#She just offers them to him while sputtering and he's just nodding his head and weeping | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surielstea · 8 months ago

Text

Friends Don’t Kiss

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Azriel and reader refuse to accept their feelings so Mor and Cassian interfere.

Warnings: Fluff | Slight Angst | Suggestive

5.3k words

The storm outside my large window rattles me awake. I jolt upward at the next clap of thunder, rain sputtering down onto the glass wall so harsh it was as if it might shatter.

My heartbeat picks up as the wind howls intensely on the outside of my walls. I slip from my sheets and walk over to the window, pulling the curtains closed. I jump again when another thunder strike booms, the sound reminding me of an unfortunate event that happened as a child, I could still remember the fear on my mother's face as she anxiously peered out her window whenever a storm rolled in. I didn't know why she was so scared then, but now that I've reached adulthood I realized— the uncertainty of it, the wildness that could kill anyone I love based on a whim, and I'd be able to do nothing about it.

I tremble, deciding sleep would be impossible with how fast my mind was racing. I walk over to my bedroom door, deciding to fetch a glass of water to calm my nerves. But when I open the door I'm met with a figure on the other side, preparing to knock. "Azriel," I begin looking up at him with creased brows. "Hey, you alright?" He asks. He was one of the only people who knew about my fear of storms like these, likely because he was the one I went to when feeling particularly scared.

"I'm fine I just—" My breath hitched as another strike of thunder snapped and a shudder racks through me, my body passive as I wrapped my arms around Azriel's torso and held him close, praying to the mother he'd hold me back. Of course, he does. One of his hands comes to my back while the other weaves into my hair.

"You're okay. Everything's okay." He reassures, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of my head. Another boom and I squeeze him tighter, as if he might disappear from my grasp. "Why don't you come to my room tonight?" He offers and I nod into his chest. He slowly detaches from the hug and I do the same, his fingers finding mine and intertwining them as he pulls me out from the doorway of my bedroom and across the hall.

His room was much larger, as well as his bed— made to fit Illyrian wings. I invite myself onto his mattress, sinking into the plush blankets. I slip beneath them as Azriel slides onto his side of the bed, his arm curling around me before tugging me right into him. I flip around to face him, our legs intertwined and our chests flushed against each other.

"Thank you, Az," I mumble, his hand brushing up my waist to cup my cheek. "You don't have to thank me." He shakes his head. Another crack outside the window but I don't jump, not while in his arms. "Go to sleep, I'll be here if you wake up alright?" He reassured, his tone light. I nod and he kisses the top of my forehead before wrapping both of his arms around me and tucking me into his chest.

I release a soft sigh as I allow myself to melt into his warmth, his chin propped atop my head as I cuddle into him. My heart rate was still rapid but now for an entirely different reason. I hoped he couldn't hear it, or that he'd blame it on the thunder. The last thing I needed at the moment was for him to find out I loved him just as much as I hated storms.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I shift as a certain weight lifts from my torso, and then a familiar warmth disappears and I shiver from the newfound cold. I flip over with an incoherent mumble, reaching to the side of me but not finding Azriel's bare torso, instead my hand comes in contact with a soft pillow. "Good morning, love." A familiar voice hums and I squint my eyes open, spotting Azriel beside the bed staring down at me with a gentle smile on his lips.

"Hi," I mumble tiredly, rubbing at my eyes. I looked to the window where only a sliver of sun was rising over the horizon. "Too early," I grumble, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders. "Come back to bed." I lift the blankets for him, inviting him back into the warm embrace of his mattress but he only chuckles. "I've got a mission." He hums, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair behind my pointed ear. I grab his gloved hand and intertwine our fingers. "Where?" I glance up at him and then down to the mesmerizing siphon on the back of his palm. "Spring court, another meeting with Eris." He sighed and I nodded, tracing my finger around the cobalt gem. "Be safe." I slip my hand from his. "I'll still be in bed when you return." I hum with a cheeky smile and he frowns.

"No goodbye kiss then?" He tilts his head I scoff and gaze up at him, only to realize he's staring straight at me without so much as a hint of amusement on his face. "Oh, you're serious?" I arch a brow. "What if a beast attacks me on my way back?" He gasps theatrically and I roll my eyes before reaching up and grabbing him by the collar, tugging him down. "Shut up you drama queen." I giggle before placing a kiss on the corner of his lips— much closer than I aimed for but my delirium due to exhaustion seemed to take control. "I'll see you when you get home," I murmur as I back away and lie my head back down. "Right, home." He nods, slightly stunned before backing away towards the door.

I flip around to avoid watching him leave and wait until I hear the door click shut. Only then do I allow myself to let out a long sigh, then scream into the pillows, cheeks heating as I curse myself for kissing so damned close to his lips. Azriel and I have been giving each other kisses on the cheek since we were little but this— this was different.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"It was my first time going out with a female and yes, it was just Rita's— but I don't know, I got nervous." Mor ranted as she told me about her date with Emerie. "Mor, there's no need to stress. Emerie is one of the sweetest people I know, I doubt you scared her off." I reassure. "Really?" She looked to me hopelessly and I gave her a soft smile. "I guarantee she hasn't shut up about it all training. I could ask Nesta for the details if you'd like?" I arch a brow. "No!" Mor's palms come down onto the counter with urgency and I startle. She quickly retracts her hands and crosses her arms. "Sorry, just tense about all this." She muttered. I wave her off. "But enough about my love life; I heard you woke up in Azriel's bed this morning?" A knowing grin etched across her dazzling features and I flush. "It wasn't like that." I shake my head, looking down at the sketch in my notepad, we were making a list of where Mor could take Emerie on their next date but I got distracted and started doodling while she told me about her first date.

"If it's not like that, then why are you drawing him over and over again?" Mor leans over to peer down at the paper. My eyes snap down and I notice how all of the portraits were in fact of Azriel. Every single one. Gods, I was embarrassing.

I tore the paper from the notepad and crumpled it up before tossing it in the trash. "Hey! Those were good." Mor pouts. "Those looked nothing like him." I cross my arms.

I've tried to draw Azriel a multitude of times, but something was always off. How do you draw someone so perfect? It seemed utterly impossible. I couldn't even get his eyes right. His perfect hazel eyes—"Hey," Mor snaps her fingers in front of my face and I jump, looking up at her. "You're daydreaming again." She hums and I roll my eyes, closing my sketchbook and placing my pencil down. "Tell me about him." She props her elbows onto the counter and leans into her hands. "I know you want to." She gives me a smirk and she wasn't wrong.

"There's nothing to tell," I say evasively, if I talk about him I face my desires and I wasn't interested in taking my feelings for Azriel anywhere past a crush.

"Oh please, you guys have been ogling at each other since before our hundreds," She looks at me pointedly and I shrug. "I can't understand why you don't just confess," She slides into the barstool next to me. "He doesn't see me like that," I mutter and she deadpans, wondering if I was serious or not. "Don't be ridiculous, it's obvious from the way he looks at you." She hums and I perk up. "How does he look at me?" My eyebrows twitch together.

"Like you're everything." She smiles, leaning back into her chair. "No. We're just friends." I wave her off. "I'm not ruining a friendship because of the way he looks at me." I mock and she groans, flopping onto the counter dramatically. "Just confess already, what's the worst that'll happen?" She sighs.

"He’s so repulsed by even the idea that he never speaks to me again, instead he goes to Rhys and manages to get me kicked out of Velaris where I'll never be able to see any of you ever again." I rant in an all too quick tone. Mor just marvels at me. "You've thought a lot about this," She whistled lowly and I nodded. "I would've confessed a long time ago if I thought it a good idea," I murmur and her eyes widen with a new plan. "What if you don't have to confess." She sits up. "I already don't." I stare at her blankly. "But what if we can get him to confess." She raises her brows tauntingly.

"That won't work." I scoff. She gives me a dedicated smile. "Azriel is the most protective male I know, even more so than Rhys, if you tell him you take an interest in someone he'll have to confess." She reasons. "No, he'll say he's happy for me while he's drowning in his own self-pity," I argue and she clamps her mouth shut because she knows I'm right. "What if it's someone he doesn't like?" She arches a brow and I sit up, intrigued. "When Nesta danced with Eris, Cassian was ready to rip his head off." Mor hums. "You want me to make him jealous by talking about Eris?" I look at her with creased brows. "That's exactly what I want." Mor hums. I look to Feyre who's sat at the couch, staring at me like this is the best entertainment she's gotten in weeks.

"Fine," I hum and Mor squeals while Feyre claps her hands excitedly. "What's the worst that could happen?"

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"C'mon Az, of course she likes you back." Cassian grumbles during the journey back to the House of Mist. Azriel could've winnowed them but thought it'd be nice to fly with his brother. He wouldn't have taken Cassian up on the offer if he knew he'd start interrogating him.

"I already told you, I'm not talking about this with you." Azriel reminded and Cassian dramatically groaned. "Well, I'm talking to you." Cassian defended. "I think you should confess—" Cassian begins before getting gusted with a particularly strong wind from the flap of a wing, Azriel leaving him in the dust as he shot forward.

"Gods, you're childish," Cassian grumbled before quickly catching up with his brother.

"Avoiding your problems won't help you!" Cassian called and the shadow singer didn't so much as glance at him. "I'm just saying you ought to confess before she gets swooped up by someone else," Cassian explains and Azriel's wings stutter at the idea.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The shadow singer's head whipped towards his brother, who only shrugged. "She'll get bored if you keep dragging her on like this." Cassian hummed like he knew all the answers to the universe. "No one is going to swoop her up." Azriel scoffed but held some determination in his tone, like this is now his mission. "Sure they won't." Cassian droned before dipping down towards the House.

"Do you think someone will?" Azriel chased him, quick to follow the male. "If I say yes will you be that someone?" Cassian presumes and Azriel pales, sealing his lips. Their conversation is cut short as Cassian dives down and lands on the platform of House of Mist. Azriel quickly follows to do the same.

I was in the dining room with Nesta, the both of us reading our separate books as we sat in front of our untouched plates. The two Illyrians came into the room with a volume I hadn't expected. Nesta rolled her eyes and continued flipping through her book while I marked my page and shut the novel, my eyes going over to the blue-siphoned male.

"Hey," I smile at both of them but only Cassian replies with his greeting. "I made dinner, it's on the counter," I say and Cassian swiveled on his heel and beelined for the kitchen. "You're a savior," The lord of bloodshed voiced as he passed by you, then Nesta, and kissed her on the crown of her head.

Azriel approached me, bending down and placing a kiss on my cheek. I smile and look up at him as he analyzes the book in my lap.

"Another romance?" He arches a brow, I shrug innocently. "It's more than just a romance," I argue and he shakes his head lightly. "You're right, it's also pure smut." Azriel hummed as he flipped through the pages and I slammed down the cover onto the table, Nesta made a hum of amusement but didn't say anything. "You could learn a lot from these books," I say matter-of-factly and he looked at me curiously, standing to his full height over me. I blink up at him as he leans his hip on the high table and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Like how to get a girlfriend." I intone and he rolls his eyes with a scoff. "Or how to correctly pleasure a female," I add and he arches a brow at me, Illyrian pride coursing through him. "You think I don't know how to pleasure a female?" Azriel said coolly, Nesta nearly spat out her water. "I think you're cocky for a fumbling bat." I quip and a vicious smile curves his lips before he leans down and kisses my jaw. "I better get to reading then." He purrs deathly close to my ear before leaving the room.

Nesta looked at me wide-eyed like I'd gone insane. "Have you two fucked?" She whispers as soon as he leaves the room and I shake my head no, a pink tinge staining my cheeks.

"Not yet." Nesta chuckled as she fanned herself with her book dramatically. I giggled and dug into my meal. "How's training been going?" I ask and she sets her book down, deciding to pick up her fork as well. "It'd be better if Emerie would shut up about Mor for five seconds," Nesta grumbled as she stabbed a piece of meat particularly hard. "Why did we think it'd be a good idea to set them up?" She sighed and I smiled, happy that the two girls were equally obsessed with each other.

"I miss you guys," I frown. "I should start coming to training again." I mutter and she gives me a small smile. "I'd like that."

Azriel didn't come to dinner, perhaps made himself a plate then did find a Sellyn Drake novel to read. Knowing the bastard, I knew he would. Cassian however did come trudging in with a giant plate filled with the food I made, some of his favorites. Every bite had him groaning, Nesta kicking him beneath the table at the excessive noise so I took that as my queue to leave.

I collected my dishes and dumped them into the sink before padding down the hall and breezing by Azriel's room, peaking my head in but he wasn't to be found.

"Snooping?" A voice makes me jump and I whirl around to face the quiet spymaster. "Stop doing that." I place a hand on my rapid heartbeat and he smiles at me proudly. "It scares you, every time." He brushes past me into his room and I follow. "And it stopped being funny the first time," I grumble, closing the door of his bedroom behind me.

He took a seat at his desk, most likely to finish up some paperwork so I slid into his bed, looking out at the window as I picked at my nails, watching the flow of the sidra from so many feet above. Lying on my stomach and swaying my feet back and forth with a soft hum, shadows swirling around me to the tune.

I spot the pleasure hall along the river bank, its dark lights beaming its sign. "I want to go to Rita's" I mutter and he turns in his stool to look at me. "Whys that?" He asks and I flip onto my back, sitting up to face him. "I want to have fun." I shrug. Was I seriously going to try and get him to confess now? "Fun," He verbalizes like he's never heard the word before. "I haven't been with a male in a while, Az." I sigh. A long while.

"Well, none of those guys are worth your time." Azriel hummed, turning back around and returning to his work. "Then who is?" I prod, hoping he'd say him, praying he'd just admit how he felt. "I don't know, someone of higher propriety." He shrugs, I get up from the bed and walk over to his deskside.

What I was about to say next would end our friendship, for the worse or the better. "Someone like Eris?" I ask, hoping he couldn't hear how fast my heart rate was picking up. His writing halts and he freezes.

"What?" He looks up at me with pure confusion.

"Eris has a higher propriety, and he's more than interested." I hum. "Are you?" His brows crease. "Interested?" He adds and I smirk. "Would that bother you?" I tilt my head. "No, I just— I think you could find better people to kiss." He evaded and I suppressed a sigh. Why couldn't he confess, just say what he truly wants? He couldn't seem to read my hypocritical thoughts.

"I'm sorry Az I'll make sure to come to you before dropping my panties" I joke but he seems to take it all too personally. "that's not what I meant. I just—" He cuts himself off from saying something he'd regret. "You just what?" I narrow my eyes at him. He looks at me with tight lips like he knows what I'm trying to do. "Spit it out." I prompt with a taunting smile.

"I just don't want you crawling back to me when he's done using you." He finally admitted and my smile faltered.

"Crawling back to you? What am I some kind of burden?" I scoffed at him, I wasn't acting anymore. "No, love I didn't mean it like that—" He reaches for my wrist but I jolt back. "How else could you have meant it?" I mutter, my brows tense as my eyes begin to burn with tears. "I just don't want you to get hurt by someone you think loves you." He tries to explain.

"Too late," I murmur before exiting his room and going right into my room, he chases after me but I slam my door closed, shutting him out.

I lean back against my door, a shaky sigh racking through me as I wait for his footsteps to recede to his room. He doesn't take long, cursing himself before leaving the hall and slamming his own door shut. I release a soft breath and drag my feet to my bed, plopping down onto the mattress in defeat.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, silent tears slipped down my cheeks and I didn't bother wiping them away, just let them drip down onto my pillow. I don't want you crawling back to me. A shudder runs through me at the voice in my head and I tuck tighter into a ball, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders. And even if I was mad at him, I couldn't help but wish I was in his warm bed instead of my cold one.

__________

The next few days were quiet. I hadn't realized how much Azriel was weaved into my daily routine until I started going out of my way to avoid him. Luckily he left for a mission halfway through the afternoon, which relieved me. Still, it felt wrong not to wish him good luck with a kiss on the cheek, not to even spare him a glance as he left.

I haven't stopped thinking about what he said, a different emotion consuming me each time I thought about it again. Usually, it was anger, but sometimes remorse for even pushing his buttons in the first place. I don't even want Eris yet I knew it'd make him mad, I wanted to see him jealous, anything to show that he wanted me and that this wasn't one-sided. I suppose I got what I wanted in the end.

It was sunset now and all I've done today was read through an entire novel to distract myself from my real issues. So I sat on my bed and watched through my windows, the wind howled as clouds rolled over the stars. I suppressed a sigh as I realized a storm would be coming tonight. Azriel isn't home yet, and as much as I wanted to avoid him, I also found myself hoping he got back before it started to rain.

I shifted up to my pillows, perhaps I could find sleep before the thunder began, hoping I would dream through it, I pulled the blankets up to my neck and allowed my bones to sink into the mattress. No tears came tonight but I wasn't hurt by Azriel's words any longer, just mourning the loss of his conversation, his touch, or even his presence at all.

I managed to slip into a light slumber, exhausted from all too much thinking.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Thunder boomed and I jerked upright, my fingers clenching the sheets as my breath began to quicken. Another ear-shrieking crack. I shudder, holding back a gasp and clasping my shaky hand over my mouth. I close my eyes and pray for the storm to go away. Another flash of light outside my window and I'm quick to press my palms to my ears, it does little to shut out the noise but at least I knew it was coming.

I wasn't going to be able to sleep now that I'd already gotten a few hours. I hoped Azriel got home safely, that he didn't get stranded halfway through the storm and had to seek shelter in an unknown court. I wished he was at my door, that he'd be there ready to comfort me if I needed him. But I knew better than to have false hope.

The whole point of all this was to avoid ruining our friendship, but now I'm sitting here with my hands to my ears and a broken friendship.

I perk up, the realization hits that there was no point in avoiding my feelings and that our friendship was already ruined. If we're going to never speak to each other again I'd rather know than stay in the dark.

Before I can talk myself out of it I slip from my sheets, jumping slightly as another loud crash sounds outside my window. I get to the door but as soon as my hand rests on the handle a knock sounds, a specific knock I recognize as only one person. I freeze. Dread fills me. I understood I was just on the way to see him but now he was outside my door and suddenly I was thinking again, talking myself out of opening this door.

I contemplate my options, fingers pressed to my lips as I remain utterly quiet. A loud crack has a small gasp leaving my lips and there's no way he didn't hear it. So I'm forced to open the door. I don't dwell on my choices and quickly swing the door open, looking up at him and clenching the hem of my nightgown in my fist, fiddling with it in anxiety.

His brows are drawn and his lips seem to be in a permanent frown, bags under his eyes as evidence of his lack of sleep. "I'm sorry." He says through a breath he seemed to be holding. "What I said was inexcusable, I just was so upset at the thought of you being with someone else." He admits, then suddenly clamps his mouth shut like even he didn't expect himself to say that."No, I'm sorry." I shake my head. His brows knit together in confusion.

"What could you be sorry for?" He frowns. "I don't want Eris I just, I was trying to make you jealous," I confess. His eyes soften, and then he releases a light, solemn chuckle. "I'm sorry for something else too," I fiddle with the doorknob and he tilts his head inquisitively. "What's that?" He asks. I rise onto my toes and cup his jaw before pressing my lips to his. I backed away as quickly as I came. He blinks at me, utterly shocked.

"Sorry for not doing that sooner." I profess and then his gaze turns into something much softer. He steps forward, past the threshold of my room, his large hands coming to my neck and waist as he pulls me towards him, his lips catching mine and I melt into him.

The kiss is everything I dreamed of like electric shocks running from the tips of my fingers to my toes. He leaned down, kissing me deeper, he needed more. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer. He smiles against my lips at the action and I can't help but mirror the expression.

"Fuck, I missed you." He hummed and I giggled, pecking his lips between words, just because I could.

"I missed you too." I grin wildly, then jolt when a bolt of thunder strikes down. His arms wrap around me tighter and I press my chest to his, the warmth more comforting than anything else. "Want to sleep in my room tonight?" He arches a brow and I smile up at him, then nod with a bright expression. He mirrors my features, his dimples creasing his cheeks and I marvel at the sight. He picks me up from under my thighs and my legs wrap around his torso.

I peck a line of kisses up his jaw as he carries me through the hallway and into his room, leaning back against it to shut it. I hum mindlessly before kissing his lips again, drunk on the taste of them. Wanting to do it all the time now that I had the option. I backed away, looking at him as he stared at me in an utter daze, a soft smile on his face as he observed my every move. "You're so pretty." I admire, brushing a finger across his cheekbone. "I was just thinking the same thing about you." He looks into my eyes and I flush, then his eyes flick back down to my lips and I take the hint, coming closer and resting my mouth against his once more, slotting to him like two ends of a puzzle, savoring the feel as he filled every empty pit and crevice of desperation inside of me.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I awoke with bleary vision, squinting my eyes open and resting them upon the sunrise outside. Dawn creeps over the mountains in pink and purple hues. A weight rests along my waist, tugging me closer unconsciously until I'm pressed up against a familiar chest. I smile wildly as I remember the events of last night and flip around to look up at a half-awake Azriel.

"Morning, love." He hums, I've heard the deep tone of his morning voice hundreds of times before but none of those compared to this moment. "G'morning." I look up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning forward, and pressing a gentle kiss to his sensuous lips. "I could get used to this." He mumbled and I backed away with a chuckle, snuggling into his chest and releasing a soft sigh.

He rolls over onto his back, his wings adjusting beneath me as he pulls me up on top of his chest. "Do you have any missions today?" I ask him, propping my head up on his sternum as he looks down at me through his lashes. "My schedule is clear." He informs, fingers tracing up and down from my waist to my hips, spanning the distance with his large scarred hands.

"Just for me?" I teased with a head tilt and he nodded. "Just for you." He confirms before I settle my lips back onto his, gods I couldn't get enough of how perfect it felt like we were two sides of a magnet meant to be pressed together, couldn’t be torn apart without the utmost force.

The door to the bedroom opens and shadows swirl around us. "Hey Az do you—" Cassian begins as he invites himself into the room. "How many times do I have to tell you to knock Cassian!" Azriel shouted at his brother, throwing a pillow at him. The general caught it with ease, his eyes practically glowing with excitement.

"I'm not sorry." Cassian proudly shakes his head. "We could've been fucking." Azriel mutters sourly, his wings coming to wrap around me. I was only in my nightgown, nothing Cass hadn't seen before but now that Azriel had the right to be overprotective he was going to use it.

"You say that like we didn't use to fuck different girls in the same room when we were in Windhaven." Cassian reminds him pointedly, another pillow is thrown at him and I giggle because this time it actually hits him.

"What do you want?" Azriel demands, eager to return to kissing. "Do you have any bandaids? I have a paper cut." He held up his pinky which had a small nick in it. I tilt my head at him, confused as to how some of the greatest warriors couldn't lay a finger on him yet here he stood defeated by a paper cut.

"In the bathroom cabinet under the sink." Azriel waves him off, shadows guiding the male to the door as he flips the both of us over, his hips coming to rest between my thighs, his head stuffed into my chest. "Have fun you two!" Cassian calls and I snicker as shadows slam the door closed on him.

"Bastard," Azriel grumbles into my breasts and I look down at him with an amused look. My hands go into his hair, pulling his head back to look at me. His hands trace incoherent shapes on my thighs, his gaze catching mine. "What are we?" He asks and I grin down at him. "Friends." I taunt.

"Friends don't kiss." He shakes his head, leaning down and pressing his lips onto mine.

"I'm only kidding." My hands come up to his cheeks, thumbs rubbing his sharp cheekbones as he stills a mere centimeter away. "I've been reading those romance books," He admits. "Oh really?" I arch a brow and he nods. "I think I learned how to get a girlfriend." He admits and I smile at the recall. "Did you learn how to properly pleasure a female too?" I taunt, coiling my fingers in his hair as he watches me attentively before replying, "Would you like to find out?"

Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glam-targaryen @going-through-shit @fauxdette @impossibelle @amara-moonlight @webecheesy-blog @sarawritestories

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#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #azriel #acomaf #request #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #fem reader #reader insert #fluff #writing #suriels tea #bat boys

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em1e · 2 years ago

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⠀ ⠀わかさ // BABY SITTER'S CLUB ⠀ ༝ ༝ wakasa imaushi [ft. cousin!sano's/black dragons] ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.2k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ some drinking ! ⠀ — shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after.

you think you might’ve been doomed from the start.

shinichiro didn’t specify what you’d need to babysit your younger cousins for, just that he was desperate because his grandpa was out of town and none of his friends could be trusted to actually watch them. you could almost hear him falling to his knees to beg over the phone.

you like to think you’re a nice person. generous and caring, and you haven’t seen mikey or emma in a while anyways, so there was no real harm in saying yes. taking every penny from his wallet was a plus, too.

you get to their house right when he tells you, almost tackled by emma who is saying something about having a sleepover in the living room with a pillowfort in the mix the second you’ve finished slipping off your shoes, and you catch a glance of mikey pouting to his older brother while emma drags you further into the house.

