#all of Shadows little voice lines are so nice too

[stellarbit]

Accepting Change

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety

Summary: You've haven't had peace in a while. Too much change has you ready to flee Pabu without a word. Crosshair isn't letting you get away without a word

a/n: been gone a minute again, this is a little exercise to get back into it!

Well past the glow of Pabu’s golden hour, two hours beyond sunset to be exact, you typically found peace. Lately, though, your faithful routine of that peace became off kilter. Easier and easier it became for it to slip from your grasp all together until suddenly, no matter the day or how hard you tried, there was no piecing together that nightly relief.

Like so many others in the Galaxy, you'd tasted loss and the threat of the Empire constantly loomed. Despite it all, you’d carved a fragile, bittersweet existence out for yourself and tucked yourself away on an isolated planet. Its serenity was enough for a while but, as you knew so well, change was inevitable.

Some of it was good. Befriending an unlikely family of clones proved to be a welcome change and a delicious one at that. The loss of Tech shook you and before you could fully adjust the Empire terrorized your home.

Change was not your friend and yet you continuously navigated its uncertain currents. Knowing that vital part of you existed and not feeling the accompanying reassurance it brought sewed nausea into you. A nausea rooted in something couldn’t quite pinpoint. Something that brought you to Pabu in the first place.

Brought wasn’t the word to use. It insinuated a gentle carrying. Nothing within you nor the Galaxy itself brought you. You’d run.

You thought moving somewhere quiet and keeping busy would fix the discontent inside of you

Perched on a shadowed ledge overseeing the calm ocean, you sat in the discomfort of the anxiety and made your plan. The serenity of Pabu no longer looked the same as the day you’d stepped foot on her rocky foundation. All you saw, all that seeped into your quiet moments, were reminders.

In the distance you assessed your half finished starship. Parts were hard to come by, but you’d sweet talked Phee into expediting that process. While Phee never grew to be as fond of you as she was the Batch she’d brought to Pabu, she was your only option at the moment. 

That thought naturally nudged your eyes to the distant and still lit home of Omega and her brothers. Her remaining brothers. Nausea swelled in you and prickling dread drove your attention back over the ocean. The calm waters did nothing to subside the choking feeling rising in your throat.

Even this quiet corner of the world failed to shield to fix.

Curling in on yourself, you clasped your hands as if to beg the Force itself to intervene. “I have to get out of here.”

“And go where?” An icy voice cut through the night air behind you.

The jolt it sent through you nearly pushed the nausea into your lap. As you turned, you faced the slender silhouette of Crosshair. He’d been exactly as Tech described. Another thought that twisted knots into your stomach.

The man remained where he stood. He wasn’t pushing further, but in the same breath he also wasn’t leaving. You wondered why he was out here at all.

Crosshair hadn’t taken your attempts at friendship well. He all but bit your head off at every turn for the first few weeks. He did soften into some version of a gentleman somewhere along the lines. There were no vulnerabilities in the man though and whatever pseudo friendship you’d established certainly didn’t call for late night rendezvouses.

Blinking a pleasant mask into place you gave a light wave to the stars above. “It’s been so long since I took a trip anywhere.” You turned a wide grin on Crosshair. Your cheeks ached against forced pleasantry, but nonetheless wrinkled your eyes into a show of genuinity. “A little trip sounds nice.”

His eyes narrowed on your smile, scanning you skeptically as his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re lying,” he stated flatly. 

Your smile flinched. “Why would I lie?”

“So no one stops you.” Crosshair countered.

“Stops me from what exactly?” As the balance between maintaining appearances and feigning ignorance tipped towards the latter, your smile faded.

Crosshair nodded in the direction of town. “Phee said you’ve been incessant about getting parts for your ship.”

Unable to swallow the expression souring your face, you turned back to the waters. So much for discretion. In a lackadaisy fashion you shrugged, “Everyone is rebuilding. I don’t see what’s so weird about my doing so.”

“Why are you asking Omega if there is a backup of the Marauder’s navicomputer?”

His prodding put an edge in your tone as you glossed over his question, “Can’t go on a trip without knowing where I want to go.”

“And all the cargo you’ve been sneaking onto your ship these past few nights?”

“I’m-”

“You’re running away.” Crosshair cut off your next attempt to deflect.

Annoyance flared within you, propelling you up from the rocky outcropping. Averting your gaze from his piercing eyes, you tried to brush past him. “This is ridiculous,” you mumbled, your shoulder bumping against his.

He caught you by the elbow before you were out of reach. You snapped your focus to him, aggravation crimping your lips. The two of you stared each other down for a few tense beats.

The hold on your arm softened slightly along with Crosshair’s features. “No matter where you go, it will catch up to you.” You could’ve sworn his voice cracked when he added, “Trust me.”

“What will?”

Crosshair released you and stepped back, allowing you space to breathe. Being intimately familiar with overreactions and the falling outs so often born in them he was trying to avoid pushing one out of you. Memories of so many avoidable fights with his brothers came to mind.

Sighing, he answered, “Whatever you’re running from.” 

Your gaze darted between his eyes as you realized you didn’t have the gall to accuse him of not knowing what he was talking about. What little insight you had into the sniper was enough proof that he had his own demons.

Shoring up your resolve you held Crosshair’s unwavering gaze. “Then I’ll deal with it elsewhere.” You shook your head, swallowed, and shifted your attention to the twinkling lights of town. “Not here.”

Crosshair grunted, “And what makes you think it will be easier anywhere else?” You didn’t return your attention, only furrowing your brows. Walking around to block your view of Pabu, Crosshair crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. “You think you’d be better off somewhere alone.” It wasn’t a question.

As he’d done to you earlier, you looked him over. Whether or not his stance was founded in arrogance you couldn’t tell and yet it felt arrogant. When you offered no response, you hoped he’d give up.

Annoyingly - he didn’t.

Recoiling a step, you challenged, “Why are you here, Crosshair?” 

He stood firm, but his eyes rolled almost out of his skull. Shutting his eyes, he took a patient breath, stilling himself before saying, “Omega sent me.” He was clearly resistant to admitting the fact. “She’s worried you’re planning to go off on your own and that…”

Crosshair paused, eyes opening but downcast. His stance relaxed, arms dropping to his sides and he conceded, “She thinks I might be able to convince you to stay.”

Suspicion clouded your features. “Why?” You asked hesitantly. Omega wasn’t the worrisome factor, she always had a way of seeing through others, it was Crosshair’s willingness to intervene.

His eyes, usually so hard and unyielding, held a flicker of something less severe. “I stayed with the Empire when I should’ve left. I didn’t want to accept a hard choice.”

You paused, processing his words. “What was it?”

“Choosing to accept change and change myself.”

You were constantly having to change with things you couldn’t control. How could he say that? Biting the inside of your cheek you defended your stance, “I do change. Maybe I just want a change of scenery.”

He scoffed lightly, a ghost of a smirk appearing on his face. “Maybe you do. Running might seem like the only option, but it’s not the only one.”

"You don't have to decide now," he concluded, his tone returning to its usual sternness as he prepared to walk away. "But think about it. I’m not good at this, but I’m here. We all are.”

Crosshair began to leave, hoping to give you whatever peace you needed in the moment.

You quickly called out to him. He stopped, his back to you for a moment before he turned back.

With a heavy tongue you gathered up some courage to ask. “Will you stay a bit longer?”

He hummed out a little amusement. “I can do that."

tags: @bruh-myguy-what @baddest-batchers @jetii @hshfsjzjsgj @zahmaddog @heidnspeak

[hall0wedwyrm]

Shadow Generations my new beloved. I'm gonna play it like a million times...... probably.

the ending ..... I'm speechless tbh. I have so many favourite parts it's not even funny. The Cutscene with Sonic... the Goodbye from Maria and Gerald.... the scene before Shadow goes to face Doom.... there's just so much to love...

