#DRAW NICK NOW PLEASE

[omkdear]

I'm still flabbergasted I managed to make an OC that lives rent free in anyone's mind but my own, and you're so fucking talented @hpysprkl 😭😭😭 COMM MY BESTIE!!

I'm on a shirtless monochrome kick, so sue me.

@omkdear's prewar Enclave OC, Agent Bishop, who you may remember from the obnoxious fucking shirt, and about whom I still feel completely fucking normal.

(I'm full of shit, this motherfucker lives in my head rent-free and gets up to all kids of fucked up shit in there and I LOVE IT)

Ko-fi || Commission info

[ashipiko]

THIS CHALLENGE WAS LIKE WAYYYY TOO FUN. TBH

YOU COULD NEVER GUESS MY TYPE IN FAVES. HAHA. HA. ha 😔

[theokusgallery]

I haven't posted art in a long long time and this is all I have so have terrible screenshots of a sopping wet Sun and his loving boyfriend Basil Nick Arsenic

(under the cut because Sun has tits) (but it's not sexual At All I promise)

[daddy-long-legssss]

The Story Behind The Song: Arctic Monkeys’ early ambitions on ‘A Certain Romance’

Lucy Harbron – Far Out Magazine | January 17, 2024

It was 2006. Mortgages were crashing, and businesses were going bust. Tony Blair was on his last legs in office as the longest-serving prime minister since Margaret Thatcher, and the hangover of ‘Cool Brittania’ was beginning to set in with an unexpected ferocity. Things were bleak when a young Alex Turner sang, “There ain’t no romance around there” through the public’s speakers. Arctic Monkeys were about to write themselves into musical history as the voice of a new generation.

The final song on their debut album, there has always been something special about ‘A Certain Romance’. In 2022, after the release of their seventh album, The Car, Turner seemed to find himself reflecting back on that 2006 track. To the musician, that early cut holds a clue to everything that was to come as he said the piece “showed that we did actually have these ambitions beyond what we once thought we were capable of”.

Coming in at over the five-minute mark, ‘A Certain Romance’ almost feels like the Arctic Monkeys’ version of a rock opera, summarising all the themes, feelings and energy that came before it on their seminal album Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. It has the cheekiness of ‘Fake Tales Of San Francisco’ and the catchy instrumentals of hits like ‘Dancing Shoes’ or ‘I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor’. Utilising the northern charm of ‘Mardy Bum’, it stands as a final, neatly summarising point on the social commentary found in their early tracks like ‘From The Ritz To The Rubble’ or ‘Riot Van’. Really, it could be argued that ‘A Certain Romance’ is the ultimate example of Arctic Monkeys’ original sound, perfectly encapsulating all the things that made the world listen up and pay attention.

It’s like they seemed to know that, too, always allowing the song a special place. In fact, it was really the band’s opening remark. Years before the offer of a debut album came around, the group were a well-oiled machine with their own local hits. They had the northern live music scene in their hands as their homemade demo CD was passed around like everyone’s worst-kept secret. Beneath the Boardwalk features eight out of the 13 songs that would be on Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, albeit in a slightly different, lower-quality version. But the opening number, ‘A Certain Romance’, sounds just the same.

It’s all there, from the rolling opening drums to that final guitar solo. Recorded and produced in a rented studio at only age 17, the existence of ‘A Certain Romance’, one of the band’s most explorative and energetic numbers, in this form this early in their career feels like a diamond sitting in a mine. It proves that they were always onto something special.

They never needed any help. In fact, their producer, Jim Abbiss, noted that they even seemed nervous about the help. “I think they were probably a bit weary, like ‘who’s this guy? And is he gonna make our sound this or that.’”

They didn’t want anything to change too much, as the group already had the songs figured out. Turner certainly did, as the track’s meandering narrative about hometown lads, fights, and local boredom is already there. Talking on a podcast, original member Andy Nicholson revealed the story behind the song. “We had a practice room with a pool table in, and we had a party in there, and we invited another band who were friends of ours, and we all had some drinks,” he said. “Then something happened, someone throws a pool cue, someone throws a pool ball, and everyone ends up fighting,” he added, explaining the lyrics, “there’s boys in bands / And kids who like to scrap with pool cues in their hands.”

But the magic of Arctic Monkeys lies in their nuance. What begins as a snooty analysis of his local landscape is a genuinely affectionate take. “Well, over there, there’s friends of mine / What can I say? I’ve known ’em for a long long time / And, yeah, they might overstep the line / But you just cannot get angry in the same way,” Turner sings, looking around at his bandmates and lifelong friends. ‘A Certain Romance’ is not only a time capsule for the group’s beginnings but is an ode to all the people who were there with them. It’s an ode to the hometown that made them and all its various characters.

But as the last guitar solo roars to life, there is an unspoken statement that they’re going to be bigger than what they came from. “I remember when we were recording ‘A Certain Romance’ and having a conversation with the producer about the final guitar solo,” Turner told NME, recalling the moment these songs were reworked for their debut. But they wouldn’t let anyone mess with ‘A Certain Romance’, knowing exactly what they were doing and trying to say with that one. In the 2003 demo version, all the feeling is already there, and Turner wouldn’t risk it.

“There’s something that happens at the end of that track where we break some rules in a single moment,” he continued. What happens at the end of the piece feels even more special, considering how the album was recorded. “These are the songs we wanna do, and I think this is the order we wanna do them in,” Alex Turner told their producer, recounting the conversation in 2007 to RadioX, “And he goes, ‘alright, we’ll try to record them in that order as well.’” As the final song, that last guitar solo is the last thing recorded for the album, standing as a cathartic outlet and a chance for the band to prove themselves.

“We focused on the [emotional] effect of the instrumentals over the words,” Turner reflected on the track, concluding, “and I feel like we’ve been trying to do that again and again since then.”

+

[earl-grey-crow]

✨pond theories✨

[hoffmansgirl]

greedy for love. ━ nicholas a. chavez

now playing: greedy by ariana grande 𓇼

𓏸𓈒 author's note. based off this request!! nicholas is so fucking big istg i need him to ruin my life... anyways, enjoy! feedback is deeply appreciated ♡

.ᐟ warnings. smut! minors dni. size kink, fingering, choking, slapping/spanking, dirty talk, unprotected piv, so much praiseeeeee, public sex | wc. 1285

"i can't", she cried out, eyes closing involuntarily as nicholas towered over her, long fingers disappearing into her cunt over and over again.

and she could barely take it. her back arched into his hard chest, one of his big hands holding her leg up to rest against his upper thigh.

"need to get you nice and ready for me, yeah?" nicholas murmured and thrusted his hand upwards, y/n's walls tight and wet around him. his fingers curled inside of her, causing her to cry out, head lulling back to rest against the wall as her vision went white. y/n tugged at his shirt, silently begging for more, and he tutted quietly, slowing his movements, the palm of his hand pressing against her clit with purpose. "do you think you deserve to cum, doll?" he asked, spreading his fingers against her walls, and she wailed, the line between pleasure and pain blurring with every passing second. y/n nodded her head, eyes snapping open to look at him, his eyes dark and dangerous as he towered over her.

"'been so good for you, nick", she cried out as he removed his fingers, licking them clean, groan leaving his mouth at the sweet taste of her.

"i know you were. but i want you on my cock, okay?" nicholas unbuttoned his pants in a second and they fell on the floor along with his boxers. cock leaking and ready, and y/n whined desperately, eyes widening at the size of him. no matter how many times they had sex, his size never failed to impress her.

nicholas was quick to lift her up with one arm, her back tight against the wall as he guided his cock to her cunt. they both moaned as he swiped his tip along y/n's puffy clit, teasing her entrance in the process. she whined, hips wriggling as she tried to lower herself onto his cock.

"beg for it." he simply said, smirk appearing on his face at her desperation, taking in the sight before him. he dipped into her, only the tip, the stretch making her lightheaded.

"nick, please", she cried out, clinging to his arms, the line between pain and pleasure blurring, tears brimming in her eyes. "i can't-"

"oh yes, you fucking can, baby", he chuckled darkly, the tightness of her cunt on his thick tip making it hard to control himself. she cried out, and nicholas was quick to put his hand on her mouth to shut her down. there was no need for him to hold her up anymore; she was pressed against the wall behind her, his body pinning her own tightly.

"so fucking tight", he hissed through gritted teeth, and pushed his hips forward; only half of him was inside of her, but she felt so full already. her eyes rolled back, the sensation of his big hand on her face making the experience even more pleasurable. her nails were scratching on his hard, muscular chest, drawing blood in the process. "this pretty little pussy was made for my cock, yeah?".

she tried to nod, but the sensation of his cock throbbing inside of her made it hard for her to breathe, any thought leaving her head. his hips snapped forward once more, burying his cock fully into her tight pussy, and his head fell back at the feeling. she squeezed him so hard, and she was so wet and welcoming; he grinded his hips against hers, and smirked when she let out a squeal.

"nick, i- you're so big", she hiccuped, body trying to adapt to his cock filling her. "'s too much, baby, please".

she had no idea what she was asking for; whether she wanted him to stop or to fuck her raw. nicholas grinned; hand leaving her mouth as he took a tight hold on her hips, beginning to move his hips; thrusting slowly but steadily, making sure she could feel all of him with his every move.

"you always take me so good, doll", he praised, and she shivered, eyes rolling back into her head when his tip kissed her g-spot over and over again. "i fucking love your tight little pussy. squeezin' me so well", he groaned, the veins in his arms popping out when he tried to hold her still. you moaned, eyes snapping open when he sped up, obscene sounds of his skin meeting hers echoing through the bathroom. nicholas' hands travelled up her body, tracing over her curves delicately ━ a contrast to his rough and deep thrusts. they met her lower stomach, and he could feel the slight bulge when he forced his cock into her. "feel that, baby?", he asked, pressing on it; causing his cock to slip out of her cunt. she whined, hands finding his arms, tracing over the muscles there; the feeling of his soft skin under her fingertips made her let out a moan. "feel how deep i'm inside you? fuck, i'm practically ruining you", he rasped, voice desperate, any ounce of self control leaving his body. she nodded, meeting his dark eyes as his hand found her neck. he pressed on it tightly, and she tried to gasp; not a sound left her mouth as he cut her airflow. he groaned, thrusts going erratic as he felt his orgasm nearing. she closed her eyes, the band in her stomach ready to snap anytime now ━ but before she could fall over the edge, she felt nicholas' hand slapping her cheek, his thrusts slowing.

she moaned at the sting on her cheek. "look at me. if you wanna cum, you gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours on me, alright?", he asked, hair falling onto his flushed face, and y/n nodded, unable to speak with one of his hands still around her throat.

"i'm gonna fill you up like a whore", he groaned, letting go of her neck; she gasped for air, clinging on to him when he sped up again.

his hands landed on her ass, spanking it every now and then; then kneading the burning skin there soothingly.

his thrusts became sloppy and imprecise as he felt himself getting close. "beg for my cum, bitch", he inhaled sharply as she arched her back, the slight change of angle making her see stars.

"nick, please- fuck, cum inside me. i fucking need it, so bad", she cried out, and he hummed, satisfied.

"cum with me, doll", he kneaded the skin of her boobs teasingly, lowering his head to catch her lips with his own.

nicholas tugged at her nipple roughly, and that did it for her. she cried out into his mouth, not caring about the award show going on behind the bathroom doors anymore; her orgasm washing over her, whole body shaking as she clenched around him, hard.

he groaned, the tightness of her cunt making it almost impossible for him to move; his hips grinded against her own, his mind going blank as he shot his load deep inside her womb.

"fuck, yes, take it all", he hissed, head falling against her shoulder as he came down from his high. she wrapped her legs and arms around him as he thrusted into her lazily, making sure not a drop of his cum left her pussy.

"good girl. you did so good for me", he cooed, pressing a soft kiss against her shoulder, chuckle leaving his mouth at the sight of her messy hair and makeup.

she snuggled into his chest, forgetting that they were on an award ceremony; for a second it was just them, no flashing lights of the cameras, no loud music and no judging eyes. nicholas smiled at the thought, pressing a loving kiss onto the girl's forehead.

hoffmansgirl 2024 © | nicholas chavez masterlist ♡

[hearts4werka]

Car Ride

╰┈➤. Summary: You and Matt are hiding your relationship from the internet because of the hate you’ve been getting from the allegations, today Larray invited you, Arrington and the triplets to be in a video where you’ll spend 24h in a car together. While you’re filming Matt can’t quite keep his hands off you when off camera…

╰┈➤. Genre: FLUFF (if you squint hard enough) & SMUTT, secret relationship, car video, YouTubers, shopping, nightly car ride, filming, off-camera scenes, and possibly more but idk

╰┈➤. Warnings: swearing, bickering, SMUT, making out, oral (m receiving), car sex, teasing, giving sloppy head in the car, praising, use of pet names ( princess ) kissing in public and probably more!

╰┈➤. This was requested by @miss-tyummy in my inbox, thanks queen for the amazing idea!

Me and Matt are secretly dating, why is it a secret you may ask? We decided to make our relationship private from the spotlight since the internet doesn’t seem to be very pleased of them dating and find a way to criticize the woman even if she didn’t exactly do anything.

It’s pretty messed up and I began to gather some hate from the dating allegations and suspicions that I might be dating Matt.

I was invited by Larray to participate in a video where we’ll be stuck in a car for 24 hours with the triplets and Arrington. Despite the fact that Matt and I wouldn't be able to spend a lot of alone time together, I was eager to record the video.

We’re at Larray’s house at first, him introducing the guests of todays video

“You know, let’s just cut the bullshit. Introducing the three same-face people!” Larray states as the triplets walk into frame together, doing different poses into the camera.

“Also Arrington with Nora!” He once again states as me and Arrington now walk into frame, also doing different poses and Arrington walks up to the camera. ( outfit here )

“I look like Naomi Campbull” He says and drags out the last word in a playfully confident tone as Larray stands next to him, holding his cat Coochie.

“Campbell’s chicken noodle soup” Larray chimes in between giggles before earning a laugh out of everyone in the room, different variations of laughter fill the room and bounce off the walls.

Everyone says their name and Larray explains what we’ll be doing in the video, funny quotes were made during the beginning of the video before we got into the main subject of the video.

»»————-　★　————-««

We were in the car already, driving to target to buy some things we think we might think we’ll need to survive the 24 hours in the car.

Larray is in the drivers seat along with Nick in the passengers seat next to him, Chris and Arrington were in the back as Matt asked if he could sit with me in the total back for obvious reasons.

Our close friends obviously knew we were dating its just that we didn’t want the internet to find out since like I said it ca be pretty sensitive to relationships between the triplets.

As we buckled up Matt sneakily placed his hand on my thigh, making sure it’s not very visible for the cameras vision.

Nick and Larray were mostly in charge with the music but didn’t know what to play right now, handing the phone to the back.

“Can you play like ‘Super Base’ or something that we all know?” Larray says, looking into the back then back at the road.

“Yessss” Nick draws out, agreeing with playing songs similar or the song ‘Super Base’ before Matt suddenly chimes into the song recommendations.

“Play- No! Play ‘Throw Sum Mo’ ” the whole car erupts with ‘uuu’s and ‘oo’s hyping up Matt.

“Oh shit, okay Matty Pooh” Larray joked before adding in “Matt you a bad bitch” with the same tone as before, Chris has the phone from where the music is being played and I decide to chime in.

“Didn’t know you were such a baddie, Matt” I giggled as Chris played the song and everyone started to sing along to it.

As we’re driving, some road rage starts to create before it suddenly turns from hostile to all cute when I noticed a couple going to see the movie ‘Barbie’ in theaters.

“Guys look, they’re going to see Barbie!” I cheer, pointing at the couple walking into the building while holding hands. It makes me think back to when I forced Matt to take me to see ‘Barbie’ and he enjoyed it more than me after it all.

The car fills with cute sounds and the word ‘cutee’ drawn out by Nick, the atmosphere softens a bit after the slight road rage before.

»»————-　★　————-««

After a pretty fun car ride to target we finally get to our destination, be split off into groups of two. Nick with Larray, Chris with Arrington and Me and Matt decided to go together, all of us grabbed one camera and we all enter target.

“Hello and welcome to target with me and Matt.” I speak into the camera as I raise it into the air, making me and Matt more visible in the cameras lense.

“What should we get?” Matt questions, glancing around the aisles and thinking about what we should get.

“Definitely some snacks and maybe some games to entertain ourselves?” I suggest and follow behind him on looking around the aisles.