“(y/n)’s gonna take good care of you guys, don’t sweat it.” shinichiro pats mikey’s head with a hum, then turns to you, “left some money on the counter for pizza or something if you want, but there’s food in the fridge too if you wanna cook. ‘m gonna be in my room for a bit before i have to leave, but i’ll prob’ly be home way after you guys are asleep.”

you offer a nod, setting your overnight bag in a corner of the living room, “s’okay, i’ll probably need a ride home tomorrow though, if that’s alright.”

“not a problem - thanks for coming, i really appreciate it-”

he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open, a man with a long scar going over one of his eyes coming in like he owns the place, with two kids running past his legs to greet your younger cousins. he drops their bags by yours, stretching and popping his back as if carrying them was the worst thing in the world before his eyes find your own wide ones, unlit cigarette between his teeth while he takes you in.

“you’re the babysitter, right? sanzu, senju, come introduce yourselves. ‘m takeomi.” he offers his hand, and he must be confused by your bewildered stare, because he takes his hand back and looks to your older cousin, “they okay shin?”

you whirl around to glare at him, completely appalled by his apologetic stare. “surprise?”

“you did not tell me i’d be watching four kids!”

shinichiro is quick for damage control, gesturing towards takeomi, “he’s gonna pay what i am, promise!”

takeomi looks surprised at this news, opening his mouth to argue, but deciding against it from the look shinichiro gives. he fishes out his wallet, counting out some money and offering it to you. you eye it, then him, then shinichiro. your cousin clears his throat, jutting his thumbs upwards as a sign for more. takeomi sputters, pulling out all the cash he has and placing it in your open hand.

“i am not a daycare.” your eyes narrow between them, pointed look enough to have shinichiro humming nervously. you shove the cash in your wallet, finally acknowledging the two new additions to your entourage.

“i’m senju! this is my brother sanzu.” the girl says, hands on her brother's shoulders as she pushes him forward.

“i’m (y/n).” you smile, and sanzu looks away from you before escaping his sister’s hold and scurrying back to mikey.

shinichiro and takeomi whisper between themselves while you and emma start gathering blankets from around the house, before shinichiro calls out, “okay, we’ll be out here for a bit! you’ll probably hear us leaving soon!”

“see ya.” you call back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you help senju put blankets on to chairs and set pillows over them to keep them in place. the door shuts, and you’re left alone with no one over the age of 10.

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

shinichiro honestly expected you to come barrelling into his room far sooner than you did.

takeomi sat to his right on the couch, benkei to his left, and wakasa sat on the table in front of them. your soft knock was barely audible, but it made shinichiro pause in his talk about black dragon, turning to face it when you open it slowly and peek into the room.

“what’s up?” he asks, standing when you make your way further in.

“i just wanted to make sure sanzu and senju weren’t allergic to anything.” you look past him, to takeomi, who takes a long drag of his cigarette before shaking his head.

“not that i know of.”

“emma and mikey?” you’re looking at him now, head tilted slightly.

“nothin’.” he confirms, “you gonna make somethin’?”

“mhm.” you scan the room, eyes glossing over each of his friends, before they settle on one person for a second, then you’re turning on your heel to go back to the kids, “i’ll put some leftovers in the fridge if you want.”

he snickers, despite having no idea what could’ve had you leaving so quickly, “sounds good, thank you!”

the click of the door fills the air as you leave, and silence washes over the group before wakasa sighs.

“okay, i’ll bite. who was that.”

shinichiro turns slowly, acknowledging his friend for a second, and takeomi answers before he has a chance to open his mouth, “(y/n). babysitter of the night and thief of all the cash in my wallet.”

“they stole from you?” benkei laughs, the idea almost comedic.

“not directly,” takeomi’s eyes narrow to shinichiro, “but they are definitely making a pretty penny tonight.”

“and dealing with your monsters of siblings,” wakasa sighs out a puff of smoke, “it’s easy money well-earned.”

“think i could pay enough for ‘em to babysit me-”

takeomi gets hit in the back of the head by a shoe, jolting forward while shinichiro gathers the matching pair to slide onto his foot. “that’s enough of that, you guys ready to go or you wanna fantasize ‘bout my cousin all night?”

“cousin?” takeomi scoffs, throwing the shoe back to him. he slides it on then goes for his bike keys, “thought the attractive gene skipped over your generation.”

“more like skipped over you. we leavin’ or what?”

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

you heard their bikes take off about two hours ago, finished feeding the kids right after that, and got everyone changed into their pjs in record time. babysitters around the world wish they had your skillset. it takes a bit to get them to quiet down into the fort you’ve created, but with the promise of tv and a snack before bed, they’re hooked.

it’s a surprise when the guys stumble in through the front door with the smell of alcohol following them, benkei supporting most of shinichiro’s weight with a nasty bruise on his cheek. wakasa follows behind the two of them, remnants of a bloody nose still flaked lightly under his nostril, and . . . you look between the three, making sure your headcount is accurate.

“aren’t you guys missing one?”

the men look between each other, then out the door as if he was waiting outside, then back to each other.

“oh.”

“oh?” you parrot, “the hell happened to you guys?”

“oniichan’s face is messed up.” one by one, the kids pop out from the blankets to see their siblings and friends alike. emma pouts, tugging on your arm, “he promised no more fighting (y/n), can you believe it.”

mikey almost laughs at his brother, “like he ever could, you know how he likes to pick fights.”

“where’s ‘omi?” senju rubs her eyes as a yawn slips past her lips, and sanzu nudges her shoulder.

“maybe he got arrested.”

she stiffens at the thought, suddenly very awake and pulling on your other arm, “he isn’t really is he? he’s just sayin’ that?”

your eyes narrow at the three men for riling up the kids right when you were getting them ready to sleep.

“out.” you point towards the garage door, gently pulling your arms from emma and senju and shoving wakasa by the shoulders when no one moves.

“what’d i do?” he whines out, eyes not leaving you as you grab benkei by the wrist and drag him in the same direction.

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles, being pulled along by his friend.

you open the door for them and push them one by one into shinichiro’s room, ignoring the complaints from each of them while benkei gives an apologetic smile. he closes the door for you, and you’re left consoling senju while trying to get everyone back into the fort as if it will help get them to sleep faster.

and it almost works, shrek playing on the tv with sanzu’s head resting on your shoulder.

the door swings open, and each of you startle at the sudden sound, takeomi’s voice loud while he complains about being left by his dearest friends. you climb out of the fort to glare at him, and senju lets out a small omi! before you’re grabbing him by the ear and dragging him to the garage door. you push it open and all but shove him into the room, completely ignoring the whines he gives about his poor tortured ear.

“stay.” you threaten, glaring at each of them like they’re dogs who just won’t listen, and not one of them can find it in themselves to argue from the way you’re looking at them.

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles again, once the door is shut and his safety is secured as you retreat.

an hour passes and takeomi sips idly on a lukewarm beer shinichiro keeps in his room, pout still very evident, while wakasa lights a cigarette. benkei breaks any leftover silence with a grumbling stomach.

“‘m kinda hungry. we never stopped at the store like we said we would.” he scratches his cheek, looking to his friends in hopes of a solution.

“(y/n) did say they made somethin’ for dinner, didn’t they?” takeomi sits up slightly from his slouched position, thinking dreamily about what you could’ve made.

“you wanna risk goin’ into the house?” wakasa takes a drag from his cigarette.

“it’s my house.” shinichiro stands, repeating that phrase for the third time in one hour. it’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself it’s okay.

it’s decided then shinichiro would go in, grab something quick, and be back in his room before you notice he’s even there. hoping time would be on his side, since it is very late, maybe you’ll be sound asleep and he won’t really need to be as sneaky as he’s planning. the plan falls apart very quickly at the seams, realizing the door that connects his room inside the house is locked from the otherside. he silently curses you, trying to turn the lock one more time in case his first attempt just wasn’t right, then sighs.

“gotta go through the front door.”

his friends watch with amused grins, wondering if maybe you’ve completely cut all contact with them until the morning, as shinichiro goes out the side door that leads to the front porch. he thanks whatever god is out there that the door is unlocked, opening so, so slowly to ensure it doesn’t make a creak, and slides into the room as quietly as possible.

quiet, until he knocks into the umbrella holder right beside the door. it falls with a clatter, and he can see you sit up slightly from your spot on the couch, hissing out a ‘shh’ while sanzu in your lap makes a noise of complaint in his sleep. he places it back as it was with a wince.

“the hell are you doin’?” you whisper scream, barely able to turn your body in fear of waking up the boy you’ve had to constantly pat to keep asleep.

“we just-”

“no. no ‘we’. if you wake up these kids, i swear-”

“okay! okay, okay, okay, you win.” he grumbles something under his breath that has your eyes narrowing at him in the dark, and he inhales sharply before going back to his friends.

attempt one : failed.

shinichiro arrives back to the gang empty handed and dejected at losing so easily.

and his friends have the audacity to laugh at him.

“an umbrella holder? shouldn’t you know that house like the back of your hand?” wakasa almost snorts, holding his stomach at the fact that something so small did him in.

“i do!” he assures, “one of the kids must’ve moved it closer to the door or something.” he explains in vain, “and i don’t see any of you guys stepping up to try.”

takeomi claps a hand on benkei’s shoulder, shaking him slightly after, “benkei’s my vote, he’s the one that brought up food in the first place.”

“i didn’t know we’d have to become ninjas to eat.” he argues, “besides, i’m the biggest here, what makes you think i’ll do any better?”

he makes a good case, but the idea of you whisper-yelling at someone twice your size almost makes shinichiro laugh. “i agree with takeomi, i think you should try.”

“i can’t believe you guys are plotting against me.” he looks to wakasa, who just shrugs and offers no help. so, with a sigh, he stands, taking the beer takeomi had been nursing, and chugs what’s left while ignoring the complaints that follow.

he goes out the same way shinichiro did, opens the door as quietly as he can, and . . . bumps into the same. fucking. umbrella holder. with the warning in mind. you whip around to glare, curses on your tongue as you take in benkei, who looks so sorry, it has the words dying on your lips. the two of you stare at each other for all of five seconds, before he’s wordlessly picking the holder back up, placing it where it was, and closing the door behind him.

attempt two : failed.

benkei returns to the group just as empty handed as his captain, just as dejected.

“couldn’t even get through the door.” he sighs, waving off the laughter that follows.

“they say anything to you?” wakasa snickers, offering benkei another beer. he takes it gratefully, chugging it easily and shaking his head.

“i kicked the umbrella holder,” louder laughter surrounds him, “didn’t even say anything. we just stared at each other and i left.”

“we’re never gonna eat at this rate.” shinichiro groans, “why is this so hard?”

“they aren’t even that scary,” takeomi hums, ear incident long forgotten, while putting out the remainder of his cigarette before standing, “i’ll show you guys how it’s done.”

takeomi is so self-assured, so confident that it doesn’t matter if he fucks up. he’s a smooth-talker, through and through. surely, if you get upset, he can just talk it out. that’s what these idiots don’t understand.

with that in mind, he takes the same route as the others. he decides, maybe their flaw is in opening the door so slowly. that must be why they keep kicking the umbrella holder. they let it sneak up on them, too worried about the wrong thing to even notice it. he pushes the door open with no regard to how loud he is, taking a step past the frame and cursing when he kicks the one thing he was meant to avoid.

it clatters across the floor, and he hears a groan from sanzu, both from the sound and from you shifting to face him.

“d-didn’t mean to-” he stutters out, and your glare hardens when he makes no attempt to keep his voice down.

“so help me god, if you do not go back to the garage right now you are going to wish you never met me.”

he audibly gulps, bowing his head while apologies fall off his lips. you throw a pillow in his direction, and he takes that as a sign to bounce, not bothering to pick up the umbrella holder like the past two attemptees.

attempt three : failed.

takeomi comes back, head still high with nothing in his hands, and the laughter that erupts is infectious.

“they threatened me! me!!” he explains desperately, “and it worked!”

shinichiro really thinks they should’ve just gone to a twenty-four hour store at this point, but each attempt seems to be funnier than the last. he turns to wakasa, who sips on a beer from the couch. he catches his eye, and shakes his head.

“nuh uh, no way am i going in there after all of that.”

“you’re the only one that hasn’t!” shinichiro argues, “and technically, you’re the one least likely to get caught! being the smallest and all . . . “ his voice trails off, and the comment has wakasa’s eyes narrowing to slits.

“i’m not even that hungry, it’s you guys who are so desperate.”

“it’s only fair you try, too.” benkei grumbles, still not over the look you gave him when he first walked in.

four of the toughest delinquents in tokyo, arguing about fairness. out of fear for their leader's younger cousin, no less. it’s laughable. wakasa grumbles profanities under his breath, almost certain this will end with you leaving shinichiro’s house with an attempted murder charge.

“fine, but if i come outta there alive, you guys owe me.”

“not if you come back empty handed.” takeomi opens another beer, plopping his ass back down on the couch, “careful, they have sanzu in their lap. that kid’ll be the reason they snap.”

wakasa takes the warning with a grain of salt, sure that the four of them bothering you is the real reason for your aggravation. with a sigh, he’s left walking to the front door and opening it quietly. you’re already glaring holes where he stands and he hasn’t even had a chance to do anything wrong.

“what could you guys possibly want so badly?” you ask through clenched teeth, and wakasa’s hands come up defensively, closing the door behind him and very aware of the umbrella holder takeomi left in the middle of the floor.

“we’re just hungry.” he assures, stepping past the couch towards the kitchen, “be in and out before you can notice.”

he stumbles slightly in his drunken state, and it has you heaving a sigh and slowly peeling yourself from under sanzu. you carefully place a blanket over him, and follow wakasa to the kitchen, finger pressed to your lips to make sure he knows to keep quiet.

wakasa is already shuffling through the fridge, hoping to find something quick and easy so he isn’t in your hair for any longer than he needs to be, but you’re pulling him back gently by his upper arm and grabbing something in a tupperware container.

“i made rice with some vegetables and beef i found in the freezer,” you say softly, and wakasa wonders for a second if you’re always soft spoken or if it’s because you’re trying your best to be quiet.

you pop the lid off and move to reheat what you made, leaning against the counter as the microwave counts down.

“what’d you guys do for you to earn that?” you nod towards him, and despite not directly saying what, wakasa knows you’re talking about his previously bloodied nose.

absentmindedly, he taps at his nostril, honestly having forgotten to even clean what blood was there. “fight.” he says dumbly, and the simplicity of it has you giggling. he thinks he really likes that sound.

he watches intently when you grab a paper towel, dampening it with the sink water, then so very gently cup his cheek to tap at the blood to clean it. if he had any shame, he knows his face would be flushed right now. instead, he grins, eyes half-lidded while he absorbs your focused expression.

“you’re awfully sweet on me, huh?” the comment has your own cheeks dusting pink, but your reply comes by you squeezing his cheek tighter.

“quit movin’, makin’ this harder than it needs to be.”

by the time you’re finished, the microwave is seconds away from going off, and you drop both the paper towel and his face in favor of making sure the timer doesn’t have a chance to sound, stopping it right at :01. wakasa finds himself missing your touch, but the thought is lost when the smell of food hits. maybe he was hungrier than he thought.

he grabs a plate for himself, piling a portion onto it and groaning when it hits his tongue.

“you made this?” he finds himself asking, despite you literally explaining the fact that you did not even five minutes ago. you hum out a reply, already in the process of getting other plates and utensils for his friends.

“‘s very good.” he grins when he’s finished, “thanks for takin’ care of me.” he eyes you lazily, grin growing bigger when he sees that the pink dusting your cheeks spreads.

“don’t mention it,” you mumble, pushing the plates and now warm food to him, “should probably take these to them before they starve.”

“let ‘em.” he says with such confidence, it has a giggle passing your lips. he wants to hear that more. he pulls himself onto the counter with such ease, it makes you wonder how drunk he really is.

“so who’d you guys fight?” you lean against the counter beside him, tapping at his knee as if his undivided attention wasn’t already fully on you.

“some idiots,” he waves dismissively, “heard from people at the bar we're inna gang and started shit talking shinichiro.”

you grin, “he take the first swing?”

he mirrors your smile, and fuck does he look pretty when he does, “damn right. got socked right after,” he taps his cheek, “everyone was fightin’ after that. benkei had to drag us out ‘fore the cops came.”

“who hit you?” you muse, head tilting slightly.

“some random that followed us outta the bar.” his grin only widens at the memory, “shoulda seen the other guy.”

“i can only imagine.” you push yourself from the counter when a head of pink hair peeks around the corner, eyes widening slightly when they meet yours before he scurries back to the living room.

wakasa’s eyes follow your movements when you leave him alone in the kitchen, in favor of going back to sanzu who can’t seem to stay asleep without your comforting touch. in his inebriated state, he finds himself following behind you. in the time it took him to make that decision, you’ve already gotten comfortable on the couch with sanzu’s head in your lap. you rub his back idly, and he catches the faintest whisper of you asking if he had another bad dream, sees the way sanzu’s head barely moves with a nod.

it’s really domestic, seeing how well you’re taking care of a kid you didn’t even know about hours before, and wakasa finds himself almost jealous of the 9 year old. what a cockblock, coming in when he was reeling you into the conversation.

instead of voicing these concerns, he finds himself clambering on the other end of the couch, feet tucked neatly under him and looking at you.

“hi,” you whisper with a small laugh, “don’t you have a delivery to make?”

he waves off the suggestion with a hum, “they shoulda came on their own - kept tellin’ horror stories ‘bout you being mean, but i think they’re just scaredy cats.”

“that so?” you muse, and sanzu shifts closer to you when wakasa leans over him to get a better look at your smile.

“mhm,” half-lidded eyes scan over you, and he can honestly forget about the boy between the two of you easily with the way you’re looking back at him, “think maybe they can’t handle you like i can.”

you offer another giggle, putting a finger against his forehead when he invades too much of sanzu’s space, “i think you should tell me this sober.”

“i’d tell you it everyday if i could.” he whispers so seriously, it has your face flushing.

“try again tomorrow.” you tap his forehead twice for emphasis, then pass a blanket his way since it’s very apparent he won’t be going back to his friends.

his friends, who are mourning the loss of him the longer he takes to come back.

shinichiro, after his dear friend wakasa hadn’t shown up in the five minutes they’d timed him for, delved into horror stories from when you were younger. how you’d been suspended from school due to your temper, picking more fights than him when someone said the wrong thing. how he’d spend some weekend nights helping you tend to bruised knuckles after you’d defended him.

and it ends with each man giving a soft prayer for their friend, who, after an hour, still hadn’t come back yet.

unbeknownst to them, wakasa had fallen asleep listening to you tell stories about your cousin. how you’d protected him in grade school because kids were assholes, but you were a bigger asshole who didn’t take that shit. and on the couch, the three of you fell asleep peacefully, while the men in garage hoped you gave wakasa a quick and painless death.

#salmon rowe #wakasa imaushi x reader #imaushi wakasa x reader #imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #wakasa imaushi #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader

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leviathanleva · 6 months ago

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Blood and Injury, Ghoul Trafficking, Minor Character Death]

[5.8k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 7 "The Road"

“She asked you a question.” the tip of his gun bumps against the skull of the poor man in angry sovereignty. “Not nice t’ keep a lady waitin’.”

The man in question is a scrawny fellow with yellowish, vein-ridden eyes and greasy black hair just shy of his shoulders. A sunbaked, chewed-out lab coat adorns his shriveled form, hiding a multitude of self-inflicted scabs and prickles, but you’d caught a glimpse during his scuffle with Cooper. A self-proclaimed doctor who’d used his own flesh and blood in the name of science and study, he looked nothing short of deranged, but he’d survived until the ripe age of sixty-two and that was enough solid ground for you to trust his expertise.

You sat opposite of him, occupying a wide, crummy slab of concrete that had once been the roof of his laboratory. The entire building was waning, descended to a few walls surrounded by a rusting fence, but it offered enough shelter for most wastelanders to deem habitable. That’s why you’d stopped by, having endured your second month of surface exploration during what you’d learned was the middle of summer, you’d built higher tolerance for the hostile environment, but still couldn’t compare to Cooper. You’d needed respite, to catch your breath under a shade while greedily gulping down lukewarm spring water.

The doctor had heard your intrusion upon his sanctuary and had been more than hospitable, shoving grimy bottles full of murky substances of different consistencies in your face to get you to buy something. When he’d announced that he was a representative of the medicinal sphere another idea had popped into your head, one that required more talking and less buying diluted piss in a corked test tube labeled “Acne Remover”.

He could teach you medicine. The basics, at least, ways to patch up a wound using primitive things you had on hand, and you’d read such books before, but none of them touched on radioactivity nor explained what RadAway or stimpaks were.

The ghoul had been surprisingly agreeable, however, before you could discuss a plan, he’d taken to his ways and was already rasping threats while cracking his knuckles. You’d thrown your hands in the air with a displeased eye-roll as their tussle heated the dust off the floor.

It’s always violence with him…

“A stimpak? I can. Of course, I can.” the doc hacks and spits a mixture of blood and saliva to the side, then turns back to you with a wet snort. “It’s easy. Anyone can make a stimpak. Anyone. Who can’t? It’s so easy.”

“Great.” you nod, gripping your pencil with such force it’s shy from snapping. This was not what you’d had in mind by exchanging information – no guns or violence and absolutely no blood. But your fiendish companion had other ideas and beggars weren’t choosers. You lick your thumb and turn your notebook to a fresh page. “Please explain then. Slowly.”

The owlish look you receive has you eyeing Cooper with a lost frown, a plea for guidance because this man was clearly out of it with no intent on returning to normalcy.

He’s the heavy hand to your soft words as always.

“Talk.” he snarls and digs his boot in the doctor’s ribs, kicking him off his knees and onto his side. There’s no discussion, no bargaining, just a built-in cruelty and lack of patience.

“Jeez, you didn’t have to – ” you scrunch back in abhorrence, reaching for your face as if you were the one taking the beating.

“ – My notes.” a gargled sputter comes from the wheezing man. He laughs, rotting teeth proud on display as he knocks on the side of his head with such force you heard it from where you sat. “Head’s not good. Can’t remember anything. Gotta see my notes. It’s in the notes.” his spastic gaze is bouncing between you and the ghoul. “I can get 'em. Right there.” he’s jutting a finger up at his workstation where a gnawed-out leather bag rests. “Gonna get 'em. Tell you how. Okay? Gonna get up, gonna get 'em.”

He’s motioning for peace with palms spread wide as he slowly rises. The pistol follows him with cold-blooded precision as he wobbles to his desk. You turn halfway to watch as the notepad rests on your thigh, then tuck a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

He sifts through his belongings and it’s not much, but he’s sustained himself so far with the scarce scraps he’d managed to find. Meanwhile, your backpack was still brimming two months later because you had the trinkets to trade for food and water. You had a bodyguard for free and the luxury to indulge in hygienic habits most commoners didn’t see even on their deathbeds.

Bearing a soft heart, you wanted to leave him at least a granola bar, a guaranteed meal with no strings attached so the upcoming night wouldn’t leave him convulsing in a corner from hunger. He was skin and bones at best, a walking skeleton with cracking, aged skin, and protuberant wild eyes, the kind that have seen too much.

But you knew better, rather he starve and struggle than you ending up facing the ghoul’s wrath for acting stupid again. There was no room for kindness here, there would be no praises, just you naively reaching out a helping hand and ultimately having it bitten.

God, you hated this mess of a world…

“Here! Here, here.” he exclaims through a scratchy throat and shows you a torn, brown folder stuffed with sheets of paper. He digs his nose into it, stubby, arthritis-ridden fingers roughly handling the pages like a manic man searching for the meaning of life between the words. “It’s here. Has to be. I wrote it, y’know. All by myself.”

A sharp whistle rings in your ears and your head snaps back to Cooper. He nudges his pistol toward the folder and cocks his head with a scowl.

“Take em.”

You’re taken aback. Your face falls and you glance at the madman behind you with a slack jaw – he’s pressed into his workstation, the folder held snugly to his chest and encased in his frail arms. His hair sways as he stiffly shakes his head with disbelief.