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Part 1 -> Part 2

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

Part 2

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy

[megalony]

Can't You Be Mine- Part 3

This is the newest part of my Evan Buckley series, and I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Summary: Now that Minnie has started referring to Evan as her dad, he has officially adopted her. And he turns up to protect and look after her and (Y/n) when they need him.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, I was thinking…"

Tilting her head to the side, (Y/n) let her eyes loll to the right to look across at Maddie. She knew that tone of voice. She knew whatever Maddie was going to say next was either going to be controversial or something big, possibly shocking.

She let herself sink further in her seat as she folded her arms over her chest, resting them down against her stomach that came up like a big bump in the road. Although sometimes, like now, her stomach acted like a cushion or an armrest.

(Y/n) had taken to seeing what she could rest on her bump when it started getting bigger, just to see Evan's reaction.

His words were usually something along the lines of 'Don't use it as a table!' or 'Stop resting your drink on them.' And if she tried to rest anything light on her stomach while she was walking around the house, he always responded with 'You know I'll carry that for you, right?' but she was only doing it to tease him.

"Oh yeah?" (Y/n) grinned and started to dance her fingertips across her bump.

"We need to throw you a baby shower."

"We do?" That wasn't what (Y/n) had been expecting to hear.

"Yes, we need to celebrate. Plus, I had Jee during covid, so we never got to celebrate one for her. I think it'd be nice, Buck's already desperate to throw one."

"Oh, I bet he is… I guess it will be fun." A tender smile danced across her lips as she looked down at her stomach as if she could see through to the baby. It would be nice to celebrate and have a little get together. Everything was going great now, (Y/n) and Evan had moved in together, he had adopted Minnie, they were having a baby together.

Other than the brief setback of the run in with Mick at the store, things were the best they had ever been for (Y/n). She had never been happier or more content and she felt that she had a family with Evan's team and Maddie had truly become a sister to her. It was lovely.

(Y/n) looked ahead at the road and tried to keep her eyes on the beach they were passing by.

She hadn't been out the house in two weeks.

When Evan went to work, (Y/n) felt too nervous to go out alone. She didn't want to run into Mick, he was out on bail and (Y/n) just knew that he would be hanging around this area in the hopes of running into her again. He loved terrorising her. He loved making her feel timid and frightened of her own shadow, it gave him power over her.

She couldn't go out on her own, what if she ran into him again? She wasn't going to be much use defending herself or the baby.

Staying home where she could lock all the doors and windows felt safer than trying to leave. Minnie had only just gone back to school this week and she was not enjoying it. She didn't want to be at school, she wanted to be at home with either (Y/n) or Evan or both of them. She wanted protection and she didn't feel safe at school.

It had taken Maddie almost an hour to convince (Y/n) to come out this afternoon with the girls.

It was a lovely warm day and Maddie said they could go to the beach or the arcades and do something with Minnie and Jee. Whether it was just going for a walk and an ice cream and then going home, at least being out for a drive would get them out the house and back to a sense of normality. And (Y/n) didn't feel able to decline.

"Did you have a shower for Minnie?" Maddie looked across at (Y/n), noticing the way she had shrunk down in her seat and was absentmindedly gliding her hand up and down her bump.

"No, my parents were happy I left Mick, but they thought it was a mistake to have Minnie on my own."

All of (Y/n)'s family had seen how Mick's temper would flare and they noticed the bad effect he had on her. Making (Y/n) feel belittled and constantly on edge, how she never got to spend much time with her family when he was around and how he tried to control what she did and who she talked to.

They were thrilled when (Y/n) managed to cut all ties with him and escape, but knowing she was having a baby on her own wasn't something her family thought she should do. They thought it would be too hard for (Y/n) and when she and Minnie moved out to LA, they worried she wouldn't fair well on her own looking after Minnie.

Things had gone a bit smoother between (Y/n) and her family when they saw how happy Minnie made (Y/n) and how well the pair of them were doing. And now that Evan was in the picture, (Y/n) felt more able to talk and be around her family without feeling judged or like they thought she couldn't cope.

"Well, we will throw a great shower and show them just how wrong they were."

"Do you think your parents would come?" (Y/n) didn't want to upset Maddie if talking about her parents wasn't something she wanted to do, but she was curious.

(Y/n) had heard Evan on the phone to his parents a few times- each time it had been him to call them, never the other way around. (Y/n) had yet to see them call him and ask how he was or what was going on in his life. She heard the way Evan sounded dull when he talked to his parents. He told them he was happy in a new relationship but he didn't seem like he was expecting much back from them or much of a reaction or a glowing praise.

She had also witnessed the conversation where Evan told them he had adopted Minnie.

His parents hadn't been upset, per say, but they sounded cautious, as if this was something Evan was doing on a whim rather than something he had thought and talked about extensively and knew in his heart it was something he wanted to do.

Evan had told them it was what he wanted, that he loved Minnie and if he was going to tell people she was his daughter, he needed to adopt her and make it real. He wanted to adopt Minnie so she was truly his daughter. It meant he could be an emergency contact for her and he could be on her doctor's file. He could be on her school file and he could pick her up from school early, take her to appointments or anywhere she needed.

It also meant he could give her his last name, something Minnie was now ecstatic with. She had been practising how to write Buckley and learning how to spell it and she had told her teacher as soon as her name was changed.

Both (Y/n) and Evan were hoping that in a few years when Minnie was older, these memories would be fuzzy for her. She wouldn't remember she used to have (Y/n)'s last name or that she hadn't had Evan in her life from the very beginning.

"I'm sure they will, I've told them how happy Buck is after the move and everything. I'll make sure they come over when we organise the shower." Maddie reached across and delicately ran her hand over (Y/n)'s bump for a few seconds.

She wouldn't stand for their parents not being there at the baby shower. This was another grandchild for them. Maddie had already made it clear how happy and complete Evan felt in this relationship and that in taking Minnie on, it meant the rest of them did too.

Minnie was referring to Maddie and Chimney as her aunt and uncle and Maddie had told her parents that Minnie would need to be treated as their grandchild along with Jee and the new baby. If they didn't, they wouldn't be having contact with the new baby because it wouldn't be fair to Minnie. This was the way things were going to be.

Tilting her head up, Maddie looked in the rear-view mirror to see the two girls sitting idly in the back. "Shall we go get an ice cream?"

Both of them grinned and squealed their replies, kicking their legs in their car seats. (Y/n) couldn't of been happier that Minnie seemed very happy when she was around Jee. She got along with her class mates, but she didn't exactly make friends very well, she liked to keep to herself and her teachers said it was hard to get her socialising.

But there was only 16 months difference between Minnie and Jee and they were getting along like a house on fire. (Y/n) wondered if it was because Jee was technically her cousin now and because they were family, maybe Minnie felt more at ease around her and more eager to play and get along.

Once Maddie pulled up, (Y/n) sat forward and clicked her spine into place which caused her to wince.

She could feel the baby wriggling and when she climbed out the car, it felt like her stomach was weighing her down to the floor. It was going to be a rough few months if she was six months along and was already starting to feel discomfort.

She opened the back door and smiled down at Minnie who had been singing along to the radio the whole drive. But now it was time to get out, she could see her daughter looked nervous.

She held the Fireman Sam teddy closer to her chest and tensed up when her belt was taken off. Evan had given her the teddy and she barely let it out of her sights. And Evan had been both surprised and delighted when he came home from work last week and found that Minnie had gotten a pink pen and drawn and splotchy birth mark onto the teddy to make it resemble him. It had also caused her to ask Evan why she didn't have a mark like that too.

"Is daddy coming?"

"No, baby he's at work today. We're having a girls day." (Y/n) lifted Minnie out of her seat and set her down.

The same as (Y/n), Minnie hadn't left the house the first week after the shopping incident. She didn't want to and they didn't want to rush her. She had gone back to school this week but she hated every moment of it and was relieved to be taken back home at the end of the day. This was the first time she was going out somewhere other than school, but she wanted Evan.

She knew he would keep them safe, just like he did when he bustled into the shop two weeks ago and took them home. He promised he would keep her safe and Minnie wanted her dad stood in front of her like a protective shield. She wanted to be wrapped up in his arms because no bad people would mess with him.

"Your daddy said he wanted pictures of you having fun, why don't we see if we can win him a teddy from the arcades after an ice cream?" Maddie locked the car and looked over at Minnie who seemed to relax at her words.