“What about books?”

“Yeah I’m not reading a book, ever.”

I pause the recording and we walk into the snack aisle, when Matt realizes the recording is paused and no one is around anymore his hand wraps around my waist from behind as he gives me a slight peck on the cheek.

Chuckling at his sudden affection we start to look at all of the snack choices on the shelves, my eyes immediately land on a pack of fruit roll-ups and Matt follows behind me.

I turn the recording back on and raise the camera up into the air. Matt is the first one to speak up and takes control of the camera.

“So we’re at the snack aisle and this kids eyes fucking lit up after seeing fruit roll-ups” He comments jokingly but looking serious at the same time.

Dramatically gasping I turn my head to look at him with an offended face, putting a hand on my chest for a more dramatic scenery.

He only chuckles and points the camera at me, showing my reaction to the audience.

“The audacity of this man is unbelievable” Stating with drama dripping from my tone only heightens the dramatic level.

“You’re being over-dramatic”

“I’m being dramatic enough”

He laughs and I start to laugh too, grabbing the bag of fruit roll-ups anyway and showing them off to the camera.

“It’s like, huge! How can you miss up on an opportunity like this?” I say excitedly and point at the bag, showing the viewers how big it is but Matt only rolls his eye at me being excited over a big bag of fruit roll-ups. He knows damn well they’re my favorite so eh can’t really judge me.

We laugh it off and move onto getting something to drink, Matts hands are on me full time but out of view whenever its on my waist or in the belt-loops of my jeans, dragging me away from the book aisles as well as the home decor aisle, knowing we’ll be there for at least an hour.

Heading towards the drinks aisle Matt pauses the recording once again and rushes me into the quiet drink aisle, putting our cart to the side as well as the camera in the baby seat.

Matt grabs ahold of me and pulls me into a quick kiss, I return the kiss immediately and looking at the space surrounding us if anyone is around.

He runs the tip of his tongue across my bottom lip, demanding entry and when I give him access to the inside of my mouth it slowly turns into a little make out session in target.

The session is shortly interrupted by Nick and Larray sneaking up on us and scaring us, causing me to jump out of Matt’s arms.

“Whatcha guys doing, making out in the middle of Target?” Larray asks, looking at us with slight tease as long with Nick and me a Matt already know this isn’t gonna end well.

“Nick, don’t you even fucking dare start.” Matt warns Nick more playfully than a normal person would especially to their sibling, he subconsciously pulls me closer to his side by placing his hand on my hip.

“Pump the hate breaks, I didn’t say anything yet” Nick answers, the teasing slipping past his words but being barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. I chuckle softly under my breath at Nicks reply but pretend to cough when Matt looks down at me.

“We’re supposed to film a video, not have you guys making out off camera” Larray chimes into the conversation now, glancing between me Nick and Matt.

“What do you guys want anyways?” Matt questions to get off the topic of the little make out session we had in the middle of a target aisle that got interrupted by the guys.

“Oh nothing, maybe let’s just give you guys some alone time. Right Larray?” Nick says and looks over at Larray, nudging him on the arm before flashing him a secret message behind a teasing smile I can’t quite decipher.

Larray nods his head in understanding and they walk off into a different aisle, finally leaving us alone still being in the drink aisle.

I poke Matt into the side of his waist before looking up at him with an almost knowing look, him doing the same and glancing down at me and knowing damn well what I’m gonna say.

“I told you before we started filming to not do shit like this in public” I state as Matt just dismisses me with a small knowing chuckle and pulling me closer to his side.

“Oh cmon, don’t try to deny you didn’t enjoy that” He proclaimed and knowing the answer that’ll come out of my mouth as a small teasing smirk grows on his lips.

“I never said I didn’t, but maybe do it in a more private place next time.” With that said, I turn to look at the drinks to take to the car for the 24 hour challenge to move on from this topic.

“Okay, princess. Then let’s go to a place like that, hm?” Hearing the words leave his mouth in a soft whisper brushing against the shell of my ear sends a shiver down my spine and a jolt of pleasure between my legs.

“We’re filming a video, we can’t just leave” I reply, looking up at him with a doubting glimpse in my eyes.

"Why not?" He questions my claim, slighty pouting to try and convince me tp go somewhere pricvate with him. He uses them whenever he wants something since he knows I cannot resist them, especially right now.

He looks at me like a kid at his mother, begging her to buy them a way to overpriced toy only in this situation, he wants to toy with me and not an actual toy.

I think about his request, where would we even go or how would we even do it? I dont think theres a bathroom in this store, in the car we have to film the video so thats a no too.

"Where would we even go?" I ask, tilting my head to the side in question. Genuinely not knowing where we would go and what he could mean by 'somewhere private' when theres not really a place we could go.

"I know a way we could be alone" A mischevious smirk grows on his face as I start to sense an idea and as he continues to shop like nothing ever happened a moment ago I try to gauge out any hints of what the idea could possibly consist of but damn he’s hard to read.

| - 🍂 - |

We all finished shopping and as we were checking out it started to get slightly dark outside, creating a slight dark atmosphere when we all reunited in the car and drove away from the stores parking lot and back to Larray’s house to film the remainder of the video now and I still don’t know what Matt’s plan is.

All of us get into the car into the same seats we’ve been in before, I lean over closer to Matt’s ear as my words graze the shell of it when I speak in a soft whisper so the others can’t hear me as they all chat.

“So, are you gonna tell me your master plan or keep me in the dark?” I notice a shiver run down his spine as I whispered into his ear which caused a small smirk to faintly outline my lips.

“Just follow my lead” He whispers back and turns his head to the group, getting their attention with a simple raised ‘hey’. All of their heads turning towards us in the back.

“What is it Matt?” Chris is the first one to speak in a curious tone, tilting his head to the side in question

“I think I forgot to take something out of my car, I’ll be right back” He says and starts to head out of the car, silently signaling for me to do the same with a head not.

I scramble out of the backseat as well and stand next to Matt as he grabs the handle of the car door and closes it, grabbing ahold of my arm he leads me to his car that’s not far away from where the others are.

“Are you sure about-“ Before the full sentence could leave my mouth, I was already being pinned against the side of the car and his lips smashes on mine kissing me with hunger and dominance.

I melt into the kiss, attempting to match his rhythm as well as I could. His hands attach to my body, wandering up and down my sides and squeezing my hips.

His hands hesitantly detach from my side as we pull away from each other, his hand going to open the door leading to the backseat of the car, practically pushing me inside.

We continue or makeout session in the backseat of his car, him laying my body down as he crawls on top of me. His hand snakes down between my legs and plays with the waist band of my jeans.

A soft bite is delivered to my bottom lip which makes a soft whimper escape my mouth and transfer into his.

Deciding to tease him back I bump up my leg, circling my knee around his clothed dick and giggling at the noises leaving past his lips.

He pulls away from me and leans closer into my ear, hot labored pants puff against the shell of my ear as he speaks in a seductive whisper.

“Whatcha doing there, hm? You want something?” The words send a shiver down my spine as I take a deep breath to try and suppress the growing burn between my legs.

“Mhm” I hum out, words refusing to leave my mouth in any shape or form as heavy breathing fills the cars space around us.

Thinking he’s had his fun already, let me take control now. I push him forward and against the door of the car, making my way on top of him and grazing my hand against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re planning something, princess. And I’m not complaining” Those are the last words I needed to hear from him before unzipping his jeans and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his jeans as well as his boxers.

I pull them down in one swift move, freeing his growing erection to my eyes. Bringing my mouth close to the tip I wrap my lips on it, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head before going down and slowly bobbing my head up and down.

His head falls back against the window of the car door, whimpers and small praises fall from his lips as his hand crawls up to my hair and creates a ponytail.

“Just like that… oh fuck” He moans out, dragging out the last words. Sharp inhales and exhales fill the air as I slowly increase my pace, wrapping my hand around the base of his dick when I try to fit him all in my mouth.

“You can do it, princess… let me help you” With that said, he pushes my head down causing me to gag as the vibration shoots up and makes a juicy moan come past his mouth.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day”

That’s my sign to go faster, stopping at the top and swirling my tongue around his sensitive head to tease him further.

With a moan ripping from him and one more bob of my head, he pushes my head down to take all of him in my mouth as he shoots his salty seed down my throat.

Some of it escaping through the corner of my mouth I lift my head up and Matts hand places itself on my cheek as his thumb wipes off the escaping seed and pushes back into my mouth.

“That’s a good princess” He praises as I swallow, my hands attach to his pants and pull them back up along with his boxers.

“Let’s go before the guys come looking-“ My sentence gets cut off by a knock on the car window, Matt moves away from it as the door opens revealing Chris on the other side.

“Dude, what the fuck are you guys doing in here so long?” Chris exclaims questionably and then he gets an idea of what we could have possibly done.

“None of your business, let’s go back to the video now.” Matt answers and steps out of the car and I follow close behind him, Chris decided to question him later and just shuts up for now.

All of us walk back to the car and return to the video like nothing ever happened.

authors note: this took wayyy longer than it supposed to be, I took some of the quotes from the video as I was re-watching it and writing this at the same time so just a little touch to it and I hope you guys enjoyed!

Guestlist!

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Reblogs, comments & likes are very much appreciated!

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: long , sfw , fluffy , paranormal activity , hint of getting an attachment (wink wink) , elevators , ritual run through 

summary: as you and the triplets join sam and colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in texas , the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game . little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence . 

notes: i HAD to write a fic based off the SnC x sturniolo collab . n when I found that the sam n colby made matt do this ritual , i knew i had to write a fic based off it :3 hope you guys enjoy reading part one ! be on the lookout for part two <3 

WC: 7098

PT2

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Is the red light really necessary?” Nick asks, a single eyebrow raising as he watches Sam turn on a large red light and set it behind the camera propped up in front of them. 

“It adds a more dramatic effect to the video.” Sam shrugs, taking a few steps back to check if the light is fine in the viewfinder. 

“Well it looks rather terrifying in here so good job guys.” You say, holding up two thumbs up as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“We try.” Colby smiles, shrugging his shoulders a little before he leans back against his arms on his spot on the mattress. 

“You guys ready to start?” Sam asks as he adverts his gaze from the camera to you and the triplets. 

“We were born ready.” Chris replies, a determined expression clear on his face as he nods faintly. Sam takes a quick glance over at Colby and waits for the male to give him a thumbs up before turning back towards the camera. Without warning, a spew of random sounds spill out of Sam’s mouth as he waves his arms about. Colby follows suit with the random shenanigan and you and the triplets laugh softly at the two before their actions come to a quick halt. 

“It is ritual time.” Sam states as he clasps his hands together and glances over at all of you. 

“Yay.” Nick says, his voice monotone as he wipes his mouth with his hand. 

“Love the sound of that.” Matt comments, earning a small laugh from his two brothers. 

“We are going to do something that we’ve never done before on this channel.” Sam starts, his tone nothing but serious as Nick and Chris let out small shouts of excitement. “We are going to be doing something called The Elevator Game.” 

As Matt and Nick begin to clap softly, Chris speaks up. “That sounds like a very pleasing game to partake in.” The male jokes, earning a small snicker from you as you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. 

“You guys said you love elevators, right?” 

“Big fans.” Nick replies with a small smile. 

“I hate elevators.” Matt states, his comment drawing laughter from the four other boys in the room.  

“Perfect!” As you take a quick glance over at Matt, Sam clears his throat for a moment before he continues, “That is very interesting because for this ritual, we need a singular volunteer.” 

As Sam slowly looks over and locks eyes with Matt, the rest of the boys look over at the middle triplet with large smiles visible on their lips. 

“Yes Matt!” Nick exclaims as he lightly nudges the said male's leg with his knee. 

Chris reaches behind you to land a singular hand on the older’s shoulder. “Do you wanna volunteer or should we just rule you in?” The male asks as he pats his brother’s back a few times. 

As you lean forward and take in a proper look at your boyfriend, a nervous expression can be seen clear as day on his face as he looks between all the boys in the room. You've known about Matt’s fear of elevators for a little while now. You knew the male would avoid them at all costs unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, the small mishap that occurred between him and Chris about a year or so ago was the reason why this fear of his became a thing. 

During the duration of filming the collaboration with Sam and Colby, yourself and the triplets often took the elevator to travel between the different floors of the hotel you guys were investigating in. Matt, not wanting to draw attention to himself, dragged himself to the elevator everytime you guys went to a different floor. He always stayed in the corner closest to the door, being ready to exit the moment anything suspicious started happening. 

Speaking of which, when the small malfunction in the elevator occurred when you guys and the tour guides went to go to a different floor and the elevator started acting up, you immediately picked up on Matt’s anxious behavior. When Sam mentioned that someone should step out to see if the same issue with the doors would happen, Matt immediately volunteered and practically ran out of the elevator and stayed outside for a little while until you guys sorted the situation out. 

You had a feeling that Sam and Colby would ask Matt to do this Elevator Ritual when he mentioned his strong dislike for elevators. You knew that your boyfriend would immediately decline because that’s one of his fears but you also knew that the male wouldn’t wanna pass this opportunity up and seem like a pussy. 

“I’ll go on the elevator.” Matt states, earning excited shouts from all the boys, more specifically Sam and Colby. You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend when he looks over at you. The male subtly takes your hand in his and squeezes your hand three times, signifying that he’ll be alright. 

“Face that fear, Matt.” Chris says as he gently claps his hands together, a proud smile visible on his lips. 

“So that means that Matt and I are going to go into the elevator and go through all 13 floors.” Sam says, his voice low as he looks over at the said male who sends him a little smile. 

“That sounds wonderful.” Nick comments as he nods his head and gently pats Matt’s knee. 

“Then you guys can stay in the lobby and be with-“ 

“Samantha!” Colby shouts, accidentally cutting the blonde off. 

“Yes, Daddy Driskill and Samantha will be accompanying you guys while we do the ritual.” Sam nods, earning excited shouts from Nick and Chris. 

“Yes! The big D!” Nick exclaims, excitement running through his veins as he claps a few times. 

“I am going to explain the rules of The Elevator Game now.” Sam says as he looks straight into the camera. “Now, since the game is a summoning ritual, it is said to, if it works, take us to another plane of existence. I don’t exactly know if that will happen but it’s worth a shot.” 

“Oh my God… That’s not terrifying at all.” Chris jokes as he lands a few playful pokes on Matt’s back. “You better be ready, kid.” 

“Also very important note, there is a chance that we may never come back.” Sam adds, earning shocked exclamations from you and the triplets.

“Isn’t that lovely.” You say as you subconsciously begin to trace circles on the back of Matt’s hand with your thumb. 

“Right? We might never come back.” 

“Chris, I think that’s a sign that you and I should get our license. Who the hell is gonna drive us around if Matt doesn’t come back?” Nick asks, leaning forwards a little to lock eyes with Chris. 

“Shit, you're right.” Chris mumbles, a single hand coming up to rub the side of his face. “Matt, please come back after you do the ritual. I really dont wanna have the responsibility of doing all the laundry.” 

“As long as you guys don’t jinx me, I'm sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” Matt reassures as he lands a soft hit to Chris’ back. 

“I agree with Matt. You guys can’t jinx us.” Sam says as he points a single finger towards all of you, causing you guys to all stick y’all’s hands up in defense. “Anyways, onto the rules.” The blonde digs in his pocket to fish his phone out. After unlocking the device, he pulls up the rules and instructions of the ritual. “So. We are going to have to push a series of buttons and make sure that no one else gets onto the elevator. If the whole place has 13 floors, which this hotel does, then it will summon something on the final floor. We will start in the lobby and go to four, two, six, back to two, ten, and then five. Five is the most haunted floor and the final bit of the ritual.” 

“I love the sound of this guys. I’m so excited.” Matt says, sarcasm laced in his tone as looks down at his lap and uses his free hand to ruffle his hair.

“Are you regretting volunteering?” Chris asks, a small laugh escaping him as he takes in the older’s stressed state. 

“Umm..” Matt starts as he lifts his head back up and looks ahead of him. “I’d rather it be me than you to be honest.” A unison of ‘oh!’s fill the room as Chris narrows his eyes at Matt. “I feel like you would just be better in the elevator than Chris would.” Matt adverts his statement to Nick as he reaches over to his left and lightly hits the older’s arm. 

“Alrighty then. I guess that makes sense.” Chris says as he rubs the slight stubble forming on his chin. 

“You just seem to be the person that’s less fit and prepared to do this.” Nick adds, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks over at the youngest triplet. As you stifle a laugh and cover your mouth, Chris’ jaw drops as a fake hurt expression spreads across his face. 