“No.” you breathe out, a voiced thought, then repeat with more authority. “No! I can’t take his notes, how will he work without them?” you’re gesturing towards him with pencil in hand and direness to your voice. “Look at him! He can’t even remember his own name. We can’t just – ”

“ – I ain’t sittin’ here all day just cuz you wanna play Broken Telephone with a con bastard.” he’s a harsh mentor, doesn’t bat an eye at the implication or the devastation his order might cause. The rim of his hat dips, painting menacing shadows over his already monstrous features. “Take the damn notes.”

There’s no equal ground for arguing and the doctor stands there, forced to watch as his life is put on an uneven scale. Either shot or left to wither away without his only source of income, he couldn’t even choose, he was left to be toiled between your hands and the ghoul’s.

You’re bubbling with righteousness, but that won’t do. There are many things your companion dislikes and for unexplained reasons, standing up to him while trying to do the right thing is one of them.

“Please.” the plea leaves your lips as a hiss. Your face is wrinkled with exertion as you attempt to stare Cooper down to a more agreeable state.

You’re grasping at straws, fighting not to drown in the reality of your actions being the cause of another person’s death. This was no raider, or cannibal, not a warped beast hunting you for supper. This was a fellow survivor, a struggling soul the wasteland hadn’t been as lenient towards. Beneath the delirium and madness, the jumbled words and soup of senseless thoughts, he was still human.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t.

“Was your idea, Sweetheart.” a derogatory coo, a sentence that rips up your act of chivalry. He’s almost smirking as he puts you down with just his gaze. “Gotta finish what you started. Now take the fuckin’ notes.”

Impatience nips at his command, only amplified when he sees you refuse to move. His weapon lowers and he takes a few strides with a searing grunt and bared fangs. He’s no gentleman; picks you up roughly by the arm and forces you to your feet as disapproval of your disobedience brings forth his crow’s feet. There is no grace when you’re non-consensually pushed toward your victim, no elegance guides your step to ease the mourning of the man you’re about to strip from any chance of long-term survival.

But you’re also meek with your gestures, approaching him delicately once your footing is set in stone, hesitantly until there is only a thin gap separating you.

His leg juts to the side with barely contained need to run and he once again winds up at gunpoint.

“Don’ be fuckin’ stupid now.” the ghoul spits as his chin dips, he’s peeking beneath his hat with eyes that could boil flesh off bone.

Regret drains the strength from your fingers when you pinch the bottom of the folder, left to weakly tug it out of his grip as he begrudgingly relents. Your vision is set low, trained on your feet, scorned by actions you couldn’t back away from. You take his prized possession and look away until not a blip of him poisons your vision, then after swallowing nothingness down a dry gullet you manage to mumble:

“I’m sorry.”

You skitter back to Cooper, each step hastening your pace until you’re in the sanctity of his proximity. You don’t falter to see his nod of approval, instead hiding behind him, the side of your head leaned between his shoulder blades. Pathetic, powerless, and made cruel, your brows twitch, pulling down the skin of your sweaty forehead as you clutch at the folder with a distant mind and quivering bottom lip.

You leap a thousand miles away, condemned to weigh the doctor's odds and spare your sanity the burden of his demise. There were always radroaches scuttling about, he could live off them. They weren’t your cup of tea but they were edible. If he was smart enough he could gather sand and pebbles, make a filter and cleanse his urine to a drinkable consistency. It wasn’t that hard, he could survive if he wanted to. Maybe he could…

Maybe –

The familiar click of a pistol rattles you out of the dreamlike state.

You tense.

“Wait.” your hand shoots out to lay over his wrist, applying a minute amount of pressure to stray the firearm. “We got what we needed, right? You don’t need to…Please?” your voice cracks and your beseeched eyes lift to face his. “Please.”

The doctor hasn’t moved, frozen solid and silent aside from the low, bizarre hums and attempts to cough out the gunk tickling his lungs. He was sick and mad, defenseless against a loaded gun, compliant with your inhumane deeds, hadn’t said a peep of protest. The least you could do was leave him be after ripping away the little dignity he’d had.

Your way is brutal though, leaving a helpless old man to be overcome by a death worse than a bullet to the head. But you weren’t one to make a tough decision in a dire situation, you didn’t have the guts to do what would be considered a mercy. His chances were null and shooting him now would save him a great amount of suffering. You could walk out and wait for the shot to ring out, turn a deaf ear to the shriek of oblivion.

But you weren’t doing what was best for him, you were doing what was least painful for you.

Masking your selfish spinelessness as a courageous act of standing up to your dominant half to spare a soul. This was no heroism, it was torture. You’d seen firsthand how sadistic fate was in this dystopian world you now called home, but what could you do when the sight of him had you near tears?

Cooper lowers his pistol with a disgruntled scoff and you release a shaky breath.

“Whatever you say…” he clasps his weapon back in place and flings both his bandolier and tato sack over his shoulder.

It was suspiciously easy, but you didn’t question his change of heart, instead keeping close to him after shooting the deranged doctor a last apologetic frown.

He’d been with you since you’d left the vault, acting as the spear to your shield, the one to take action while you sat back and prayed for the best. You were still as friendly and ready to lend a helping hand as when you’d met and if it hadn’t been for him you would have been long gone by now. The wasteland was working on remolding your antics, but it was a slow process in your case and until then it spelled hardships and disaster for both of you.

Actions have consequences, bad ones, good ones, all of them. He’s tried and failed to teach you so he decides a harsher lesson is in order, one that will stick. That’s why he ignores the shuffling behind him and keeps a heavy-lidded neutral expression.

Actions have consequences and yours is being swung straight towards your head.

The bits of gravel crunching beneath your boots keep your hearing busy enough to miss the vigorous grunts and noises being regurgitated some feet away from you. It’s inconceivable that the person to whom you showed mercy would do anything to cause you harm. His uncoordinated, rushed steps don’t even register until they’re thumping right behind you.

You’re a second too late to react before the empty glass bottle is shattered against the side of your head.

All you muster out is a choked gasp as the ground beneath you slips and you’re falling. The world spins with sickening speed yet your fall is delayed, like a swaying feather.

You don’t feel. You feel nothing below your neck.

Your stomach churns as everything is flipped upside down. The folder is snatched from the safety of your armpit. You’re numb when you collide with the dusty concrete, feel only a cushioned resistance from an impact that’s supposed to hurt.

The air is knocked out of your chest, you’re suffocating on dust. Cooper’s boots are doubled and swaying in your vision as they move. You squint to try and focus, but can’t manage much except to roll on your back and twitch when a shot is fired. A guttural scream, then silence.

The scarce clouds visible from beyond the hole in the ceiling are swimming. You want to reach out and touch them.

The sky always leaves you speechless.

“Why…? Why couldn’t you just let it go…?”

You sit up slowly, hunching over as your legs cross to keep you steady. The dull pulse blossoms into pain and you press a trembling palm against your head only to find it dampened by scarlet red. What you thought was snot tickling your cupid’s bow turns out to be blood once you wipe it off with your wrist to see.

Your breathing accelerates and you look to the ghoul before you succumb to a full-blown panic attack.

He’s bending down to retrieve the folder from a man now dead before approaching you with leisurely steps and placing it in your lap once he’s knelt in front of you.

You didn’t feel like crying before you were face to face, but now your eyes are brimming.

“Next time, you don’ fuckin’ stop me.” he speaks in a low tone, letting you weep. His image shakes and you try your hardest to focus, wiping at your eyes and blinking rapidly, all in vain. “When I speak, you listen. No talkin' back, no attitude. You wanna live, you do as I say when I say.” he checks you over carelessly, sees no glass stuck to your skin, only cuts, and deduces a potential concussion from your uncoordinated movements. “Hope you learned your fuckin’ lesson.”

Your downfall, your savior, your opposite, your everything.

He’s up and walking, and you’re given no time to tend to your wounds, not even to rip off some gauze and stuff it in your nose. You replace the notebook and pencil with a water bottle, cup a hand under it, and spare some water to then splash over your face and wash away a part of the bloody smears. A sip is forced down after a short struggle because your stomach refuses to welcome anything. With jelly legs, you rise, flail briefly because the act makes the world whirl and your brain feels like it’s pressing against the inside of your skull, a sickening sensation, seething and pulsing.

Your shoulder grinds against the walls to offer support for your off-course balance as you make your way out of the rundown building. There are no thoughts in your head, for once everything is still, a dark, blank canvas swallowing any image before it can even surface. There’s only a dull ache deep within your chest, mourning, partly for you, partly for the doctor.

Cooper is waiting for you outside with a cigarette pinched between his lips and kicking at the cracked soil.

High-pitched screeching deafens you as the sun’s rays nearly blind you on the spot. Your sensitive eyes are filling with more than tears of sadness, you’re snarling instinctively with a hand shielding your vision. It’s almost nauseating and leaves your knees weak.

Was it really always this bright?

The sun has no sympathy, it blasts scorching heat as if it knows exactly where your head is exposed and oozing, it targets you with viciousness because you’re battered and broken. You lift the stained folder, let it rest against your crown and give off enough shade to keep you from fainting.

With a pained expression, you follow after the ghoul once he takes a particularly long drag from his cigarette and turns on his heel.

A trail is left in your wake, blood, tears, sweat, all marking your path as you struggle not to trip over your feet. Each step is heavy and rattles both your teeth and your brain. It’s an alien sensation, not truly pain, it’s closer to pressure and it’s agony when combined with the rest of your unpleasant symptoms.

Your breaths echo in your ears, drowning out your footsteps because you’re heaving for air like a woman drowning. The world still swims albeit less so and sometimes it’s unbearable and you’re forced to cling to Cooper’s arm and squeeze your eyes shut as he guides you. All you want is to lie down somewhere soft and sleep, but there’s no building in sight, no trees, nothing.

You walk an endless road, hours of silent torment.

With enough distance and suffering, the day is finally coming to an end and everything is bathed in deep oranges and blaring pinks. The sunset is behind you, your shadow faces you and is as decrepit and tortured as you, you’re heading east, not that it matters. You can finally open your eyes fully without wincing and that’s one less discomfort to sulk over, but then another takes its place instantaneously.

Your backpack feels heavier than ever, it digs into your armpits and it would have been worse if you hadn’t sewn the ripped strap back in place, but it made no difference now. It weighed on your back, further ruined your posture.

You readjust it multiple times with a handful of irritated grunts.

“Ain’t nobody told you t’ stuff the whole fuckin’ vault in that thing.” finally he speaks after an eternity of wordless wandering. He’s eyeing you judgmentally while mouthing another cigarette. “Said to bring essentials.”

More fuel to the fire, more salt in the wound. He’s a relentless bastard when he wants to be.

You stop to rest your hands on your knees and catch your breath and you’re a pitiful sight, but that doesn’t stop you from glaring death at him. Too far gone, in too much pain and fear from failing to understand how much damage the blow to your head had caused, you’re a hair away from losing it completely.

“Nobody told you to bring that nasty attitude either, but here I am.” you snap back through gritted teeth. “Dealing with both.”

He pauses.

“Wha’d you say?” he’s tossing away the smoke and storming towards you, but you’re not your usual self – you don’t back down or shrink away or try to run. You’re staring him dead in the eyes with a nasty look. “Care t’ repeat, Missy? My hearin’s not what it used t’ be.” he’s taunting you while holding your face with one large hand, squishing your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“You’re an asshole.” you snarl with hatred; his roughness causes your nose to fill with blood again, a fresh batch that follows the edge of your curled back upper lip and dribbles down his glove. You look almost feral, you almost fit in with your environment, but your eyes are still soft despite everything.

“Only reason why you ain’t getting’ a beatin’s cuz you already got a concussion.” he jostles you harshly, always does when you’re stepping out of line, but he’s too late to deal punishments this time.

You’re past his demeaning attitude, you’re fed up with being flung like a ragdoll and tied up and blamed for existing because you attract bad attention and he has to waste bullets. You’re bleeding and bruised and hungry and out of patience for his teachings. It might be the concussion, might be something else, but you’re writhing.

You’ve had enough.

He was no hero. He was a fucking pest.

When he shakes you for the second time and pain stabs up your neck like a knife to the spine you shudder. The sound that leaves you is worse than your visage, a carnal bellow, a menacing reverberation that could rival that of a cornered animal.

You bite him.

You sink your teeth into the plush between his thumb and forefinger with enough force for your jaw to burn. You’re clinging to his wrist and when he forces you back your nails leave angry red lines over his skin, even through his coat. You take a wide stance to retain some balance and glare at him from behind a curtain of wild, sweat-drenched hair. Your nostrils flare wide and you spit out the grime you’d bitten off.

“Well I’ll be…” he sighs while tipping his hand slowly and looks over the blunt teeth marks adorning his glove. They glisten with a thick coat of saliva. A fowl grin cracks his somber features. “If you wanned t’ swap saliva, Darlin’, should’a just said so.”

He glides his tongue over the bitemark, then licks the blood clean off his fingers. He’s tasting you, he’s savoring you and your façade falls in repulsion.

That disgusting smile never leaves his chapped lips.

You’re on the verge of insanity, pushed to the brink from everything that’s happened in the past two months and today spelled your breaking point. You’re at your wit’s end and all he does is laugh at your misfortune without a drop of empathy. How can he enjoy your misery? What kind of sick man finds pleasure in another’s pain?

“What is wrong with you?!” you shriek as your hands ball, the folder you’d forgotten you still held, creases under the pressure. You land a fist against his chest, then another, and, of course, he doesn’t even flinch. “Why are you like this?!”

He holds your arms while stifling his cackles, softens your blows while you fuss, lost in your tantrum and throwing conniving insults his way while somehow avoiding any vulgarities. It would have been a comedic performance if your condition potentially worsening didn’t make him fret. He didn’t need you passing out in the middle of nowhere because you couldn’t control your frustration.

“Who did this to you?”

Who hadn’t? His darling wife had dug a knife in his back, taken his daughter away and left him to rot. He’d known the taste of betrayal and disloyalty before the bombs and now it was a free-for-all massacre. He’d not just lost everything, it had been ripped away from him. Every single person he’d known had either tried to kill him or left him stranded.

“Who hurt you so bad…”

But who were you to ask him such questions? Who were you to sink your claws so deep and stir him awake from his bitter slumber spanning over two centuries? Who were you to question his ways and fight to find better solutions? Who were you to mend wounds you’d not caused?

You were nothing.

You were everything.

“Easy.” he warns, paying no heed to your desperate laments, then releases one of your hands to snake an arm around your waist when your knees give out. “Easy now…Easy…”

You’re bawling into his collarbone, sobbing an ugly song, and staining his vest with heavy tears. Your fists uncurl once you’re done drumming at his chest and your fingers sink into the warmth beneath his coat. He’s a solemn golem, doesn’t react to your advances, he doesn’t see you as a threat.

“Why didn’t you just shoot me in the start…”

His heartbeat never changes, but you hear him swallow a lump. He watches over the top of your head as you succumb to periodic trembles and tire yourself out completely. A dainty and ethereal creature compared to him and even in your rage and unquenchable sorrow, both caused by him, you still cling to him.

You were similar in that regard. He had shown you the same mercy you’d shown to the doctor. Selfish spinelessness, lack of courage, weakness, twisted empathy. He was no hero, but you sure made him feel like one. A part of him was addicted to the goodness you carried and didn’t want to let you go. And he cared little for how fake or real it was, he just needed to have a taste once in a while, get a reminder that softer things yet thrive in the dark crooks of the apocalypse.

“Should’a stayed in Tillburry.” a rasp so low you could have mistaken it for a rustle in the wind.

He’s already locked eyes with you when you finally unfurl your face from his vest and look up. Newfound anger spells doom on your lips. It doesn’t suit you to be angry.

“I didn’t want to stay in Tillburry.” there’s spitfire in your voice as you talk down his feeble statement. A last soft punch to his chest to solidify your words as you continue. “I want to stay with you…”

“Y’ dunno what’d fuck you’re talkin’ about.” he gravels out a tender scold, his eyes dip to your frown, his mouth waters.

He inches closer, earning an inquisitive noise from you, but you don’t back away. You grip onto his coat and for once his heart is heavy as he lowers his head until the rim of his hat is brushing against your forehead. His breath hits you and it’s rich with the smell of cigarettes.

Your inhales are forced, brash and vocal, sucked in through parted lips as you take him in for the first time. Contrary to your beliefs, he had eyelashes, thick and dark and you wonder if he was brunette before he became a ghoul. His eyes were molten gold in the dying sunlight, prettier than yours would ever be, his cheekbones were high, accentuated by the lack of fat in his cheeks.

Once upon a time, he was a handsome man.

He’s pawing at your waist to keep you close, a precaution for the slim chance that your brain kicked back into function and you pulled away like you should. He had no right taking your first kiss, he had no right to anything of yours, but there was nobody present to stop him. A small guilty pleasure, a moment of indulgence, that’s all he wanted and he’d set you free.

You’re sweating, you’re shaking.

Were you really that scared of him?

“Coop – ”

“ – ‘S okay, Pumpkin. ‘S okay…” he coos in a hushed tone, tender and sugary. “I got you…Sweet thing…I’m here.”

A queer affection coming from a man who was anything but, your mind was hazy, you’d faint any second. Your stomach is bursting with fluttering butterflies as you give in to the needy hands kneading your sides.

What was this…

“ ‘M a bad man, I know…I know. Don’t deserve this.” he sees you searching for words, gives you a good squish and you’re so pliant under his fingers it makes him weak. “Is okay…Close those pretty eyes o’ yours.”

He’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off your skin, your nose is brushing against his cheek and his lips are ghosting over yours.

“Helloooo!”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

A caravan approaches, pulled by a pair of well-fed brahmin. A man is vigorously waving a hand your way, bearing a wide smile with mostly missing teeth.

You rush to straighten your dress once you’re abruptly released and pushed away. There’s danger dancing in Cooper’s stance as he mumbles an inaudible slew, his hand is at his holster and his shoulders become ridged. There’s a heat to your cheeks that you hope the sun masks and the medical folder is tucked in front of your chest as a barrier.

Judging by the ghoul’s reaction, this man, whoever he is, is trouble and you’re not mentally prepared to withstand another bloodbath.

He flings the reins, urging the brahmin to pick up the pace and the distance between your parties grows too short too quickly. You can only pray for a peaceful exchange. His cargo is large, rectangular and covered by a dark sheet bolted to the carriage on either side.

Once he’s close enough a distressful symphony reaches your ears and you step closer to Cooper out of habit. There’s the rattling of metal, a cacophony of pained moans and haggard groans, animalistic noises from a beast you’d yet to encounter.

Was he from a circus? What kind of animal made such sounds?

“Shut the hell up back there!” he slams his fist against the cargo, you guess it’s a cage of some sort, and the mystery animals fall silent. Then he stills the brahmin and flashes you a polite smile. “Evening, Miss.”

“Hello, Sir.” you nod and the firm hand on your hip tells you to be very careful with your next words.

He doesn’t even address Cooper despite him standing in front of you, just gives him a good full-body scan and averts his attention back to you. It’s strange, for once you’re not in his shadow, your gut warns of a dirty truth hidden behind that dark curtain, one which you didn’t want to delve into.

“Sorry to bother you this late an hour.” he plants an elbow against the backrest of his seat and turns to face you properly. “I was just wondering if you were selling.”

The wind picks up your hair, for a moment the world is still.

“Selling?” you cup a hand over your eyes to block out the dying red sun falling behind the distant horizon. Your brows lock in confusion because he certainly didn’t look like a merchant. “Selling what?”

“The ghoul.” he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing, then when you don’t answer immediately he decides to add a bit more honey to the mix. “Would pay good caps for that one.”

“The…WHAT?!”

Your blood runs cold. The moans you’d previously heard turn hauntingly grim and you try to look everywhere but the covered cage. The grip on your hip is bruising in strength; the only way to ease Cooper before he snaps is to step on his boot.

The bent stop sign a few feet down the road looks weak enough. You wonder if you can tear it out and bludgeon the man to death, then shake your head. He’s not a man, can’t be if your suspicions are true.

Because who would do such a thing…

“Stop.”

It was impossible to entertain such thoughts. There exist so many words to describe the evil and grotesque and none of them come close to encompass such inhumane deeds.

“Sorry, Sir, not selling this one.” you muster out, shake off your horror and mask your malice with an awkward smile. You pat the ghoul’s shoulder like he’s a pet. “He’s a good mule, can’t imagine traveling without em.”

The words nearly make you gag while the man howls a throaty laugh.

“Sure looks like it. Real shame.” he sits back and grips the reins once more with a serene look as he stares into the sunset.

He doesn’t deserve to see such a sight, he doesn’t deserve to be so relaxed, he doesn’t deserve to live –

“ – Weeellp! If you change your mind, my establishment’s stationed in Pitfalls Valley. Big building, can’t miss it.” he gives you a playful wink and a click of his tongue before tugging at the reins “Have a good evening, Miss.”

The disturbance awakens the cage once more and the voices come back to life, despicable and anguished.

You can’t even process what had happened before you’re made to move.

“We gotta go.”

The gentle tug on your dress leads you away as you stare back unblinking. There’s a myriad of bony hands reaching from beneath the curtain, scraping at the bottom of the caravan, pulling at the metal bars, some of them are tiny.

Hate in its most primal state is an emotion you had never felt, not until today. You had never dreamed of killing someone until today. For once, you’re ready to watch a shootout, but it’s also one of those rare moments where Cooper prefers to walk away. You’re looking at him with pleading eyes and all he can offer is a bitter:

“It ain’t our problem.”

You’re no Mary Sue, you can’t charge into a battle and win, armed or not. You can’t be the hero those locked up ghouls need. You can’t do shit because this isn’t a fairytale. It’s life – cruel and cold, real and so unbelievably merciless, sick and twisted. There is no happy ending for anyone, there are no miracles.

All you can do is move along, stuff the memories in the depths of your subconscious and get over it because at least you’re still alive and free. It’s either wallow in despair or swallow it and survive. There is no joy, there is no love, no compassion, no humanity. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten.

You link your fingers with Cooper’s and squeeze.

“What kind of fucked up piece of shit sells ghouls…”

That cracks a smile from him. He closes his fingers over your hand until it disappears behind an aegis of leather.

“Well look at you startin’ t’ swear proper.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 8 >>>

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absurdthirst · 8 months ago

Text

Property of Dave York {Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Voyeurism, video surveillance, masturbation, kidnapping, threats of violence, coercion, dub-con, derogatory language, gun play, spanking, oral sex (male receiving ) rough sex, choking, guilt, forced cuckolding, cream pie, anxiety, break up texts, murder, fingering, pussy slapping, sex toys, anal fingering, anal, double penetration, aftercare, forced imprisonment

Comments: Carol's offer of the York family cabin for a romantic weekend away for you and your boyfriend turns dark and deadly when Dave shows up. Unhappy with how you are being fucked and deciding to take you for himself.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of coercion, dub-con due to deadly threats, murder, imprisonment - do not read if this bothers you🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Are you sure?” You ask Carol, eyes wide as she offers to let you use the family cabin for the weekend.

“Absolutely. I'm heading out of town to see my mom with the girls. Dave will be here and we want to reward you for all of your hard work. You’re so good with the girls and do so much above and beyond. We want to reward you.” Carol offers you a sweet smile.

You shake your head, “I don’t know what to say.” You admit and Dave smiles, “just say yes.”

You nod, overwhelmed by how good the Yorks treat you, “th-thank you.” You reply and they both smile. It’s a reward beyond your dreams to get to spend the weekend in the woods with your boyfriend at the York family cabin. Little do you know that Dave hates the idea.

You were hired about a year ago to be the live-in nanny to the York family. At first, they seemed like any other suburban dream but you began to notice small details that tipped off the fact that maybe Dave isn’t the man he says he is. The blood stained clothes on the floor in the mud room late one night and he told you he cut himself yet that was too much blood for an injury you couldn’t see. Then the random calls which meant Dave would disappear for days on end after.

The weirdest thing is the man’s internet history. When trying to search the computer for Molly’s schedule, you accidentally came across a page that detailed the internet history of the house and you, being curious, clicked on some of the links. Porn. But not your average vanilla stuff. This was bondage, it was BDSM. It was rough. Fuck, that must be Dave. The time stamp was the middle of the night and you know Carol can’t survive without her sleep.

You hate to admit it but you touched yourself to thoughts of Dave treating you like that. He’s so sexy, authoritative, and secretive. Maybe that makes him sexier. Well, certainly when compared to Johnny, your sweet boyfriend who won’t even so much as spank you. Still, you can’t get involved in any way. This is your boss and you’d be risking your job and home and a mortifying rejection since you know Dave doesn’t want you like that. No, you’ll enjoy the cabin this weekend with Johnny and maybe you can get off thinking of dirtier things while your boyfriend sweetly goes down on you.