With her left hand tightly clasped in (Y/n)'s and her teddy pinned under her arm, Minnie reached her other hand out and held Jee's hand. Both to keep her cousin heading in the right direction and to make them both feel safe and secure. The four of them made their way to the promenade along the sea front where Maddie said they would find an ice cream shop.

Minnie leaned her head into (Y/n)'s hip and nuzzled into her side as they walked down the promenade. She didn't want to be here, she wanted to go back home or stay driving in the car where it was safe.

"I want daddy." She tilted her head back and looked up at (Y/n) with those big pupils that looked like black holes that could ensnare everything in their path.

She let go of (Y/n)'s hand in favour of moving her arm to her chest to hold the Fireman Sam teddy so she could nuzzle her face against the top of the soft cotton. She wanted to go home now.

"You can call him later and tell him how brave you've been going out to the beach today."

"He'll be extra proud of you." Maddie winked when she could see that her words clicked something inside of Minnie's mind. She might just try and stay out a bit longer if she thought she could make Evan proud, not that she would have to do much to do that in the first place. He would be proud she had left the house, but if she could tell him she had been all the way to the beach and out for a long walk, he would be very pleased.

She nodded, her expression a little more relaxed, but she still didn't look so satisfied or at ease. She kept her mouth and nose nuzzled into her teddy and started humming as they all walked in line down the path beside the sea front.

"Wait with aunt Maddie and Jee while I grab us all some ice cream." (Y/n) kissed the top of Minnie's head and gently ushered her to stand over with Maddie and Jee.

Minnie huddled up into Maddie's side while her beady eyes followed her mum who waited in line for the ice cream. She tucked her toy tighter into her chest and pressed her lips against it again while her feet began to tap against the floor.

When Maddie took a few steps back and sat down on a bench, Jee perched next to her, holding her own teddy in her hands and quietly chatting to it like it was an old friend. And Minnie gingerly looked up at Maddie before tapping her knee, silently asking if she could sit with her.

"Come here," Maddie murmured, lifting the little girl up to sit her down on her knee. She could tell it made Minnie feel better and more secure when she felt Maddie's arms cocoon around her middle. No one could try and grab her or hurt her if she was wrapped up like this. "What's this?"

She pointed at the teddy in Minnie's hands and perched her chin on her niece's shoulder.

"It's daddy," She held the teddy out so Maddie could see her craftwork and the blobbed red ink above the right eye that resembled Evan's birthmark rather well. "Are you older than him?"

The question caught Maddie by surprise and she raised a brow, fighting off a smile as she swayed them from side to side.

"I am, I used to look after your dad when he was little."

"He said I'll be a big sister, like you… but why is daddy taller than you if he's littler?" Minnie liked the thought of being like Maddie, when Evan explained that Maddie was his big sister and she was very important in his life. He said she would be the same to the new baby.

Although Evan would never let history repeat itself where Minnie would have to love and raise her sibling, he didn't want that for anyone, especially not his own kids. As much as Evan loved Maddie for raising him, she shouldn't of had to and she had been the best part of his childhood, but that must have also been the worst part of hers. Forced to grow up, forced to raise him like he was hers rather than her brother.

"He's always been tall, you can't control your height." She watched as Minnie snuggled back into her chest and shifted down a little while her eyes focused on her teddy that was squashed against her chest.

When (Y/n) came back over and sat down next to her, Maddie grinned as Jee shuffled into her side to reach out for an ice cream. Both (Y/n) and Minnie seemed to be a bit calmer than this morning when they decided to come out here.

She knew Evan hadn't been happy when he spoke to her the other day. He was angry that Mark had the nerve to try and hurt (Y/n) in broad daylight, especially when Minnie had been there. (Y/n) had been doing so well going out on her own and feeling more confident in herself, and no Mark had gone and set her progress back miles and Evan just wanted to pummel him for it.

But for now, they would all be okay, and they would have a fun afternoon together.

***

Reaching down, (Y/n) kindly took the Fireman Sam teddy held out to her and she stuffed it in her bag hanging on her shoulder. Minnie couldn't carry two teddies at once if she wanted to hold (Y/n)'s hand as well. She had barely let go of her mother's hand at all, too afraid letting go might get them separated or allow someone like the bad man to hurt either of them.

But Minnie had done amazingly well so far. They had walked down the promenade, been along the sea front for a while, and now they were in the arcades.

Maddie had helped Minnie win a dog teddy from a crane machine and that was what Minnie was holding proudly. She wanted to give it to Evan when he came home tonight so she was parading around with it, meaning her Fireman Sam teddy was confined to (Y/n)'s bag for the time being.

When Minnie took her hand again, (Y/n) glanced around the arcade that was just a little too loud for her liking.

She looked across to where Maddie and Jee were just finishing up with one of the water gun games and she and Minnie headed over to them.

"This one! Mama do this one." Jee tugged on Maddie's hand and guided her over to the basketball game. She knew that was one that Maddie had a weakness for and when Maddie raised a brow at (Y/n), she rolled her eyes playfully and nodded.

When Evan was younger and Maddie used to take him to the arcade, this was the game they spent the most time and money on. They would play and play and rack up the tickets because both of them were accustomed players. (Y/n) was happy to take Evan's place and have a battle with her sister in law.

She felt Minnie cuddle up into her side while Jee stood between Maddie's legs, her hands excitedly tapping away on the front of the machine so she could eagerly watch the numbers at the back.

Clicking her spine into place, (Y/n) ran her hand along the side of her stomach where the baby was happily kicking up a fuss. She reached forward when the buzzer went off and grabbed the nearest basketball. (Y/n) liked this game.

"Go mummy!"

"Hurry mama!"

Jee helped roll the basketballs towards Maddie while Minnie clung to (Y/n)'s leg and leant her head against her mum's stomach. Jostling every now and then when (Y/n) had to keep reaching out for the basketballs because waiting for them to fall to the end wasted precious time.

Minnie began to count the scores, shouting out every time (Y/n) scored and she banged her hands on the side of the machine happily when both of them got through to the next round.

"I'm sweating already," (Y/n) mumbled, dragging her fingers through her hair as she clicked her back into place again. Leaning back and forth was starting to cause an ache in her lower back but the competitive streak within her was taking over.

Once the second round started, the hoop began to move from side to side, but it didn't bother either woman. Both of them seemed to be hitting baskets just one second after the other.

"Yay mummy! Round three."

"I don't think I can, you take over for me." (Y/n) took a step back and steered Minnie in front of her. She didn't have the energy for another round, and Maddie's score wasn't enough to get her into a third round which meant (Y/n) had won.

She rolled the basketballs down for Minnie who did her best, getting two or three before the timer ran out.

"Okay, what's next, now that you've beaten me?"

"Horses? Please?" Jee looked up at Maddie and pointed to the miniature merry go round next to the Dance Step game.

"Do you want to have a go?" Maddie looked down at Minnie but she shook her head. She was more interested in the crane machines or the 2p machines rather than the motion rides like that.

Minnie took (Y/n)'s hand again as they followed Maddie over to the merry go round so they could watch Jee. She was younger so this was something she enjoed and preferred and Jee was such a smiley girl that they would be able to take a lot of good photos today. They had gotten some selfies earlier where both girls had ice cream splattered across their faces. It had been a while since (Y/n) had taken any photos that weren't just of Evan or Minnie, so to have a few with Maddie and then some with all four of them was lovely.

Once Jee was perched on the golden horse and the merry go round was slowly spinning in circles, playing a rhythmic, if rather pitched tune, Maddie stood next to (Y/n). The pair of them leaned back against the Dance Step machine with tender grins and Maddie had her phone out, taking a little video.

Glancing behind her, (Y/n) watched the Dance icon stepping from left to right as the arrows lit up the screen. She loved those games, especially when she got to play the old nineties tunes and levelled up to the hard rounds.

"If I wasn't pregnant right now…" She looked wistfully at the machine while she felt Maddie's elbow gently nudging her side.