“We got some sibling banter over here.” Sam says to the camera as he juts his thumb towards the three brothers. “Anyways, back to the rules of the game. Once we reach the fifth floor, the door will obviously open and it is said that on this said floor, especially knowing that it's the most haunted floor, a female spirit will walk into the elevator with us. To end the ritual, we must press one and go back to where you guys are.” 

A few excited shouts fill the room as all the boys shake their fists. “However!” Sam exclaims, cutting off the shouting as he gently clasps his hands together. 

“Of course there’s a however.” Nick mumbles, earning a small laugh from Colby as the red-head crosses his arms over his abdomen. 

“Rituals can never be all cupcakes and rainbows, you know.” Sam says with a small smile before he diverts his attention back to the camera. “If the ritual is a success, the elevator won’t go to the lobby. It will go up and start ascending. If that happens, that means we’ve successfully summoned something into the elevator.” 

“Are you serious?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sends the blonde a shocked expression. 

“Is that when the chance of you guys not coming back comes into play?” You ask, a worried expression spreading across your face as you look up at Sam. 

“Yes.” The blonde replies, softly nodding his head as he turns around and locks eyes with you.

“Some Willy Wonka shit is gonna happen then.” Nick jokes, trying to lighten the tense mood filling the room. It seems to work as soft laughter comes from you and the rest of the boys. “We’re just gonna hear a loud crash as the elevator flies out of the hotel.” 

“We’re just gonna be flying into the oblivion.” Sam adds as he shoots his arm up to mimic the action of the elevator flying. 

“Yeah, I will not be very happy if that happens.” Matt points a finger at Sam as the latter laughs softly. “If I get stuck in this elevator, I feel bad for Sam. That’s all ima say.” 

“Awh.” Sam chuckles lightly as he brings a hand up to his chest. “Considering the amount of mishaps we’ve had with the elevator earlier, I really hope nothing bad happens.” 

“If shit goes down after we’re done with the ritual, you guys are gonna be next.” Matt points both his pointer fingers towards Nick and Chris who hurriedly shake their heads. 

“Let’s just hope you come back first.” Nick says as he lands a hand on Matt’s shoulder. 

“They will come back, don’t worry.” Colby reassures as he looks over at Sam and gently nods his head. 

“Well, we’ll never find that out if we don’t do it. So shall we get this ritual started?” Sam asks he turns towards all you guys, a large smile visible on his lips as he rubs his hands together. 

“Hell yeah!” Chris exclaims as he slips off the mattress. 

“Let’s all head to the lobby then.” As Sam walks up to the camera to shut it off, Nick and Colby follow Chris in exiting the room. After ensuring that the males leave and that Sam is busy with the camera, you look over at Matt who’s began to fiddle with the horse chain on his neck. 

“You really wanna do this?” You whisper, your voice low as you lean in closer to your boyfriend. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just an elevator, right?” Matt replies as he looks over at you. As he sends you a small smile, you gently nod your head and slip off the bed. You stick your hand out to Matt, who quickly takes it and allows you to pull him up to his feet. Before following Sam out the door, you land a quick kiss on Matt’s temple before guiding him out of the room. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Upon arriving in the lobby, Sam and Colby begin to set up their equipment as you and the triplets patiently wait in front of the elevator. 

“Alright.” Sam begins as he adjusts his hold on the camera in his hand before turning it on. “Any thoughts before we start Matt?”

“Umm…” Matt starts as he begins to rock back and forth on his heels. “I have to say that the nausea I’ve been feeling for the past five minutes or so has increased significantly.” 

“You’ve been feeling nauseous?” Colby asks, adverting his focus from the camera in his hand to look over at Matt, a worried expression clear on his face as he glances over at Sam. The two ghost hunters share a worried look before Nick speaks up.

“We’ve all been feeling a little nauseous.” Nick begins as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I started feeling it when we sat down to eat, Matt started feeling it five minutes ago, y/n started feeling it when we were giving candy offerings to Samantha, and Chris felt it the second we got here.” 

“That doesn’t sound very good…” Sam says, his voice trailing off as he gestures Colby to grab something in the backpack. “Maybe we should sage you guys again before we start the ritual.” 

“Should we do it here or go outside?” Colby asks as he digs inside the backpack laying at his feet. 

“We can do it here.” Colby gently nods his head before bringing the sage out. He gestures you and the triplets to stand in a line before he quickly waves the sage around the four of you. “That should do it. If you guys keep feeling nauseous, we can take a break.” 

“We appreciate it guys.” You say with a small smile. 

“Of course. Safety comes first.” Sam says, earning a firm head nod from Colby. “Anyways, you ready to start?” Sam turns the camera to Matt and gently pats his shoulder a few times. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Matt replies with a gentle head nod. 

“Are you not gonna say goodbye to your siblings and girlfriend? You may never see them again if the ritual works.” Colby asks as he gestures towards you, Nick, and Chris. 

Matt turns around and sticks his arm out to Nick, who sends him a glare before hesitantly shaking his hand. 

“A hand shake?” Colby laughs softly as Nick wraps his arms around Matt and brings him in for a quick embrace. “See, that’s much better.” After pulling away, Chris and Matt share a firm handshake before also sharing a quick hug. 

“Okay, I’ll start googling places where we can get our licenses.” Nick says softly as he brings a hand up to rub his nape. 

“Dude, I’m not dead yet…” Matt says, a hurtful expression spreading across his face as he pulls away from Chris who smacks his chest a few times. 

“Yet.” Sam repeats, a small laugh escaping his lips as he watches Matt playfully shove Chris back. As the younger giggles softly, Matt turns to you, his gaze softening as he immediately brings you in for an embrace. Collective ‘awh’s come from all the boys when Matt lands a quick peck on your lips and forehead. 

“Leave your license behind before you go to another universe please.” Nick says, earning a rapid head nod from Chris. After pulling away from the hug, Matt shakes his head and digs in his pocket to pull out his wallet. As he wordlessly hands Nick his wallet, Chris comes up behind him and grabs both his shoulders. 

“I call dibs on that one jacket in your closet by the way.” Chris says, a large smile plastered on his lips as he massages the older’s shoulders. 

“Wonderful, alright. We’re all just claiming all my shit.” Matt says with a soft laugh. As the male turns to face you, he raises an eyebrow when he takes in your smiley face. “You too?” 

“I only want a few stuff.” You defend as you hold up your hand and pinch your pointer finger and thumb together. 

“Yeah, okay. Like that’s believable.” As Matt laughs and shakes his head gently, the sound of the elevator dinging causes all of you to quickly turn around. 

“What the fuck?” Colby mumbles, his face falling as he looks into the empty elevator. 

“Did you guys push anything?” Sam asks as he points a finger at you and the triplets. 

“No. Swear to God we didn’t.” Nick defends as he holds both his hands up. 

“It’s fucking midnight.” Colby states after his eyes scan over the numbers plastered on the top of his Lock Screen. He shows the camera his phone to ensure that he's telling the truth before turning the device to you and the rest of the boys. 

“I personally would not go in there.” Chris says as he wraps his arms around his torso, a nervous expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” You add as you reach your hand out to grab Matt’s. 

“Well, we can’t back out now. It is twelve o’clock after all.” Sam says, a heavy exhale leaving his lips as he looks over at Colby, the two locking eyes for a moment. “I think that we should start this ritual before more weird shit happens.” 

“Please be careful.” You say, your voice firm as you look up at Matt. The male looks down at you and gently cups the side of your face with a single hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheek in hopes of calming your sudden anxiety spike. 

“We will, don’t worry.” Sam reassures as he begins to walk towards the elevator. He looks inside the small space for a moment, ensuring that nothing and no one is inside before he hesitantly steps in. “You coming?” 

Matt quickly shifts his gaze from you to Sam who’s standing at the back of the elevator. “Yeah, I'm coming.” Matt replies. Before the male enters the elevator, he bends down a little to capture his lips in yours. He pulls back after a few seconds and gently caresses your face before joining Sam in the elevator. 

“You two be safe.” Chris calls as he moves to take a stand in between you and Nick. 

“Yeah, come back please!” Nick adds as he subconsciously wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. 

“We’ll be back, promise.” Sam reassures as he sets a small device in the middle of the elevator. 

“Wait, I need photos for the prayer cards.” Nick states, a hand quickly digging in his pocket to fish his phone out. As he opens his camera and faces it towards Matt, the male holds up a small v, practically posing for the camera. You can’t help but giggle at the sight before Nick smiles proudly and puts his phone away. 

“Alright, we’re gonna start now guys.” Sam states as he walks up a few steps, his frame being inches away from the entrance of the elevator. After looking over at Matt and gaining a firm head nod from him, the two begin the ritual. 

“Please take us to another world.” Matt and Sam say in unison. The blonde reaches over to push a button to close the elevator and takes a few steps back to stand next to Matt. At the sight of the door closing, the male shouts out a small ‘oh god!’, a mix of fear and anxiousness filling his body as he eyes the door. 

“Matt, I love you have fun.” Nick says as he makes a small heart with both his hands. Matt sends the red-head a small smile before the doors finally close. 

“I really hope nothing bad happens.” Chris mumbles as he shakes his head slightly, nervousness bubbling in him as he stares at the closed elevator doors. 

“Me too.” Colby agrees as he forces his lips together in a straight line. The male momentarily turns his back to you and the two brothers to dig inside his backpack. After a few moments of searching, he pulls out two EMF readers and holds them out in front of him. “Which one of you guys would like to have the honors in holding one?” 

“I would love to have one.” Nick says, a small smile appearing on his lips as he bounces on his heels a few times. 

“Me too.” You add, landing a hand on Nick’s shoulder as the two of you step closer to Colby. The latter gently nods his head and hands the two of you an EMF reader. 

“Okay, how should we start this?” Colby asks as he leans his backpack against the wall and focuses the camera on you three. 

“We can start walking around to see if we get anything on the EMF readers.” You suggest with a small shrug. Colby nods his head at your suggestion and gestures for you and Nick to begin walking around with his hand. 

“Wait, didn’t the tour guide say that-“ 

“Your reader is going off!” Chris exclaims, accidentally cutting his older brother off as he points to the said device with his pointer finger. The youngest triplet seems to be correct as Nick looks down at the EMF reader in his hand and sees the device light up the first three levels. 

“You got anything yet y/n?” Colby asks as he zooms the lenses into Nick’s EMF reader to capture the activity. 

“Nope. Nothing yet.” You reply softly as you begin to walk a bit further away from the group, your eyes being locked onto the device in your hand the entire time. 

“The tour guide said that the bathroom is one of the most haunted places.” Nick states as he begins to gently wave the EMF reader about, trying to get it to spike up any further. “I think we should go see if we get any activity over there.” 

“Great idea, let’s head over there. Lead the way.” Colby gently nods his head towards Nick to encourage the male to lead the group to the bathrooms. The red-head complies and begins to walk towards a hallway a little ways to the right, the three of you following close behind him. 

“Let’s see…” Nick mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. While you and the male walk around and inside the bathrooms, ya’ll don’t get much activity apart from a few spikes that went to yellow. 

“Let’s go back to the elevator. We’re not getting much.” You say as you walk out of the women’s bathroom, the door shutting behind you and coming in contact with the heels of your shoes. 

Colby nods his head and waits for Nick to return from the male’s bathroom before you guys walk back to the elevator. The moment you stand next to the elevator, your EMF reader spikes all the way to red. 

“Mine just went to red.” You say, your voice a little louder than usual to gain the attraction of the three males in the room. 

“Holy shit.” Colby mumbles as he quickly makes his way over to you. As he zooms his lens into the device in your hand, Nick and Chris come up to the other side of you and look down at your EMF reader. “Nick, you getting anything?” 

“Mines still at yellow.” The red-head replies, momentarily turning the reader so it can face the camera before he turns it back to face him. 

“Maybe we should pull out the onvoy and see if we get anything. You know, considering how much activity we’ve been getting around here already.” Colby suggests as he walks back to his backpack and pulls it open. 

“What’s that?” Chris asks, his head tilting slightly as he watches the ghost hunger pull a device out of his bag. 

“It’s basically a device that gives us yes or no responses through questions we ask.” Colby explains as he crouches down and sets the device on the floor. After turning it on and waiting for it to light up, he looks up at the three of you who are already intently looking at him. “Something just has to physically tap it like so for us to get a response.” Colby sets his pointer finger on the device for a moment and awaits for it to beep a few times and light up yes before he pulls away.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult.” You ponder aloud as you take a momentarily glance towards the EMF reader in your hand. 

“It’s not difficult whatsoever. Would you guys like to start asking some questions?” 

“Absolutely.” Chris replies with a small smile as the three of you take a seat around the onvoy. 

“If there are any spirits that would like to communicate with us tonight, please make yourself known by using this device to answer our questions. All you have to do is come up and touch it to let us know what your thoughts are.” Colby calls out, his head turning around a few times before he turns his focus back to you and the two brothers. 

“What should we ask first?” Nick asks gently, his eyes staying fixed on the EMF reader in his hand. 

“Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris asks, anxiousness laced in his tone as he practically stares down at the onvoy. A few beats of silence pass by before the device dings a few times. 

Colby lets out a small gasp of surprise at the sound and leans in close to the onvoy. “It says yes!” The male exclaims happily as he zooms the lens into the response. 

The moment the male reads that aloud, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts the four of you. Quickly, you all turn around and collectively let out sighs of relief as the doors open and reveal Sam and Matt. 

“You’re done already?” Nick asks, his mouth agape as he watches the two males step out of the elevator rather quickly. 

“Yeah, we practically flew through all the floors.” Matt replies, a small, proud smile visible on his lips as he approaches the four of you who are still sitting on the floor. When the male stands behind you, you quickly turn your body to face him, a large smile spreading across your lips, as you immediately reach for your boyfriend’s hand. As you caress it gently and bring his hand up to your lips to land a small kiss on his knuckles, Sam takes a stand next to him. 

“Did you guys get anything?” The blonde asks as he stashes the device him and Matt were using in the elevator in his pocket. 

“No.” Colby replies with a frown. “We literally asked a single question.” 

“Yeah, the one question I asked is ‘Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris adds as he gets himself up from the floor and dusts his pants off a little. “The moment it said yes, the door opened.” 

“It was crazy timing.” Nick comments as he follows suit in getting up off the floor. 

“Really?” Sam asks, his jaw dropping slightly as he looks over at Colby with pure shock in his face. 

“Really.” Nick confirms with a firm head nod. “We didn’t have time to ask a bunch of questions. Chris was the only person that got to ask a question.”

“Well, Sam and I encountered no issues while we were doing the ritual. We went through all the floors with ease. However, we didn’t really get anything with the device we were using. I mean, we did get a few words but I found them to be more random than anything.” 

“Yeah, that has got to be the fastest ritual we’ve ever experienced.” Colby comments, his head gently nodding as he looks between Sam and Matt. 

“It was pretty easy, nothing too difficult.” Matt says, his gaze falling to yours and his intertwined fingers. 

“Would you like to do it again then? But by yourself this time?” Sam inquires, a single eyebrow raising as he looks over at the brunette. 

Silence fills the lobby as you all stare at Matt, awaiting for his response. You manage to catch your boyfriend’s face falling slightly as he looks over at Sam, his eyes slightly wide as he locks eyes with him. Sensing the male’s sudden anxiety spike, you begin to play with his fingers in hopes of grounding him a little. 

Matt blinks hardly a few times as he looks down at you, his eyes basically pleading for you to answer the question for him. At the brunette’s gaze, you pick your free hand up and land a soft poke on his chest, signaling that it’s his call. You watch as the male sighs before he picks his head back up and looks up at his two brothers who shrug at him. Matt forces his lips together and looks over at Sam, his right hand coming up to his nape as he locks eyes with the blonde. 

“I would- I don’t-“ Matt sputters, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he digs in the pocket of his pants. “I’d have to write down the numbers…” 

“Is that a yes then?” Sam asks, excitement glossing over his eyes as he zooms the lens onto the male in front of him. After Matt gently nods his head in response, collective shouts of encouragement sounds from you and the boys. 

“You sure you wanna do it alone?” Chris asks as he walks up to the brunette, a single hand coming up to rest it on his brother's shoulder. “The chance of you never coming back is still there. You’ll be fully alone in another universe.” At the younger’s statement, Nick lands a harsh hit on Chris’s bicep, signaling him to shut up with an intense glare. 