The smile on Dave’s face is a very practiced one. One that doesn’t show the anger, that only flashes for a brief second in his eyes before he blinks it away. Carol hadn’t talked about this with him and he wants to snatch the keys away from you as his wife holds them for you to take. Instead, he smiles. “Just say yes.” He watches as you sputter and take the keys to the cabin he had bought and was normally a weekend getaway from him and the girls. Often when he needed to recuperate from a rough mission or a job had gotten too close. Why the fuck had Carol decided to give his fucking cabin to the nanny for the weekened ot use as a fucking sex room? That dipshit you were dating wouldn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Could he even build a fire? He scoffs to himself and grinds his teeth, furious as he thinks about that fucker touching you. It’s bad enough when you have weekends off and you come home smelling like sex and cheap ass beer like you were at some frat party. Probably had been. “You know how to get there, right?” He asks you, knowing he hasn’t told you where the cabin is although Carol might have.

You nod, “Carol gave me the coordinates. Johnny is pretty good at navigating so we shouldn’t have a problem. It’s okay if I take him, right?” You ask, biting your lip. Fuck, Dave wants to say no but he knows that won’t help him. Carol can’t get suspicious of his desires otherwise you’ll be gone and he can’t allow that. “Of course you can take Johnny.” Carol promises and you grin.

“Thank you so much.”

Carol nods, “don’t think anything of it. It’s all set, right Dave?”

He swallows down his annoyance, “it’s all set.” He offers you a sickly smile that has your stomach knotting and Carol pats his hand, “excellent.” She winks and you grip the keys, eager to tell your boyfriend about the weekend away.

****

“You girls be good for your mother, and grandma and grandpa, okay?” Dave winks at Alice and reaches out to tug on one of Molly’s pigtails.

“Daddy!!!” Molly shrieks, batting his hand away as she giggles and he chuckles.

“I mean it.” He raises his eyebrows at them before moving up to the driver’s side window where Carol is already behind the wheel. “Drive carefully, honey.” He urges, knowing that while he might not love her like he probably should, she is important to him. Plus he wants his girl’s to be safe. While he feels like there is something missing inside him, not able to really connect with his wife, he loves his children. “Call me when you get to your moms.” He leans in and presses his lips to hers quickly before he pulls away. His plans for the weekend have changed and he needs his wife to leave on time, so he had helped her pack up the Mercedes.

****

“Wow. This place is sweet.” Johnny grins as you enter the cabin. He’s carrying your travel bag and you admire the decor of the cabin. It’s simple but rustic and you love it. You love being out in the woods, the sound of nature, and of course, being there with your boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind and everything you should want and this weekend you’re going to try and remind yourself of that. Johnny sets your bags down, reaching for you to pull you close, his hands squeezing your ass. “And the best thing is not having to sneak around. We have the whole weekend to do whatever we want.” Johnny kisses along your neck and you smirk, knowing he’s eager to touch you. Has been since you left the York house.

The rustic charm of the house hides the sophisticated camera system. Hidden discreetly in areas that won’t be noticed by anyone who isn’t a trained operative. Carol had never noticed. Now, Dave watches you, glaring at the screen of his laptop as your boyfriend gropes your ass and slides his hand up to cup your tit as he tries to steer you back towards the sofa. “Asshole.” He hisses, jealous that you let this fucker touch you. His cock twitches, making him reach down to palm himself through his pants as he imagines himself with you on that couch. Showing you what getting fucked should be like.

You let Johnny lay you down on the sofa and he’s quick to remove your shirt, tossing it down and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits unknowingly to Dave’s gaze until Johnny takes your nipple into his mouth, making you moan. “Fuck. That’s good.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks but it’s not hard enough, not rough enough.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, reaching up to slide the end from the belt buckle. His cock throbbing in his pants and he’s already decided that he’s going to jerk off, watching you get fucked by this pathetic excuse for a boy. There’s nothing really wrong with Johnny, Dave hates him solely because he wants you. Wants to use you and show you what you really want when you look at him with those searching eyes. Pulling his hard cock out, Dave spits in his hand and starts to smear it over the sensitive head.

When Johnny slides inside of you, he’s asking if you’re comfortable and you want to roll your eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses in pleasure at how wet and tight you are and you want him to squeeze your throat. You want him to fuck you like it’s your last day on earth. You want him to ruin you but he won’t. You wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” Johnny groans and you want to be spiteful and tell him you were thinking about Dave being in this cabin, imagining him fucking you, wrecking you.

Dave strokes his cock, hard and fast as he imagines how tight you would be. The squeals he would pull from you would be much better than those damn fake moans you are putting on for him. “You would cry for me.” He grunts, watching you wrap your legs around him. He wonders if Johnny actually buys your moans, if he believes that you are actually enjoying yourself. His cock is slick in his hand, gripping it harshly as he jerks off.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You cry, throwing your head back as you grip him inside of you, faking yet another orgasm. You moan, glancing up at the ceiling, letting out another fake moan as you wait for Johnny to cum inside of you. He’s grunting, his face buried in your neck, and you whimper, “cum for me baby.” You try to egg him on, squeezing his cock in your walls and you moan his name.

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum.” He groans, thrusting into you a half dozen more times before he cums.

Dave grunts, holding his breath as he starts to cum. Ropes of his sticky seed coating the towel he had covering the steering wheel of his car as he cums. Stroking himself through the high and watching you as you lay under Johnny limply, helping him ride out his orgasm while very obviously not experiencing your own. He wouldn’t let that happen. Milking the last drops of his release before he sits back in the seat and pants, making up his mind on what he will do next.

You are cooking when you hear the noise. Confused by the clicking sound and you turn the stove off and on again, wondering if that’s the noise. “Johnny?” You call out, wondering where he is. He isn’t usually this quiet. He’s usually annoying you by now, wanting to incessantly talk about his video games or the latest thing he read on Reddit. You turn off the stove, the pasta sauce is cooked anyway, and you will probably find Johnny lounging on the sofa. “Johnny, baby. I-” You scream, finding Johnny tied to a chair and a gag in his mouth.

A hand comes around your mouth, covering it and hot breath washes over your ear. “Ah ah ah, no screaming baby, not yet.” Dave hums in your ear, grinning at the furious expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Your boyfriend didn’t even lock the fucking door. Anyone could have wandered into the cabin.”

Your eyes widen at hearing Dave’s voice in your ear. Your heart pounds in both fear and arousal. His body is pressed against yours and you shiver against him. Your hands are gripping his wrist but it’s no use, he’s stronger than you. “Be calm and nothing bad happens.” He coos and lowers his hand from your mouth.

“Please. Let - let us go. We will leave. I- I am sorry Mr. York.” You promise, aware to an extent of what he is capable of.

“What are you sorry for?” Dave asks you, “fucking on my couch? Or faking your orgasm.” He shakes his head. “It was pathetic, watching you moan like a whore when we both know you were counting down the seconds until he came and rolled off you.” He tuts and watches Johnny huff and tug against the ropes tying him to the chair in amusement. “So I decided I’m going to show him how you should be fucked.”

Your eyes widen even more and you step away from Dave. “Wha-what? I- Dave. I- don’t understand.” You shake your head and step towards Johnny. “I- I swear to you baby I had - I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You try to assure your boyfriend who is tied up and Dave chuckles, reaching for your wrists to grip them in his.

“Don’t lie, baby. That’s not nice. You gotta tell him the truth. He doesn’t make you scream. He doesn’t make you writhe. I’ve seen it. I know it. You don’t soak his cock with your cum.” Dave declares and your cunt clenches at the deep words, the truth you’ve been too scared to say. Johnny laughs around the gag again and you wonder how the hell he’s so oblivious.

“He’s not wrong.” You confess in a whisper.

Dave smirks and looks over at Johnny smugly. “Strip off your clothes.” Dave orders, squeezing your wrists before letting go. “First, I’m going to punish you for letting this boy touch you. You could have just asked and I would have bent you over my desk every night after Carol and the girls were asleep. Or maybe the washing machine in the basement. That way you don’t wake them up with your squealing.” He chuckles as he steps back and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “You cleaned his cum out of your cunt, didn’t you?”

You nod, knowing this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. You can’t fuck Dave in front of your boyfriend. “I- I showered.” You confess and swallow harshly at the sight of Dave shirtless, several scars litter his skin from his past and it attracts you to him even more.

“I told you to strip.” Dave orders and you shake your head, “I can’t do it.” You choke, knowing this is wrong. Dave shakes his head, reaching into the back of his pants to pull out a gun.

“If you don’t strip, I’m gonna spread your boyfriend’s brains over the carpet and no one will ever find him.” Your eyes widen, looking at Johnny’s frantic, scared look, and you know Dave doesn’t fuck around. You reach for your shirt, starting to strip off with shaking hands.

Dave watches as your plain bra is revealed, smirking when you reach behind you and shakily unclasp it. “Those are nice tits.” He hums. “Your boyfriend should have sucked on them more. Bitten them and pulled on them.” His cock twitches in his pants and grunts, “I will. Maybe I’ll get some clamps out for them. Make them really sore.”

You whimper at his words, avoiding the glare from your boyfriend who is shaking his head. He never sucks on your tits, always gets right to fucking you. Sometimes he will go down on you but it’s too sweet. It doesn’t make you gasp and writhe. You toss your bra down and hook your fingers in your leggings, pushing them down and kicking them aside so you are left in your panties.

“Ah ah ah. All of it.” Dave tuts as he pulls his belt through the loops. You look at Johnny as you push your panties down, the gun is still in Dave’s hand so you kick the underwear aside to stand bare before Dave.

“You don’t deserve her.” Dave turns his comment towards Johnny. Shaking his head in disappointment. “She shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone make dinner after you fuck her.” He slaps the belt against his palm and smirks. “Shouldn’t be able to move.” He flicks open the button of his pants and motions to the couch. “Bend over. I’m going to spank you for fucking on my couch.”

You shake your head, glancing over at Johnny and Dave tuts, pointing the gun at the younger man. “Do you want me to blow his brains out?” You shake your head frantically and move over to the sofa, kneeling on it as you shiver in anticipation for what Dave is going to do to you, knowing it’s so wrong to already be turned on.

You shake your head, “please Dave.” You beg and he smacks your ass again.

“Call me sir.” He demands and you nod, “sir.” He hums in delight and rubs your ass, making you arch your back.

“Fuck. I need more.” You tell him, finally letting your desires escape, the ones you’ve concealed for so long.

He pauses for a second, grinning in triumph. “I knew you were perfect.” He groans, pulling his hand back so he can whip your ass with the belt, “you need me. Not some pussy.” He hisses, striking your ass every other work in quick succession.

You cry out. arching your back at the pain, but fuck if your cunt doesn't clench at the sensation. "Oh shit." You pant, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your ass. You inhale deeply. ignoring the pained look on Johnny's face as he helplessly watches.

“You like it, don’t you?” Dave asks as he draws back for another slap of the belt against your ass. “Don’t lie.”

“I love it.” You confess, unable to lie to him. He’s tearing you apart and you are unraveling for him, telling him your deepest darkest secrets. You cry out when he hits you again with the belt, your skin is on fire and you pant, trying to catch your breath.

Dave groans, smirking as he flicks the belt against your ass again. “Knew you would love it.” He hisses, his cock twitching in his pants. “You’re fucking dirty, my little whore.”

You collapse forward onto your elbows, ass aching. And you struggle to breathe, knowing it’s true. You’ve always been his. “Yes, I- I- fuck. I’m your dirty little whore.” You whimper, closing your eyes to ignore the hurt look on Johnny’s face, concealed by the gag.

Dave chuckles and drops his hand, reaching out and caressing the welts that are on your ass. “Get on your knees.” He orders you rightly, “I want you to suck my cock. Show you me how much you regret him touching you.”

It’s getting impossible to deny him, the guilt pushed aside by arousal as you shift onto your knees and hiss at the sting when your thighs press against your ass. You look up at Dave as he fumbles to pull his cock out, gun still in one hand, and when he manages to get his hard length out, your eyes widen. Fuck, he’s huge. Your mouth falls open in shock and he grips his length, playfully swiping the head along your lips until you take him into your mouth.

Dave groans as you take him deep, rolling his hips forward. “Fuck.” He hisses, watching as your lips stretch around his cock. He loves it, your eyes starting to water slightly as he pushes himself deeper.

You choke but he doesn’t pull back, continuing to push his cock down your throat, and he grabs the back of your head to stop you pulling off of him. “Take it all.” He demands and you gag but inhale deeply through your nose, concentrating on taking all of him.

You swallow and struggle but you manage to press your nose against the curls above his cock. Making him groan happily as he holds your head there for a long moment before he pulls back. Wanting to fuck your throat, use you for his pleasure, although he’s not filling your mouth with his seed. No. He’s saving that for your pussy. Wanting to replace your loser boyfriend’s seed with his and watch it drip from your folds.

You choke on your breath when Dave pulls his cock back, barely able to catch it as he pushes deep down your throat again. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” He hisses and you are dripping onto the floor as you watch him with watery eyes, loving the way he clenches his jaw. The gun is still in his hand. He looks deadly and that turns you on more than anything Johnny has ever done.

He can tell this excites you. The way that you lean into his thrusts into your mouth and the way that your thighs spread tell him how much you love this. In a few minutes he will be able to see your cunt drooling into the floor, your arousal leaking out of you and dripping down like the little slut that he knows you are.

You whimper around him, saliva dripping down your chin, and when he hisses your name, you slide your hands up to caress his thighs. He allows it, watching you with those dark eyes you’ve dreamed of far too often and you whine when he pulls his cock from your mouth after several moments.

“Get up and bend over the couch.” Dave growls, slapping his cock on the side of your cheek. “Want to cum inside you. after you’ve screamed my name so much that your throat is raw.”

You scramble onto the sofa, desperate to feel him inside of you, to get fucked the way you desperately want to get fucked. You look over at Johnny who has tears in his eyes and you mouth “I’m sorry.” It’s useless but you still want him to know how sorry you are. You’re an eager whore for Dave but he didn’t deserve to get caught in the mess.

Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and kneels behind you. The barrel of the gun slides up your drenched slit and he chuckles when you stiffen. “I could fuck you with this gun. Click the safety off and shove the barrel in your cunt,” he coos, loving how you whimper. “But I’d rather feel you around me first.” He pulls the barrel back and presses it against your puckered hole. “Maybe next time.” He guides himself to your cunt with his other hand and only pulls the gun completely away when he snaps his hips forward and fills you up.

Your gasp echoes in the cabin, shocked at the abrupt way he fills you, stretching you out, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Equal parts painful and pleasurable. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. “Oh fuck.” You choke, unable to breath as he doesn’t give you a chance to adjust around him before he’s pulling out to set a harsh pace, pounding into you like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

Dave hisses at how tight you get, pressing his hand on your lower back when you arch it up. “Fuck, that’s it. God, you love this don’t you?” He chuckles and glances over at where Johnny is sobbing in the chair. “This is what you should have done. You should feel how fucking tight she gets every time I rock into her.” He smirks. “But you won’t, because you can’t fuck her like I can.” He slaps your ass and thrusts harder into you, the slapping of his hips against your ass filling the cabin.

You cry out, his words shouldn’t turn you on but they do. It’s true. Johnny has never fucked you like this. It’s animalistic and you’re fucking breathless, panting as he slams his hips against yours over and over again, gun still in hand as he runs the barrel along your back.

“That’s it, taking it like the little slut you are.” Dave growls, enjoying the way you clench down around him. “My slut. Your cunt needed a real cock inside it. A man who isn’t afraid to hurt you, wants to hurt you.” He groans when you squeal and concentrates on that angle as he plows into you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes deep inside of you, making you fall forward onto your elbows as you can’t remain upright on your hands anymore. “Yes. You. Needed you.” You know it’s wrong but you’re lost in the haze of lust and you can’t see Johnny’s heartbroken look as you wantonly moan for Dave.

Dave growls, loving how you just admitted that in front of your pathetic boyfriend. “You look so good.” He pants out, “split open on my cock. Be a good girl and cum and then I’m really going to make you squeal.”

You can’t hold back, even if you tried, you cry out when he smacks your ass again and you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him. You bite your lip, trying to smother your moan because you know Johnny is still watching you.

Dave growls, pissed that you would try to muffle your moans, and he reaches back to grab your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest. “Don’t you fucking bite your lip.” He huffs. “Or I’ll shoot your boyfriend and the last thing he will ever see is you cumming on my cock,”

You hate that his words make you clamp down even more on his cock. He’s so commanding, it makes you soak him, and he grabs your jaw, forcing you to release your lip. “I’m sorry.” You gasp, to both Dave and Johnny. The fact that you are getting fucked by another man in front of your sweet boyfriend has your heart breaking but your body is aching for Dave.

Dave huffs. Sliding his gun hand down as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the barrel nudging your clit and he smirks when you gasp and your body reacts. “No you aren’t. You love this. You wanted my cock for so long.” He tells you. “You don’t think I didn’t know you searched my history? Saw what I was into? What I imagined doing to you?”

You would be mortified that he knew you’d seen the videos but he’s making your fantasies come true right now and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying the way he fucks up into you, the cold barrel of the gun nudging your clit enough to make you moan again. “I- fuck - it was so filthy. The - the choking. The spanking. I- I want that so much.” You admit, knowing Johnny wasn’t capable of giving that to you.

“You’re gonna get it.” He promises, feeling your cunt start to relax and he pulls out of you to turn you on your back. Throwing your legs back up into his shoulders, Dave wastes no time slamming back into you to start pounding you into the couch like he imagined when he was watching Johnny fucking you, folding you over to make sure he can plunge deep.

“Shit. Oh shit.” You squeal, he’s so deep inside of you. You feel like he’s in your guts. “Fuck baby. Oh fuck.” You sob, sounding authentic, not faking it like you did with Johnny. “Oh my God.” You whine, cupping your tits as he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so slutty.” Dave hisses, loving the way your cunt just floods his cock with your juices, every time he thrusts into you more coats him. It’s dripping down his thighs and his balls. Reaching up, he slaps your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt you. “My whore.” He growls, grabbing your throat and squeezing like he had imagined so many times. He could never do this to Carol, she didn’t like anything but basic lovemaking, but you are different. You will give him what he needs.

You grip his forearm as he fucks into you, making you moan and writhe. He grips your neck a little tighter and it cuts off some of your air, making you choke but your cunt squeezes his cock. You love this. It’s filthy and everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You love this.” He coos mocking, grinning over at where your boyfriend has his eyes closed. “Open your fucking eyes.” He orders, pointing the gun back at Johnny and his pace falters slightly. “Watch her get fucked. Every second of my cock inside you, you watch. Knowing you can’t give her this.”

You gasp, hating that you’re so turned on by his authority, and you whimper when he hits something incredible inside of you. Johnny opens his eyes, the look in them is heartbroken and it kills you to know that it’s over between you. He’d never want you now and you don’t know if you would want him after experiencing Dave. “Shit. Shit. I’m gonna cum.” You squeal, feeling how close you are.

Gritting his teeth, your squeal just makes him rock into you harder. Wanting to see how hard you cum, Dave holds the gun up to your head and pulls the trigger.

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But you cum when he pulls the trigger. The way your life flashes before your eyes as you wonder if he’s just killed you only to hear the click of the trigger and nothing else. It’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to you and you gush, soaking him with your cum as you sob his name.

Dave groans, feeling your cum soak him. Making him hiss, flexing his finger and dropping the gun as he lunges forward. Folding you over as he presses his lips to yours and buries his cock deep as he can get it, coating your walls in hot ropes of his seed.

You pant against his mouth, hands wrapping around his shoulders, and you pull him even closer, “Dave. Dave. Dave.” You whine into his mouth, his cock twitching inside of you and he pushes his cum out of you with each rock of his hips.

He practically grins against your lips in satisfaction. Feeling you pull him closer is his personal triumph, getting you to admit that you need what he gives you. Riding out his orgasm before he pulls back to see your body just sag into the couch as he admires his cum starting to well up in your abused pussy.

You open your eyes, looking up at Dave as he shifts off of you, leaning back to admire his cum after pulling out of your cunt. “That’s how you’re supposed to fuck her. That’s how she should look. Wrecked. Ruined.” Dave tells Johnny who is crying, blinking to stop himself from closing his eyes, fearful of Dave despite the gun being set aside.

Dave stands, starting to pull his clothes back on and picks up his gun. “You drove up here, so I’m going to take Johnny down to the bus station.” He tells you. “Safe to say he won’t be staying.”

You are too dazed to really think about it. You nod, knowing you will have to call Johnny and break up formally but you doubt he will ever talk to you again. "I'm sorry Johnny." You whisper, watching Dave untie him from the chair but not ungag your boyfriend who looks equal parts disgusted and scared. You know Dave will send him on his way and then you have no clue what will happen next. You can only hope that he fucks you again.

“Stay here.” Dave shoves Johnny towards the door but doesn’t give him a chance to stop and look at you. Opening the door and pushing him outside before locking it behind him. “Don’t worry.” Dave chuckles quietly as the other man starts to struggle against the rope around his hands. “I won’t leave her alone too long.”

You sigh, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The guilt is creeping up on you but the ache in your body pushes it aside. You’ve never been so satisfied and you’re eager for Dave to return, wondering what the next steps are. Part of you worries if he will kill you. You know he’s capable of it. Part of you wonders if he will simply leave you out here to make your way home.

Dave drives Johnny five miles away from the cabin, turning down an old dirt road that leads to an abandoned property. “You don’t have to worry.” Dave chuckles as he parks the car. “Everything will be fine.” He gets out and rounds the car, pulling an increasingly frantic Johnny out. “Shut up.” He hisses, pushing him up against the car and searching for his phone. He smirks when he pulls it out of his left pocket. “You are going to break up with her. Tell her that you never want to see her again.” He chuckles and puts the now loaded gun up to his temple and urges him away from the car. “Let me show you where I’m going to dump your body.” He taunts. “There’s a very nice, dry well. Perfect for you to rot in.”

Johnny cries, sobbing as Dave pushes him towards the well and he knows he has one chance to fight. He spins around, trying to knock the gun from Dave’s hand and he succeeds, deciding to run. He sprints, his hands still bound, and he can barely breathe with the gag in his mouth. “Fucker.” Dave hisses, scrambling to pick up the gun to run after the younger man. When he catches up, he aims and shoots him in the head, watching the body fall to the ground. “Had to make it messy, huh?” Dave huffs as he drags his body to the well. No one would find Johnny.

After he’s unlocked Johnny’s phone with the Face ID, he shoves the body into the well and smirks as he flips through your texts. Frowning slightly when he sees the exchange where he had been trying to convince you to leave your job with the girls, wanting you to move in with him. “Asshole.” He hisses, angrily typing out the breakup message to you, signaling the end of your relationship permanently. After he sends the message, he blocks your number and shuts the phone down, throwing it into the well, along with his body and hums to himself as he walks back to his car. Now he just needs to deal with you.

You stumble from the bathroom, having peed and cleaned up, when you hear your phone ding. Picking it up, you frown when you see the message from Johnny and open it.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Knowing you’ve been his whore and let him fuck you shows what kind of person you are. You are disgusting and I never want to see you again. I hope he satisfies your slutty needs and he’s gonna break your heart. Good luck.

The message makes you tear up, not able to refute his claims that Dave will break your heart. You know that. He’s probably on his way back now to do just that. You pull on your shirt and panties and sit on the sofa, typing a message back.

I’m so sorry, Johnny. I do love you. He just gave me what I needed. Can we please talk? I don’t want to end things like this. You hit send and the message never says delivered. He’s blocked you. That makes you cry, mourning the safe, yet boring relationship you had with Johnny.

Pulling back up to the cabin, Dave is happy to see your car still there. Scoffing to himself because Johnny had been happy to let you whisk him away rather than him doing it to you. Knowing it’s slightly sexist, but he doesn’t give a shit. You need a man to take care of you, and Dave is going to be that man. “I’m back.” He announces, walking back into the main room and frowning when he sees you crying. “What’s wrong?”

You sniff, wiping your eyes when you see Dave. “Johnny broke up with me.” You gesture to your phone and Dave wants to roll his eyes.

“And that’s a bad thing?” He asks and you bite your lip.