(Y/n) couldn't try it, not even on the easy level, not with her back playing up, but if they came back to the arcade once the baby was born, that would be the first game she would go on. She and Maddie could have a few rounds and see who could best the other.

When a sudden bang echoed through the overcrowded arcade, (Y/n) glanced to the left and felt a shudder run through her. Someone had backed up into one of the penny machines and the echo caused Minnie to jolt into (Y/n)'s side. Big noises were never a problem, but since the shopping incident, Minnie was viewing everything as a threat.

"It's okay," (Y/n) murmured softly, running her hand through Minnie's hair and brushing the strands away from her eyes.

Minnie dithered at her side, her eyes wide and scanning around the arcade as if she was searching for a threat.

This was why she wanted Evan to come out with them. If he was here, he would pick her up. If Evan was here, he would hold her in his arms and tell her everything was alright and no one would dare mess with him or come near Minnie or her mum if he was here.

But without him, everyone was getting too close. There were teenagers running around and a few men messing around near the machines like they were trying to break into them or shake them until all the coins fell out.

What if one of them came over and tried to hurt (Y/n) again? What if they pushed her or went to hurt Maddie? What if they started saying mean things like the other man did and tried to come near Minnie and Jee? What would they do?

Minnie could feel her heart racing as she cuddled the teddy closer to her chest, binding her arms around it so tight that if it had been breathing, it would of suffocated by now.

When the men continued to bash into the machine, Minnie couldn't find the will to look anywhere else. She could barely feel her mum's fingers running through her hair anymore trying to calm her down. But when the two men turned around and one of them started walking their way, Minnie started to shake.

She twisted to the left and scuttled away, following the patterned carpet like it was a trail guiding her somewhere safer. She weaved between the machines, jumping at every loud note of music that blasted from the machines and each time one of the zombie games let out a gunshot.

Her head tilted down and her arms pinned into her sides as she pelted off in a rush, unsure where exactly she was aiming for. She just wanted to get away and find somewhere safe.

"Minnie- baby no!" Reaching behind her, (Y/n) patted her hand down on Maddie's arm before she tried to hurry after her daughter.

Something had spooked her and she was pelting through the arcade.

(Y/n) shifted her bag strap so it was looped over her neck rather than just her shoulder, allowing her to speed up without losing her bag in the process. She weaved between the machines, holding her breath as she tried to look for her daughter's curly hair or spot the purple dress she was wearing.

Her panicked eyes scanned round as she weaved between parents, racing children and loud teenagers constantly getting in her path. Even though it was clear (Y/n) was trying to hurry after her child before they got separated. She couldn't allow that. Minnie was in a panic and if she got lost she would start to scream or think someone was going to snatch her.

She took a sharp left as her heart jumped into her throat; she was right near the exit. What if Minnie bolted outside? (Y/n) could easily lose her in the sea of people swarming about. Someone could take her hand and drag her away. Minnie could get swept up and wander too far.

Raging thoughts dwelled in her head as her throat clogged up and she couldn't take a proper breath. But just as she was about to rush out the open doors, something caught her eye.

"Minnie no!"

Lurching to the left, (Y/n) reached out for her five year old, but she wasn't quick enough. Minnie scuttled inside the prize drop of the crane machine before (Y/n) could get to her.

"Minnie, Minnie get out of there." (Y/n) dropped to her knees, despite the ache it caused in her lower stomach and the shockwave that it rattled up her spine.

She pushed the flap open and tried to reach her hand up, but Minnie was mewling like a trapped kitten. Her daughter wriggled and screamed, writhing in panic until she managed to shimmy out of the drop zone and climb over the plastic barrier. She tumbled like an acrobat and flopped onto the styrofoam cuttings and mingled in with the Disney Dumbo toys. The five year old curled up like she was trying to somehow blend in or become invisible, her dog toy cuddled to her chest and her head nuzzled against one of the other teddies surrounding her.

Each breath she took finally started to mellow out and she stopped screaming and whining, switching to deep breaths to try and calm back down.

Great.

(Y/n) could feel a wave of anger radiating through her, despite how badly she tried to fight it off when she looked at her daughter.

Why hide in there? She knew she couldn't go messing with the machines, it was dangerous. She could of broken her arm or a leg trying to get up there, it was a good job she was small and nimble.

Now (Y/n) was going to have to find an attendant and get them to unlock the machine to get Minnie out. And people were already starting to notice that there was a little girl hidden in with the toys. The last thing they needed was to cause another scene. Why would Minnie hide in there if she felt scared or spooked? How would being in there give her security or help her?

With a sigh, (Y/n) moved her hands to the glass and heaved herself off her knees and back to her feet. She tilted her head back and pressed her hand to her temple as she let herself lean against the glass separating her from her daughter.

She opened her eyes and jerked back a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but she relaxed, seeing it was only Maddie who had Jee sat on her right hip. Maddie seemed to look around, panic fuelling her eyes as she tried to find her niece, but when she looked at the claw machine, her lips pursed and her shoulders dropped.

"Oh," She muttered, fighting back a defeated smile while she squeezed (Y/n)'s arm. "I'll go get someone." She jostled Jee higher on her hip and hurried off to find someone who would have the keys.

"Baby, why'd you get in there?" (Y/n) rested one hand on her hip as she turned to face the glass which she leaned her temple against.

She looked down at her daughter who stayed curled up with her knees imbedded into the styrofoam and her tummy tucked over her legs. The way she looked up with those big doe eyes through her lashes made (Y/n)'s anger fizzle out and a wave of sympathy washed over her instead.

She barely managed to hear Minnie whisper "Bad man." As tears began to trickle down the little girl's face and she stayed cuddled up, wishing everyone crowding round would go away.

(Y/n) pushed off the machine and stood back on her feet properly when Maddie jogged back over with a young man following her. He didn't look much older than nineteen, with floppy hair falling in every direction and he was lazily chewing a piece of gum. The faded, bored look in his eyes brightened a little when he realised there actually was a little girl stuck in one of their machines.

"You can't take anything from the machine, you know that, right?" He raised a bored eyebrow and unclipped the keychain from his belt.

"She's not trying to take a toy, she's frightened." (Y/n) couldn't help but scowl at him as she folded her arms over her stomach and waited for him to unlock the glass door.

He huffed, nodding along as if to appease her while he switched to another key and tried to ram it into the lock.

By the time he switched to the fifth key on his chain, (Y/n) shared an annoyed look with Maddie and inched closer to the machine. Minnie was still cuddled up and the sight of the stranger in front of the machine was making her tremble and cower back. She had tears running down her face and every time she looked over at (Y/n), her lower lip wobbled.

"Do you know what you're doing?" (Y/n) snapped when the next key didn't work either. If he carried on she would take them from him and find the right one herself.

But her jaw dropped and she heard Maddie let out a disgruntled noise when they both watched the last key wriggle in the lock and suddenly, it snapped. Half the metal key stayed rammed in the lock while the end broke off in the attendant's hand.

His jaw dropped and those tired, unbothered eyes finally widened as shock plastered across his face. That clearly wasn't part of the plan and he hadn't done this before. No kid had managed to climb into the machine. Many had tried, some got into the prize drop area before their parents dragged them out. And a lot of stupid teenagers got their arms caught trying to reach up for a prize. But now the door was jammed, and Minnie was too unsettled to scramble back down. She could hurt herself trying to wriggle back down that thin prize drop zone.

"Oh shit." He mumbled to himself and he looked petrified when he turned to look at both women who were now glaring daggers into him.

"Well? What are you going to do now?" Maddie sounded stern and authoritive but she could feel herself getting angry when he shrugged.

"Lady, I- I don't have another key, anyway it's jammed."

He actually flinched when he heard (Y/n) mutter 'stupid boy' under her breath and when she gave his shoulder a forceful nudge, he took the hint. He backed up and stood to one side, deciding to tell other people to move on and stop crowding round.

"I guess I'm calling Evan." (Y/n) laughed cynically and fished around in her bag for her phone. She needed the fire department to come down here and bust this lock open to get her daughter out. And who better than her partner and his team to do the honours?