“Well, you guys better start looking up ways to get me back if the ritual actually works.” Matt replies, a nervous smile overtaking his features as he begins to fiddle with the horse chain around his neck. 

Colby goes to add onto the conversation however, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts all six of you. You all turn around to face the elevator, fear running through y’all’s bodies at the sight of the doors opening more slower than usual. 

“I think that’s a sign, Matt.” Sam says as he lands a hand on the said male’s shoulder. 

“I guess I’ll go then. Could you text me the numbers?” Matt asks with a soft sigh. As Sam gently nods his head and fishes his phone out of his pocket, Colby walks up to the brunette. 

“You wanna take this camera?” The ghost hunter asks as he holds the said device out in front of him. 

“Sure.” Colby sends Matt a small smile when the male hesitantly takes the camera from him. 

“Matt, please be careful. Like I'm being so for real. I have no idea what we would do without you.” Nick says, a frown overtaking his features as he walks up the middle triplet and lands both his hands on his shoulders. 

“I will, don’t worry. If you guys focus on asking questions, I will be back in no time.” Matt reassures, a comforting smile spreading across his lips as he brings the red-head in for a quick embrace. 

“Wait, me too. I want a hug as well.” Chris whines as he quickly makes his way over to the three of you. Nick pulls away with a small eye roll and steps aside to allow the younger to get his hug. 

“I sent you the numbers. You can head in when you’re ready.” Sam says, his voice soft as he picks his head up and looks over at Matt, the hand that’s holding his phone digging inside his pocket to put the said device away. 

“Word.” Matt replies. After Chris breaks away from the hug and steps back, Matt looks over at you and takes in your worried features. “I promise I’ll be alright. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend gently cups your face with his free hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing over your soft skin. 

You gently nod your head, the faint frown on your lips not faltering as you look deep into your boyfriend’s blue irises that hold a sense of anxiousness. Matt brings your face closer to his to bring you in for a quick kiss. Before pulling away, he nibbles on your bottom lip for a moment. 

The brunette removes his hand from your face and gives you a small smile before he turns around to face Sam. “I’m ready.” The male says. 

“Alright, go ahead and step in.” Sam instructs as he gestures towards the open and empty elevator. Matt immediately does as instructed and hesitantly steps inside the elevator, a heavy sigh escaping him as he raises the hand that’s holding the camera. “You know what to say.” The blonde says with a smile as he gives the younger male a thumbs up with his free hand.  

Matt looks straight at the camera, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to drag over his slightly chapped lips momentarily, before he begins the ritual. “Please take me to another world. I may regret saying that but hey, see you guys later.” Matt takes a final glance at all of you standing a few steps away from the doors of the elevator before he steps toward the panel full of bottoms. 

“We love you Matt!” Chris exclaims, both his hands coming up to cup over his mouth to get his voice to project more loudly. 

“Be safe!” You add, sliding over to Nick and wrapping an arm around his. You manage to catch Matt waving goodbye before the doors of the elevator finally shut. 

“Guys, go subscribe to the Sturniolos.” Sam states as he turns the camera in his hand and points at it. 

“And comment about how ballsy Matt is. I’m actually so shocked about how he’s been doing this whole investigation. He’s usually never this open and talkative during stuff like this.” Nick says as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, I'm actually really proud of him. He's doing phenomenal.” Colby compliments as he gently claps a few times. 

“Let’s just hope he hasn’t been too open today. We don’t want him to get any-“ Sam gets cut off by Colby harshly digging his elbow into his side. The blonde winces softly and flinches at the touch, his eyes narrowing as he sends a glare towards his friend. 

“Get any what?” You ask, panic flooding in you as you take in Colby’s serious expression. 

“Nothing. We should start asking some questions before Matt comes back.” Colby replies, a small smile appearing on his lips as he turns back around. You share a worried look with Nick and Chris before the three of you, including Sam, join Colby in sitting on the floor around the onvoy. “Who would like to ask the first question?” 

“I would.” Nick says, picking his head up to lock eyes with Colby. After gaining a small head nod from the male, he takes a deep inhale before speaking, “Was sending Matt alone a good decision?” A few beats of silence pass by before the onvoy dings. Nick bends down slightly to read the response. “Yes!” 

“Will Matt find more information regarding what happened at the hotel?” Chris asks as he brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. The onvoy dings seconds after the question. “No…” 

“Alright..” You mumble. You clear your throat before asking your question, “Will someone join Matt in the elevator when he reaches the fifth floor?” Like earlier, the onvoy immediately dings as it lights up a response. “Yes. Well isn’t that nice. Doesn’t make my anxiety worse at all.” 

The boys all giggle at your statement as you rub your face with both your hands. 

“Is Matt in any danger?” Sam asks, momentarily turning the camera around to put himself in the frame before he turns it back around. Again, the onvoy immediately dings a response. You and the boys take a moment to pause and exchange anxious looks before yall lean in and read the response. 

“Yes.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

20 minutes have gone by as you and the boys took turns asking questions to the spirits willing to communicate with you guys. Some of the questions have gotten rapid responses while others have taken a little longer to reply. As time slowly ticked away, you felt anxiety bubble inside of you. Matt should’ve been back by now considering how he and Sam returned in less than 10 minutes when they did the ritual. You found yourself continuously looking over at the closed elevator everytime someone else in the group spoke up to ask a question, hoping that the doors would open and reveal your boyfriend. Unfortunately it never happened and the doors remained shut. 

“Okay, I'm getting really worried. He should be back by now.” You say, your gaze on the closed elevator doors shifting up to the number 10 glowing brightly in large, bold lettering. 

“Well, he’s on the tenth floor right now. All he has to do is go to five and come back.” Sam says as he takes a seat against the wall facing the elevator, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. 

“Okay true but what’s taking him so long?” Nick asks, a single hand coming up to his mouth. As the red-head begins to bite on his polished nails, Chris takes a glance over at your focused state. He forces his lips into a straight line, worry and anxiety filling his veins at the thought of Matt not returning. 

“He’s at five.” Colby states as he points at the glowing number atop the elevator. The rest of the boys join you and the ghost hunter in looking over at the elevator. 

“Please come back.” You whisper under your breath, a sudden lump forming in your throat as you swallow dryly. As you shakily exhale, a sudden poke on your side causes you to jump rather harshly. “What the fuck?” You mumble as you quickly hug your torso and turn around.

“What happened?” Chris asks, his head whipping around to look over at you. 

“Did one of you guys poke me?” You ask as you lift your head up. 

“None of us touched you.” Colby says as he lifts both his hands up in the air. A wave of nausea suddenly hits you as you slowly turn around to look at Sam, the sight of him looking at you worriedly causing your stomach to churn. As you go to question the blonde, soft giggles bubble up your throat as you feel a series of rapid pokes travel down your other side. After the feeling vanishes, you stumble to your feet and run over to where Nick and Chris are, fear washing over you as you desperately rub your sides to try and get the ghostly feeling away. 

“Samantha.” Sam mumbles under his breath, his eyes slightly going wide as he looks over at your panicked state. 

“Samantha, if that's you, please leave her alone. You do not have permission to touch her.” Colby states, his tone holding a sense of authority as he takes a few quick glances around the room. 

At the mention of the child’s name, Nick’s eyes widen in a mix of terror and shock and he quickly looks down at you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your slightly shorter frame and brings you flush against him. 

“Samantha, are you messing with y/n?” Chris asks as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, his gaze falling to the unused onvoy on the floor. 

The said device immediately beeps in response. 

Colby lifts himself up from the wall he’s leaning against and walks up to the onvoy. His tall frame bends down slightly before his eyes skim over the response. 

“It says yes.” Colby says, his gaze lifting up from the device and shifting over to Sam. The two share a frightened look as you feel your heart drop to your feet. You quickly turn around and bury your face in Nick’s clothed chest, your breath beginning to pick up as you clutch onto the male’s arms rather desperately.

“It’s okay.” Nick whispers as he rests his chin on the top of your head. As he begins to rub comforting circles on your back with his palm, the sound of the elevator dinging pierces your ears. You quickly lift your head and look over at the elevator, the rest of the boys soon doing the same. 

“Matt?” You call out, your voice cracking slightly as you slip out of Nick’s hold and run to the elevator. 

“y/n wait!” Chris exclaims, his arm extending out to go to grab you and pull you back. His attempt fails however as you slip through the opening of the elevator, not even waiting for the door to fully open. The moment you step inside, you feel your breath get caught in your throat .

Matt isn’t in the elevator. 

And the only thing inside is the camera and his horse necklace. 

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner @rootbeerworshiper

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[chevroletdean]

biting / marking [sam winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024 ship: sam x afab!fem!reader genre: smut to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, vague descriptions of the reader, sam being a bit rough and unfair, oral (fem receiving), petnames (doll, princess and such) word count: 1.3k a/n: this isn’t proofread, sorry. i’m rushing through the kinktober at this point, wahhh taglist: comment a book emoji 📚 to be added to the sam x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts) @s7nburn

It started innocently enough, but the process definitely wasn’t a slow one. The first time around, a cozy morning after a long night, the sight of a hickey peeking out of your turtleneck awakened something in him. That’s all it took for him to know he likes a trace of himself on you. Ever since then, he’s deemed it his mission to make it as difficult as possible for you to cover up the evidence of your passionate moments.

Sam has always loved the aftermath, the remnants of your bliss – and why gradually pick things up when he could just wreck you right away? You always look so pretty when he’s done with you.

The way a sheer layer of sweat would stick to your flushed skin, making you glow. The way your hair would spill over the pillows, framing your reddened face and creating a messy halo. The way your eyelashes would flutter weakly against your cheekbones as you struggle to keep your eyes open. The way your lips would slightly part as you’d try to catch your breath. They’re prettiest when they’re kiss bitten, pink, plump and swollen.

But his favorite are the constellations of purple scattered across your body.

Because those stick for a while and they fill him with pride.

If he can have it his way – and for the most part, he does – he treats your body as a canvas. You’re already a work of art, but there’s this primal urge of his to add his signature. To mark you as his muse. Every artist has a favorite tool and his preferred method is his mouth.

Sure, his large hands never fail to find home in the plush of your skin and leave behind a print or two; just like right now. His grip is like iron as his fingers deftly sink into your hips to pin you down.

But his mouth creates the prettiest patterns on you.

You’re already covered in hickeys from his lips latching onto you; not to mention the indents of his teeth. Like little nicks, deep enough to bruise just slightly without drawing any blood. He could break you so easily, yet you continue your attempts to push yourself impossibly closer to him still, wanting more. The blind trust you offer him is addictive. You seem so fragile underneath him like this, completely at his mercy.

“You squirm too much, doll,” he grumbles. As if he could ever actually be annoyed by your adorable little reactions. Those noises fuel him further, if anything.

His voice is half-muffled by the flesh of your inner thigh, which he sinks his teeth into in warning fashion. You respond with a soft sob and he licks over the tender spot apologetically. His tongue is searing hot against your sensitive skin and despite your best attempts to still your movements, he still makes you shudder. In your defense, Sam has spent a good amount of time just kissing up your legs and thighs. You’ve long lost track of time by now, but you’d have an even harder time counting all the marks he’s left behind on your skin. There have been too many soft, wet kisses planted against your tummy and between your legs for you to keep track of.

Not an inch of you is spared by his hungry mouth.

“Sorry, ‘m s-sorry… just–” you whine, interrupted by yet another playful nibble of his sharp teeth. His lips ghost over your clit and you hold your breath. You know better than to make any commands – not that you’re in any state to form any coherent sentence anyway –, unless asked for otherwise. Even if you’re on the brink of melting after all his teasing, Sam’s the one deciding when he’s had enough, and his thirst for your taste is far from satiated.

“Shhh, I know,” he hums and you swear you can feel the victorious smirk on his lips right against your core. “Just stay still f’me, princess.”

Not that you have much of a chance anyway with your movement restricted by his strong hands. Sam shifts below you so his head is slotted between your thighs, one arm wrapped around your lower half enough to hold you against the mattress. Instinctively your trembling legs drape over his broad shoulders. You feel daring enough (and needy for an anchor) to reach down to him and he obliges, using his free hand to interlock his fingers with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers and his warm breath tickles your slick.

He’s even more thorough when it comes to diving into your folds than he is kissing your thighs. His mouth is hot against you, drinking you in like you’re the finest liquor – and to him, you’re just as intoxicating. His tongue nestles into you with the intention to suck you dry and his sharp nose presses against your clit.

You whimper, your voice almost broken as your breath stutters in your throat. The sound is strained enough for him to pull back and place a gentle kiss to your center, giving you a second to breathe.

“You good, baby?”

You nod your head eagerly and squeeze his hand, but he lets go of it and gives your thigh a light pat or two, firmly enough to get you to respond properly. Sam always needs to make sure you’re still with him, attentive and enjoying yourself.

“Feels s’good, Sammy,” you confirm shyly. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, pretty,” he chuckles darkly, returning to feasting on you until his chin is glistening with your juices. You’d be bucking your hips wildly to grind against his face were it not for his strong arm holding onto you like a damn vice. It just makes you whine all the louder, but Sam’s in a giving mood. “Almost there, you’re so good f’me,” he mumbles, slurring and babbling his words like a drunk.

He pushes you right to that edge of pleasure, a familiar coil tightening in the pits of your stomach. Sam’s tongue flicks against you with practiced ease, alternating between flattening the muscle against you and curling his lips in a way that makes you moan. You’re on the brink of ecstasy, when he suddenly pulls away.

“N-no, please,” you complain desperately. He’s teased you enough! This is just cruel.

“Not done with you yet,” Sam huffs. “Gotta give some extra attention to more obvious places too, hm?”

Your mind is too hazy to make sense of his words, let alone respond, until his lips wander upwards steadily. He licks a languid stripe up to your navel, followed with soft nibs over your ribs. You swallow thickly as his lips close around one of your pebbled nipples and you yelp softly as he uses his teeth to give it a playful tug. He only switches to the other breast to give it the same treatment, working another hickey onto it. It’s a harsher bite close to your collarbone that makes you squeal, which in return makes him chuckle.

“Sorry, got a bit greedy there,” he grins, those hazel eyes of his clearly satisfied with seeing your cute pout. He decides to soothe that little frown away by pressing his lips to yours and making you taste yourself.

It should shock you how easy it is for him to make you forget all your annoyances. After all, you’re still left high and dry, and all it takes is a simple kiss for you to melt under him. His mouth wanders yet again, following a path across your cheekbone. His teeth catch your earlobe, pinching it gently. His kisses suck reddish marks along your jawline and down your neck.

Flushing, you arch your back, realizing he’s marking you up on purpose. He’s busy with a spot under your chin, making you gasp softly. “Sammy, the weather is way too warm for scarves,” you protest within a weak huff. “There’s no way I can cover those up.”

“That’s the whole point, doll,” Sam replies, the curl of his smirk pressed against your throat. “By the time I’m done with you, a scarf wouldn’t make a difference anyway.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here ──〃★ kinktober

[lacroixqueen]

i look in people's windows (18+, noncon) stalker deadpool x office worker reader

Summary: deadpool starts stalking reader after seeing her in a coffee shop. breaks into her apartment and does typical depraved wade shit

Pairing: stalker!deadpool x office worker reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: stalking, trespassing, noncon, dubcon

He didn’t realize he was so fascinated with you initially. At first glance, you looked like any other plain Jane office worker in the city: rushing to the front of the cafe to grab a tray of half-cold coffees before bolting out the door. 

Why is she in such a hurry, he mused to himself, watching you scurry down the block, the corner of your white blouse poking out of your gray pencil skirt. Acting like she’s saving the world or about to perform brain surgery or something. Another Marvel Jesus wannabe. What makes her think she’s so important anyway?

He went back to sipping his bitter espresso, returning to his original state of solitude, until he couldn’t shake you out of his head. Fuck it. Something urged him to get out of his seat, leave the coffee store, and follow you out.

He trailed behind you by about a block or so. He took note of your black tights, and how your skirt ended at the mid-level of your thighs. And that stupid click-clack sound of your heels against the cobblestone. So self-righteous.

He eventually followed you into a skyscraper building. He watched you weave through the crowd, past the front desk, and into a back elevator. Wade quickened his pace to be able to catch you just in the nick of time. 

He darted into the elevator right before the doors were about to close. 

“Floor?” you asked politely, looking up at him with those god awful innocent eyes that made him want to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck you senseless. 

“I’m so glad you asked!” he piped, ever so chipper. “I’ll be.. Uh. Floor. 85.”