“I- I don’t know. I feel guilty. I- I fucked you in front of my boyfriend and now he’s - oh God. Carol. And the girls. I- shit.” You start to panic, realizing how wrong this all is.

“Don’t.” Dave shakes his head, sitting down and reaching out for you. He doesn’t care about what you are feeling but he has to pretend like he does. “Fuck that loser, or- don’t fuck him. He couldn’t make you cum. And Carol isn’t going to find out about this.”

“How do you know? I - I can’t look her in the eyes when we go back home. She- she’s gonna know. I can feel it. Oh God. This was so wrong. You shouldn’t have done this. You were supposed to be at home and now I- fuck.” You cling to him, soaking his shirt with your tears.

“Hush.” Dave insists, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. Some people just can’t have a poker face and you are one of them. Not that it matters. His hand slides down into your panties and he pinches your clit. “Don’t think about it.” He growls. “Think about what I’m going to do to you right now. In my bed.”

You choke on your sob, his fingers rubbing your clit has you whimpering. The alternations between pinching and rubbing make you moan and your tears run down your cheeks but you stop sobbing. “Fuck. Dave.” You whine, turning your head to kiss his neck.

“That’s it, concentrate on how much you want it.” He groans, his flaccid cock twitching. He always has wanted to fuck someone after he’s killed and he’s going to get to, the gunpowder still fresh on his skin. “You need it. You need what I’m going to do to you.” He bites down roughly on your shoulder, sure that his teeth will leave impressions through your shirt.

"I do. I really do." You gasp, grinding down onto his fingers. He smells like smoke, something you can't put your finger on, but you love it. It smells like Dave. "More. Need more." You whine and cry out when he slaps your cunt with his palm.

"Patience." He demands and you whimper, "please Dave."

Dave smirks, enjoying how eager you are for him. He pushes a finger deep inside your cunt and curls it up. “When I am here, you are to wear nothing.” He orders harshly, pumping his finger before adding another. “You will be ready to take my cock in whatever hole I want to fuck.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready. I’m yours. Have been yours. Just - I need more.” You beg, lost in the pleasure to really take note of his words. You reach out to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting more of him.

Dave growls, rocking his hips up, “take your fucking shirt off before I cut it off.” He demands, wanting to bite and suck on your tits. Eager to leave his teeth marks on your skin. To make you feel him when he leaves tonight. He pushes his fingers deep and rough. “Now.”

You scramble to follow his order, pulling the shirt over your head to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He surges down to bite down on your nipple, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. His fingers curl deep inside of you and you’re so close. He unravels you impossibly fast until finally, you clamp down on his digits, his teeth buried in your breast.

Dave groans in delight, feeling his teeth break the skin and the coppery tang of your blood floods his taste buds. Not enough to really do damage but from the way you clench around him, you love it.

You pant as he slows his fingers, letting you enjoy your orgasm and your eyes are still closed when he tells you to look at him. “You’re mine now.”

You nod, “I’m yours. I- I always have been.” You tell him truthfully.

“Good.” Dave pulls his fingers out of your cunt and shoves them into your mouth, nearly gagging you. “Now, your going to go into the bedroom and spread yourself on my bed, I need to get the toy you will have in your cunt while I fuck your ass.”

You shouldn’t shake with anticipation but you’ve never done anal before. None of your boyfriends were interested in the prep work and you wonder if Dave is the same. If he’s gonna just try to stick it in. You stand on shaky legs and make your way to the bed, kneeling on it and spreading your knees to display your cunt and puckered hole.

When he had come into the cabin, he had dropped a duffel bag near the door. All the supplies he needs inside, he unzips it, removing a toy, a bottle of lube and the handcuffs. The collar and chain are left in the bottom, along with the padlocks he had brought to secure the cabin. Taking them into the bedroom, he grunts in satisfaction when he sees you kneeling. “Has anyone every fucked your ass?”

You shake your head. “No. No one has.” You admit, hissing when he smacks your ass over the welts that are still sensitive from his rough treatment earlier. “You can. I want you to. Just - just be gentle.” You plead, knowing he won’t but maybe he will consider it.

He snorts, pulling your hands behind your back and slapping the cuffs on them. “Depends on how good you are for me.” He won’t be too rough, he wants you to anticipate him fucking you rather than trying to shy away. Leaning over and grinning, Dave spits on your puckered hold and reaches out to massage it into your skin.

"Shit." You hiss at the new sensation. No one has done this to you and you already fucking love it. "Fuck Dave." You pant when he pushes his finger a little deeper inside of you. "I'll be good." You promise, arching your back and your abused cunt clenches around nothing.

“I know you will.” Dave coos, pulling his finger out and coating it with lube so he can push it back inside you. “You know what I’m capable of. What I could do to you.” He chuckles when your tight hole clenches around his digits. “You like that I’m a killer.”

You can’t deny it. It turns you on to know what he’s capable of. “Oh fuck baby. Yes. Yes I do.” You confess, “I love it. I want you to be the one to fuck my ass.” You tell him breathlessly and you gasp when he adds another finger to stretch you out.

The sounds are slick and you aren’t pulling away as he starts to pump and scissor two fingers inside your ass. Making him groan at the sight of your clenching cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are nice and filled up.” He grins, picking up the dildo he had formed from his own cock using one of those kits. “My cock will be the last one you have inside you. Even a toy.”

You hear him squirt lube onto the dildo and you gasp when you feel the silicone press against your cunt. You moan when he starts to push the toy inside of you. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, trying to relax around the girth and you realize that the toy is as thick as Dave.

He chuckles, admiring the way your lips stretch around the toy. “You look good like this, even better when my cock is in your ass.” He taunts.

You pant as he works the toy in and out of you, his fingers scissoring your ass open and you collapse forward, resting your cheek on the sheets, your fingers flexing in the handcuffs. “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

He chuckles again and pulls his fingers out of your ass. “You’re ready to be full, huh?” He slaps your ass, leaving the toy inside your cunt as he slathers his cock in lube. He wants it to be slick, for himself and for you taking his cock in your ass for the first time.

“Yes.” You whimper, making him smirk as he slaps your ass and shuffles closer.

You pant as he presses the head of his cock against your puckered hole and you hold your breath as he starts to push inside of you. It hurts, but you can handle it. His hand caresses your back, “breathe.” He orders and you exhale shakily, inhaling deeply on the next breath. He’s so thick it stings but you want this. You try to relax so you can take as much of him as possible.

Unlike the first time he pushed inside your cunt, Dave takes his time. Works himself an inch at a time. Aware that this is new, plus you still have the toy filling up the other hole on the other side of the thin skin. He can feel the ridges in the silicone and he groans as he rocks into you. “Fuck- fuck you’re going to be so good for me? Taking this cock and a toy aren’t you? You’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

You nod, “yes. Whatever you want. I love - I love it.” You tell him, groaning when he starts to move inside of you. “Yes. Oh yes baby.” You pant when he starts to move faster and he’s gripping the toy, working that in and out too. It’s more than you’ve ever felt and you are already on the edge.

“Fuck, fuck you’re so-“ Dave groans, gritting his teeth and biting off his words when you spasm around him, close to cumming already. “Shiiiit.” He hisses, rocking his hips faster, slapping them against your ass as he works up to a frantic pace.

You squeal when he picks up the pace, pushing into you over and over again. “Yes. Yes! Keep - keep going. Keep going. I - fuck. You’re gonna make me - Dave. Oh Dave!” You clamp down on the toy, squeezing it inside of your walls and you squeeze Dave, shaking as you sob into the sheets at the intensity of your orgasm.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut.” Dave groans, slowing down and rocking his hips a lot slower than before. He wants you exhausted by the time he is done with you. He needs you to sleep while he closes up the house. “That’s good baby, fuck, you’re so tight.” He praises, caressing your spine. “Want you to cum again. You’re gonna come for me again.”

You recover against the bedsheets, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your spine, until he starts to fuck you again. This time, he’s slower. Not as rushed as he rocks his hips, and you try to grind back onto him, arms aching from the handcuffs but you daren’t ask him to remove them.

Looking down, he watches his cock move inside you. Aware that he is recording this very moment on the camera system to keep and watch back whenever he wants. “Gonna fuck you every week.” He groans, twitching inside you. “First you’re going to suck my cock. Kneel down and take my cock down your throat while I finish up work.” He tells you, like he’s explaining how things will go. Because he is. “Then I’m going to fuck your cunt full.”

"Oh God." His words make you burn and you want that, you want him. Every fucking day. "Yes. Yes. My pussy is yours, Dave. I belong to you." You promise, tears stinging in your eyes as your wildest dreams come true. "I need you. I need this."

“You are mine.” He groans, rocking his hips faster and he reaches around you to slap your clit and rub it harshly. “Forever. You’re mine. Mine. You’re going to give me more kids.”

You wonder if he’s just babbling or if he means it. It’s hard to not give into the fantasy. You want him to knock you up, claim you in every way. But you know that if you were lucid, you would be terrified to get knocked up by a married man. “Yes. Yes. Gonna have your babies. As many as you want.”

He snarls, closing his eyes and gripping your hips harshly as he starts fucking into you harshly again. Rubbing your clit in a desperate effort for you to cum again. His control slipping at your acceptance of what he has planned for you. “Yes, fuck, yes, cum for me.”

You can't deny him, clamping down on the toy that is still inside of you, while his cock pushes deep and his fingers play with your clit. "Oh my - fuck!" You scream, almost blacking out from the pleasure. This is what you've wanted, what you've craved since you started working for the Yorks. Now you've got it, your entire body is on fire.

He feels your body give out, collapsing against the bed and flattening out so he just follows you. Still fucking into your ass like a man possessed and his hand trapped between you and the bed, rubbing your clit. He growls out your name, burying his cock deep and filling you with another load of his cum, pulsing deep inside the other hole he had claimed.

You can't open your eyes, you can't move. Knowing he's cum inside of you again, and the way he growled your name, it's more than you can bear. "Fuck. I- I love you. I love you. I love you." You sob, knowing he won't reply but you want him to know.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t. Not when he has the girls and Carol and all the shit that he does. But he does want you. You’re his. He rides out his high and starts to slowly ease out of you once he’s done.

You sigh when he pulls out of you, slowly removing the toy too and you feel so empty. His cum drips out of you, and you want him to take the handcuffs off and cuddle you but he won’t. He will probably uncuff you and then send you on your way. “Thank you.” You murmur, knowing how good this was and you know you’ll need him again soon.

Dave caresses your ass for a moment before he moves towards the bathroom. He needs to clean you up. “I’ll uncuff you in just a second.” He promises, grabbing the toy and bringing it with him.

You watch him come back in with the rag, hissing as he cleans up your abused holes, and you sigh when he unlocks the cuffs, rubbing your wrists. “Did you enjoy it?” You ask him softly, wanting him to have loved being inside of you.

“Obsessed.” Dave answers with an honest smirk. He knows that you are going to want reassurance and intimacy so he motions for you to get under the covers and pulls them back to get into the bed with you. “I’ll be thinking about it when I’m not inside you.”

Your eyes widen as he slides into bed beside you and you are surprised when he wraps his arms around you. You smile, shifting back to snuggle into him, breathing him in. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring but you have him tonight. He strokes along your stomach and you are lulled into sleep, exhausted from the sex and the events of the day.

He waits until you are softly snoring, slipping out of the bed and picking up your phone to type out another text message, one that would be sent to his phone. Smirking to himself as he hits send, removes your SIM card and erases it. He’s had your password for a long time and now he’s used it. Redressing and stepping out with the bag and padlocks to start shuttering the cabin windows. With you inside.

****

You blink as you wake up, confused by your surroundings until you remember that Dave had fallen asleep beside you. You sigh and turn over in bed, frowning when you feel the cold sheets beside you. He’s gone. You knew he would leave but a small part of you hoped he would stay. You get out of the bed, shrugging on your robe that you’d brought with you, and you frown when you see the cabin is in darkness. You walk over to the window to open the curtains and you gasp when you find it shut up. Starting to panic, you go through each window, finding each one boarded up, and you rush over to the front door. Screaming when you find it locked, you tug on the handle with no use. You’re locked in. “Dave! Dave! Dave!” You shout, praying he’s still here and this is some kind of joke. You rush around the cabin but he’s nowhere to be found. “Oh my God.” You panic, chest heaving as you come to realize he’s locked you in.

Watching the screen, Dave sees you panicking. He picks up his cell phone to dial the cabin. He’s set it up so that only he can dial in, there are no outgoing calls to be made. He watches you jump when the phone peels and you rush over to it. “Dave! What- what is going on? What - why are you doing this?” You cry, making him exhale slowly, keeping his patience for now.

“You said you’re mine.” He reminds you quietly. “You didn’t want Carol to find out. So this is perfect. You will stay here, I’ll be up to see you every couple of days and bring you supplies.” He rasps into the phone. “I can see you on the cameras and I’ll call you once a day. Tell me if you need me to bring you anything. And when I come, you can have me just like you said you wanted.”

Your hands shake as you look around the cabin, trying to spot the cameras and you think you see one in the corner. “Please don’t do this. I- I wouldn’t tell Carol. It would be our little secret. I don’t - please Dave. I can be a good girl. I won’t tell anyone. Just - just come and let me out. Please. I - fucking let me out of here!” You shout down the phone, losing your cool as you start to have a panic attack at the fact that he’s locked you in the cabin.

“Ah ah ah.” Dave tuts disappointedly. “A good girl wouldn’t yell about her situation.” He tells you. “I’ll be back in three days, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll bring those cookies you love. And you don’t have to worry about Johnny.” He decides to tell you the truth. “I killed him. And you texted me, telling me that you were quitting to move in with him. So Carol won’t wonder where you’ve gone.”

You sob, hearing the truth that Dave killed Johnny. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man. You nearly drop the phone, covering your mouth to smother your sob but know Dave can see it on the camera. “Don’t be sad. Now we can be together. When I want. I’m gonna have you forever. You’re mine now.” Dave declares and hangs up the phone.

You frantically try to call back on the phone but the line is dead. You press the numbers over and over with no response so you finally slump down onto the floor. Dave killed Johnny and now you are his prisoner. Your selfishness has ruined everything, Dave has destroyed everything. You cry for Johnny, for your future, and you know you won’t make it out of here alive. Dave won’t let you go now. You’ll be his. Forever.

#pedro pascal #dddne #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #dave york x reader #dave york #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x nanny!reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york equalizer 2 #dave york fanfiction #dave york imagine #dark!dave york #tw murder #tw imprisonment #consensual noncon #tw dubious consent

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starkeysmoon · 2 years ago

Text

meeting them (sully siblings)

parings: neteyam sully x gender neutral! reader, lo’ak sully x gender neutral!reader, kiri sully x gender neutral!reader (separated)

summary: what it would be like to meet the sully siblings for the first time as a metkayina!reader

word count: 0.6K! (headcanons/drabble)

NETEYAM

“hello,” greeted neteyam as he walked up to you.

"hi," you reply, but it sounds more like a question as you were surprised that the boy had approached you.

“do you mind helping me with something?” he asked, his voice sounding desperate.

“sure,” you agreed. “ what do you need help with?”

“I can’t seem to find any of the saddles for the ilu’s.” he confessed, scratching his head in confusion.

“there should be some around the docks,” you told him, pointing towards it.

“yes, tsireya mentioned that but there aren’t any there at the moment,” he admitted, looking awfully stressed.

“I could lend you one of mine.” you offered as a smile traced your lips.

“really?” he asked and widening his eyes at your kindness, glimpses of gratefulness could be seen in them.

“yeah.” you said, nodding and shrugging it off as if it was no big deal.

“thank you.” he said quickly. “what is your name?”

“i’m (name), and yours is?” you inquired, tilting your head to the side.

“neteyam. it’s nice to meet you, (name)”

“you too.”

LOAK

“hey,” you said greeting the forest boy you'd seen arrive the day before, having already heard so much about him. “new here?” you teased.

“that obvious?” he questioned, a sly smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

“hm, I don’t know,” you said, pretending to think. “I think the fact that you fell while trying to ride an ilu yesterday gives it away.”

he laughs in embarrassment of himself as his ears turn a light shade of pink. “you saw that?”

“you’re hard to miss.”

lo’ak feels heat rise to his cheeks, another hue of pink starting to show on his ears, except it’s darker and not out of embarassment this time. “I am?” he stumbles out.

“yeah.” you reply, a smile beginning to form on your face. “i’m (name) by the way.”

“nice to meet you bro,” he says, almost immediately regretting the words that just left his mouth.

“I-didn’t mean to call you bro.” he sputters out. “I mean unless you’d liked to be called bro, but-”

“it’s alright, lo’ak.” you reassure him, cutting off his cute blubbering.

he pauses at your words. they know my name? he murmurs to himself.

you hear your father call your name from afar and you groan in annoyance. “i’m sorry. duty calls. but it was nice to meet you too, bro.” you quip, waving goodbye as you walk towards your pod, leaving the boy stunned.

KIRI

“hey, you’re kiri right?” you ask.

‘“who’s asking?” she questions, expecting it to be one of ao'nung’s friends playing a trick on her again.

“a na’vi who just wants to talk to you,” you reply, a grin on your face.

she turns her head towards you and her eyes widen in shock. “i’m sorry for my rudeness earlier.” she apologizes, shaking her head.

“it’s alright, it happens sometimes,” you assure, as you move to sit down next to the girl.

“I thought you were one of ao'nung’s friends playing a trick or something,” she admits.

“ao'nung and his friends have been doing that to you?” you question, anger slowly starting to flood throughout your body.

she responds with a hesitant nod.

“i’ll skin him,” you grumble at once, but kiri just shakes her head once more and places her hand on your arm.

“it’s fine. I promise.” she insists, but you're not sure if you believe her.

“alright.” you say, beginning to calm down. “but if they pick on you again, let me know.”

“okay.” she agrees. “you never told me your name.”

“it’s (name)” you say, smiling.

“what a beautiful name, it suits you well.”

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turtletaubwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Give You Everything ~ Part 18

Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader, Robin x Fem!Reader, Sanji X Robin

This is part 18 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

Word Count: 3948

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Link (Ch. 8 of We've All Got Needs cont.)

Summary: Robin deciphers your secret code, and asks you to join her in playing with the cook tonight.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Alcohol, Pet Names, Threesome - F/F/M, Dom/sub Play, Dom Nico Robin, Sub Sanji, Sub Reader, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Bondage, Hair-pulling, Condoms, Penis in Vagina Sex, Large Cock, Overstimulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Voyeurism, Coming in Pants, Aftercare, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Porn with Feelings, like way more feelings than I meant to put in here, sorry

A/N: Only took 18 flippin' parts to get to a threesome, lol. I had so much fun, I hope you enjoy it!

“May I ask why you’ve been repeating the same words for the past few days?”

Sanji sputtered as he tried to swallow his drink. You set your fork down, finished with the lovely dessert Sanji had prepared for you and Robin to share on your first date with both of them.

Sanji looked panicked as he stared between the two of you.

Laughing, you squeezed his thigh, bringing a soft whimper from his throat.

“Sanji, I’m alright with sharing this with Robin if you are.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he said, still breathless, but face beaming as he reached out to touch your cheek.

You kissed his palm before turning to Robin’s amused face.

“Sanji and I have shared that we love each other.”

“And I love you so much, Angel!”

Sanji had started kissing his way from your fingers to your shoulder while you tried not to squirm.

“Ah, and you have made a code to keep that a secret. From Zoro, I presume?”

“You are very good at deciphering things,” you teased, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Sanji had moved closer, whispering those words against your cheek.

“I love you too,” you breathed with a smile, grabbing his arm to push him back toward his unfinished meal.

Robin tilted her head. You had a feeling she wanted to ask more questions, but she almost always had that look, so you let it go.

After Sanji finished, he refused your offer to help clean up. Instead, you leaned against Robin, trailing your fingers along her arm while you both watched Sanji hum while he worked.

When he was done, Sanji went to his knees before you, and you felt a satisfied hum move through Robin’s body.

“How may I serve the two goddesses before me?”

“Find us a bottle of wine, and meet us in my quarters.”

You shivered at the command in Robin’s voice, especially when you saw Sanji’s breath hitch.

Robin led you out of the galley, and you felt like your body was vibrating, buzzing with energy.

She closed the door behind you, pulling you inside. Her face was so close to yours, and you stared as her tongue pressed out to gently wet her lips.

“Y/N, I would like to play with our cook tonight. Would you like to join me?”

You could have asked what she meant, but you didn’t care. You’d been hoping for this, and you wanted to do anything this beautiful woman asked you to do.

“Yes,” you breathed, gasping softly at the dangerous look she gave you.

“I think he should work for it tonight, don’t you?”

Biting your lip, all you could do was nod.

“Ladies, you knight has arrived!”

You lounged on the bed, propped on an elbow while you watched Sanji’s shaky hands as he poured the drinks. Robin sat at the edge of the bed, leaving Sanji alone on the loveseat while you all lifted your glasses.

“Here’s to you, beauties. I am so lucky to be in your presence.”

You followed Robin’s lead and stayed silent, just smiling at him as you took a sip.

“Very lucky,” Robin chuckled, sending arms to put everyone's glasses aside. Heat ran through your body with anticipation, and Sanji’s parted lips made you notice your own dry mouth.

She’s got both of us hooked.

“So lucky that I think it’s about time you earned it, don’t you, Sanji?”

Robin had set her delicate hand on your ankle at those words, and the simple gesture had Sanji’s eyes trapped, staring as her fingers lightly stroked your skin.

You felt almost as affected as Sanji clearly was. If Robin was the huntress, and Sanji was the prey, you were her live bait being dangled before him. The thought of her using you to toy with him had wetness already pooling between your legs, and she squeezed your ankle softly when she heard your soft gasp.

“Well, Sanji?”

“I, y-yes, Robin. I should earn it.”

The desperate need in his voice almost had your toes curling, but you tried to stay still for Robin. Tried to be her bait, and make him work for it.

Robin’s eyes were on you now, and your breath caught.

“Y/N, I confessed to Sanji that I got you to share all your stories about him before we started dating. I hope you don’t mind, I’d love it if we could all speak openly with each other.”

“That’s fine,” you breathed, barely audible.

She gave another soft smile, and a squeeze to your ankle before setting Sanji in her sights again.

“Sanji, dear. I heard how much you love to listen. I even wondered if you might have listened in on us before.”

His wide eyes looked panicked, and you knew it was true. He hadn’t just been teasing you the other night, he did keep listening in.

“Hm, well let’s try a change of pace tonight.”

Her teasing tone was too much, and watching him fall apart was driving you crazy. You chewed on the inside of your lip to keep from fidgeting.

You let out a gasp as Robin’s warm hand caressed up your leg, all while she kept her eyes on Sanji. He was following her hand like a dog waiting for his treat, his mouth hanging wide.

“Tonight you’re going to watch.”

His eyes rolled back for a moment, and when he looked back his body was loose, breathing heavy.

“You’re going to sit right there and watch, Sanji. You’re not going to talk, and you’re not going to move. You’re going to stay there until you hear my voice say you’ve earned it. Are you alright with that?”

Sanji nodded, while Robin hummed. She turned to you now, face serious.

“Y/N, are you alright with that? That Sanji has to stay there until I let him move, no matter what you say or do?”

A chill ran through you but you breathed your ‘yes,’ and adored the smile she gave you before crawling onto you, straddling you. You melted under her soft lips, humming through the kiss as she laced her fingers through yours.

“Mm, you’re so soft, Y/N…”

A small gasp left your throat as Robin kissed down your jaw to your neck. Her tongue swirling at the crook of your neck had you squirming, and your head fell to the side enough to see Sanji.

You didn’t think you’d ever been looked at like that before. It was almost frightening, the intensity, the need. His face was red, his fists clenched on his knees. And we’ve barely started.

Robin started sucking on your neck now, and you saw Sanji twitch at the sound of your moan.

“Robin…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She pulled back, fingers tracing your face as she searched your eyes.

“I want to make you feel good.”

She kissed you then, pulling you off the bed.

“You’re so sweet to me.”

She pulled you close, still leaving soft kisses as she started undressing you. You helped her out of her clothes, getting on your knees to pull her panties all the way down.

With an evil thought you mouthed, ‘can I,’ to Robin, and at her nod you tossed her panties on Sanji’s lap. You heard the faintest whimper, and almost felt bad when you met his wide eyes. Almost.

Following Robin’s beautiful body back to the bed, you grabbed a pillow for your knees and knelt on the floor, breath hitching when Robin spread her thighs for you.

Smiling wickedly up at her, you let your tongue and lips explore.