She stood to one side, staying close to the machine while Maddie moved over and looked down at Minnie, quietly asking if she was alright in there.

"Hi sweetheart, how's it going? Did you all go out somewhere?" Evan's voice made butterflies ignite in (Y/n)'s stomach and she fidgeted on the spot when she felt the baby moving too.

"Are you out on a call?"

"We're just about to head back to the station, why? Is everything okay?"

"Evan… could- could you and the team swing by and help us? We're at the arcades, and Minnie's got a bit, stuck."

It felt like too much to ask, but if she didn't ask or if Evan said they couldn't, she would have to call 911 anyway and get a different fire service to come out and help them. (Y/n) didn't want to bother Evan at work, she had never rang him at work before until two weeks ago after the whole supermarket fiasco. Now here she was, doing it again.

"Uh, stuck how?" Apprehension flooded Evan's voice but (Y/n) could hear him moving about and she just knew he was already getting the team ready to come down to them.

"She's inside a crane machine." (Y/n) darted her eyes over to Minnie who was sniffling, but she was listening attentively to Maddie who was trying to chat to her and keep her from fretting.

"Shit. Text me the address, we're coming now baby."

(Y/n) said her goodbyes and quickly sent a text to say which arcade they were in. Although by the time the team got here, people would be talking and murmuring and hovering around so it would be easy enough to see which one the commotion was in.

She leaned her head back against the machine and tapped her phone against her thigh as she looked down at Minnie.

"Your dad's coming to get you out." (Y/n) managed a tepid smile when Maddie jostled Jee on her hip, murmuring that she was going to see her dad too. At least the boys would get to see them for a little while, and both girls would be over the moon at seeing their dads on the job. Although this wasn't the best of circumstances.

"Daddy?"

A smile pulled at Minnie's lips as she lifted her head and wiped her nose against her sleeve. Locking eyes with her mum who rose a brow.

"Don't tell me you got in there so I could call your dad to come and get you out." She doubted that was Minnie's intention, she had been petrified of something and gone into panic mode. But she could see Minnie was calming down already at the thought of Evan coming to the rescue.

***

Evan looped the tool kit over his shoulder and spun away from the truck with a look of concentration plastered across his face.

He could feel Eddie and Chimney hovering close behind him as he walked away from the truck and headed over to the promenade. This wasn't the kind of callout he was expecting today. When (Y/n) called, he thought she would be telling him that they had gone out and had a good day, or that they only went out for a little while and then headed back home. He wasn't expecting to be told Minnie had scuttled into one of the arcade machines, for some very strange reason he wasn't sure of yet.

At least this was preferable to the phone call he'd had the other week. Never again did Evan want a stranger answering (Y/n)'s phone, trying desperately to tell him that there was some kind of incident involving his family at the store. He wasn't ready to be rushing from the station down to the shops, fretting that he would have to take his girls to the hospital.

"Why are we here, again?" Hen hurried to keep up with the rest of them, looping a medic bag on her shoulder just in case they needed to assess anyone.

"For some unknown reason, my daughter's managed to climb into one of the prize machines."

Evan jogged a bit faster as he spoke and rounded the corner. He had memorised the address (Y/n) sent to him, but he didn't really need it. There were people hovering outside the third arcade down the promenade and Evan would bet that was where his family was.

"Excuse me." He politely weaved between the families and teens all moving around, pretending to play on the games when really, they were trying to get a look at what was going on.

He saw Maddie first. He rested his hand down on her shoulder and grinned softly at Jee who was in her arm, looking very tired.

"Hi," Maddie squeezed his wrist and took a few steps back to let him get in front of her and see the scene. And when her sights set on Chimney, she moved over to him, letting their daughter scuttle into his arms as she squealed. She hadn't been expecting to see her dad here, in his uniform.

A wary smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips that were curved around her thumb as she had been biting her nails for the last ten minutes. She pushed off the machine she had been leaning against like a guard, protecting her daughter from anyone and everyone passing by.

The moment Evan was within reach, (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and pushed up on her tiptoes to be level with him. She kissed his cheek while his left arm bound tight around her waist and he pulled her into his chest.

He dropped the tool kit down by his feet, briefly skimming his fingers across (Y/n)'s stomach before he leaned back to look down at her.

"Dare I ask why she's in there?" His eyes darted between the machine and (Y/n), noting that Minnie hadn't realised yet that he was here.

"She got scared and ran off, but I don't know why she clambered in there." (Y/n) felt like she could of melted on the spot when Evan hummed and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. She could feel his thumb stroking up and down her back while he slowly inched her backwards until he was in front of the machine.

When he unravelled his arms from (Y/n), Evan tapped his knuckles against the glass and placed both hands on his hips. He arched a brow and tilted his head down when Minnie's head shot up and a mixture of surprise and awe lit up her teary face when she realised Evan was here. Part of her hadn't believed that he would come down to get her out.

"Minnie Buckley."

The five year old scurried round so she was sitting up rather than lying down and she pinned the teddy she rightfully won earlier against her chest. The way she looked up at Evan through her lashes already had his heart melting and whatever sternness he had about him was starting to fade away.

"Let's get you out of there," He sighed and crouched down to rummage through the bag and see what he could find.

When he lifted his head, he frowned and tilted his head to one side as his fingers traced the lock. Someone had jammed the wrong key in and snapped it. No wonder they couldn't get her out.

"Okay," He grabbed a few tools and stood up to his full height again. At least Minnie had gotten into one of the larger crane machines, she seemed to have a lot of room in there which meant she hadn't panicked or gotten claustraphobic yet. "Shuffle back out the way, baby."

He waved his hand until she took the hint and inched back until she was pressed up against the back of the machine.

(Y/n) took a few more steps out the way when Eddie walked over to her, a kind smile on his face as he moved to stand beside Evan. He helped Evan wriggle the lock until they got the jammed piece of metal from the lock. And Evan switched tools, using a few picks and metal hooks while Eddie twisted the bolt lock with a wrench and the managed to break it.

Once the lock was broken and loose in the glass door, Evan curled his hand into a fist and bashed it against the lock. In one swift movement, the metal lock dropped into the machine, disappearing into the styrofoam. Which allowed Evan to hook his finger into the glass door and pull it open.

He took a step back, unable to stop the gracious smile from pulling at his lips and the moment he opened his arms, Minnie scrambled forward. She looped her arms- and the teddy- around Evan's neck and jumped so he could pick her up and cuddle her against his chest.

His lips attached to the top of her head and he moved over to the side while Eddie stuffed the tools back into the bag and moved over to Hen and Bobby. The three of them would take a wander round and wait back at the truck while Evan and Chimney finished up here with their families.

(Y/n) curled her hands around Evan's bicep and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, murmuring a soft "Thank you," into his arm while he kissed the top of her head.

After a few moments of running his hand up and down Minnie's back, Evan tilted backwards to look down at her and he rose a brow when she gingerly looked up at him through her lashes.

"Minnie, why'd you climb in there? You know that's naughty."

They both knew he never used her name unless it was serious or she was in trouble. Hearing her name from Evan's lips made her shudder and she tilted forward to bury her face in his shirt, but Evan wasn't having any of it. He held her in his right arm while his other hand gently but firmly gripped her chin and tilted her head back so she was looking at him again.

"What were you doing?" They needed to know. They had to know why she thought climbing into there was a better idea than staying with (Y/n) or simply running away if something was frightening.

She couldn't do that again because she wasn't going to fit into cramped places like that. She was lucky she was slim enough to get into that machine without becoming stuck or gaining a bad injury. Evan was more than happy to come down here and be the one to get her out of that machine, but he had to at least understand what Minnie had been up to and make sure she knew it was dangerous to do that.

"There was a bad man, hitting the machines… he- he couldn't get me out of there, could he?"

Evan's eyes darted over to (Y/n) and she could see the panic lighting him up like a Christmas tree, so she squeezed his arm and shook her head. Mark wasn't here. They hadn't been in any danger.

"Someone was getting rowdy, messing with the machines, she must have thought he would do something." She ran a hand down her face, warding off tears. Not only had Mark set (Y/n) back in her recovery, but now he had petrified Minnie too, and (Y/n) wanted to keep him as far away from her daughter as possible. She left him so he couldn't inflict any pain or panic onto her, but he had still managed it.