“Oh, this building only has 60 floors!” you said. “Which department are you going to? Oooh, love the costume by the way. Maybe you’re headed to the photo studio? That’s going to be on 54. You take a left, then a right, and.. it should be straight there!”

And so polite too. God, could she be anymore insufferable, Deadpool thought to himself, tilting his head to the side as if to psychoanalyze your disposition. 

“Does.. that sound right?” you asked, a bit nervous now that the stranger dressed in all black and red sharing the enclosed space with you was no longer speaking. 

“Yes,” he replied, a little bit too quickly for comfort.

You pushed the corresponding button without another word, and then retreated back to your corner of the elevator. A few seconds of silence passed when your phone suddenly started beeping out of control. 

“Hello?” you asked nervously. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m coming right away. Yes? Uh huh. Mhm. Okay. Got it. Thank you. Bye.” You ended the call with a subtle click and slipped the phone back into your pocket. 

So she’s eager to please. A perfectionist. Interesting, he thought, jotting down a mental note. 

The elevator reached an upcoming floor with a crisp ‘ding’, followed by the doors gliding open.

“Have a great day!” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out, about to walk expeditiously to your cubicle, balancing the tray of coffees in your shaky grip. “Oh, and you should take one of these, they are still hot!”

You handed him one of the skinny vanilla lattes in the tray before the elevator doors closed between you. 

Wade took it without a thought. And he didn’t hesitate to follow you, of course. Ducking behind office plants and hallway walls just to see where you were going without drawing too much attention. He was quick enough to catch a glimpse of your full name on your cubicle placard. 

Bullseye, he thought mischievously to himself, before slinking away into the nearest stairwell. 

He somehow directed himself to the records department in the basement, carefully rifling through the employee directory to match your name with any corresponding information. 

“Y/N..” he muttered to himself, leafing through the enormous book in the back of the storage room. “Goddamnit. Where the hell are you.. Aha! Full government name, phone number, and mailing address. Who even needs those shady paywalled identity finder websites anyways.”

Later that evening, he made it a point to break into your apartment before you came home. He was methodical, ensuring to cover all his steps, so that no trace was left behind. The lock to your doorknob was easy enough to pick. It look several bent-out-of-shape paper clips of course, and a lot of perseverance, but he somehow cracked the code. 

He liked the way you decorated your space. Those cute little succulents in clay pots with smiley faces on them. Colorful candles and warm-toned tarps. Trinkets and crystals adorning cherry wooden shelves. Overgrown plants strewn across the floor. And books. Heaps of them. 

“Well I’ll be,” he huffed to himself, standing in the center of the living room, hands on his hips. “I never took you to be an interior designer. Chip and Joanna would have a run for their money if they ever got a load of this..”

He played with the string of beads you hung from the ceiling, until the wooden dresser you had pushed into the corner caught his attention. 

“Ohohohoho, now what do we have here..” he chuckled, prancing around your furniture to open up the first drawer. He was immediately greeted by your collection of underwear, folded neatly and sorted in a way he pictured an office worker would. He flickered his fingertips over the tops of them, as if he was a kid in a candy store picking out his favorite treat. 

“So organized and efficient!” he commented, rifling through the perfectly placed rows and columns with curiosity. “It’s like the love child of OCD and a very high grade personality disorder.. color me impressed.”

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you!” he exclaimed with glee, eyeing a pair of stretchy, black tights and lifting it out as if he was plucking a rose from a vine.  

Just like the ones she wore this morning, he mused.

His fingers glided across the fabric, gently rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He stretched it out as much as he could, pulling it, teasing it, pretending as if it was on you. 

He decided to get comfortable on your couch, playing with your tights in between his gloved fingertips. 

“Well, out of all the things I’ve done to be put on a government watchlist, this one definitely takes the cake,” he murmured to himself as he lazily lifted up his mask, licking the stretched out nylon with his greedy tongue. He sucked on it desperately, as if he could somehow taste you on the fabric, his saliva dripping down the side of his chin. 

His fingers twirled around the black bows on the sides, pulling so hard one of them came undone. Without wasting another moment, he unbuckled his belt and slightly zipped down his fly, releasing his already hardened cock. Slipping the dainty cloth over it, he began to indulge himself in a way that he never predicted he would this morning. 

He tilted his head back into the soft cushion of the sofa, stroking himself with your elastic tights between his fingertips, imagining you were bouncing on top of him with them on. 

“Fuck, Y/N..” he breathed, gritting his teeth as he continued to pleasure himself. “Why did you have to wear something so slutty at 7 in the morning? I mean what kind of a sociopath does such a thing? You’d think people would have common courtesy these days, but I guess not.”

He groaned softly as he came into your tights, his cum infiltrating through the thin fabric, leaving them absolutely soaked. Breathing heavily, he got up to toss the tainted pantyhose into the trash. 

Finding a scrap piece of paper and pen, he decided to leave you a little note of gratitude on your kitchen table before he left your apartment, scribbling a messy sketch of his mask making a blushing face and a lop-sided heart: 

“Thanks for the coffee!”

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Turmoil

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst

Trigger warning: The reader is attacked, tied up, and given Scarecrow's fear toxin, thoughts of dead loved ones, blood - Damian is vengeful and goes after her attackers.

For the past couple of weeks, you'd been trying to explore your new relationship with Nikolas. He was everything a boyfriend should be - kind, considerate, fun to be around. You'd gone on the typical dates: dinner and a movie, a casual walk through the city, lazy afternoons hanging out in your dorm. It was easy. But there was one problem.

Every time you studied his face for too long, the same sad realization crept in. You weren't as attracted to him as you were... to Damian. Fine. You admit it.

Nick was the sweet, sunshine type. The kind of guy who would make you laugh and take care of you. But Damian... Damian was bad. Brooding. Sharp edges and quiet intensity. The kind of man who made your pulse race and your mind wander to places. You could picture Nikolas holding your hand, but with Damian, you saw someone who would take control. There was a thrill in the idea of letting go, handing the reins over to him, not having to think for once.

For days, you'd been teetering between the smart choice - Nick - and the one that made your heart beat faster, the one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how much you tried. Especially at night.

It didn't help that the three of you came across each other on campus often. There were many times when Nick came to meet you after class and walk you to your research lab, and you would catch Damian glaring at the two of you, his arms cross and his eyes narrowed. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when you caught him looking - ironically, you were the one who redirected their gaze to the floor in shame. It was all backward.

Meanwhile, Damian had buried himself in his routine. His training, his classes, his late-night patrols, and of course, his fellow elites; heiresses, models, and children of Gotham's 1%, who he was always captured with at night clubs, as your roommate helpfully showed you on her twitter reccomended.

In reality, Damian tried anything to drown out the thoughts of you in his head, the memory of you looking up at him with your soft, vulnerable eyes. The moment he rejected you replayed more times than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t need distractions right now. Not while you were off with Nikolas Hill, laughing at his jokes and letting him kiss you, hold you, touch you whenever he pleased. Damian scoffed at the idea. Hill was a decent guy, sure, but nowhere near your match. But if you wanted to waste your time, that was your right.

He was in the middle of his evening workout when his earpiece beeped, drawing him from his train of thought.

“Robin?” Oracle’s voice filtered through.

“Hm?” he responded, still lost in his own head as he lowered down and pushed up with one hand.

“Are you on campus right now?”

Damian stilled, suddenly alert. “No. Why?”

“There’s been an attack.”

His blood ran cold. “Where?”

“Maddison Hall.”

His mind flashed to you. Maddison Hall was where you spent most of your time working with Professor Kace and the other researchers. Before he even had time to process the rest of her words, Damian was on his feet, every nerve alight with tension.

“I’m on it,” he said, already moving.

“Wait, Robin, I don’t have all the—”

Her voice cut off as Damian turned off his earpiece, barely taking time to grab his gear before he was out the door.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The sight before him nearly made Damian drop his father’s "no-kill" rule on the spot.

You lay crumpled on the cold floor of the lab, hands bound behind your back, duct tape muffling any scream for help you tried to make. You were shaking as if trapped in some nightmare. Your eyes, which he was used to always being filled with curiosity about the world, were wide with terror, streaks of black mascara ran down your cheeks. It wasn’t just the sight of you restrained that twisted his insides but also the fear he saw on your face. A look he never wanted to see again.

His instincts screamed to go to you, to comfort you, to pull you into his arms and shield you from whatever horrors had been forced into your mind. But a darker instinct also conflicted within him the instinct to find whoever did this and end them along with their entire bloodline.

He freed your wrists and removed the tape from your mouth, but his gaze was already scanning the room, searching for the coward who had done this to you.

"Oracle," he growled into his comm, barely containing his fury. "Do you have any visual on the perp?"

"Damn it! Nothing yet. They must have disguised themselves as a student," Oracle’s frustrated voice crackled in his ear. "Damian, is she -"

“Yes," Damian cut her off, pulling a syringe from his belt. “It’s Fear Toxin.”

You whimpered, still lost in the hellscape the toxin had built in your mind. Damian injected the antidote into your shoulder. Watching you writhe in pain made his blood freeze. He lifted you into his arms as gently as he could and moved toward the door, but the growing crowd of students outside only irritated him further.

“Move,” he barked, his voice low and dangerous. “She needs a hospital.”

Halfway to the nearest emergency center, he changed his mind. He wasn’t taking you somewhere filled with people who would ask questions, who could poke and prod at your fragile state. Instead, he shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop, pulling both of you up and away from the crowd.

As your vision started to clear, you groaned, your body trembling in his hold. “R-Robin…” Your voice cracked, laced with panic. “My parents... they z please, you have to save them.”

“It’s not real,” he said softly, kneeling and holding you as close to him as he dared, providing a warmth that helped ground you. “The toxin made you see things that weren’t real. Is that what you saw? Your parents?”

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once again. “I saw them die. Please, you have to - ” You fumbled with your pockets, desperately trying to find your phone, anything that could help you reach them.

Damian’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. His white lenses stared down at you, and for a moment, you wished you could see his eyes, see the real person beneath the mask. “Your parents are fine.”

His voice, deep and calm. There was something about the way he spoke - so sure, so steady - that made you believe him.

“It’s not real?” you asked, voice trembling, trying to keep yourself from breaking down completely.

He nodded. “Call them. You’ll see.”

Your hands shook as you fumbled with your phone, which was now cracked. You dialed the number, waiting for what seemed like forever for each each ring. Then she finally picked up.

“Honey, thank God!” Your mom’s voice came through. “Are you okay? I’ve been watching the news - what’s going on over there?”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to sound normal. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just… in my room. Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine, sweetie. Just worried sick about you.”

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” you blurted out, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll come home tomorrow.”

Your mom’s voice lifted in relief. “That’s great! Be safe, honey.”

After hanging up, your body gave out. Your knees buckled, and a sob you’d been holding in finally broke free. You fell onto the ground, unable to stop the tears. He caught you, lowering both of you to the ground until you were sitting in his lap.

In his hold, you didn’t feel the fear you expected from someone like him. You’d heard stories, read articles about this Robin. How he wasn’t like the others - scarier, more brutal, more dangerous. But here, in his arms, you felt safe.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Your mind kept replaying those awful images, the sound of your parents’ screams still echoing in your ears.

“I thought I lost them,” you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Damian’s heart clenched. He had seen people cry before - mostly because he caused them to. But seeing you like this, broken and terrified, was something else entirely.

Damian’s first instinct was to say, "I thought I lost you," but he bit back the words, instead holding you close, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks gently. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the city's noise. "I'm sorry."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You were not the same after that night. Trauma clung to you with every thought. What happened in that lab left you scarred, destroying your sense of safety.

The last time Damian had seen you, he was still in his Robin suit. You’d been shaking, eyes glassy with the aftereffects of the fear toxin, but you insisted on going home to your dorm. Damian’s instincts screamed at him to take you somewhere safe, to keep you in his apartment where he could protect you, but he complied with your needs.

And as much as it killed him, he had to let you go.

What stung worse was the sight that awaited him at your dorm. Nikolas was already there, pacing anxiously by the entrance, his hair still wet from his swim meet. The moment he saw you, he rushed over, pulling you into his arms as though you were fragile enough to break. Damian’s fists clenched as he watched Nikolas cradle your face in his hands, checking you over with concern.

The sight of Nick’s resting possessively staying on the small of your back as he led you up the stairs twisted something deep inside Damian, but he pushed it down. He had no right to feel that way - not after he had pushed you away first.

You didn’t show up to physics the next day. Or the day after. A week passed, and still nothing.

He wanted to reach out - every part of him screamed to check on you - but that wasn't his job anymore.

Then, one day, his phone buzzed.

Nikolas Hill: Damian, hey. It's Nick Hill.

Nikolas Hill:Just thought you should know, y/n broke up with me. Got me flowers and chocolates. It was... pretty sweet, actually 😅. It's the nicest way I've ever been dumped for sure.

Nikolas Hill: Anyway, I’ve seen the way you look at her, man. You should go for it. Really.

Nikolas Hill: And you might wanna check on her... she dropped out of Kace's research project. Not answering anyone’s calls or messages. We’re worried.

Damian stared at the message, his stomach tightening. You dropped the project? And now you weren’t talking to anyone?

He didn’t wait. The next day, he was at your parents’ house, knocking on the door. A middle-aged woman half his size answered, her eyes widening as she took took him in - her gaze flickering between him and the sleek, black Camaro parked outside.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Damian... Wayne." He flashed her the best smile he could summon, as his gaze flickered between her and the home behind her, searching for you.

Her eyes widened further. "Wayne, as in...?"

"Yes, Bruce Wayne’s son."

"Oh my!" She nodded, her eyes still studying him. "How can I help you?"

"I’m a friend of y/n’s." Damian explained. "She hasn’t been to class for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to check on her. Is she alright?"

Her surprise grew, her lips parting slightly. "She never told us she had... a friend like you." There was a slight note of disbelief, as if the idea of you being close to someone like Damian Wayne didn’t quite compute.

Damian raised a brow. Why wouldn’t you tell them about him? Were you... ashamed?

Before he could respond, she stepped aside, inviting him in. "Please, come in. I was just finishing up dinner. Would you like to join us?"

"Is your daughter home?" Damian asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an urgency behind his words he couldn’t hide.

Your mother nodded, turning around and calling you downstairs. "Honey, you have a visitor!"

Just then, you appeared at the top of the small staircase, and the breath caught in his throat. You were a ghost of the person he remembered. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, your cheeks hollow and your body frail. The t-shirt you were in drowned you as it slipped off your shoulder, revealing how think your collarbone had become. Have you been skipping your meals?

Your usual spark of curiosity was replaced with something far darker—sadness.

You froze when you saw him before forcing yourself to recover and quickly make your way down the stairs, grateful for the 5 minute shower you decided to take just before you were called down. Damian may see you in a bad state, but at least hell be smelling 'coconut sunshine' bodywash. As you came to stand in front of him, barefoot, and without your high heels, you were even shorter and had to look up at a less comfortable angle. Your hand came up to rub the opposite arm, Damian's heart ached when he saw the bruises circling your wrists from the rope that was used to restrain you.

"Hi." You spoke softly.

"Hi," he replied, voice dripping with what seemed like disappointment. "You haven’t been to class. I wanted to check on you."

"I’m alright," you lied, your voice weak and shaky. "Just... spending some time with my family."

Damian tool a quick sweep over the room, the small, homey space that felt miles apart from the opulence of Wayne Manor or his apartment. It was cozy, filled with the scent of warm food, a stark contrast to the sterile, minimalist world he was used to.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. He couldn’t stop staring at you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the one he knew.

“Do you want to go out? Get some air?" Damian asked.

"No," you answered quickly, then paused. "I mean... you can stay for dinner, if you want."

Damian tucked his hands into his pockets, fighting the growing frustration inside him. He didn’t want dinner. He wanted answers. “I was hoping for some privacy.”

You eyed him warily, a look of distrust flashing across your face, and it hit him like an insult. You didn’t trust him anymore? You ungrateful brat. If you only knew who was under the mask that day you were rescued. It enraged him, though he didn’t show it.

“Nikolas told me you broke up with him,” Damian said, lowering his voice. “And dropped Kace’s project.”

You shrugged weakly, your shirt dropping lower down your shoulder, which you didnt notice as you avoided his gaze. "Yeah. I did."

Damian’s arms itched to touch your bare skin. He took in a deep breath. "You’re also about to lose your scholarship," he pressed, his tone more insistent now.

