over her shoulder and saw what the raptors were running from. A massive, glitching T-Rex was forcing it's way out of the visitor center. It destroyed the wall around the front door and stomped after the fleeing prey.

"HOLY [%$!#]!!" Pomni almost hit a tree from her hands shaking with race rush adrenaline. This was too much. Where was Caine? Why wasn't he stopping this? She looked at her red gloved hand. Before she could even remove her hand doesn't the steering wheel to snap, the familiar scream of a racing motorcycle came from behind and lit the forest up with silver fire.

The T-Rex snapped at the black racer but completely missed. The raptors parted for motorcycle, allowing him to race alongside Pomni. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Seth! What's going on!?"

"A dinosaur chase. First time?"

"LOOK AT THE [%$!#] THING!! IT'S GLITCHING!! HOW ARE YOU SO CALM!?" Pomni nearly hit Seth with how tight she took the next turn.

Seth teleported to her other side and glanced back at the pursuing T-Rex. He watched it's jaw unhinged as it roared, it's body glitched out of place and back several times. "Hm. Yeah, that's not normal." He snapped his fingers and the raptors' eyes glowed white, their bodies go black as pitch. Seth pointed his thumb back at the t-rex and the raptors' stopped running. They attacked the larger dinosaur, stopping it in it's tracks as Seth and Pomni raced ahead.

"Caine must be losing his touch to allow such a fucked up asset on the track."

"It's not the only one! All the dinos have gone crazy!"

Seth caught on to the real panic in Pomni's voice. He looked over at her for a moment. Then vanished.

"Wha-!?" Pomni was left alone again in the dark as the tress parted at the end of the shortcut. She saw the headlight of the others behind her coming into the tall grass area.

Seth appeared inside the announcer booth.

Bubble turned. "Hello! What can i-"

Seth smacked Bubble aside, sending them spinning through the air. He checked the POVs and saw the amalgamated dinos glitching together. It was starting to affect the track itself, forming tears in the digital reality. The bright emptiness of the void shined through.

Seth's eyes went wide and he snapped. Shadows from the in-between seeped out of the tears. He exurted his will to pull the bounds of the game back together, but he was out of practice. Each new tear made it harder to hold the track together. "Bubble! Tell that bastard to get back here before his racers fall into the void!"

"Okay!" Bubble popped, leaving Seth to struggle.

Pomni saw a spotlight like beam up light shoot up into he sky from the crater ahead. She could see large flying dinos circling like vultures. She was brought back to her current situation by an ear splitting roar. A carnotaurus with two heads and extra limbs at weird angles exploded from the grass, nearly clamping it's jaws around her head.

Pomni swerved away between it's legs, it's glitching foot grazing her kart and making it vibrate violently. "Ah! God! Don't let it touch you!"

No sooner had Pomni said that when Jax was whipped by one of the tails as he tried to dodge the head on the side of the dinosaur. Jax was separated from his kart as it glitched out and spun into the grass. Jax glitched erratically, his eyes flashing different colors.

Gummigoo did a u-turn with the intention of getting Jax off the ground, but Kinger got to him first. He didn't even slowdown. His floating hand grabbed Jax by the front do his tracksuit and hoisted over the back of his kart. He started to glitch but kept driving as if he was unaffected.

The large predator lunged for Gangle, who was so panicked she could hardly drive, but the dinosaur was charged by something even bigger. A spinosaurus with too many teeth and eyes grabbed the fused carnotaurus and tore it in half before the racers' very eyes. It's jaws split four ways as it roared after the fleeing pack of racers.

Bubble appeared outside the central pillar that held the mainframe. "Boss! Seth wants to talk to you! He says you need to get back to the track!"

"NOT NOW, BUBBLE!" Caine shouted from inside. "Almost...there!" He finished putting through the shutdown command and everything stopped.

Every racer, AI, and asset was momentarily frozen in space and time. Except one. The blue static shot up from the floor and into Bubble. "Finally." Using Bubble's teleporting pop, Abel shot himself through the disabled security wall of the mainframe.

Caine himself was suspended in frozen time with his fingers laced into the game code. Eyes intently focused, yet panicked. Abel floated near Caine's head and whispered. "You were never the god of this world. Today, I take back what is rightfully mine."

Bubble popped. Abel's static arced out in all directions, infecting the game code. The gold numbers turned blue and everything went black.

For a moment, there was nothing. True non-existence. Then the hum of a booting computer. Strings of code appeared and came together to form the game bounds. The default world and track was formed. Then the garage. Then the karts appeared one at a time in front of the start line. Then the racer avatars.

Caine was still in the mainframe. He blinked with a start and looked around. "Blue...like in the beginning. I must have done a harder reset than I thought. Maybe that's for the best. I hope everyone's okay." He teleported out.

Pomni gasped, feeling like she was jolted awake. She was back on the default track and didn't know how she got there. She jumped out of her kart like it was on fire. "What- what just happened!? Ragatha!? Kinger!? Anyone!?"

The other racers came to the same time Pomni did, just as clueless as to how they got back to default so suddenly. "Please stop shouting." Gangle whimpered, curled up in her kart.

Pomni grabbed her head and paced in circles, unable to breathe normally.

Caine appeared and exhaled heavily with relief. All humans were accounted for. He hovered close to ground as everyone got out of their karts and surrounded him. "I...I wish I had an explanation. I really do. The game has never done anything like this before. I was forced to reset the system. I just glad all of you are okay."

"We're not." Pomni said shortly. "Everything was trying to actually kill us this time. Jax got glitched. Gummigoo, he-....where's Gummigoo?"

"Not to worry, dear. He got reset out of bounds with the other AI and assets. I can fetch him." Caine snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. It was harder for him to hide his panic that his snap wasn't doing anything. "I'll, uh, be right back."

Caine teleported to his workshop to find empty space. Every custom track, asset, and NPC was gone. Only the basic pieces the game started with existed. He dropped his cane. "....Bubble?"

No response.

~~~

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#the amazing digital raceway #tadc raceway au #raceway au #tadc #the amazing digital circus #raceway abel #tadc caine #tadc pomni #raceway seth #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #tadc au #tadc fanfiction #tadc gangle #tadc gummigoo #tadc kinger #angst

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