Minnie thought someone was going to hurt them and she had seen a chance to get away. If her mum couldn't get her out of that machine, then neither could a bad man.

With a sigh, Evan pressed his lips to the top of her head and peppered kisses up and down her temple and cheek. His hand smoothed up and down her back as he swayed them from left to right.

"No, no he couldn't, but you could of gotten stuck or hurt. If anything like that happens again, you don't leave mummy or aunt Maddie, okay? You just wait for me to come get you."

He felt her snuggle deeper into his chest with her head tucked safely beneath his chin and he smiled softly. His lips continued to pepper kisses against the top of her head while he reached one arm out to tuck (Y/n) up into his side. The three of them slowly made their way outside to where Maddie, Chimney and Jee were stood on the promenade.

"Please don't do that again, baby." Evan murmured into Minnie's hair. He didn't want to tell her off when she had been frightened and rightfully wanted to stay safe. But he didn't want the next phone call to be saying that Minnie had broken her arm or her leg or that she had gotten trapped. It would be a lot harder to get her out of one of those machines or something just like it if she was stuck and distressed and they had to cut through metal to reach her.

Minnie gingerly leaned her head back and unravelled one arm from Evan's neck so she could show him the toy dog she had won on one of the other machines. She watched as Evan raised a brow and reached his hand up to observe the toy.

"I won this for you daddy." Her voice was quiet and soft and very drained, making Evan sure that when he got home tonight, she would be fast asleep.

"For me?" When she nodded, Evan pecked her cheek and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Thank you, little mouse."

[daistea]

I need to make that man jealous. I need to see him riled up. I need to see him lose his cool. I need to be the center of his focus. Kicking my feet, twirling the phone cord, rolling over in bed, giggling, like "What do you think he'd do to me if he found out?"

I got u. rubs my filthy trash hands together 

3,700ish words

tw violence, mildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, language, slightly suggestive, Fleki

gn reader x mithrun, established relationship

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 There are layers to Mithrun’s possessiveness.

Layer 1: Caution

You looked nice. Too nice. While Mithrun had a habit of staring, he never gawked. To gawk would imply a certain sort of pathetic desperation. Mithrun was desperate for you, but not pathetically so. 

How you looked at that moment was gawk-worthy, though. He only tilted his head, gaze roaming over your body as you leaned on the dining table, organizing your belongings. Your legs, your hair, your chest, your arms, your shoulders, your back, your—

It wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to Cithis’s house, you said?” Mithrun asked. His voice was level, even, with no betrayal towards the slowly growing flame burning within him.

You nodded and sent him a smile, “Yeah. Did you change your mind about coming?”

Yes? No. Mithrun felt himself tense, “I’ll think about it.”

He had zero interest in a party. He had zero interest in drinking and listening to people chatter all night. What he was interested in, though, was keeping an eye on you.

Mithrun’s fist clenched. He dug his nails into his palm, causing a light sting to run through his nerves. You dressed like that for this party? He trusted you to behave, but he didn’t trust anybody else. The thought of people looking at you, their eyes raking down you; the thought of others desiring you… It filled him with a taut, vibrating anger. He was a rope pulled too tightly, about to snap.

Mithrun was definitely going to that party, and he’d stay by your side the entire time. With his arms around you and his gaze roaming the room, nobody would dare bother you.

He won’t get into fights, usually, he won’t be dramatic or loud, but you know when he’s feeling possessive. He gets a dark look in his eye, he holds you tightly, he watches people like a wolf stalking a rabbit. His expression and vibes are usually enough to scare away potential threats.

Mithrun isn’t jealous out of insecurity. He’s jealous because you’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you to anyone. Simple.

He’s very shameless about it. 

The next layer to his jealousy/possessiveness is slightly more intense, though, and a bit more rare. 

Layer 2: Enter At Your Own Risk 

The streets of Melini were more crowded as of late. New people had come to check out the nation, and it made shopping for simple groceries difficult. 

You’d given Mithrun the task of locating the vegetable stand. He went without question, doing as you asked and slipping through the sea of bodies. With a moment to yourself, you hitched your woven basket into the crook of your elbow and inspected the fabrics stall. The little house you shared with Mithrun needed new curtains. 

 You ran a finger over a certain fabric, admiring the weave pattern. Yet, a shadow cast itself over the stall and a sudden presence to your right stole away your attention. 

 “Hey,” a man said. You looked up to meet his eyes. He was just a guy, perhaps his smile was a little too confident, but he seemed relatively normal. “You wanna know what material I’m wearing?”

Not particularly. But before you could reply, the man continued, “It’s called boyfriend material. Wanna touch?”

That had to be the worst pick up line you’d ever heard. Should you even dignify it with a response? You felt your expression twist into one of disgust without realizing it. And the man tensed as he noticed his lack of success.

“Let me try again!” He pleaded, “I promise, I’m a nice guy, I just wanted to make you laugh. I saw you from across the street and I think you’re beautiful. I couldn’t not talk to you, you know? I just had—“

You didn’t hear the rest of his words. Your focus immediately turned to the approaching storm. It was like watching dark clouds roll in, hearing thunder shake the world. 

Mithrun lifted his chin a little. He clenched his fist. In his other arm were several potatoes, exactly what you asked him to get. The breeze ruffled his hair. It was the worst kind of anger in his eye, the calm kind. Mithrun’s head was clear. He knew precisely what he was doing. 

Slowly, you shook your head, shooting him a warning look.

Mithrun ignored you. 

He stalked closer as his good eye narrowed. His nose wrinkled just a little, betraying his fury. His shoulders were tense and his knuckles were white as he picked up and potato and—

“No!” You commanded. Mithrun froze, obeying you, but he didn’t look happy about it. The flirty guy also froze with wide eyes.

“No?” The guy asked.

“Not you,” you hissed, then pointed at Mithrun who stood behind the guy, a potato in his hand and only inches away from the guy's back. “Mithrun, I swear to god, if you use your teleporting magic to switch out someone’s literal beating heart with a potato again, I’m making you sleep outside tonight.”

Mithrun was pissed. But he knew you meant it. He turned his gaze onto you, challenging you, daring you to stop him. You maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. He could not brutalize the people of Melini just because they thought you were pretty. The guy was annoying, but innocent. 

Finally, Mithrun’s jaw clenched, but he backed down. He lowered the potato of death and took a step away. The flirty guy was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Mithrun nodded his head to the left, “Go.”

“Yes sir!” The man said before scurrying away.

You knew your boyfriend was going to spend the next few hours a bit grumpy, a bit clingy and touchy, but… You actually didn’t mind that. It sent a thrill, a heat, up your spine.

He’ll calm down in a bit. It’s just offensive that someone would even try to take you.

Of course, you remind him that that’s unreasonable. That guy had no idea you were already in a relationship. 

Mithrun does not give a damn about reason and logic right now.

He can be a little scary. It’s nice…

Level 4: The Danger Zone

Due to being a loyal partner, purposefully making Mithrun jealous was not on your agenda. He would never do that to you, you’d never do that to him. It was cut and dry. Simple. 

Except, an old friend of yours was visiting Melini and had sent you a letter to announce his arrival. The handwriting on the letter was familiar, filling you with warm nostalgia. You hadn’t realized that you were smiling at his sweet words until Mithrun’s voice tore you from your thoughts. 

“Are they announcing another sale at the bakery?” He asked. It almost didn’t sound like a question with how flat his tone was. 

You looked up to see him in the kitchen nearby, his back to you as he slowly chopped at a green onion. His hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, but locks of white still fell around his cheeks. You swore, sometimes that elf had eyes in the back of his head. 

“You think I’d be smiling like this at a sale announcement?” You asked dryly. 

“Yes, actually.”

He was right. You hated it when he was right. 

You always told Mithrun the truth, there were no secrets on your end. Mithrun, of course, had his little secrets that you would eventually discover. Like the time you desperately wanted a very pretty coat in the store, but someone else had already bought it, and Mithrun had Cithis brainwash the buyer into giving it to you. For months, you wore that coat thinking ‘wow how nice that they just gave it to me!’ 