Your brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

“It’s a research scholarship. They won’t keep paying you if you’re not involved in research.”

There was a flicker in your eyes. Either anger, maybe annoyance. But it wasn’t indifference. And that’s all Damian needed. You were still there under this facade. He wasn’t going to leave. Not without you.

"Damian, thank you for visiting. But right nows not a good time." Before you could open the front door for him, his hand shot out, stopping it in its tracks.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Your mother invited me for dinner, and I accepted.”

"Damian - " you started, but your mother’s voice interrupted.

"That’s wonderful!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the tension. "I was just finishing up the potatoes."

The scent of dinner filled the air, but Damian couldn’t focus on anything except you. You were trying to slip away, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

After dinner, when your parents went to bed, Damian asked you again to walk with him. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“I’ve tried,” you confessed. “I can’t get past the door. Every time I do, I... panic. I shut down."

The vulnerability in your voice was enough to shatter whatever resolve he had left. You were hurting, deeply, and it killed him to see it.

He stepped closer, his voice restrained. “I'll help you.”

But you just shook your head, pulling away. "I'm tired."

“It’s late,” Damian agreed, his voice soft but commanding. “You should go to sleep.” He nodded toward the stairs.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. "Thats not what I meant. I dont what to sleep."

But your body betrayed you, and before you could say anything else, you yawned. A small, defeated sound that you tried to hide but failed miserably.

Damian grinned, raising a brow as he looked down at you. “You sure about that?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. "I... I can't go to sleep," you admitted quietly, the words trembling on your lips. "The nightmare comes back when I do."

Damian sighed, his expression softening, though the fire in his eyes never wavered. He understood - he had his own problem with nightmares, demons that lurked in the dark corners of his mind. “Try again now,” he said gently, leading you to your livingroom couch. “I’ll wake you up if it happens.”

You shook your head, the fear bubbling up inside you. But his unyielding gaze stopped you.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something raw, “you need to rest. I can’t stand seeing you this tired anymore.”

His words hung in the air, the concern behind them tightening something in your chest. You hesitated, searching his face for reassurance. "You'll wake me up?"

“Yes.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue with him. Not when his eyes held so much insistence. Slowly, you lay down on the couch, your head sinking into the cushion. The moment your eyes closed, sleep washed over you.

But it didn’t last long.

Within minutes, you were tossing and turning, whimpering softly as the nightmares clawed their way back into your mind. Damian watched as you struggled even in your sleep. Then, gently, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You felt so small in his arms as your back came to rest against his chest, his lips brushing your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, “Youre okay, your alright.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and panicked as you gasped for breath. You looked around frantically before your gaze landed on Damian. “Damian, my parents - they’re - ”

“Upstairs, sleeping,” he said, his voice firm. “They’re okay.”

You blinked, your eyes darting toward the stairs as if you needed the reassurance for yourself. You made to get up to go check on them, but his grip stopped you, pulling you back against him.

“Yes.” Damian spoke quietly but with intent. “I’m right here. Nothing will happen to either of you."

You nodded slowly, the tension draining from your body as you rested your head against him. The warmth of his presence was enough to lull you back into sleep, though it didn’t last. The nightmare came back, and so did Damian’s voice, pulling you out of it every time.

It happened a few more times throughout the night. Each time, you would whimper, trapped in your dreams, and he would wake you, then hold you until you fell asleep again. Halfway through the night you began clinging to him, your arms snaking around him to hold him closer, sensing the safety he provided even in your sleep.

Not minding one bit, he could still see the toll it was taking on you, the way you couldn’t even get through one night without being haunted by what Scarecrow had done. It made his blood boil. It fueled a dark, vengeful fire that burned hotter with each of your nightmares.

He swore to himself, as he watched you sleep restlessly, that he would make Scarecrow pay for this - for the pain, the fear, and the nightmares that took you from him.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

On his third night of patroll, Robin cornered the man in the Scarecrow mask, ripping it from his face with such force the strap snapped. The man trembled, backing into the alley wall, his eyes wide in fear.

"I'm not him! Please!" The man’s hands shot up in surrender, sweat pouring down his face as he eyed the rest of his team, who were knocked unconscious. He hoped.

"Where is he?" Damian’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I-I don’t know!" the man stammered. "I swear! A different one of us is made to wear that thing every night in case you show up!"

Robin’s jaw tightened. His eyes were cold and merciless. He didn't care if this man knew or not. He wanted an outlet, something to absorb the endless rage boiling in his chest. He sighed, cracking his knuckles slowly, deliberately, like a predator preparing for the kill. "Then you'll have to do."

The thug whimpered. "No, no, no-"

The Red Hood arrived on the rooftop, surveying the scene below. His eyes narrowed as he saw Robin beating the life out of the cowering henchman. The tension in his youngest brother's posture was unmistakable. Jason eyed the rest of the henchman team, laid out and bleeding in different spots on the ground.

"Uh, I’m gonna need backup here," Jason said into his comm.

"Why? Too much for you to handle?" came Dick’s teasing voice over the line.

"Nah, but someone’s gotta protect these poor bastards from Robin."

There was a pause. Then Bruce spoke up. "...on my way."

Damian couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his skull, his vision narrowing to the terrified man in front of him.

"Robin!"

The first punch landed hard in the guy’s gut, causing him to double over, gasping for air. Then the fists came, rapid and unrelenting, from left to right. Each blow was calculated - not enough to kill, but enough to inflict the kind of pain that lingers, that leaves a mark deep under the skin.

The man’s blood splattered against the wall, his groans turning to pitiful whimpers as he weakly tried to shield himself. But Damian was relentless, his fury a tidal wave, drowning out any sense of restraint. This was for you. The helplessness he felt when he couldn’t save you, the guilt for letting you go, for not being there when you needed him most. Every punch was a punishment, a way to exorcize his own demons.

"Robin!"

By the time he stopped, the henchman was barely conscious, slumped against the wall, gasping for breath through cracked ribs and bloodied lips. Robin stood over him, panting, his chest heaving. His hands, covered in the man's blood, twitched. He wanted to keep going. Needed to keep going.

"FUCK!" Robin roared, the sound reverberating off the brick walls.

"ROBIN!" He was grabbed by a pair of strong arms, slamming him against the wall. "Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Jason's voice chastised him behind his mask.

"Back off!" Damian shoved Jason hard, his eyes wild, untamed.

"How about fuck no?" Jason growled, pressing his forearm against Damian’s throat, forcing him to stay still. Over the years, Damian grew taller than Tim, matching Dick in height, but Jason still had maybe an inch on him. The elder stuggled to hold his brother back. "I need you to calm the hell down!"

Before Damian could retaliate, Batman arrived, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What the hell happened?"

Jason shot a look over his shoulder. "Your kid happened."

Batman’s eyes fell on the battered man, then on Damian, still shaking with fury, fists clenched, ready for more. "Damian," Bruce said quietly.

"Its what he deserves." Damian’s voice was low, venomous, each word dripping with barely contained rage. "He hurt her. He broke her."

Batman’s expression shifted as he understood. You. The girl who Damian was bringing home from school. The one who’d been ripped apart by what happened to her.

"And how is killing this nobody helping her?" Bruce asked, his voice steady but firm.

Damian’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "It's not." His eyes glinted with a dark amusement as he stared into his father’s unflinching gaze. "But it sure as hell makes me feel better."

Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew this wasn’t about justice. This was about catharsis. Damian was unraveling, and if Bruce didn’t stop it now, there’d be no pulling him back. "You’re off patrol," Batman ordered, stepping toward him.

Damian sneered, shoving him back. "Like hell."

"It’s not up for debate."

Damian’s glare intensified. "I’m not stopping until he’s dead. I’ll bury him - "

"Robin." Batman’s voice was calm, controlled. "You’re going home."

Before Damian could react, he felt a sudden sharp pinch on the side of his neck. He staggered, his vision blurring as his hand flew to the dart embedded in his skin. "Wha - " His legs gave out beneath him, and darkness closed in before he could reach for the antidote.

Batman caught him as he slumped forward, unconscious. "Get him home," Bruce said to Jason, his voice heavy with regret. "Ill take care of this mess."

Jason nodded. "You know he's not gonna forgive you for that."

Bruce glanced at Damian’s unconscious form. "I know."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian woke up groggy, his vision blurry as he blinked against the harsh lights of the Batcave. His arms were strapped down to something cold and unyielding. "Damn it. Let me go!" His voice was a snarl, filled with rage and frustration.

"Negative," Bruce's calm, gravelly voice responded. He approached from the shadows, no longer in his suit but in a sweater and jeans, the cowl replaced by the face of a father. "You killed someone tonight. Did you know that?"

Damian gritted his teeth, pulling against his restraints in fury. "Who gives a shit?" He thrashed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Let me go, now! She's alone - "

"She's fine," Bruce interrupted firmly. "Oracle is monitoring."

Before Damian could spit back another response, the Batcave’s voice system activated with Oracle’s voice. "I have visual on her right now. She's at home, watching TV with her family. Safe."

Damian's chest heaved, but the confirmation did little to ease the burning tension in his veins. He didn’t care that she was safe. He needed to be there with you. Protect you.

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Damian glared at Bruce, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're too worked up to be set free," Bruce said, his tone unwavering. "I don't want you making decisions you’ll inevitably regret."

"I won't regret jack shit!" Damian roared. "Scarecrow's overdue for a visit to hell!"

"'Overdue for a visit to hell,'" Jason's voice echoed from somewhere in the batcave, but Damian couldn't see him. "Goddamn, this kid's more dramatic than you, bats." Jasons chuckle echoed alongside his footsteps as he entered the batcave.

"Thank you, Jason." Bruce said sarcastically.

"Youre welcome."

"Damian," Bruce's tone was deadly serious. "I don't think you heard me clearly. You are a murderer."

Damian's jaw clenched before he spat, "Bruce, do you even understand what 'League of Assassins' means? I've been a murderer. Since I was ten." His voice cracked slightly, the anger mingling with something deeper - something broken.

The tired lines of his fathers face grew more pronounced. "And when I took you in, I made both you and myself a promise to end that cycle." His voice was softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, his presence towering over Damian, not as Batman, but as a father. "You were a child, Damian. You didn’t know any better. But you do now. You don’t get to decide the outcome of human lives. When you do, you become the very thing we fight against. The very thing she fears."

Those words landed hard, and Damian stopped struggling.

The very thing she fears.

He pictured your face, pale with terror, your haunted eyes. Damian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "Fuck."

He hated it. Hated that the old man was right. His whole life had been about violence, about using pain to solve problems.

He glanced up at Bruce, anger creeping out of his voice. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce’s expression softened, the hard edge of Batman fading away as his fatherly concern surfaced. He sighed, his own guilt simmering beneath the surface. "Be there for her. That will be enough."

Damian stared up at him, resisting the urge to punch him for that unhelpful advicr. He didn’t know how to be that. How to be anything but the weapon he was trained to be.

"I don’t... want her to fear me," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible. At least he didn't think he did.

Bruce reached out, his hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "You can't solve this one as Robin. Nor the League’s heir. Just Damian."

For a moment, Damian closed his eyes, letting his father’s words sink in. His breath slowed, and the fury that had been burning inside of him all night began to fade into something else - epiphany. He had to fix you himself. He had no qualm playing therapist, whether you wanted him to or not.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Bruce’s gaze, still defiant but quieter now. "I know what I have to do."

"You do," Bruce said with a firm nod.

Damian had a new goal in his mind now, bringing you back. His jaw was tight, but his breathing was steady now. "Untie me," he said quietly. "I’m calm."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and then he slowly unstrapped his son’s hands. Damian sat up, rubbing his wrists, though his mind was far away - thinking of you and the promises he had made to himself.

"Not so fast." Bruce spoke up. "You're still in trouble. Tomorrow, you will bring in... 10 juvenile delinquents into the station -" Bruce knew Damian especially hated dealing with kids - he had to hold back with them - "to make up for the shithead you killed tonight. And you'll do two hundred push-ups now."

Damian scoffed at the easy challenge. "Fine,"

"Jason, sit on his back."

"What?!" Damian spat out in protest as Jason rolled his head back in laughter.

The next morning, Damian barely made his way to your doorstep, limping over sore limbs. He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“It was great to talk,” you shake Nick’s hand. “I’ll send you the details?” 

“Wonderful,” he squeezes as his lips slant in his characteristic half-smirk. His eyes remind you of another bold blue pair but you’re trying not to think of him. “I look forward to doing business together.” 

“Let’s aim for a follow-up next week. Make sure everything’s on track,” you confirm. 

“I like that. Very straight to the point,” he muses. 

“As nice a company-paid dinner is, I’m sure you’re dying to get home,” you say. 

“Maybe... if I wasn’t going home alone.”  

You hesitate. His little comments keep popping up. It’s expected. It comes with being a woman. You’ve done your best to ignore them but that one is too pointed to miss. 

“Again, appreciate doing business,” you pull your hand away. “Have a lovely night.” 

“Maybe next time,” he calls after you. 

You walk away, focusing on your posture as you keep rigid. It wouldn’t do any good to show your discomfort. You’re not sure what it is but lately, you’ve been like catnip to men. Something about you is drawing them all in. 

You raise your hand to flag a cab but your arm is caught and pulled back. You yipe as Bucky pulls you to face him. Holy shit!  

“What-- Bucky?! You scared me. You—you scared me.” It’s all you can stutter as your shrill voice scratches in your throat. “God!” You yank on your arm but he keeps a firm grip. You hit his other shoulder with your fist, “let me go. What are you doing?” 

“Who was that, huh? Thought you weren’t looking for anything serious.” He snarls. 

“Ow,” you finally rip your wrist free, rubbing your sleeve as you lean back on your heel. “I’m not. That was a work dinner.” 

“Oh yea? Cause it didn’t sound like just work.” 

“You-- you’ve been watching me?” You accuse. 

“I happened to pass by. Couldn’t help but overhear,” he scoffs. “You sitting there in that dress. I couldn’t look away.” 

“We agreed that this is over,” you insist. 

“I didn’t agree to shit. You pulled the rug out from under me.”  

“What are you talking about?” You bluster hotly. “This was never—it was always going to end. You know that. Why are you complicating this?” 

“Me, complicating it? It didn’t have to end. We were having fun,” he spits. 

“No, I wasn’t. I’m too busy for all that. So are you. I can’t have you stopping by in the middle of the night all the time or—or walking into my office after hours. Don’t you see that it was getting... too much?” You shake your head. 

“Too much? It’s exactly what you wanted. You said you wanted spontaneity. You wanted me. You liked it. All those time when you were under me, you couldn’t get enough. You always begged for more--” 

“Just stop. Bucky, we could be friends, we could hang out but I can’t keep doing that. I don’t have the energy and it’s getting scary.” 

“Scary? Oh so now I’m some monster? Huh?” 

“That’s not what I mean--” 

“No, I get it. You see me and you see this,” he raises his metal hand and wiggles his fingers. “You see what they all see.” He snaps his hand down. “You haven’t even caught a glimpse of what I was.” 

“Why-- why are you doing this? I wasn’t mean. So why--” 

“Doll,” he squares his shoulders and steps closer. He’s never called you that. He’s never been one for petnames when he isn’t buried inside you. “I’m not doing anything. I’m standing here talking to you. But think about what I could do?” He stops and you take another step back. He snorts, “I can your fucking heartbeat. You really think I’d hurt you?” 

“Right now, I don’t know what you’re going to do.” You utter. 

His blue eyes turn dull as his pupils dilate. He gets closer and huffs through his nose, “you won’t even talk to me like I’m a person.” 

“Bucky--” 

“You used me. You treat me like some dog you can throw out.” He takes one step and you take one back.  

“No, we had an understanding. We were just messing around--” 

“You’re messing around!” He barks as your back hits a pole. “And now it’s my turn.” He grins and raises a hand. You wince and he gently caresses your cheek with his knuckles. “You want me to be him, hm? Not Bucky, the other guy. You wanna see him? You wanna see how nice I’ve fucking been.” 

You whimper and shrink down, “please, I’m sorry. I know it was sudden but I thought--” 

He grabs your jaw and squeezes and you whine. Your legs buckle as you brace the iron street pole. 

“You thought fucking wrong. You didn’t think. Not about me.” His fingers tighten and your jaw aches. You slap your hand around his wrist. “Now, you will. I’m not going to let you go. Not forever. Tonight, you get to walk away but you’re going to be thinking of me. You’re going to check over your shoulder, behind your shower curtain, under your desk. You’re going to be watching and waiting for me because, doll, you won’t see me right in front of you and you won’t be able to stop me.” 