Robin was dripping, and the thought that what you were doing to Sanji had affected her this much, made you even more ravenous for her.

“Robin, you taste so good.”

“Mm, Y/N, just like that.”

Teasing your tongue around her entrance, you dove into her, tasting as deep as you could go, while you brought fingers to dance along her clit. Her moans and twitches were like a drug, and you needed more.

“Mm, Sanji, look how sweet your angel is to me. She takes such good care of mm-”

You interrupted Robin’s tease with two fingers inside of her, twisting and curling, finding the spot that made her moan the most.

“Yes, Y/N, so good for me, right there, unf-”

You found that spot, and stayed there, attacking her delicious clit with your tongue while you worked. Your body was shaking with the adrenaline of making Robin feel good. Hearing her moan your name made your body twist with need.

“Y/N…”

You could have cried at the feeling of Robin’s pussy milking your fingers, if you hadn’t had your lips wrapped around her pulsing clit. You pulled at her orgasm, stretching it out, savoring it, until she finally tapped your shoulder, gasping for you.

“You’re incredible, Y/N.”

She ran her fingers through your hair, soft face turning dangerous again when she looked toward the couch.

“I think our cook has been doing pretty well. What do you think?”

“Mmhm,” you agreed as you stood to stretch, rubbing your knees a bit.

“Y/N, could you go give him a taste of your hard work, a little appetizer for what he’ll get if he keeps being such a good boy?”

She touched your cheek, rubbing her thumb next to your mouth. Her fingers were sliding in her pleasure, slick still coating your face.

As you moved away, she grabbed your wrist, and leaned around to address Sanji.

“Be a good boy, and stay still. She’s just giving you a taste, but you’re not done yet.”

Heart pounding, you knelt on the ground in front of Sanji.

He did not look okay. His face was red, the corners of his eyes were wet, and his breathing was ragged.

You moved in front of his face, and mouthed, ‘are you okay?’

Sanji’s eyes widened, and he gave the tiniest nod you’d ever seen. Grinning, you placed your lips on his, leaving a taste of Robin behind. Sanji gave a tiny lurch toward you, but held himself back.

The restraint, and the need in him made you dizzy.

But you turned away, going into Robin’s beckoning arms, letting her wipe her pleasure off of your face.

She’d set up the pillows on the bed to make you comfortable, and in perfect view of your cook. You chuckled with her as she led you, kissing along your wrists and shoulders before settling you there, on display.

But she didn’t join you. She turned, and sat on the loveseat beside Sanji, not touching him, but so close.

“Sanji, you saw what a sweet girl your angel is. She took such good care of me.”

You jolted, gasping as Robin called arms around you, hands spreading your thighs, trapping your arms and legs to either side.

“Is this alright, Y/N?”

“Y-Yes, Robin.”

“Mm, you look gorgeous. I love when you let me hold you down like this.”

Your eyes rolled back until you felt another hand on your thigh.

“Sanji, look at our lovely girl. She gives us all what we need. Look how wet she is just from taking care of me."

Robin’s hand had dragged fingers along your thigh and through your folds, pulling back with thick strands of your need. You saw Sanji rock slightly.

Then her hand trailed along your other thigh until it touched the still tender bruise from Zoro’s bite.

“And just look at this, Sanji. Our girl is so sweet that she lets us leave our marks on her. I wonder, does seeing this make you angry? Or do you enjoy fucking Y/N with her other lover’s marks on her skin? Just like you love to listen in?”

Sanji’s eyes closed for a moment, and you could see he was shaking.

“Let’s watch our girl, Sanji.”

You felt both of their eyes on you as more hands surrounded you. You were lost in a sea of sensation, caresses, tickles, scratches. It felt incredible, but very soon it was too much. The center of you was left empty and aching as the rest of your body was bombarded with touch.

“R-Robin…”

Robin didn’t speak to you as she kept up her teasing torture. Instead, she tilted her head at Sanji.

“How long do you think you could listen to your angel beg before you helped her?”

You saw through the wave of limbs long enough to see Sanji’s fingers digging into his thighs. You shook your head at him, and that’s when Robin attacked.

She sat lazily on the couch as Sanji shook, sweat dripping down his skin, while her hands had their way with you.

Fingers were twisted into your hair, pulling until you whimpered, forcing you to keep your face toward the couch. Hands kept tracing, and scratching down your body.

And finally, hands moved where you needed them. You twitched when a hand found your clit, and cried out Robin’s name when another sunk two fingers deep inside of you.

“You are amazing, Y/N, I love it when you say my name like that.”

You were so close, so fast, feeling that pressure about to burst when everything stopped. The hands pulled away, and you whimpered, body aching, desperate.

“You’ve both been so good.”

You were nearly sobbing with need, body twitching to get closer to her hands, but they wouldn’t come back.

“Y/N, do you think our boy has earned his freedom?”

“Y-Yes-”

“Hm, I think I still need some convincing. Let’s have a test. Y/N, why don’t you beg him to help you. I know you’d love it if I let him take care of you, I know you need it. Why don’t you tell him how much you need him right now.”

Desperate noises started coming from you, out of your control, as her hands started teasing you again.

You chewed your tongue, not wanting to beg him. Sanji already looked seconds away from running to you, you were afraid if you begged him, he’d break. After all his hard work.

But your skin was on fire, and Robin had asked you to beg.

“P-Please, Sanji, I need your cock inside me. Fuck, please help me. I nee-“

“That's enough.”

Tears were streaming from your eyes, and you blinked to clear your vision. Sanji was leaning forward, body almost off of the couch. His eyes were clenched shut, as Robin’s many hands had gripped his arms and shoulders.

The hands around you fell away, leaving you limp on the bed.

Robin pulled Sanji back, making him turn to face her.

“I think it’s lovely that you can’t ignore her cries for help, even now.”

Sanji slumped, and you let out a small sob, still not able to move even without the restraints.

“I think you’ve both been very good tonight. Y/N, how about you decide if Sanji’s free to come to help you now.”

“Yes, Sanji, plea-”

He was on you in an instant, and he kissed you like he’d die without you. You sobbed into his mouth, then moaned as his fingers found their way inside you, already bringing you so close to release.

“Gods, Sanji…”

“I’ve got you, Angel. Let me take care of you.”

Tears of relief streamed from your eyes, and soon you were clenching around his fingers, moaning his name as you scratched your nails down his striped shirt, your release overwhelming you.

He left slow, gentle kisses along your face and neck as he stroked your hair, whispering praise and love, as if you’d been apart for years.

Finally you opened your eyes, and looked toward Robin. Her eyes were unreadable. It looked like her normal smile, but there was a more potent sadness to it, and you didn’t want to see it there.

You tried to prop yourself up, but Sanji had to help you. He trailed his hand along your arm as you both looked at the mysterious woman on the couch.

“You two are truly beautiful.”

The softness in her voice had you reaching for her. Sanji did the same.

“No, please. Take care of each other. I’d like to watch, if that’s alright.”

“But…”

“Please, Y/N, you both have already brought me so much pleasure tonight. I’d love to see you enjoy each other now.”

You wanted to argue, but her still gaze told you it would be pointless.

Sanji brought his hand to the back of your neck, and kissed your cheek, before whispering in your ear.

“I’ve never seen anything more perfect than you calling my name like that, trusting that I’d be there.”

“I knew you’d take care of me, Sanji.”

He shuddered at your words, but pulled away as you reached for his pants.

A hand appeared beside you offering a towel to Sanji, and his face turned red again.

“What’s wrong-”

“N-Nothing,” he said, his voice a bit higher.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The sight of your lover’s in the throes of passion brought you without a touch. And you stayed still and quiet just like you were told. Good boy.”

The praise ran over Sanji until he shivered, shaking his head. His ears were still pink as he stood to strip, wiping up the pleasure the night had ripped from him.

The sight of his swollen, thick cock as he toweled himself off arched your back. You wondered when he’d come, if it was when you’d had your tongue inside Robin, or when she’d been torturing you to get him to snap.

You stared as he dragged a condom on, shivering at the sight. It made you want to watch him pleasure himself soon. Your mouth was hanging wide.

“Please, Sanji.”

“I’m right here, mon coeur.”

He was next to you, tender hands along the sides of your body as he kissed his way down.

“Please, fuck me.”

“Shh, darling, I can’t stand to hear you beg a moment longer. I will give you everything.”

You fell back against the pillows as Sanji’s tongue found your clit.

Your head fell to the side, and you saw Robin sipping her wine, watching. Shivering, you were brought back to Sanji by the touch of his tongue ring to that sensitive bundle of nerves, and his fingers exploring you, so deep.

Fuck, I love him.

“Sanji…”

“I’m here, mon amour. You can have all that I am.”

He added a third finger, gently stretching. Preparing you to take him in, and it made you moan, grabbing onto his hair.

“You’re so perfect, Angel. Thank you, thank you for letting me touch you, hold you. I’ll do anything for you, darling.”

He moved above you, lining himself up.

“San-“

Even with all the prep, Sanji pressing his body into yours took your breath. His girth felt too much, even at the start.

“I’ve got you, Angel. Breathe, sweetheart.”

The look in his eyes was intense. Such care and warmth that your eyes watered for more than just the sting of him pushing into you.

You tilted your hips to help his angle, breathing, and holding onto his sides as he slid the rest of the way in.

When he was buried as deep in you as he could go, fully sheathed inside you, he moaned before lowering his face to look into your eyes.

“I love you, Angel.”

“I love you too, Sanji.”

You held your hands around his waist, then gripped onto his back as he started thrusting.

You bit your lip to keep from screaming, but your moans and gasps couldn’t be stopped.

Sanji was so overwhelming. His care, his devotion. His gifts, and need to please you. His strength and kindness. His generous hands and mouth. And his thick cock, stretching you so wide, filling you completely as your body shattered around him.

Sanji closed the distance between you, his body pressing down on yours, almost too much, too heavy, as he thrust into you. He wrapped one of his arms under your body, pulling you into him like you could become one. Your hands trailed along his back, trying to pull him even closer.

Sanji’s legs were so powerful that even from this restricted angle, laying almost completely on top of you, he could thrust so unbelievably hard into you. You were moaning into his neck now as he pounded into you faster, still moaning praise to you that made you shiver.

“Sanji, plea-“

“I’m here, Angel, I’m right here, all yours. Give you everything…”

You were falling off the edge again, legs twitching underneath him, biting your tongue, and pressing your face into his shoulder to keep from screaming.

And then he moaned your name, and you felt the twitching length of him inside you, keeping your own shakes going as he came.

He held you so close, whispering, and squeezing you to him.

Then he pulled out before the sting could get too intense, and you watched him clean himself off before taking care of you.

Your eyes met Robin’s, and you reached out your hand again.

“Will you lay with us, Robin?”

She finished her glass of wine, but said nothing.

“It is your bed,” you teased.

Her lip twitched up, and you were afraid she’d say no.

But you watched her lithe body move across the small room. She sat on the edge of the bed, her deep eyes pouring over your faces. Her soft hands touched both of your cheeks, and you felt Sanji’s quiet gasp.

“Thank you for letting me witness your love.”

Her voice was so soft, and you tried to move toward her. You couldn’t sit up to hug her completely, but you wrapped your arm around her waist, resting your head on her lap. Sanji’s hand was tracing warm circles on her back.

“Please lay with us, Robin.”

Robin never let you see too much. There was always a wall, but she’d turn you another way, making you feel close without sharing anything deeper. You were always afraid you’d push her away when you’d ask her about herself, her past. So lately you hadn’t.

But now she seemed lost, her pain more bare than you’d ever seen it. You ached to ask, but knew she wouldn’t let it go.

So you did all you could think to do. And let Robin take what she could.

Sanji helped you to the head of the bed, then Robin curled herself around you. She was so much taller than you, she was taller than Sanji too. But that didn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around your body while she rested her head on your chest.

Sanji propped pillows around both of you, helping you to be comfortable. But you noticed he'd placed a pillow between him and Robin, so that when he pressed himself against her, she wouldn’t feel the hard length of him.

You loved him even more. He knew, like you did, that Robin needed something that wasn’t sex right now. His warm chest and arms enveloped her, and his hand traced along your arm and side as you both held her between you.

You were afraid you might say the wrong thing, so you didn’t say a word. No one did.

It was just skin, and warmth, and breath, and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

As you started to drift, you felt Robin’s arms squeeze you just a bit tighter. You could have sworn you felt hot dampness on your chest, but you didn’t want to break the spell. No matter how much you ached to help her, you couldn’t speak it yet.

I’m here for you, Robin.

Thank You for Reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Part 19

A/N: This one meant a lot to me, and I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will have a bit of a time skip, and I'm super excited to share where our lil group is headed!

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

#sanji smut #nico robin smut #poly fanfic #sanji x reader #nico robin x reader #One Piece smut #Reader Insert #Fem!Reader #Smut #mine #nico robin fanfic #sanji fanfic #nico robin x fem!reader #f/f fanfic #x reader #turtletaub fics

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mrsjjsmaybanks · 6 months ago

Text

LINGER

pairing> jj maybank x fem! reader

synopsis> as of recent jj has been ignoring you, and you had no idea why. maybe it was cause topper kept flirting with you, or maybe that pope was tutoring you, maybe even that john b hugged you. at this point you had no clue what you had done to royally piss your boyfriend off.

warning> kie being a bitch, mentions of running away, the word baby is used once, cleo is gf in this, NOT BETA READ!

a/n> ahhhh first story on this acc!! no hating on kie she is gf, very much based on linger by cranberries, also i have a obx rewrite coming out soon would anyone be interested?? also pls ignore the fact that this sucks

"hey jombee have you seen jayj?" you asked walking into the cheateu, "we were supposed to go to the wreck." you continued walking into the spare room jj stays when he comes over.

"i think i saw him and kie heading towards there earlier, something about meeting up with cleo and pope." john b answered sipping his beer before getting up.

"i'll take you in the twinkie gotta go meet up with sarah." he offered, nodding your head you climbed into the van, why would he be there with kie?, you wondered. not cause he couldnt hang out with the girl but cause you guys had plans, and jj never missed plans with his girl.

when john b pulled up to the wreck you immediately spotted pope, cleo, kie, and him. before pope could call you over you noticed something was off. jj was holding kies hand, why was he holding her hand while dating you?

"hi guys!" you smiled as you walked over to there table eyeing the two people you really did not want to see. as soon as you approached jj immediately dropped kies hand making her mouth drop. "hi y/n," jj sputtered out shocked to see you like you werent supposed to be here. "hi jayj." you rolled your eyes starting a conversation with cleo instead.

"um what are you doing here?" he tried to converse with you. "well i was waiting for my date to pick me up but he decided to take someone else out." you stared directly at kiara as if it was her fault your boyfriend took her instead of you, which to be fair is her fault a little bit.

"its not my fault he doesnt like you anymore." it was like the whole restaurant went silent. "what?" you stumbled back away from them like youd been burned. "you heard what i said, its not my fault jj doesnt like you anymore." she said sipping her drink like it was common knowledge.

"y/n wait," you didnt even want to hear what he had to say anymore you wanted out. you wanted away from this town, this relationship, from him. so you ran, you ran past kies house, past yours, past the cheateu, you ran until you couldnt run anymore.

it was now sunset, its been hours since the incident at the wreck, the pogues have been looking everywhere for you, cleos been calling everyone non stop, your mom, dad, even shoupe. while on the phone with your mom, you walk in looking disheveled as ever.

"oh y/n," jj sighs a breath of relief at the sight of you unharmed. "no," you cut him off pushing him away. "what? y/n whats wrong? what happened?" you never avoided jj ever he was like your lifeline. "why were you holding her hand? is that the way we stand? were you lying all the time?" you just broke down tears falling rapidly, no stopping them.

"was it just a game to you?" now you were pacing back and forth. "baby-" "you know im such a fool for you." you finally stopped and look jj dead in the eye, "were over. we are done." and walked out.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #john b routledge #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #pope heyward #topper thornton #john b x reader #pope heyward x reader #kiara carerra x reader #mrsjjsmaybanks

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hunnysnoops · 9 days ago

Note

the children yearn for burn alive and wtt updates! 🤕 even a little sneak peek would cure our pain

Just for proof it exists

WTT CHAPTER 14 SNIPPET:

Before Kyle can sputter out another apology, another actor dressed as a vampire sweeps out from behind a nearby curtain, his face painted messily white with little dribbles of fake blood around his mouth. He wore what you could see to be a cheap wig, pinned haphazardly onto his head . He doesn't make a sound, just glides over silently, his dark cloak billowing behind them. With dramatic flair, he twirls to show the flowing nature of his cape and he kneels down beside you, giving Kyle a side-eye so sharp it could cut through steel.

"Everything okay, madam?" the vampire asks, voice thick with a caricature of Dracula's accent. He offers you a hand, his fingers cool to the touch as they help you to your feet, while Kyle stands there helpless, still trying to process what just happened.

You give a weak nod, trying to shake off the stinging pain in your throat. "Yeah," you rasp, "just... he might be single after tonight." You shoot Kyle a look that's partially amused, mostly pissed off.

The vampire actor gives him a cold, disdainful once-over before turning back to you, his voice deepening with mock seriousness. "Vat happened to ze young lady?"

"She's okay," Kyle cuts in but the vampire swishes his hands in Kyle's direction as if he cast a spell of silence over him.

"I asked ze lady, not ze ogre," He says, turning his attention toward you "Shall I dispose of him for you?" You thought his urge to stay in character equally parts odd and corny.

BURN ALIVE CHAPTER FOUR SNIPPET:

"What's this?" Kenny asks looking at a glass vase filled to the brim with tiny colourful trinkets. Every single item was a different colour, adorned in intricate patterns.

"Seashells."

He picks one up looking at it, it's painted a gradient of light pink to magenta, dainty white dots spotted on the curves of it "Did you paint this?"

You glance at the one he's holding, shaking your head "My mom did."

"Woah, she painted all of these?"

"Yup."

He places the pink shell back gently and picks up another, eyes narrowing as he studies each brush stroke "Fuck," He mutters "She's really good," this one has a miniature painting of a lighthouse on it, and the sky is a light shade of blue and each cloud looks like cotton that's been fluffed up and hung in the sky. Each blade of grass in the sand dunes is painted with a certain type of precision Kenny knew he could never reach, in the front of the scene seagulls flew over the salted ocean and just for a brief moment he felt like he was there basking in the sun with the taste of freedom in his mouth.

"Is she an art thingy? I forgot what they're called."

"What?"

"Art constitute or something."

"Art consultant? No."

"What does she do then?" He looks to you expectantly "Y'know, for work?"

"Interior design."

“Whaaaaaaat? Skills like this and she’s doing interior design?”

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lilac-hecox · 11 months ago

Note

i don’t have a specific request but something with spommy or kimney? congrats btw!

Spencer/Tommy - Spommy - Staff Meeting

*This is inspired by the reading Youtube Comments Sm*sh P*t Theater and the Smoshoffice series and is meant to be silly and wacky

“So, just a reminder that we’re all co-workers here and we want to be professional with each other, and while Smosh doesn’t disallow relationships between employees this is still a workplace,” Nate says, fidgeting a little at the whiteboard in front of the conference room. “Questions?” Spencer raises his hand. Nate eyes Spencer warily, but nods. “Spencer?”

“So, how come Anthony can call Ian submissive and breedable but I have to get a warning when I ask Tommy about his penis?”

Tommy, who is across the room, drops his face into his hands. Anthony and Ian are seated next to each other at the head of the table. Anthony immediately turns red and Ian chokes on his cup of coffee, sputtering a little. Courtney is quick to hand Ian a napkin.

“Um,” Nate says, “I guess we shouldn’t really be calling each other submissive and breedable either?”

“That was a joke,” Anthony stresses, his face going a darker pink.

“Yeah right…” Chanse mumbles from the opposite corner of Spencer.

Angela offers her hand for a high five as she lets out a stream of giggles. Chanse gives her a pointed look and shakes his head, and he quickly takes her wrist and lowers her hand for her.

“I want to be clear that Spencer and I don’t really talk about my penis all that much,” Tommy says.

Spencer looks wounded, “I was just worried about you!”

“Anthony and I are just friends,” Ian says, “I want to stress that too.”

Amanda rolls her eyes, “Anyone who thinks Ian and Anthony are really just friends raise your hand.”

Spencer glances around to see not one person in the meeting has raised their hands except Ian and Anthony themselves.

“Well fuck,” Ian says.

“You two were cuddling in the bean bag chair in your shared office,” Shayne points out.

“We got tired from writing the new sketch!” Anthony says defensively.

“You called him hot yesterday,” Damien adds.

“I’m hyping up my best friend!” Anthony insists.

Ian’s face is red.

“Angela said she knows what Damien sounds like when he has sex!” Anthony retorts.

“That was one time!” Angela snaps.

Damien groans.

Nate is quickly losing the room and stands nervously in front of the lot of them.

“Guys, bring it back in- “

“Courtney said the other day that Garrett is ‘kinda daddy’!” Ararsha says.

Courtney’s eyes widen, “Arasha!”

“Sorry, I got caught up in the moment.”

“Yeah, well you said you would take Amanda to O-Town!” Courtney says in return.

“Oh,” Amanda says the same time Arasha huffs.

“Guys!” Nate says.

Spencer stands and he can hear Tommy groan.

“I’m in love with Tommy!”

Zoe bursts into the conference room and flicks the lights on and off suddenly, gaining the room’s attention.

“This is an office and not middle school so sit down and let Nate finish, please.”

The cast takes their seats and Spencer feels his face get hot. He doesn’t dare to look over at Tommy, his confession hanging heavy in the air of the room.

The meeting ends with Nate scheduling everyone for a mandatory workplace conduct training. Afterwards, Spencer is at his desk, pretending to work while silently freaking out.

“Hey, um, Spence, you busy?” Tommy asks, drawing Spencer’s attention from his computer screen.

Spencer wants to say yes, but he blinks and then shakes his head.

“Not really, what’s, um, what’s up?”

Tommy moves and sits on the small couch that is in the game’s office hub. Spencer rolls over closer to Tommy, scared of what the other man might say after Spencer confessed to his feelings during their morning conference meeting.

“So, this morning…was that, uh, a joke or do you really feel something towards me?”

Spencer feels his face getting pink and hot.

“I, um, like you a lot and I get if that’s weird for you and you hate me now or- “

“As if I could hate you,” Tommy says, fondly, a smile on his face.

“You don’t?”

“I think you’re an idiot, but like, in a puppy kind of way, you know?”

“Don’t you hate dogs?” Spencer says.

“Dogs but not puppies.”

“So, there’s a chance here?” Spencer asks, a smile on his face.

“Yes, but no more asking about my penis in public,” Tommy says.

“Deal,” Spencer says, “but does that mean I can ask about it in private?”

Tommy laughs, “I mean, I hope so.”

#spommy #ianthony #damangela #polysmosh #smoshships #300 follower milestone #my writing #my fics #my fic #fic requests #follower prompts #this idea was kicking around so i decided to just write it

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cetaitlaverite · 2 months ago

Text

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

sorry for the delay but we're baaaack!! hope you love <3 masterlist is here

12. A Bad Answer

“Fucking Freddie Leroy,” Alice grumbled as she stomped across the grass to where Stella was sitting.

Glancing up at her, Stella quirked an eyebrow. “What did she do?”

Alice paid Stella’s question no attention as she focused on ensuring no beer slopped out of either of the pint glasses in her hands, but when she handed one off to Stella and then sat down in the grass with her, she took one long sip and said once more, “Fucking Freddie Leroy,” with a rueful twist to her mouth and a shake of her head.

Again, Stella asked, “What did she do?”

“Rosie’s in there making eyes at her,” Alice replied, frowning into her beer. “She’s back from leave for all of a day and she’s got all the other wireless ops calling her a war hero and Rosie Rosenthal buying her pissing lemonade and making eyes at her. Do you know how hard I worked to get Rosie to make eyes at me?”

“He’s a tough nut to crack,” Stella agreed solemnly. She’d witnessed Alice’s attempts at flirting with Rosenthal on several occasions by now and he had always simply smiled politely and nodded along to whatever she was saying. As far as Stella knew they’d danced together only once and it was kept strictly friendly - other than that, Alice had made no progress whatsoever.

“Not for Princess Freddie in there,” Alice huffed in reply, tipping her head back and downing half of her pint of beer in one go. “I want to hate her so much but she didn’t even have to try. I know because I was talking to Rosie when she walked in with her pals. The wireless ops came into the club making all this noise, their arms slung around darling Miss Leroy, and Rosie looked over because everyone looked over and I swear to you his eyes turned into hearts. He didn’t look away from her for the next five minutes. Then she kept complaining that her friends wanted to buy her beer and she wanted to drink lemonade, so he bought her a lemonade and then I had to stand there and watch him fall in love while she talked about her pissing dogs. Fucking Freddie Leroy.”