Or the time the sequel to one of your favorite books was delayed. And Mithrun disappeared for two days without notice, then came back with an unbound manuscript of the book. You asked how he got it, he said he ‘knows a guy.’ In reality, he broke into the author’s house and stole the manuscript. 

The man was dedicated, you could give him that. 

Yet he kept secrets. Mithrun’s moral compass didn’t always point North and he didn’t care enough to fix it. You thought it was cute half the time, other times it caused a bit of trouble. In the case of your old friend, it would only cause trouble. 

So, for once, you decided to keep a secret. 

“No, it’s actually a sale at the butcher’s,” you lied, “buy one get one free on pork.”

Mithrun hummed in thought, “We could stock up and do a special on pork ramen.”

“We could do that, yeah.”

You hated lying. Now you had to somehow acquire an obscene amount of pork for the shop. 

You decided to tackle that challenge later. For now, your friend would be arriving soon, and you had to figure out how to meet him without raising suspicion. 

No matter how hard you try, suspicion rises like the tide. 

Mithrun isn’t paranoid about what you do in your time away from him. He has the tendency to be a bit codependent, but resists that urge (Kabru told him it was unfair to both of you to put all of his happiness on your shoulders. He begrudgingly agreed. Stupid Kabru and his stupid emotional intelligence.)

So, you go to do your thing. Whatever. He busies himself with one of his weird little hobbies, but Mithrun has a certain instinct for trouble. Something inside of him is telling him to beware, making him antsy. He doesn’t like these new feelings brought on by having a desire for you. It makes his knee bounce and his fingers restless. 

He looks at the fireplace. In the hearth, there’s the corner of a piece of parchment. Why was there parchment in the fireplace? Were you burning papers? Letters?

You were smiling so sweetly at the mail earlier…

He’s up and stalking across the house within seconds, out the door and into the streets of Melini. 

 Perhaps you were too trusting. Perhaps you were naive. Perhaps you were stupid. 

Ages ago, this particular old friend asked to marry you. You refused, of course, because you weren’t ready to get married and you didn’t feel that way about him. He asked again. And again. And again. It was annoying, but you decided to stay his friend because of your history together. 

Now that you had taken a moment to look back on said history, you realized…

This old friend had been trying to court you for years. 

“I heard you have a partner,” your friend said. His smile was tight and the grip on his utensil was even tighter. 

You forced a smile, “Yeah. Mithrun. He’s great.”

“Tell me about him.”

Where to start with Mithrun? It was a safe subject, at least. Your old friend knew about your relationship and would hopefully respect it. 

“Well, he’s—”

Your friend interrupted, “Is he handsome?”

Odd, but not unexpected. You nodded, “Yeah, I mean, he’s an elf so I don’t know if handsome is the right word. More like absurdly beautiful.”

Friend tensed in his chair. You saw his shoulders roll as if he was preparing himself for a fight. “Cool. Cool. Is he funny? Does he make you smile? Does he kiss good?”

You were definitely too trusting and naive. 

“Yes to all?”

“Is he good in bed?”

Your hands shot up as if you could physically repel the questions, “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“You don’t want to talk about your boyfriend?” Friend asked, his eyes widening, “I thought you loved him. Is there perhaps trouble in paradise? You know you can always vent to me about it. I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Had your friend always been like this? Surely not. You had good times together. There was that one time he made you laugh so hard you choked on water and he got so scared that he gave you the heimlich. Sure, his hands weren’t in the right place for the heimlich, instead landing on your chest, but—

Oh Lord. He’s always been this bad. 

With your food uneaten and a churning in your stomach, you began to stand up from your seat. “I don’t think this was a good idea, honestly.”

His eyes widened again, “Really? I think it’s a great idea. I came all the way to Melini to see you!”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Listen, our lives have changed and I’m with Mithrun now and—”

Friend shot out of his seat, rounding the edge of the table before you could back away. His face was desperate and he was already breathing heavily. Nearby, the welcome bell rang as someone stepped into the cafe, but the usually pleasant noise was muffled to your ears. Friend put his hands where they didn’t belong, on your waist. That was Mithrun’s spot, that’s where Mithrun's hands went. He yanked you close and dread filled your chest.

This couldn’t be happening. 

His lips were on yours. You tried to pull away, your eyes squeezing shut. His grip was strong and your mind was racing with panic. Your hands landed on his chest to push him back and—

He ripped himself away. Or, rather, he didn’t rip himself, but he was ripped, like a yanked-off bandage. You opened your eyes to see Mithrun, and relief instantly flooded your system. 

But the calming, warm waters of your relief drained as you noticed the look on Mithrun’s face. He was naturally rather blank most of the time, yet at the moment, his good eye was narrowed, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He held your friend by his hair, ignoring the complaints and pleas and insults from the man. Without warning, Mithrun yanked on the man’s hair and began dragging him through the restaurant. It didn’t matter if your friend was bigger than your boyfriend, Mithrun had more strength and determination and sheer will to kick his ass. 

People gasped and watched with wide eyes. Someone panicked. Waiters and workers approached slowly. Yet, the situation resolved itself. Mithrun pushed the door open, the bell rang cheerily, and he yanked your struggling ‘friend’ out into the street. 

Your heart clenched. It felt as if someone had wrapped their cold fingers around your organs and squeezed. Your legs moved before you could give it a second thought, and you were out the door and chasing down your boyfriend instantly. 

Mithrun had dragged the man into a nearby alleyway and thrown him against the wall. Your ‘friend’ was on the ground, hands coming up to hold his aching head. Mithrun knelt down to wrap his fingers around his neck and—

“Stop right this instant!” You yelled. 

He froze, his eye widening. His hair was a mess and his pupils small with focus. Slowly, he stood up straight, taut like a bowstring being pulled. “Why?”

“Because I said so!” Your throat hurt from how desperately you’d yelled.

“That’s not a very good reason," he retorted through clenched teeth.

“Mithrun,” you seethed, “You cannot just grab people by their hair and drag them around.”

His expression darkened, “He kissed you. Against your will, I’m presuming.”

“Of course it was against my will!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms, a little manic and all-too-aware of the gathering crowd in the street behind you. “But that doesn’t mean you can brutalize him!”

Mithrun tilted his head and looked at you as if you were a child spouting nonsense. “Of course it does.”

“Make him pee his pants!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

“Pee his pants!” Someone else repeated.

“Pee! Pee! Pee!”

“Alright,” Mithrun agreed and turned his attention back to your ‘friend’, who was looking around as if he couldn’t believe what he’d been dragged into, terrified and shivering slightly. 

“Do not make him pee his pants,” you commanded, “I swear to the Gods I will—”

“Twist his dick!” Someone yelled.

Since when did the people of Melini get so violent? You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Fleki had arrived and was encouraging the act of dick twisting. Of course. 

“The ol’ dick twist!” She yelled again. 

Enough. That would’ve made you crack up under any other circumstances, but frankly you had no desire to see your boyfriend twist another man’s dick. Mithrun, being himself, was already kneeling down with the intent of twisting. You stomped up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him away. He allowed it, only making a light noise of surprise and stumbling after you. 

The further you pulled him, the less you could hear of the crowd. They expressed their disappointment, but seemed to be dispersing, unwilling to follow you and Mithrun into the darker parts of the alleyway. You rounded the corner of a building and noted that it was filled with crates and relatively clean. A perfect place to have a fight with one’s partner. 

Mithrun read your mind. He straightened up and pulled from your grip, then folded his arms over his chest and glared--- which wasn’t very different from his usual expression if not for the slight narrowing of his good eye and the hard set of his jaw. 

You returned the look. Unwilling to back down, you met his ink-black gaze and lifted your chin. 

The air thickened. It felt as if your blood had started to thrum, to vibrate within your veins. A rock lodged itself in your throat as you forced yourself to hold the gaze. No backing down. You refused. It had been a horrible day so far and Mithrun’s murderous intent did not make it any better. 

(That was a lie.)