You shudder as he lets you go. You cling to the pole to keep from folding into a trembling heap. He stretches his fingers out as he examines his hand and turns to face the traffic. He chuckles as he steps up to the curb and motions for a taxi. You just stand there. 

A cab pulls up and he opens the door, “get home safe, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one else bothers you.” 

[perpetualcosmos]

Astrology insights on Health & More! Pt. 2

*Please Note these are all my personal observations and research, not yet from a professional opinion!*

---> Body part ruled by Taurus is... Neck, shoulders, ears and throat! Now, What it means is that these natives usually have wide, elegant necks, shoulders and even jawlines depending on where they have their Taurus placements. Ex: Personally seen that natives which have Taurus in either 3rd house, in mercury or Venus conjunct mercury in, 2nd house placements, 3rd house placement and basically mercury placements indicating that these natives have a deep voice.

---> Taurus placements (Specially in conjunction, sextile or trine) always carry an energy of elegance. These natives always have a way with their voice, their body and their posture that draws people in. A pull, sensual and hypnotizing.

---> Prone to be interested in Art, Design, Photography, cinematography, music, dancing, etc., in it's most Venusian form, Taurus natives are hard working... when they want to be, otherwise you cannot pull them for anything to do. They have their priorities straight and keep clear of what doesn't suit them. But the tendency to overindulgence in things like food, sex, drugs, money, etc. Is highly prominent.

---> Really, Financial freedom isn't everything, and so isn't pleasure. A thing I have always noticed with Taurus natives is that they might be inclined to aroma and massages, a good way for these natives to decompress is maybe having a self care day with going to the spa, taking care of your hair, going for aromatherapy, going for shopping and indulging in things which make them feel safe.

---> Security & stability is extremely important to Taurus placements/2nd House placements/Taurus degrees holders (2°,14°,26°). But because of their nature, these natives tend to only focus on financial stability, often forgetting emotional investment is just as important. Signs in the body could be stiff shoulders, a blocked throat, always being told they don't "listen", not being able to take a proper break, mood swings, etc. Extremely prominent when these placements in a person's chart are underdeveloped.

---> Taurus placement carry similarities with their sister sign, Scropio, such as:

• Control - a major theme for both signs in opposite sectors, for Taurus natives, it's mostly money and finance. On the other hand, emotional and sensual control is for Scorpio natives.

• Obsession - as mentioned above, in the sectors.

• Pleasure - Both appreciate Pleasure, for Scorpio placements it's intimate, powerful, a connection and always transformative -- it's in the emotional. For Taurus placements, it's imagination, realistic and 3D focused -- it's in the material.

Ex: Adele with a Taurus Sun in 11th house at 15° (cancer degree)! Should I be even shocked that she is a singer, known for her voice and beauty everywhere? Absolutely not lol. Supporting this, is her Mercury in Gemini in the 12th house at 0° (I can't make this up). She is someone who is known for her music all over the world, carrying so much of her emotions and her ability to reach high notes. She definitely has a beautiful neck and shoulders, with her being very expressive about what she wants through art (which in her case, is music!). Another example is of Keira Knightley with a Taurus moon. Definitely something who carries a strong Jaw and bone structure, along with again wide shoulders and great posture. Her energy also draws in people on the stage, you can't help falling in love with how dedicatedly she carries her with her Moon conjunct Mars in Taurus. No wonder she is so dedicated to her Art (here it's acting). A beautiful thing about Taurus moons is when they find something that they are extremely passionate about, no one can stop them from achieving their goals and giving their best. Especially when they love their work, it shows Everywhere.

Other examples are Zendaya, Nick Jonas, Lindsay Lohan, Donald Grover, Channing Tatum, Miley Cyrus, Gigi Hadid, Robert Pattinson and more.

Source: Pinterest

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A/N: Thank you for checking this post out and omg thank you for the likes and follows 🥹🫶

*I am so grateful for all of you, thank you for your support. I wasn't sure if I should do this but because of you... I am here. Thank you. And I just want to say if no one has told you lately... I am proud of you, you are trying so hard, even if it's just you being alive. Thank you, I am grateful you are here to read this.*

With love & grace 🥹✨

[galaxiasgreen]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

Sebastian x F!Muggle!Reader with eventual smut [E-Rated, 3.6k words]

"It's hot." "No, and here I thought it was the Arctic." When he makes no move to do anything, you raise your chin, glaring up at him. "No shirt, no service." "I am wearing a shirt." A glint of mischief pierces briefly through his mood. "You know, most women usually ask me to take off my clothes—"

The freckled stranger has been visiting your pub for three months now, drinking to forget the worst times.

You might be the person he needs to remember the best.

[MASTERLIST][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: swearing, alcoholism, grief, discussions of death.

1: stupid questions

The freckled stranger has been in your pub every day for the last three months.

It never matters whether it's windy, raining, or overbearingly sunny. It never matters whether it's busy, tables crammed, the counter sticky with spills, or if the tax on drink has gone up. It never matters if he's in a good or bad mood. Every day, right as expected, he shoulders inside Ye Olde Hen House, ignores the chorus of greetings from the tipsy regulars, lumbers to the bar and orders a drink. His choice is always the same: cold stout, brought over in as many glasses he can take before he's one whit away from passing out.

You're used to hauling out drunkards. In this part of the old city they trundle in after labour shifts, seeking to forget the day's worries, and wind up on the floor by hour's end. You pity them their weak constitutions and poor decision-making, and the wives who will have to suffer their company upon their brazen return in the middle of the night.

To his credit, the freckled stranger has never been that drunk.

Yet you pity him most of all.

The first time he steps foot inside the pub he immediately draws your eye. Most of the regulars are in their forties, pot-bellied and cheerful like Christmas adverts of St Nick – but the freckled stranger is around your age, five-and-twenty, with youthful skin, a smooth gait and broad, firm shoulders. His hair is a bed of chestnut curls, and the ends shadow his eyes, also a dark brown, like coffee. Stubble grows in patches over his sharp jaw. In the heat of summer he wears only a linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and you can see muscle there, and tattoos, though you force yourself to look away before you can determine what they are, burying your curiosity behind professionalism.

When he makes it to the counter, he slaps down a handful of change and sinks onto the barstool, looking at you, gaze burning expectantly but not with disdain.

"Pint of beer, please."

"Two pence."

He pushes all his coins over. You extract two pennies, then fill a glass to the brim. He drinks quietly but greedily, siphoning the beer like it's his first liquid in days, and when he finishes, every drop consumed, the glass clatters to the countertop in a white-knuckled grip, pronouncing the veins in his hands like cobalt forks of lightning.

"Another, please."

You raise an eyebrow. "Knock that back any faster you might see Heaven before you mean to."

"What makes you think I'm going to heaven?" He throws out a few coins – pennies and halfpennies this time. "Pint of beer, please."

He drinks slower and slower each time as the alcohol alleviates his worries. You feel pity, strong and true. Same age or abouts, and people would look down on you for having a peasant's job, but at least you're not wasting your life away like the freckled stranger.

At least of yourself you make a name, whilst the freckled stranger makes a fool.

By his fourth, sometimes fifth drink, he's spread-eagle on the countertop, playing with the pocket change between his fingertips, wide-eyed with fascination.

"Don't fall asleep," you tell him, squeezing a cloth over a soiled plate. "Or I'll kick you out."

"Not sleepy," he slurs, flicking a half-penny into a tailspin. "Am pensive."

"Pensive... right."

"Pensive about pennies." He chuckles to himself. "Your coins are so funny. What's the point of half-pennies and farthings?"

The use of your is unusual, but he's drunk, so what's new. "Why don't you ask King Edward?" you say humorously.

"You say it like he's only next door. Know him, do you?"

"'Course. We're best mates."

"Put me in contact. I'll change— more make sense."

You purse your lips. He's too drunk to respond coherently, though there's still about three fingers left in the glass, which he eventually works up the means to finish, leaving his lips sticky with cream. By this point it's almost closing time and he struggles to get to his feet. You don't help him. Why should you?

"Ta," he hiccoughs roughly in your direction, and staggers out the door, out of view. You wonder where he goes, what he does in the daytime, whether he has family, or friends, or a pretty girl who pities him too.

He's in a mood on a particularly hot June evening, when he walks into the pub with his shirt unbuttoned.

Do not look. Despite being a complete wastrel, the freckled stranger, you hate to admit, is extremely well-built, with a finely-toned chest and brawny arms that could easily win many wrestling matches, and many hearts too. Maybe he already has. The long stripe of flesh between the two front panels tease a wide chest tattoo, inked over his pectorals like fine canvas – what appears to be two runic symbols and the number 706.

You quickly glance away. That's already too much. Just because a man is attractive doesn't mean you should be staring. You compose yourself and make your way over before he reaches the bar.

"Shirt," you say. "Button it up."

He halts, drinking in the sight of you. Up close, all you can smell is his musk, salty like the sea, and just as powerful. His hair is soaked with it too – there are dirt marks there, like he's been in a scrap, but he appears uninjured.

"It's hot."

"No, and here I thought it was the Arctic." When he makes no move to do anything, you raise your chin, glaring up at him. "No shirt, no service."

"I am wearing a shirt." A glint of mischief pierces briefly through his mood. "You know, most women usually ask me to take off my clothes—"

"Do up your shirt," you grind out, "or get out."

The mischief dissipates as his eyes narrow, but he reluctantly buttons up the front. The shirt is ratty and torn at the elbows, but still smells enticingly like him, and he doesn't bother going up all the way, leaving an annoying glimpse of that unusual scrawl of symbols.

"Happy now?"

You go around the counter, ignoring him. "What do you want?"

"What do you think?"

Your eyes narrow. "You know the cost."

A hand slips into his pocket and produces a handful of coins, which he dumps out flippantly. They clatter to a stop in a wide arc.

Impertinent. Your lips flatten. Two can play that game.

"You've been here enough times to know the correct change by now."

He snorts. "Every bloody coin looks the same."

"It has Britannia wielding the trident on one side."

"Who the hell is Britannia?"

You roll your eyes. "Edward is on the other. Know who he is or have you really been living in the Arctic?"

"I remember your best mate." Finally he takes two pennies from the pile. "You could've just said it was the biggest bronze coin and saved yourself the hassle."

You could've also told him it literally says penny on the rim, but who knows if he's able to read – or whether he can right now. "You don't learn if you don't figure it out for yourself." You take them from his proffered hand. "Pint or half-pint?"

"Another stupid question."

"In that case, I won't serve you—"

"Wait." He grunts in annoyance and holds out the pennies again. "One pint of beer, please."

"That's better."

He takes the drink, and your gaze dips to the hand clenching the glass – you've never seen a drunk with such... muscle definition before. His frame is broad, his chest like full barrels of whiskey. He looks like he knows how to handle his body – how to use it to full advantage.

Shame. If only he didn't have the personality of a wet rag.

You serve another few people before he motions for you again, and this time you pour him the drink without saying a word. He exchanges the right money for the glass.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, before you go away again. "I've been rude."

You hesitate, suspicious. "Yes, you have."

"You're just doing your job."

"Yes, I am."

"Can you forgive me?"

That same glint of mischief there, except this one is charming – this one prods a little more insistently at your mental walls. You snort.

"This time."

He takes a sip, leaving a trail of foam on his mouth – he thumbs it away and licks the tip.

Hastily you look away.

"How long have you been working here?" the freckled stranger asks one Tuesday night, when the pub is dead.

You slap your cloth to the countertop, soaked with wood polish. You've talked to him a few times now, but this is the first that's been more than polite greetings, menial chatter, and get out, you're completely sozzled.

"Why?"

"What d'you mean, why?"

"Why d'you want to know?"

He leans back, lips tugging upwards. "I know you but I don't know you, if that makes sense."

"And it should stay that way."

"I just think it would be nice to properly appreciate the woman who serves me drinks every day."

You roll your lips. He's a good talker when he wants to be – when he's sober. "Been working here longer than you've been drinking here, that's for sure."

"A year? Five years? How old are you?"

"Careful."

"I'm twenty-six."

"Didn't ask."

His gaze on you is lowered but penetrating when he braces his chin in a hand. You can't help but feel a little flushed.

"Do you own this fine establishment?"

"I do."

"Not your husband?"

"Not married."

"But you're so old."

"Do you want to get kicked out?"

His smile curls. "Put-off marrying because it will mean handing all your assets to your undeserving husband?"

You pause to glare at him. "So you know the lack of women's rights but you can't figure out which coin is a penny?"

"Women's rights makes sense. The coins don't. Why do all the bronze ones look the same? I'm still waiting on a meeting with Ed about that, by the way."

"Oh, the lack of women's rights makes sense, does it?"

"I said women's rights makes sense. I'm on your side."He shrugs. "Personally, though, I'm more of a supporter of women's wrongs."

A laugh gutters out of you, and with a self-satisfied, feline grin, he drinks.

Something is very wrong when he comes in on his four-month anniversary.

If rain could embody a person, the freckled stranger would be a barely-contained hurricane. He looks the worst you've ever seen – dark crescents beneath red eyes, skin frighteningly wan, burst blood vessels webbing across his cheeks like crinkles on a flattened wad of newspaper. He glowers at anyone who looks at him askance, a clear signal to stay the fuck away.

He slumps bodily onto his normal barstool – and there comes the pity, an avalanche crashing through your body.

"Beer."

You don't move.

He lets out an annoyed sigh. "Pint of beer, please."

You pour it. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Fine. All the same to me." It's not all the same – he looks like the truth might kill him from the inside. "Stout's out. I've got porter."

His eyes flash. "Porter's weak shit."

"That or ale. Take your pick."

"Porter then."

You pour it. It's infamously dark in colour, like his eyes right now, black and molten and unforgiving of a world that has cut him up and left him to die. When he takes the glass he doesn't thank you, just jams the rim between his teeth and gulps ravenously. The slam on the countertop reverberates.

"Another."

"Seem to be missing a thank you and please—"

"Can you just—" He catches himself. "Not today. Just not today."

"Today is a regular ol' Thursday for me," you point out coldly. "If you want some leeway for your absent manners you're going to have to give me a reason."

He mumbles something inaudible.

You lean forwards. "Didn't catch that."

Finally his gaze settles on you, and it's guarded, striking, like steel.

"My twin sister died four months ago today."

When people turn to drink, it's mostly because of one of two things: grief, or loneliness. Now you know the freckled stranger is both. You can see it in the shadows that cling to him, in the trembling of his cracked knuckles, grasping the glass like it's the only thread between him and sweet oblivion.

It doesn't surprise you to hear it, nor see it with your own eyes – but a death of a twin... now that's something you've never heard before. Especially not from someone so young.

"Sorry to hear that." The condolence softens your disdain, just a little. "I can't imagine—"

"No, you can't imagine what it must be like, yes, it's awful, is there anything you can do? Sorrows and prayers, sorrows and prayers!" The laugh is hysterical. "I don't want that. I didn't come here to listen to your pity."

Strange... until this conversation, pity was all you felt.

Now you're just angry.

"Why'd you tell me then?" you shoot back, as your temper builds in your belly. "You blurt your sob story and, what, expect me not to say anything?"

"I came to drink, so that's what I'll damn well do."

"Then shut your cakehole, drink your damn porter and stop fishing for sympathy."

Something cracks along his expression. He splutters. "Like hell I'm fishing—"

"Four months, you said? Yet here you are, sulking. You look like she passed only yesterday. Is this what she would've wanted, for you to drink yourself into stupor every bloody day?"

Genuine anger clouds his face. "You don't know what she would've wanted."

"I know you care for her deeply, so I can guess she cared deeply for you too, and I don't know a single loved one of mine who'd want me to live in this hell you've created for yourself."

He stands to his feet – nearly stumbles. "You can't talk to me— like— you don't—"

"Look at you, too drunk to even stand. You drank before you came here, didn't you? You've been drinking all day, feeling sorry for yourself. If you won't accept my condolences, fine, but you better heed this warning instead: if you ever talk to me like that again, I will have you chucked out and barred not just here, but every damn pub this side of the city, and I won't give a rat's arse about your grief or your shitty coping strategies. Do you understand?"

Something lifts and vanishes from his eyes, like a dark shape that flees arrest in the cover of night. The crack in his façade widens, and maybe it's the reek of him, of old stale drink that wisps out of him in short breaths, but something makes you lean back, give him space to process your words, to process his mistake in crossing you.