Stella was laughing softly by the end of Alice’s story. “Maybe they’ll be good together,” she offered, even knowing it was the opposite of what Alice wanted to hear. “Freddie’s a sweetie and I get the impression Rosie kind of is, too. And there’s something about her which makes me think she needs protecting. Rosie’ll protect her.”

“The entire time she’s worked here she has rejected every single man who has ever tried it on with her, but the one man she gives the time of day has to be my man. Mine! He was mine first, Fin!”

“He wasn’t yours, Alice,” Stella said, laughing. “Let Freddie have him. If he was really right for you his head wouldn’t have been turned.”

“You’re just sweet on Freddie,” Alice accused with narrowed eyes.

Stella laughed once more. “I’m sweet on no one. I just think there are better men for you.”

Alice stared at her silently. Still, her eyes were narrowed. The sunset was vivid, lighting the both of them up in a warm array of colours, and as such there was nowhere for Stella to hide her blush when Alice mimicked her, “‘I’m sweet on no one.’ Major Egan would disagree.”

Startled, Stella sputtered a cough. “No he wouldn’t. And I’m not sweet on him. He’s just my friend, same as you’re my friend.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “You and I are not friends the way you and Egan are friends, Fin.” That said, she took a final long sip of her beer until it was all gone. “Next round?” she asked.

Stella raised both eyebrows at her. “I’ve only just started this one.”

“Drink up, then!” Alice ordered, setting her empty glass down in the grass and clapping her hands together as though to speed up the process. “I’m not spending the rest of the night sober and single.”

Stella laughed but did as she said and then, before she knew it, Alice was reemerging from the club with two more beers and two shots along with them. Before Stella could ask, Alice explained, “Atley said the shots are on the house.”

Stella smiled smugly. “If anyone’s sweet on anyone, Atley’s sweet on you.”

Alice only shrugged and tipped back her shot and then gulped her beer right after.

The two of them kept drinking at a much faster rate than they normally would have until everything was funny and the world tilted dramatically around them whenever they moved their heads. They joked about things which had happened years before, made stupid puns, and fantasised about what they’d be doing right now if the war had never happened.

By the time the two of them pushed back into the officers’ club, Stella to use the bathroom and Alice to get them another refill, everything was fuzzy and warm and blurry. Stella didn’t make a habit of getting this drunk - really, she couldn’t remember the last time she had - but as she was washing her hands in the bathroom she realised she really should do this more often. She felt like she had so many worries all the time and right now she couldn’t remember what any of them were.

As such, she forgot entirely why she’d been avoiding going into the main room of the club and pranced in quite readily like she’d never even left. It was still packed, late into the night though it was, and still loud. She picked her way gracelessly over to the bar and leaned on it heavily, smiling dopily to herself about nothing in particular as she nodded along to the beat of the music.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the bar and the patrons leaning up against it - she spied Rosie but no Freddie, which made her furrow her brows. Then Stella took to scanning the room for Freddie and found her sitting underneath a table with her best friend Millie Harlow and the dog one of the Americans had brought here with him. Meatball, Stella thought he was called.

Scattered across the room were other people Stella knew - some of the other ATA pilots were huddled in a group in the corner, many of the American airmen had commandeered dance partners and were filling the dance floor - but her eyes lit up when they landed on John and Buck, leaning against the far wall of the club.

“John!” Stella exclaimed, even though she was outside of his range of hearing. She pushed herself up resolutely from the bar and began to make her way over to him.

John and Buck looked like they were discussing something serious, something sombre - their heads were ducked together, their eyebrows bowed low over their eyes, their voices clearly kept low and private - but she paid this no mind. “John!” Stella went on exclaiming as she stumbled across the room to him. “John!”

When John heard her, his head whipped in her direction immediately, his mouth still open and words still tumbling out as she caught him mid-sentence. “Stels?” he asked when he spotted her.

She was grinning and all but skipping over by now, delighted to have finally caught his attention. “John!” she cheered one final time, ambling to a stop before him and Buck. “Hi! Buck! Hi!”

“Hi,” John greeted back. A slow grin was starting to spread across his face. “You alright?”

Stella shrugged. “Been drinking.”

Buck hid his smile behind a sip from his drink.

John let his wide grin show freely on his face. “I see that,” he acknowledged.

“Getting drunk is more fun than I remember,” Stella said next. “I feel like everything is just happy. When does the world ever feel like this apart from when you’re drunk?”

“Beats me,” John said, raising his glass to her before taking a long sip. “Where’s Alice?”

“Getting more drinks,” Stella said. “She was sad earlier because Lieutenant Rosenthal likes Freddie Leroy.”

John waved this away. “Freddie left Rosie at the bar to go and sit with Meatball, tell Alice not to worry.”

“But don’t you think Freddie Leroy is just so pretty?” Stella gushed by way of reply. “I don’t think Rosie will be deterred, to tell you the truth. Besides, I think we should set Alice up with someone else. I think Atley the barman kind of fancies her but she won’t listen to me when I tell her so. Have you ever fancied her, John? She’s not looking for commitment so maybe you two would be good together. But I think that would make me sad.”

John’s eyebrows were furrowed. “What would make you sad?”

“If you and Alice got together,” Stella replied simply, as though this should have been obvious.

Stella didn’t notice, but Buck gave John a pat on the shoulder and slipped away, heading over to chat to some of the men hanging around the bar.

John noticed, naturally, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even pay Buck a glance. His eyes were set firmly, resolutely, unwaveringly on Stella. “Why would that make you sad, Stels?” he asked softly.

Stella shrugged, turning her eyes on her shoes and watching as she toed at the floor. “Just would.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t want to be left behind.” She kept watching her feet for a moment and then she looked back up, all traces of vulnerability gone from her face, a goofy smile plastered across her lips instead. “Would you like to dance with me?”

John didn’t smile back at her, not just yet. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Stels,” was all he said, staring at her hard. Then, wordlessly, he held out his hand for her to take and, once she had, led her over to the dance floor. He placed gentle hands in all the appropriate places and maintained a respectable distance, letting her decide how close they got.

Stella wanted to get close. When they started to dance to the slow song on the gramophone, she took a step closer and rested her cheek on his chest, shutting her eyes and humming along to the music. “I love this song,” she said idly, as though she didn’t really mind whether or not he heard her. Then she moved her hands out of their requisite dancing positions in favour of wrapping her arms around John’s waist, leaning her weight into him and sighing happily before resuming her humming.

John was looking down at the top of her head, startled, unsure what to make of all this. But he wrapped his arms around her all the same, helping to keep her close, and let only the tiniest of smiles tug at the corner of his lips.

He let them stay that way, swaying more than dancing and pressed together like lovers, for only a little while before he realised he was only going to end up getting hurt. So he dropped his arms to drape around her waist instead and started to sway more enthusiastically, a playful attempt at making her laugh. When she giggled and stood up straight, peering up into his face, he grinned down at her, victorious.

With a bright smile on her face, Stella extracted one of John’s hands from her waist and held it aloft, indicating that she wanted him to spin under their arms. When he did, even though he crouched, she laughed loudly as she had to jump to give him enough room to fit.

“Your turn,” he informed her when he was back facing her. He held their entwined hands up and Stella spun beneath them easily, still laughing all the while, then grasped his other hand and wrapped it back around her waist. She was gazing up into his face, smiling wildly, and he was smiling right back down at her. The way the warm lighting was spilling over him made his eyes shine, bright blue and endless. His smile seemed so much wider from up this close. She liked the way his eyes crinkled so much they almost closed, liked the way there always seemed to be humour in the creases in his cheeks even when he wasn’t laughing.

Everyone around them was dancing slowly, appropriately, to the delicate love song, but Stella and John didn’t notice. Wrapped up in their own little world, they grinned at each other and laughed at each other, tugged each other into the positions they wanted and danced like they were alone and the music was far jollier than it was.

When the song ended, Stella was breathing heavily and smiling wide.

John was smiling back at her, watching her closely, and as such he noticed the exact moment an idea hit her.

“Come,” she said, tugging on his hands and starting to walk backwards.

John was chuckling to himself. “Come where?”

“Got something to show you,” she said simply.

“Finally gonna get me alone to strangle me?” he teased as he started to follow her.

She turned but kept hold of his hand, leading him out of the club. “I would never strangle you,” she said over her shoulder, her smile audible in her voice. “I’d suffocate you, obviously. Strangling would take too long. Have you seen how big your neck is?”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Not a compliment, really,” Stella replied breezily, brushing him aside. “But that’s okay. Your neck is three times wider than the standard person’s and mine is three times longer, so I suppose we match.”

Behind her, John was all but cackling.

“What?” Stella asked.

“Nothing,” John dismissed her. “Nothing at all, Stels. Nothing at all.”

“I’m just being honest,” she defended herself.

“No, you are,” he assured her. “And I love that about you. You’re perfect, don’t worry about it.”

Stella hummed her acceptance of this and kept on towing him behind her, ducking behind buildings and along the alleyways between them, until she presented a locked door to him. “Do you think you’re sober enough to drive?” she wondered curiously, wide-eyed and innocent as she gazed up into his face, like she was asking whether or not he would make her hot chocolate and wrap her in a blanket.

“No,” John said.

Stella frowned. “That’s a bad answer,” she said. “That is not the answer I was hoping for.”

“Okay, then yes,” John amended.

Stella scowled. “Don’t lie!”

“I was just trying to -”

“I know what you were trying to do! Stop it! I don’t like liars.”

John turned away so she wouldn’t catch him laughing, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide his grin even as he turned it into the night sky.

“Do you think you can cycle?” Stella asked next.

“Maybe,” John said. “Why? Where we goin’ that we can’t just walk?”

“The airfield,” Stella answered easily. “I brought you here to get the keys to a jeep.”

Turning back to her, John raised his eyebrows. “I hate to break it to you, Stels, but I’ve seen the airfield.”

Stella stared at him blankly. “Ha-ha,” she replied in a deadpan. “Maybe I won’t show you after all.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry, I was just kidding,” John hurried to reassure her. “But, hey, let’s just walk, alright? I don’t wanna be responsible if we crash and you get hurt.”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t care about that. I trust you.”

John was grinning. “Why don’t you wanna walk?”

“Tired.”

“I can carry you.”

“Piss off.”

John laughed. “Right.”

“Give me a piggyback,” Stella decided after a moment of silence. Her eyes were all lit up, her smile defiant. “I will accept a piggyback.”

“Piggyback it is,” John declared, turning and crouching down for her.

Stella studied the back of him for a moment, deciding what would be the most effective course of action, before she took a small run up and all but launched herself onto his back.

“Fucking christ, Stels!” John cried as he stumbled a few steps forward, hurrying to right himself. He wrapped both hands around her thighs, keeping her steady as he found his balance, and Stella couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re tall!” she exclaimed. “I had to jump high.”

“Felt like you were trying to body slam me.” He was still hunched over, still stumbling just a little bit. “Fuck.”

Stella laughed, loud and bright, into the stars above her. “Maybe I was,” she said, still giggling. “Maybe I didn’t take you out here to strangle you or to suffocate you but to batter you to death instead.”

“Hate to tell you that it didn’t work,” John replied, smiling as he started in the direction of the airfield.

Stella hummed. “Oh well. The best laid plans and all that.” She moved her hands from where she’d been holding onto his shoulders to clasp them together in front of his chest, her thumbs occasionally brushing up against him with the rise and fall of his footsteps.

“Which direction am I going once we get to the airfield?” John asked idly once they got close.

“You’ll know,” Stella told him airily. “If you know me, you’ll know.”

He did know. And he grinned when he realised that he knew. Because parked in one of the bays on the hardstand, amidst the rows of B-17s, was a Hawker Hurricane.

“Ta-dah,” Stella sing-songed quietly, right into his ear, because she knew he knew. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

John smiled to himself. “Gorgeous,” he agreed.

“I’ve flown B-17s but you’ve never flown a Hurricane,” Stella said as John approached it. “So I thought you should see what all the fuss is about.”

John sputtered a scoff. “Stels, I ain’t gonna fly it -”

“Of course you’re not going to fly it!” Stella replied, laughing. “I’m just going to show it to you. It’s pretty inside, too.”

So, when they got there, John helped Stella down from his back and she opened the Hurricane’s glass canopy up for him, gesturing him in.

And it was… a plane. Just a fighter plane. It was claustrophobic, really, this single-seater fighter. After flying for so long in the school bus that was the Boeing B-17, the walls of the Hurricane felt too close. He was used to space, multiple bodies in one plane but not all of them in the same space, everyone with enough room to spread out. He was most certainly not used to having the walls on either side of him so close that he brushed against them with every movement, the canopy so low his hair brushed against it when he turned his head.

There was a lot of machinery around his feet, like treacherous weeds stopping him from wading too far into a pond, and so many dials shoved into one small control panel it was dizzying, and they weren’t even operational at the moment.

It was an ugly little thing, the inside of the Hawker Hurricane. But Stella Finley grinning at him from her perch on the wing was a beautiful thing, a stunning thing, a breathtaking thing, so John gave her a smile not half as pretty as hers and said, “It’s great, Stels.”

“Just great?” she teased, leaning towards him. “It’s spectacular! First time I flew one of these I felt like I’d found my purpose. The things I could do in this plane if they let me fly combat.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “If I have one true friend in this life, the Hawker Hurricane is it.”

John scoffed. “You’ve got multiple true friends, Stels.”

Stella’s smile turned sly. “You, you mean?”

“For one.”

She rolled her eyes jovially. “I’m gonna tell Buck that I’ve replaced him.”

“He’ll never believe you.”

Stella laughed. “He’d be silly if he did,” she acknowledged, “and Buck is not a silly man.” She turned her eyes back on the control panel and her smile turned wistful once more. “I love this plane,” she declared. “Love it. I can’t believe I ever went about my life not knowing what it was like to fly a Hurricane. Sometimes I think I don’t even want the war to end because I’d be so sad not to fly Hurricanes anymore.”

She stared hard at the dials, at the yoke, at the gear stick.

John watched in profile as her smile faded.

“Stupid thing to say,” she berated herself quietly after a moment’s silence. “People are dying in this war. People are losing everything to the Germans.”

John knew, then, without having to ask, that she’d lost something dear to her to the Germans. And he knew, suddenly, that the way she’d reacted after Curt had gone down was not solely about Curt.

“Who?” he asked softly, gently, watching the way the moonlight danced in the blue pools of her eyes even when they weren’t looking at him. “Who’d you lose, Stels?”

She didn’t say anything, but her bottom lip wobbled.

John had a good idea of who she’d lost.

“One of your brothers?” he asked gently.

She swallowed hard.

“Your favourite brother?” he asked next. His voice was so soft and earnest that if it had been a physical thing it would have been a worn out, well-loved childhood blanket, slept with every night since infancy. “Harry?”

Stella didn’t look at him but John saw the change in her all the same. Her jaw hardened and all of the emotion left her eyes in an instant. Her posture turned sharp.

She didn’t spare John a single glance as she hopped down from the wing of the plane and started off into the darkness. Her footsteps were rapid and stomping, loud even when he couldn’t see her anymore.

There was nothing for John to do but let her go. She’d closed herself off to him enough times by now that he knew there was no coming back from it tonight.

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bluerose5 · 8 months ago

Note

You know what would be hilarious? Zevran post faerûn back in Thedas doing magic in front of Morrigan just to watch her lose her fucking mind trying to figure out how she did it

But for an actual prompt, I’d love to see Astarion’s reaction to Zevran being downed in battle

Alternatively, Fenris, Astarion, and Araj Oblodra in Moonrise

Zevran would troll the hell out of Morrigan and anyone else willing to watch. I feel Wynne would have hated this new development more than anyone, though. 💀

For the prompts, I actually have a WIP similar to the first one. It's just more of a Zevran gets injured while Astarion isn't in the party, but I feel they would be similar enough that I'm going with the alternate prompt if that's okay. 👀👀👀

...

Fenris’s blood boiled with rage.

Not only did he despise the necessity of having to infiltrate Moonrise Towers, but he also despised having to play nice with the cultists until they could figure out how to proceed.

Araj Oblodra was no exception. If anything, she was one of the worst ones they happened across throughout their journey, entitled and condescending.

The instant she asked for his blood, Fenris bristled, and his answer rang with a note of finality.

"Ask that of me again," he snarled, "and I'll cut you down for even suggesting it. You will not be conducting any 'research' on my blood."

"Hmph." She all but pouted, yet she was apparently wise enough to know not to push her luck. "Fine, but perhaps we could turn to another matter at hand: your friend."

When her eyes slid towards Astarion, Fenris could hear his own heartbeat pounding behind his ears. His fingers twitched at his side, itching to unsheathe his greatsword. For a moment, he could barely hear her words over the racing of his pulse. He narrowed his eyes at her, his lips curled into a sneer.

Then, as clear as day, she asked a question of Fenris, one that pierced straight through the haze that clouded his mind.

"I assume he belongs to you?"

Behind him, Astarion sputtered, "Ex–Excuse me?"

Fenris felt the air around himself start to shift.

"He doesn't belong to anyone," Fenris snapped. He stepped forward until he loomed over Araj, his gaze dark. "Now, I advise you to think very carefully about your next words." The clawed fingers of his gauntlets glinted in the room's low lighting. "Because they might just be your last. You will show him respect. Understand?"

They were hardly to be compared to one another, since Fenris didn't know a thing about Araj beyond this encounter, but so much about her already rubbed him the wrong way, reminded him of Hadriana. They thought their lives valuable enough that they were invincible in their minds, untouchable, and that all others were merely pawns in their games, to be used and discarded as they saw fit.

Araj scoffed at his threat, tried to act undeterred, but the slight quiver of her voice —the more deliberate delivery of her words— exposed her fear for what it was.

She made an offer, and Astarion declined.

How easy it was for her to fall back into old habits, even with her life on the line.

She glanced at Fenris as soon as she didn't get her way, wrinkling her nose in disdain.

"Can't you talk some sense into your obstinate cha—"

Fenris was blinded by a sea of red.

Her words choked off.

He didn't even have to think about it. Before he knew what was happening, his hand sank deep within the confines of her chest, her still-beating heart nestled within his palm.

Right before he crushed it.

And as he freed his hand, he watched her body collapse to the ground.

"Good riddance," he muttered.

Lae'zel noticed another cultist gaping from the corner of the room, quick to cover for them in the best way she knew how.

"Take her death as a lesson. Question us, and you'll meet your end as she did. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good," she said, then jerked her head in the direction of the door. "Now, scram."

She didn't have to tell them twice.

While Fenris stood over Araj's body, blood dripping onto the floor from his fingertips, Karlach leaned in to whisper to Astarion.

"Remind me not to piss him off."

"No kidding," Astarion said, but he braced himself before approaching, reaching out to rest a hand upon his shoulder. "Fenris..."

In a flash, Fenris shrugged off his touch, turning on him with a fire still raging within him, teeth bared.

However, at the sight of the others, Fenris felt those flames die down, their presence drawing him back into reality.

Astarion was fine.

He was safe.

Even in the belly of the beast, Fenris would see to that.

#dragon age #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #da2 #crossover #astarion #fenris #astarion x fenris #fenris x astarion #bluerose writes #bluerose answers

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randomwriteronline · 4 months ago

Text

"I am getting married."

Ferfax hummed: "To whom?"

"Vastus of the Jungle Tribe."

This time, the elder actually raised her eyes from the sheet of parchment she had been busy reading to pivot them right at him with a flabbergasted look.

Tarix continued to stand, unbothered.

"Their first Glatorian?" she sputtered - just to make sure she had heard correctly.

He nodded.

He watched her put her head in her hands.

She sighed heavily: "Must you give me a headache too, now?"

"It's just a marriage."

"Just a marriage - you know you can't get married if you can't share a house," Ferfax bit back: "And I'll be dead before I send you to Tesara, and I'll bet you Racans will be of the same opinion about sending their best Glatorian to live in Tajun!"

"If you make me an ambassador to the Lebori I have a right to a home in Tesara," Tarix argued with a shrug.

"I told you I'm not sending you there!"

"I'm not talking about living in it. Just having it."

"What would the point of having one if you'll never use it? And how is that supposed to solve the problem, anyhow?"

"Nobody ever said it can't be someone else's house. Like Vastus's."

The elder glared at him. He held her gaze.

At last, she gave a long, suffering groan, head heavily settling on her palms: "I'll have to discuss this with Racans."

"Thank you, chief."

"But I'm not marrying you."

"Fair enough, chief."

"You'll have to find somebody else to do the parchmentwork for you."

"Will do, chief."

"And quit that!"

Tarix ducked under the bone stylus thrown at him with a cackle.

"How's your calligraphy?" Vastus asked in a staggeringly casual manner as he pulled off his armor.

Strakk eyed him carefully: "Legible," he replied.

"If I get you the material, would you be keen on marrying me and Tarix sometime in the next month or so?"

The Koniri blinked.

"Why me?" was his argument. "Shouldn't your elder do it?"

"Racans said we've caused enough from trouble for them and Ferfax already with the whole housing situation," the other shrugged. He picked a small bucket filled with sand, moving to the other corner of the room so it wouldn't mix with the melted snow his fellow Glatorian was cleaning his fur with, and dumped the whole thing over himself. "So they don't want anything else to do with this. And since you're already here, might as well ask."

His opponent crossed his legs and hummed loudly as he massaged his mechanical chin, deep in thought.

He leaned his head to the side: "It would require me to be very flexible, but I could make myself available, yes. Of course, since it's still precious time stolen away from my life, I'd probably deserve some kind of compensation..."

"Enough to buy the stuff," Vastus cut him off.

"Excuse me! I'm over here, offering you my services-"

"You're accepting to provide a service," the Lebori corrected with a chuckle as Strakk rolled his eyes and waved at his semantics: "That's quite different."

"It doesn't change anything! I'll have to get the stuff, wait for the right date, come over to wherever you are, write it all twice - marriage is no little thing to officiate!" the Koniri rebuked, giving himself plenty of airs while his opponent shook the sand in excess off of his body. "I will be laboring on it for weeks! I demand proper payment!"

"Your proper payment is me letting you win those reparations we'll have to give Iconox, how's that sound?"

The Koniri gave an exaggerated huff and pulled back some of his dark fur to show a large, very recently formed bruise on his arm: "You call this 'letting me win'?"

The woman poofed the last of his bath out of his feathers: "I could have done worse." he grinned.

He gave a hissing laugh when the other Glatorian scoffed theatrically.

"Alright, fine, I'll get you a wed-gift as payment. What do you need?"

"Money."

"You know that's not how it works. Here - think of something you need, and that will surely save you money and trouble."

The addition did prompt Strakk to ponder if there was something like that in his list of necessities for a few more seconds.

His gaze fell on his axe, running a very quick check on it with his good eye - since the prosthetic one, despite being immune to snow burn, wasn't as good at telling details apart.

He hummed at last: "I'm not planning on replacing my weapon anytime soon, and I've got polishing material of my own already - but I've got an inkling that sharpening the blade with just a stone is degrading it little by little. You wouldn't happen to have...?"

"Powder and oil, got it." Vastus nodded while collecting the last few things before he could journey back to Tesara. "I'll fetch you some."

"And it better be good quality stuff!" the Koniri called after him as he left room, waving a wet rag threateningly in his direction: "Don't go be a cheapskate! You hear me? I'm the man who'll marry you, you better show some gratitude!"

The Lebori laughed at him and waved, very grateful indeed.

"Do you have plans?"

"What kind?"

"In general."

"What do you need to know that for?"

"To check if you'd have the time to spectate my wedding."

Ackar turned to him with a weird look.

"You're getting married?" he asked.

Tarix nodded: "To Vastus."

"Yes, I imagined - what I'm asking is, why?"

At that, the Gaquri shrugged, eyes growing whistful and mouth tugging itself into the shape of a small smile: "Love?" he offered.

He jabbed the Tapyri when he whistled sarcastically.

"You've been courting out of love for a long while too. Can't you just keep doing that instead?" the other insisted. "It's not like you'd get much else out of marriage that you don't aready have... I'm not even sure you can get married - with the whole sharing-a-house part."

His friend smirked, chewing the stem of his pipe: "We already found a loophole," he gloated, "And that's why our elders got mad at us and refuse to have anything else to do with this."