You were yelling all that, and the rest of the pub has quietened in response. One of the regulars stands up and makes eye contact with you, but you wave him away. You're all right. The freckled stranger understands now.

The look on his face is not just defeat... but clarity.

"Understood," he rasps out eventually.

"Good." Your heart races – you fight to control it. "Now, I've got other customers waiting, so if you don't mind keeping your voice down?"

But he knocks back the rest in one go and leaves without saying a word.

Maybe you were a little harsh.

You stew on it the next morning as you prepare for a busy day. Wiping the surfaces, preparing the stock, checking the tills, rallying the other staff and replenishing the taps – so much to do and occupy your mind, yet there you are, face creased as you think of the freckled stranger and his grief.

He needed the push, you don't regret that, but you do regret, just slightly, how you delivered it. It could've gone so many ways – he could've complained to the police and tarnished the pub's reputation, could've destroyed furniture, glass, could've hurt you. You might own Ye Olde Hen House but at the end of the day you're a glorified barmaid – a wench, some of the older patrons sometimes use against you derogatorily. Who are you to offer the freckled stranger life advice?

You thought he might not appear that evening, but at eight o'clock, he shoulders through the door and takes the same bar stool, right in front of you, as always.

"Pint of beer," he murmurs, "please."

You pour it for him, making it extra frothy, but say nothing when you slide it over. This time he pays the correct coinage, no fuss. So he's capable of using his brain just as much as you're capable of feeling guilt. His knuckles blanch over the glass, clenching it hard – you find yourself distracted by his hands, solid and engulfing, like he would never yield anything in his grip.

You let out a scathing sigh. "Look, I'm sorry."

He raises a finger and tips the glass back until all the porter has slid down his throat.

"Can't have this talk sober," he says, using his muscled forearm to wipe his mouth messily. "Another. Please."

He sets out the coin, you pour him the drink. He doesn't say a word until the next one goes down, and the next. Eventually he massages the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry myself," he forces out, even though the drink softens the consonants. "You shouldn't have to apologise."

"I was harsh."

"You were an arsehole."

"Funnily enough that's why I'm saying sorry."

"No, but... it was nice, your bluntness." He sags on the counter, but his gaze is still locked on you. "Every bloody person I know has been coddling me for months. Sorry about Anne this, I'm sad for you that. The condolences and sadness and hugs and well-wishes has never stopped. Even my best friends Ominis and Garreth keep tiptoeing around me like I'm as fragile as a Remembrall."

"A what?"

"Glass," he amends swiftly. His thumb presses into the curve of his jaw, protruding the strong cords of his neck. "I'm so fed up with it. So fucking fed up."

"You know you're not helping yourself, right?" you say, hoping this doesn't cross a line again. "Coming in here to drink—"

"Every day, I know. I just need it. I need to drink. I need to— to forget what I did—" He shakes his head and grasps his temple fiercely. "Tell me something. Quick."

"What?"

"Anything. Your favourite book, how your parents met, the drama of whoever you're shagging at the moment, I don't care. I don't want to think. Just – give me anything. And another beer. Please."

So you tell him your favourite book – you don't get to read very often, you're lucky you can read at all – and you tell him the less-than-exciting story of how your parents met. You're not 'shagging' anyone at the moment, which you say with a roll of your eyes, so you're relatively drama-free. Your life is utterly mundane, as you like it.

You don't leave him with nothing, however.

"I've been at this pub since I was eighteen, seven years ago. Inherited it off my parents now that they're too old to work."

He must do the maths as he squirrels away another beer.

"You must enjoy it."

"It was either here or the match factory. You must know how that went."

He smiles indulgently. "Expert in women's rights, remember?"

You huff a snort.

"You get how this place works, then."

"I've been helping out here since I was a tot, so yes, I know everything there is to know. Plus it pays well and keeps me mostly protected, and I get to be part of the community and meet new people."

He lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Like me?"

You tip your head.

"Yeah, like you, I suppose." You gently pry the empty glass from his hand. "Another?"

"Stupid question."

But he smiles fondly this time, so you make a face and pour his fourth beer without complaint.

You don't talk much from then. You're busy with other customers and he's probably tired of chatting, though you meet his eye several times during the last hour, like a hook on a thread that catches by accident – or fate. It's those coffee eyes that you're drawn to. They dance like fingers on skin, to a rhythm as constant as ocean waves, cascading down your spine even when you turn away.

By the time the other patrons have left and the gramophone has run out of records to play, all that's between you and closing is the freckled stranger.

"What's your name?"

You glance his way. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd you want to know?"

"It's not an interrogation. It's just so you're not the bar girl in my head."

"In that case," you smile sweetly, "it's none of your business."

"You drive a hard deal, bar girl," he says, taking it in his stride. "My name is Sebastian Sallow."

"Didn't ask."

"Trade you? I'll even throw in a middle name as a bonus."

"No thanks." You flick towards the door. "Now, it's nearly one o'clock and my pub is about to close, so you better skedaddle before I toss you out by ear, Sebastian Sallow."

"That's a lot more effective now that you can use it against me." The barstool scrapes – Sebastian Sallow manages to make it to the door without stumbling once. "Will I regret telling you?"

You hold the door and smile indulgently as he steps out.

"Stupid question."

You shut it in his face.

[MASTERLIST][NEXT] [Divider credit]

[astralnymphh]

thought about painslut!ellie x vampire!reader, who goes into a pleasuring daze when you set your teeth deep in her neck, drawing strings of the delicious blood while she fucks her strap in you hard, thrusts only deepening with each new bite you latch. later on, too reward her, you position yourself between her dispersed legs, hooking your fangs in the lean plush of her inner thigh while your fingers curl and harass her g–spot and thumb her throbbing clit, crooning, "mhm, suck harder baby–nghh, god, yeah. that bloods' for you, all fr'you, wann' you to make me pass out– fuck, please?" while nicking and rolling her nipples around, aching for it to hurt just right. gets so turned on seeing her beady blood dripping when you sheathe your fangs away from the fresh wound, splotching your lip like crimson oil. bonus pointers, loves when you nip her tongue or lip in a heated makeout, then and there leading to what's been divulged above 💗 "fuck me– right now, bite right here, yeah, ooouufuck, good girl~"

and now I wanna turn that into a fic.. 🍓

(img from wh0slivia on pinterest)

EDIT: I WANBA WRITE IT SO BAD NOW GUYS PLEASE TELL ME IM DOING THUS

[tinykonig]

𝔠'𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔢

könig has really pretty hands... you think he deserves to know {reader has a major hand kink- don't we all-, könig has a praise kink and is absolutely obsessed with reader. this is very obviously nsfw 18+ only please and thank you ~this will also be cross-posted to ao3} intentionally lower-case

he is just so intrinsically captivating- everything about him. you never stop noticing him.

the second he walked into base, your throat ran dry when you realized the sheer size of the man. he could swallow you whole. you wanted him to.

you don't wanna say you had ulterior motives when you befriended him- you truly like the guy. he's funny and extremely sweet, and hanging around könig had other benefits. no one dared to mess with you when he was around. the usual chatter of men hitting you up or questioning your position melted into peaceful quiet and the soft sound of könig's voice.

like right now.

"did you hear me?" his voice comes from the edge of your mattress where he has perched himself, undoing the laces on his boots.

you are sitting at the chair to your desk and watching his long, strong fingers work around the dark strings to loosen them from the complicated knots. his hood was flipped back over his helmet revealing his concerned expression

your head snaps up, "no, sorry, big guy. zoned out," you respond, and you hope to god it sounds casual.

"oh, okay." he says awkwardly, pausing his movements to look at your face- slightly rosy and pupils blown- but if he notices he doesn't say anything. "i said i got something for you while i was gone."

your face brightens and you grin at him, his expression quickly mimicking your newly excited one.

he reaches into a pocket on his vest and pulls out something small, then he encases it in his large fist and holds it out in your direction.

“i actually made it,” he clarifies, chuckling at you as you begin to make grabby hands towards him, like an excited child.

you have to hold back a gasp when both of his hands wrap around your much smaller ones. it felt like pure electricity surging from his palms straight to your core.

he drops the object in your open hand and draws away, suddenly looking shy again.

it’s a tiny wooden figurine of your favorite animal. incredibly detailed and tiny and you turn in over in your hands in awe. a lump takes root in the base of your throat. könig never fails to take you by surprise with his thoughtfulness.

“könig i love it,” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice not to break at a normal volume, “it’s so fucking cute.”

“you like it?” you can hear the smile in his voice as he fully takes off his helmet and hood and sets it on your nightstand. he must have worked on taking off his boots fully along with his tac vest because they are now sitting in a neat pile beside the foot of your bed, left now in only his long sleeve black shirt and combat pants. he is visibly more relaxed now as he leans against the headboard.

“of course i do. how did you even make it? its so detailed.”

you love the proud grin that adorns his face.

“i was on night watch. cut out a chunk of wood from the windowsill, and carved using one of my knives. it took like 8 hours.”

you find an empty space on your desk and set the figurine there, shaking your head in disbelief as you turn to look at könig again.

“i accidentally cut my finger when i was carving the eyes,” he said, holding out a hand to you and showing you a superficial nick on his ring finger.

you scoot your chair closer to the bed so you can take his hand into yours and examine the tiny cut. you pout up at him and coo, “awww~ poor baby,”

and then without thinking you raised the finger to your lips and press a soft kiss to the cut. könig’s eyes are open wide and his breathing picked up considerably.

“all better now, right?” you ask teasingly, gaining confidence based off his reaction.

you carded your fingers through his and wait for his response. he surrenders his other hand into your lap as well, almost like he was in a trance

“yes,” he answers breathily.

you hum in response, still toying with the hand you hold in your possession. his hands were warm, you trace some of the scars that litter on his knuckles.

“sorry,” you mumble out the apology, “your hands are just really pretty.” you feel a little embarrassed, but not enough to let go of his hands.

könig makes a noise like he was stifling a cough and shakes his head, “ don’t apologize.” it sounds like a plead, and he makes no moves to remove his hands from your possession.

you make eye contact and recognize the want that pools in his light eyes. you are sure he sees it mirrored in yours as well. it gives you the courage to continue on the precarious path you found yourself walking.

“very pretty hands,” you murmur, “and they are so big,” holding his hand up to yours to display the ridiculous difference in size. he groans ever so lightly, his eyes now hooded under your gaze.

you knew he would never make the first move. it had to be you, and it had to be now.

“i think about your hands a lot, könig.”

your confession hangs in the air like a raincloud before a storm. filled with the promise of something more.

“tell me,” he whimpers lightly, tightening his grip on your hands for the first time this entire time you were holding them.

this is gonna be fun, you thought, grinning while you maneuvered yourself to sit on top of his thighs. you see his adam’s apple bop as he gulps in surprise.

you are still toying with his hands when you glance up at his eyes, “i think about how they would feel when they touch me,” you whisper, knowing he could hear you. he is hanging on to every word.

“touch you…” he breathes in deep, “where?”

you bring his hands under your loose t-shirt and rest them on the bare skin of your waist, keeping your hands on top of his- like you were scared he would move if you didn’t.

“here, for starters,” you respond, and you laugh a little when he presses his fingers into your skin there harder.

“are you ticklish?” he asks, smiling softly.

“just a bit,” you say, moving your hands to bring your shirt up over your head and you throw it on the floor next to the bed, messily in contrast to his perfectly folded pile of gear.

he is trying not to stare, and he is failing miserably. his hands seem to move of their own accord as they trail up your body to your bra-covered breasts.

“mmm,” you hum contentedly, “yes, i think about them touching there too,” reaching up to gently rake your fingers through his slightly shaggy hair. “although im not usually wearing this when i imagine it.”

“can i take it off?” he asks, doe eyes looking to yours for explicit permission.

now you stroke his cheekbone, along a very faint and fading scar. you grant him a nod.

quicker than you expected, he was sliding the straps down your arms and the back was unhooked. you were suddenly feeling extremely exposed, given he was still fully dressed. you tug twice on the front of his own shirt and he pauses his movements on your body to reach for his own shirt.

his torso is so long and sculpted, littered with raised pink scars, a few deeper white ones too that had healed for longer. the freckles on his face continued down his chest and arms you note, extremely pleased with that fact. he was so, so pretty. you wonder if he knows.

while you admire him, he raises his hands back to your now bare breasts and softly cups them. his touch is so gentle, and you can see in his eyes an expression of pure awe and trust.

tentatively you arch into his touch, just to have him press into your skin more. he comes out of his trance and desperation starts to take over. he tweaks a nipple between his two fingers and you moan at the unexpectedness of the action.

“that feels good, könig,” you whimper out, and he does it again. it’s so lovely to see him gain confidence from your words and your reactions. you decide to test something else out, “thats my good boy.”

the reaction is immediate. one of his arms moves to hook around your middle and pull you fully flush to his hips. you gasp at the feeling of him hot and hard under your clothed center.

“can i put my mouth on you?” he asks, and his voice still sounds so innocent and unsure but theres a hint of need creeping in as well.

“you can do anything you want,” you answer, loosing all composure and control you previously had.

he keeps his one hand on your waist, the other playing with your nipple. he brings his mouth to the other one, and you throw your head back and groan at how warm and wet it feels. he gently rolls his tongue around the nipple, biting lightly every few seconds. you’ve never felt so close to cumming from nipple play before, but with könig? everything was heightened.

you grip his hair harder and pull his mouth off you, looking into his eyes and breathily saying, “i haven’t told you where i think about your hands being the most.”

he groans. it’s a sinfully wonderful little noise.

“please,” he chokes out, “please, please tell me,”

you conjure up all the confidence left in your body under his gaze, and stand up and unbutton your pants. his eyes are heavy on your body as you slide them down your legs, and it’s like he cant help himself when he reaches out and runs his hands up and down one of your thighs.

“so soft,” he says, in complete reverence.

you almost feel bad for him when you see how painfully hard he is in his pants. you wonder for a second if his hands were so big, how big could he be there, too…

before sitting back down in his lap, you reach for his own pants to let him know that you wanted those off as well. he obeys you so easily, so eagerly.

he almost looks like he’s been hypnotized when you take your seat back on his lap, less barriers separating you two now. you are sure he can feel how wet you are, its soaked through your thin panties.

he just whimpers, and waits. waiting for you to tell him, like he so kindly asked you to.

so you do.

you grab one of his hands again, and he watches intently as you bring two of his long, thick fingers into your mouth. his jaw goes slack as you slide your tongue over his digits, coating them with your saliva. he lightly thrusts up, like he can’t control himself but he’s trying.

you hum again and release his fingers from your mouth and guide them down to your heat hovering over his clothed dick.

when he slipped past the band of your panties, he broke free of his trance. feeling your wet, throbbing pussy broke something in him and he was on a mission to make you feel as good as he possibly can. he slid his fingers back and forth over your clit and drank in your moans as his kissed you for the first time.

you whisper praises against his mouth, telling him how good he was doing. “better than i could have ever imagined,” you manage to breath out as he strokes you towards your orgasm just by massaging your clit.

every word you said went straight to his core, and it was a need- an absolutely feral need- to feel you cum on his hand.

“inside me,” you moan out, “please, put them inside me.”

his chest and face are burning red with want, and you start to feel bad that you’re the only one being pleasured as he slips two fingers into your pussy. through a bubbling moan in your chest you manage to ask him, “can i touch you, too?”

he looks at you like you just gave him his own personal star from the sky, “god, please” he says, his accent growing even thicker in want.

you pull him out of his boxers and gasp. if you thought his hands were big- this was just unfair. his cock stands tall against his stomach, pale pink and leaking. he is the most beautiful man in your universe, and you tell him.

he moans at your words and bucks his hips into the air. having mercy on him you wrap your hand around him. he rewards you by stroking the spongy part inside you with his two fingers. you start to roll your hips into his hand, and that spurs him on even further.

“c’mon, use me,” he mutters into your ear, “use my hand to make yourself cum. please, i need it so bad.”

you were already embarrassingly close, and his desperate words brought your orgasm crashing over you. your hand strokes his harder and you vaguely register his free hand grabbing your throat to pull your forehead to rest against his as he cums all over your hand and his stomach. you ride out your release on his hand until you can’t take it anymore and stop your movements.

the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. you whine as he removes his hand from you, which makes him chuckle a little. you open your eyes to meet his and he looks so blissful.

you smile back at him tiredly, “later, i’ll have to tell you about how i think about your mouth,” and he laughs his regular, loud laugh that you love. he pulls you into his chest to lay down fully.

“yes, i think you should.” he agrees.