"Figures..."

A few cries rang out: Malum barked something at a group of rookies in a strict Tapyri dialect, and Ackar hollered right back at him in tone to shut whatever he was trying to start down before anybody got hurt. He got back a furious glare, but nothing else. Both Glatorian watched the younger warrior stalk back to an armored dummy in a corner of the arena from their seats.

They noticed how he reached under his armor to rub at his chest.

His prosthetic ribcage must have been giving him grief again.

"Seriously," the Gaquri registered lazily as the words slithered in his ear with a whisper: "Why marriage?"

He swatted at the other's nose: "Now you're getting on my nerves."

"I just want to understand! It's such an old-fashioned thing," the Tapyri defended himself.

That made Tarix chuckle: "Old-fashioned? Go look in a mirror, that'll give you something old-fashioned," he mocked his friend.

But Ackar remained serious: "Is it because you want children? That used to be the reason. But in a time like this-"

"Of course we're not having one now, we're gonna wait until the situation's a little more peaceful! Why don't you stick yourself to my ass while you're at it yapping about how I should live my life? Great Beings' sake, you're turning into a nagging old man. Next question's if we're sure about this because we're still too young and stupid to make our own choices?"

"The point is that you aren't young," his friend bit back: "And things don't look like they'll be getting better anytime soon."

The Gaquri glared at him, but said nothing to counter him, only puffing nothing out of his pipe twice in a pensive manner.

He shook his head, sighing deeply: "Listen, I don't know if we have a reason and I don't care. Maybe we were just raised like that, maybe it's because we do hope to have a kid sooner rather than late, maybe it's something else... Point is - would you spectate us?"

Ackar leaned back in his seat, silent for a moment.

At last, he smiled: "I'd love to."

The other veteran grinned back at him: "There," he huffed playfully, "Was that so hard? Now tell me what you need for your wed-gift."

"Nothing."

"That's not how this works and you know it, now tell me."

"I can't think of anything."

"Make an effort."

"Hm, nope. It's a barren wasteland in here."

"Get fucked, then!"

"I'll try to."

Tarix laughed so hard that the faulty spring in his knee almost burst out through his prosthetic flesh.

"What's that?" Gresh asked.

Vastus continued to work the clear amber resin without looking at him: "Did you grind the flour like I told you?"

"I did. What is that?"

"Then go make some dough for the dumplings."

His nephew huffed loudly, purposefully blowing on his ear to bother him; his concentration remained unbroken as he carefully plucked a down feather from his arm to press it into the small band.

He covered it with another layer of malleable matter while the younger Glatorian fetched a little water to mix in with the ground up bugs, listening to him bristle quietly all peeved about his unanswered question as he definitely pressed the heel of his hand into the slowly solidifying solution far too forcefully, as he always did when he was mad about something.

"You're gonna ruin your wrist like that," he told him distractedly.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Maybe I wouldn't if I had some help."

A little smile tugged at Vastus's lips as he stood up: "You'll make a poor Glatorian if you're defeated by dough," he laughed softly, fetching some wood.

"That's not what I meant!" the younger Lebori snapped.

His aunt gave a hissing giggle that made him puff out his feathers angrily, like a Gravel Hawk chick.

He side-eyed his mentor while he tossed the kindling under a pot, which he poured enough oil into to fully fry something small enough; after placing whatever it was he'd made on the small flammable pile so that the heat would harden the resin into some sort of gemstone, he threw in a few lit matches to spark up the fire, fanning it until he found himself satisfied with its lively state.

He stretched back up with a terrible crackling of his spine prosthesis, yawned, and sauntered over to the small table his nephew was still digging his hand way too hard into the soft somewhat viscous mass.

Gresh handed it over with a pout when Vastus gestured at him, rolling his eyes in annoyance but quickly going back to watching his aunt's expert movements carefully - as he always tended to do, since he was a visual learner first and foremost, and he still strived to avoid making mistakes.

After a few minutes, the dough had been successfully domesticated.

Vastus pried a chunk out of it and held it up: his nephew was quick to snatch it and roll it into a ball before squishing it into a flat circle, laying it back on the table before doing the same to each subsequent piece he was presented with.

"It's my pawn of affection for Tarix," the veteran Glatorian finally saw it fit to explain.

Gresh furrowed his brows a moment before understanding: "So you're getting married?" he asked, turning to the other with eyes wide and feathers fanned out in genuine surprise.

The woman nodded.

"When?" the rookie inquired.

"When we have time."

"Can I be there?"

"I don't know if you'll have time, but of course."

"And what's it going to be like? The wedding, I mean."

"Oh, it'll be a practical thing. We'll exchange pawns, Strakk'll write it down, and then we'll sign all that."

The Koniri's name caused his nephew to wrinkle his nose: "Why him?"

"Because he's got good handwriting," Vastus smirked, "And he was the nearest person I knew who I could ask to do this for us."

"Ackar wasn't there?"

"Nope, but he's our spectator anyways. Besides! Strakk isn't that bad. You're just hung up on the fact he's mean."

Gresh grumbled something, crushing a ball of dough into a wobbly mess. His mentor nudged him gently: he quickly rolled the whole thing again and properly flattened it.

"And is that going to be it?" he asked after a moment.

"The wedding? Yes, of course. Should there be something else?"

"Racans said theirs was followed by a party. They had a big supper and a dance and all."

The older Glatorian sighed: "Yes, that used to be a thing - but those were different times, kid," he explained: "We don't have the sort of time or resources for something like that nowadays. A wedding like that is a big ordeal, and we've got to work, you know? The easiest way to get the four of us together already is pick up a match at the same arena and get everything done in-between rounds. There's really no space for big celebrations."

"But you could still have a special supper," Gresh insisted. "Even if it's just you and me. Or you and Tarix... Are you moving to Tajun?"

"Nah, we found a way." his hand descended on to of his nephew's head, scratching at it gently to bother him as he bristled and whined. "I can't leave a little thing like you all on tir own, can I?"

The rookie swatted at him: "I'm not a 'ti' anymore! I'm an adult!"

"Are you? Last time I checked you were a few centuries and a good bunch of centimeters short of outgrowing childhood..."

"I'm not short!"

"Can you even reach the top of the pantry?"

Vastus laughed his hiccuping cackle as he watched the younger Lebori storm off to climb all the way to the highest shelf, at last throwing the filling for their dumplings at his aunt's head.

"Oop, there they come," Strakk warned him.

Tarix lifted his head and the stylus from the second piece of parchment to see Ackar limp in, hands on the lower half of his back and a pained grimace on his face. He smiled as Vastus appeared next to him, looking a little less worse for wear: he excitedly waved his hand at his soon-to-be spouse, who answered him in kind.

"I'm not built for riding Sand Stalkers anymore," the Tapyri grumbled.

"Here I thought I was the one who needed a prosthetic spine," the woman quipped back at him: "How did you even manage to get hurt? We would have gone faster if we'd walked! It took us ages getting those grains here from Vulcanus."

His partner clicked his tongue and shook his head: "Should've asked for some painkilling ointments for your wed-gift."

"You know those get lost in the mucus and don't work," Ackar argued.

"Then should've asked for a few medicinal sghitts."

"Ough, don't even mention those - I've already got Perditus reeking of them bad enough he can't wash the smell off most of the time, I'd rather not live with a permanently plugged nose."

"Are you going to cut the small talk or would you like to postpone the wedding altogether?" Strakk cut in, his overly polite tone dripping with sarcasm. He was fanning the ink on both parchments with his hand so it would dry faster, sitting astride on a bench. "I get it that the rest of you have today free, but I'll be up against Kiina in about twenty minutes and I'm not getting my pay docked because I was late getting the two of you married."

"Your pay's not getting docked," Vastus called his bluff.

"But it could!"

"Fine, fine, get on with it then."

The Koniri bowed his head with as much annoyingly unnecessary deference as possible to express his thanks and shooed off the groom from his seat so that he would go stand over with his wife.

He then stretched his back as Ackar stood beside him, groaned a little, and hunched over to the two almost identical pieces of documentation he'd prepared: with one hand he picked a parchment at random, while the other went to cover his organic eye so that he wouldn't get a headache as he tried to read.

Finally he staged a couple coughs to clear his throat.

"Before tomorrow, possibly," Tarix teased him.

"Shut up."

There were a few snorts.

Strakk squinted a one-eyed glare at the three of them, but let the whole thing slide with an exaggerated sigh to start reading aloud.

"With this document, Koniri Strakk of Iconox records the lawful marriage of Lebori Vastus of Tesara and Gaquri Tarix of Tajun, on... What's the current date?" he interrupted himself. Ackar leaned in to whisper it to him: he wrote it down. "Alright, thanks - now where was I - bababa, in the Glatorian arena of Tajun, as spectated by Tapyri Ackar of Vulcanus. So I declare. Now offer the pawns..."

While he handed over the stylus to the Tapyri so that he could sign his participation on both parchments in advance, the spouses dug into their pockets for a moment, each one of their hands emerging at last wrapped around something.

The exchanged a few glances to determine an order between them: in the end, Tarix went first.

"I offer you a pawn of my affection," he recited; his arm bent forward mechanically, and his fingers lifted to reveal a snail shell with a long, careful cut in which he'd wedged one of his scales so it couldn't fall off, and a metal wire around it. "For the honor of being your husband."

"I offer you a pawn of my affection," Vastus echoed him in both words and motions, presenting him instead with an open ring of amber encasing a feather within: "For the honor of being your wife."

Strakk shifted his hand over his other eye to get a better look at the small charms. The other two Glatorian helpfully leaned their palms a little closer to his face so that he could more accurately take note of their details.

The Koniri hummed and jotted down a quick description of both, planning to copy it on the second parchment later.

"And do you accept?" he asked the spouses as he finished writing.

"I accept, and take you as my wife," Tarix declared, placing his palm over the ring.

"I accept, and take you as my husband," Vastus declared, putting her hand over the shell.

The bone stylus scratched at the levigated Sun Serpent skin, leaving on it deep brown letters that seeped into the shallow trenches dug into the parchment very slowly.

Satisfied with his work, Strakk waved his hand and decided there was no point in keeping up any pomp: "So on and so forth, lawfully wedded, so I declare, exchange pawns and a kiss and congrats on the marriage."

"Aren't you the voice of romance," Ackar snickered.

The Koniri grinned as he speedily copied everything onto the second document: "Why, thank you."

The newlyweds ignored them, having tuned them out already. Their fingers tightened almost in unison, linking their hands together; they leaned forward to press their noses against one another for a few interminable seconds, making the flat silhouettes of their faces adhere all but perfectly like two halves of a whole.

The kiss their mouths shared instead was a small quick thing, barely held long enough to be seen at all. It still lingered in the wide smiles that squinted their eyes into slits after they came apart.

Ackar's few polite claps made them snicker: "May you have much happiness and healthy children!" the Tapyri wished them heartily.

"Aaah, thank you, friend," Tarix laughed.

Vastus sighed: "We'll need those, I think."

"And I'll need you to sign these over here," Strakk piped up, waving his stylus at the bride: "Your husband already got it done while we were waiting for you."

The Lebori's feathers vibrated in pure joy for a moment, causing his silhouette to be shaken by long waves.

While he leaned down to leave his signature, Tarix pulled a satchel from one of his pockets and offered the wed-gift to Ackar with a grin: "Here's a little show of gratitude for your trouble."

"Spectating you was no trouble at all, but I'll take that," his friend thanked him. His eyes lit up as he recognized the rattling sound of the pouch's contents when he shook it: "Nacre snails?" he asked, flummoxed. "How many even - a dozen or so? They must have cost you a fortune."

"Not as much as you'd think. Kiina's little brother's real good at finding them, and he makes a good price."

"Berix?"

"He's a good kid."

"I know that. I didn't know he was a hunter, too."

"Well now, hunter might be too generous--"

"And before you mention it," Vastus interrupted them as he too pulled out a present for their officiator, "Here's the gratitude I promised you, for your troubles."

"Oooh, thank you," Strakk howled as he eagerly wrapped his hands around his offering. "Right on time too, I'll bet you that hellish girl is going to find a way to chip my axe today... Alright, sweethearts - and Ackar, I'm entrusting you the result of my hard work for your elderssince I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now. I've got a Gaquri to fight, you know - business as usual."

In one fell swoop he stood up from the bench, closed his ink bottle, whisked it away with his stylus, made them both disappear with a slight of hand, and regaled the three Glatorian with a deep overly flourished bow.

"Much happiness and healthy children," he bid them goodbye, and with his axe in hand he disappeared into a corridor.

The others watched him go.

"Bet you a batch of Thornax Kiina's gonna wipe the floor with him."

"I HEARD YOU, TAPYRI!"

Ackar laughed loud enough for the whole arena to hear him as he followed him suit, waving at the married couple.

Tarix turned to his wife, the word dancing in his stomach like a fluttering sparrow: "Wanna go see 'em?" he offered, playing with the amber ring before slipping it on a finger, reveling in the sound it made against his scales. "Or do you want to visit your second house?"

Vastus snorted, carefully sliding the snail charm into a thin thread he tied around his neck, letting it dangle on his chest: "I'm afraid I don't have time for that. It's a long way to Tesara, you know..."

"All the more reason to stay."

"I already gave my word to the merchants we escorted earlier that I'd stick to them until we got to the village."

"Can't get in the way of your work, then. But in that case..." the Gaquri rummaged on his person for the third time. He handed his spouse a small, specially made sack giving off the distinctive scent of kelp jades - round sticky fruits produced by certain algae found in the watery caves of Tajun. "Have these - for our nephew. I bet he's mad he couldn't come. A little treat should cheer him up."

"Well, wouldn't you know?" his beloved mused as he took the food: "A week ago or so he was wondering why we wouldn't have any other celebration, like a special dinner..."

It would have been nice to eat together, the two of them thought; but some things just weren't possible in these times.

They sighed.

Suddenly, they realized they were still holding hands.

They made no motion to pull them away from one another. On the contrary, they just looked at them for a moment, small smiles growing larger on their faces, hearts beating a little faster with every passing second.

They met each other's eyes again.

"We're married," Tarix said, grinning wider.

"So we are," Vastus replied, eyes shining.

They giggled to themselves like little kids as they pressed their faces together in another nose-kiss, giddy with a certain euphoria they weren't sure they could compare to many other things in their lives; they kissed on the lips, once, twice, cackling softly, and they would have gone on much longer if Tarix's diaphragm hadn't started collapsing, and if Vastus's name hadn't echoed around the corridors to remind him they had to go.

#bionicle #vastus #tarix #strakk #ackar #gresh #random writing #my t4t couple of the century... wedding tiem :)#went a bit overboard thinking up a traditional agori marriage and whoops have all this cultural lore #its nothing fancy! very practical. they still get giddy bc my hubsand :DDD my wief :DDD #never mentioned it but gresh n vastus are Not related by blood btw theyve got a mentor-mentee thing going. and then it turned into fam

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grey-sides · 2 years ago

Text

bottle green beauty

I was chatting with @aleksaidraws about how Steve deserves to be pretty sometimes, so enjoy!

1.9K Words, anal sex, bottom!Steve

It's one gown. It's not even that special of a gown, his mom probably has twenty or thirty gowns.

Steve's fairly certain she wore it to a gala six months ago. She's probably never going to wear it again, his dad always buys her a new one.

It's velvet, long and sleek. The neckline is a v and the sleeves aren't really sleeves, so much as sparkling chains, layered over one another. They're supposed to sit on the upper arm and create a delicate silhouette, is what his mother would say.

She has twenty or thirty gowns, Steve's seen them all. He's helped her get dressed when he was younger, offering to fasten her bracelet over her wrist or zip her up.

It's just one gown.

But he's absolutely transfixed. He's not sure if it's because it's soft to the touch. Or because the material seems stretchy enough to slide it over a body that's less thin, less curvaceous than his mother's.

Steve's fingers trail down the center of it, his hand shaking. She's not home and she won't ever know. Not even if he pops the seams, ruins it as he’s getting it over his chest.

He pulls it slowly, carefully off the hanger. Steve lets the fabric pool between his hands as he backs up to sit down heavily on her bed.

He can't remember why he came in here. Was it to sit in front of the fireplace? Or…a book maybe?

He's transfixed on the gown in his hands. It smells like her Chanel perfume. Like every coat in the coat closet because it sticks to everything.

Steve licks his lips and decides to drag his shirt over his head. It's warm in here because the fireplace is on.

The gown feels like butter on his hands.

He stands up with the gown, his shorts suddenly feel too restricting. Steve reaches down to shove them off.

He knows his mother always pulls gowns over her head. His hands are moving in slow motion as he lifts it, up and overhead.

Steve closes his eyes as the fabric bunches and drapes, while he gently tugs on the ends to get it down past his chest and hips.

"Oh fuck."

Steve freezes and his eyes fly open. He pulls a little harder because the dress was already almost over his head.

He looks over and remembers why he came in here. He was going to steal the box of tissues because Billy was coming over. Steve had left the front door unlocked. And now…now Billy is standing in the doorway.

"Um," Steve says dumbly. He's wearing the dress, there's no denying it.

Billy stares at him, mouth hanging open.

Steve is covered all the way to his sternum, save for his feet and ankles because his mom is shorter than him.

"I-"

"Jesus," Billy breathes. He stumbles to the side and grabs the doorframe. "Hold on a second."

Steve's face and neck are bright red. He sputters a couple of times, hands twisted in front of him. The dress is elegant, delicate, but he feels like an idiot.

He feels too large for his skin and this dress. He's sure he looks like a fool.

He reaches down to crush the velvet in his hands so he can yank the dress back over his head.

"Wait," Billy breathes. He gets his feet under him and reaches out to put his hands on Steve's wrists. "Wait a second."

Steve looks down at himself, swallows convulsively. "No."

"Yes," Billy insists. He steps back so he can look Steve over. He's obvious about it, eyes dragging along Steve's skin like the velvet. He walks around him while Steve tries not to squirm.

"Your mom gonna notice this dress has been touched?" Billy asks, his voice is breathy, quiet.

Steve shakes his head slowly, smooths his sweaty palms over his thighs.

"No, she…I could probably sell it and she wouldn't realize."

Billy nods, but it's clear he's not thinking about that. "Not gonna sell it. Just gonna ruin it."

He snaps his gum and points at the bed. "Back. Now."

Steve's eyes go wide. It's his mom's bed. He can change the sheets though and the fireplace is running. And the box of tissues is right there.

"Back, Steve," Billy repeats. His eyebrows are raised and his lips are curled so Steve knows he has to do it.

He pushes himself up on the bed and lays back on his elbows, looking over at him.

He's not even wearing any kind of pretty underwear, just his usual white briefs. But Billy is looking at him like it doesn't matter.

"It was just a joke," Steve mumbles. The lie falls flat and Billy steps on it as he climbs on the bed.

"You were curious, huh?" Billy murmurs. He plants a knee between Steve's legs. He can't spread them very far because the slit is in the back.

"Wanted to know if you would look pretty," Billy continues. "If you could pull it off. But, pretty boy, I'm going to be pulling it off you."

Steve’s body gives a valiant effort to blush even harder. He knows what’s happening, it’s different than how he originally envisioned this night. But it’s not bad.

Billy slides one hand beneath the gown, up the length of Steve’s right leg. He pushes the fabric away and stares into Steve’s soul. Billy can lay him bare without taking any of his clothes off, but this is new.

“Pretty, pretty boy,” Billy coos. He hikes the skirt of the gown up over Steve’s left thigh too and squeezes his hip. “Should get you one just for you.”

Steve moans, thinks about that- owning a gown that is supposed to fit him, not just his mother’s leftovers. “Fuck, don’t have to.”

Billy smirks, leans over Steve to press a kiss to Steve’s underwear. He could almost imagine a bow there on the front, moans helplessly at the thought.

“Sounds like I do,” Billy purrs. He pushes the gown up a little further, so the skirt pools around Steve’s ribcage.

Steve is breathing hard and he is hard and oh god Billy is hard too. He can feel his dick against his thigh where Billy is pressed against him.

“I’m gonna fuck you in this dress,” Billy tells him and Steve can only nod. He swears he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Billy grabs his briefs to pull them down, chuckling when Steve’s dick flies up to smack the end of the gown. He knows he’s gonna leave a precum mark, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“There we go,” Billy murmurs. He pulls off of Steve enough to tug his shirt off and drop it onto the floor. His jeans are next and he smirks at Steve when Steve notices he’s commando.

“Dirty,” Steve breathes. Like he gives a shit, like he’s ever given a hit about how Billy wears or doesn’t wear his underwear.

Billy leans up to kiss him quiet. Steve goes willingly into the bed, shoulders slumping while his hands come up to cradle Billy’s cheeks. He thinks he loves him, he knows he could love Billy if he was just given half a chance.

Billy slides his hand down, under Steve’s thigh and up his leg. He cradles one cheek of his ass and licks into his mouth and Steve lets him.

He drapes one arm around Billy’s shoulders, he feels, suddenly, delicate. Beautiful. Like he’s supposed to be wearing this gown.

Steve registers the click of a bottle of lube, which he vaguely realizes Billy must have grabbed from his bedroom. He opens his mouth to moan when Billy’s finger skirts his hole.

“Shit,” Steve breathes against Billy’s mouth. He kisses him again hungrily, needing the reassurance that Billy isn’t going anywhere.

Billy opens him up slowly, he always takes his time with it, like Steve is an instrument to be played. It’s a familiar tune, in a less familiar bed, and an unfamiliar dress. Billy treats him like he’s pretty, like the words aren’t just something to say.

Steve presses their foreheads together and breathes hard when Billy slides a second finger into him. His legs are curled around Billy’s hips and he’s sweating, panting in the dress. But he feels incredible when he looks down and his chest comes into focus.

From the cut of the neckline, it almost looks like Steve has breasts. Even though it’s just muscle and fat, skin covered in hair.

“Taking me so well, pretty boy,” Billy purrs. He leans into where their foreheads are pressed together. He scissors his finger to open Steve up more, but the fingering is still over too soon.

Steve moans when Billy takes his fingers away, he needs just a little bit more. Of course, he gets that like he wants when Billy pulls back.

“Oh fuck,” Billy breathes. He lifts Steve’s legs so they’re up by his shoulders and Steve feels the material of the dress pool onto his chest more. He’s pressing in, blunt and wide and Steve moans again, eyes rolling back.

“So pretty,” Billy repeats, keeps saying it until he bottoms out and Steve feels like he can’t breathe. Billy is so deep inside of him and Steve is here, pinned to this bed, wearing his mother’s dress and being treated like goddamn royalty.

Steve cracks his eyes open enough to look back at Billy, he narrows them on his face and heaves an almighty breath.

“Move,” he begs. He holds his arms over his head, hoping he really is painting a pretty picture for Billy.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Billy chuckles. He holds Steve’s hips in place and begins to do just that. Slow, sensual rolls of his hips, the slick sound of them sliding together. Steve watches him with tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

He is awash in velvet and the velvet-sound of Billy’s voice. Steve groans again and drops one hand down to himself. He curls his fingers around his length and begins to stroke himself.

Billy is watching him too, trying to match his motions. He bows his head, gets some of the velvet between his fingers and Steve’s hips.

“So fucking pretty, can’t believe it,” he manages. His thrusts get sloppy the longer he looks at Steve. It’s cute, it’s kind of adorable in it’s own right.

“Baby, please,” Steve begs. He squeezes his hand around himself and moans again, he can’t help it. He needs Billy to get him there, to throw him over the edge.

Billy keeps moving and he bows his head when he cums, forcing Steve’s hips back even more.

Steve throws his head back and howls, jacking his hand harder and faster until he cums too. He knows he’s getting spunk on the dress and he doesn’t give a shit. He’ll get it goddamn dry-cleaned or something.

Billy slumps over him and pulls out, but he drags the fabric of the dress down Steve’s thighs again. He flops beside him, breathing hard with a hand pressed to his sweaty chest.

Steve looks over him, his own chest heaving, the fabric swelling and contracting, the velvet is streaked in white.

“You didn’t plan this,” Billy says, turns his head to look at Steve. He’s got a fond little smile on his face.

Steve shakes his head, flushes a touch. “No, I didn’t,” he admits quietly. “Didn’t even really think about it.”

Billy levers himself up for a tissue, uses it to wipe his dick clean and tosses it towards the clothing on the floor. “Should try it again sometime.”

Steve rolls onto his side to kiss Billy’s bare shoulder. He hums, sliding his legs between the velvet fabric and nods.

#harringrove #greye writes #lemon #stranger things

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