(You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you wanted him so badly.)

Eventually, Mithrun broke the silence, a rare act on his part in these kinds of situations. “Don’t tell me you actually care about him.”

Your blood thrummed a little higher and you felt a heat rise within your stomach, though whether that heat was from pleasure or anger you weren’t quite sure. “He was my friend at some point, though I’m not sure why. The problem here is moreso that you can’t drag people around by their hair and attack them.”

“He kissed you,” Mithrun hissed through grit teeth. 

“And that sucked, honestly,” you admitted, “but he’s just a pathetic loser.”

“Is this the same guy that’s been in love with you for years?”

You blinked in surprise, “What? I’ve only recently figured that out. How did you know?”

His gaze flattened, “Every story you’ve told me about him gave it away.” Of course. Your cheeks felt warm and you did your best to avoid his quickly intensifying stare. When you had no response, Mithrun continued, “Why did you hide from me that he was coming to visit? Did you like that he kissed you?”

An unpleasant flash of horror crossed through your chest and you gasped, “Of course not!”

Did he even need to ask that? It was absurd. Yet, Mithrun took one slow step toward you. It was the calculated approach of a wild animal on the hunt. Without realizing it, you took one step back. 

Another step forward, and you backed up. Two seconds later, your back hit the wall and Mithrun uncrossed his arms. He pressed his palms flat against the brick on either side of your head.

“I think,” his voice lowered, “that you subconsciously knew he wanted you, that you’ve always known, and that I would be angry at you going to meet him.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Heat flared in your lower abdomen and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He was so close and you were so weak. 

“Why would I do that?” You managed to ask, though your voice was strained.

“Exactly,” Mithrun said, gravel in his tone. “Why would you do that?”

Curses ran through your mind. The one time you keep a secret from Mithrun, and it ends like this. You’re never doing that again. 

One of his hands left the wall and instead trailed up your waist, slow and savoring. His good eye flickered down to your neck and you had the urge to tilt your head as if to offer him a bite. The thought of him sinking his teeth into you, his body pressed against yours… You were on fire. 

Perhaps you might do this again, on occasion. It could be fun. 

The brick wall was cold on your back. Mithrun’s stare was colder. He leaned in, holding himself up against the wall with one hand, his other hand digging into your hips as if he wanted to sink his fingers through your skin and grip your bones. Harshly, he yanked you closer as his lips crashed against yours. He might’ve drawn a little blood with his teeth. You might’ve had the urge to melt into him. Your legs might’ve almost given out if he hadn’t held you up. 

The heat was consuming. Mithrun’s touch was rough, his kiss hard and laced with the intent to prove a very important point. Every inch of his being was focused on you in that moment. Every ounce of him was yours, and he was determined to prove that you were his in return. He broke the kiss but wasted no time in attacking your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin, teeth and lips scraping down the length and to the curvature where it was most sensitive. As you made an involuntary noise, his grip only tightened. 

And there it was, what you’d been waiting for. He sunk his teeth in. Heat pulsed through your body and you couldn’t help but gasp. You felt what might’ve been his lips upturning into a little smile against your neck. 

But Mithrun suddenly pulled away and blinked, and stared, and let out a soft exhale. The heat died like water dousing a flame. You stared back. He didn’t look ruffled in the least. His cheeks were pale as always, his eyes dull. The only sign that you’d been kissing was the light sheen on his lips. Meanwhile, you were a complete mess. You could only guess how you looked at that moment. Judging by how his eye flickered up and down your body, it was probably a sight. 

Mithrun pulled back. He stood up straight and walked away casually. 

“Where–” the words lodged in your throat and you had to force them out, “Where’re you going?”

He raised a hand as he walked, “The butcher actually is having a sale on pork. I need to get some before he closes.”

Without him to hold you up, you slowly sunk to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. 

No more secrets, you decided, feeling especially dead inside as you stared at a nearby crate. No more secret keeping. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[trashytracktales]

Adrenaline state of mind | FC⁴³

𐙚 summary ──── After a long, eventful Sunday in São Paulo, Franco finds himself sharing an unexpected ride back to his hotel. What starts as a casual conversation about racing and dreams, slowly turns into something deeper, as the quiet intimacy of the night pulls them closer.

𐙚 pairing ──── Franco Colapinto x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of racing incidents (Franco's crash in Brazil), swearing, suggestive/flirty behavior, unprotected shower sex (pull out game strong lol).

𐙚 word count ──── 4.6k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 17, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Every single time I open my silly writing app I'm thinking, this is the day I'll go for pure smut & no build-up, and every single time I fail miserably 🤍

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

FRANCO KNOWS IT could've been much worse. So, he's done overthinking for the night. After a chaotic race that ended with a crash on Lap 43, all he wants is to go back to his hotel room and wash the day off.

The adrenaline is still there, giving him random rushes throughout his body every time he remembers his error. The rain made it all difficult, of course, but he can't blame the weather — that's what amateurs do.

The impact was jarring, even from the angles the cameras caught. But for Franco, being inside the car while it was happening — it scared him. And he's now too scared to admit that he's scared. He’s spent hours afterward in the paddock, walking the line between shaking it off and dwelling on it, and still, he can't help but coming back to the same feeling. Again and again.

It's past midnight now, and most of the lights in the paddock have dimmed. The Brazilian night is humid, shadows stretching out beneath a heavy, damp sky. The sounds of engines are quieted for once, replaced by the murmur of distant voices and the occasional clash of closing garages. There aren’t many people left — just a handful of team members gathering last equipment, and a few scattered mechanics.

And her.

He knows her only through Alex. She’s the friend he’s seen around a for a couple of races — in Italy first, then US, and now here. Formally, they met in the Williams garage, after qualifying in Monza. They didn't talk much, but enough for him to remember her name. And her smile.

She’s leaning against a barrier near the Red Bull hospitality area, shielded from the light shower while scrolling on her phone. The light that comes from the screen is softly reflecting on her face, Franco noticing the little frown between her eyebrows and how focused she is, for some reason. Her head is tipped forward, strands of hair falling loose around her face, and he finds a softness in her expression that catches his eye the second he gets closer.

“Thought you left already?” he says with a thick accent, but it sounds more like a question in the end.

She looks up, a little startled, but then her face lights up in surprise. “Oh, Franco. Hey. No, just… I'm actually trying to find a ride. Alex and Lily took off right after the race. Probably should’ve left with them,” she says with a small laugh. “Caught up with some familiar faces and I lost track of time,” she explains, moving her weight from one foot to the other.

There’s a faint tension behind his easygoing demeanor, but he holds her gaze with a calm confidence. “Want to come with? We’re at the same hotel, no? I was just heading there.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes widening in recognition. “That’d be nice, actually.”

“Of course.”

They start walking together, cutting through the raindrops, neither of them looking very bothered by it. The crisp smell of rain blends softly with her sweet, floral scent, making Franco's mind wander, and he realizes too late she just asked him something, only because the space between them went quiet for a bit.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

She puffs a little chucke out, “I asked how are you feeling, but just got my answer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Franco shrugs, “Could've been worse,” he finally says it out loud.

“Still. It looked pretty intense on the screens.”

His heart clenches, but tries to keep a neutral tone, “It was. Maybe a bit too much,” he laughs dryly. “Felt like it happened in slow motion, honestly.” Franco glances down at her, half-smiling. “But I survived.”

She hums softly, nudging him gently. “Guess that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Crash, pick up the pieces, do it all again?”

He shrugs, “Pretty sure I’m supposed to try and not crash at all.”

He didn't even try to be funny, but she finds it hilarious the way Franco emphasizes the words, as if he pours his passion into each one of them. Her hands wrap around her own body as they walk, their footsteps the only sound echoing in the quiet paddock. He notices it immediately, taking off his Williams jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

“Cold?” asks Franco, smirking, without looking in her direction.

She blushes at the warmth that instantly wraps around her, the faint scent of his cologne somehow comforting. It's not intoxicating, or too strong. Just a slight trace of cardamom, followed by an unexpected freshness.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wrapping the jacket close around her.

THE RAIN IS still falling lightly when they get back to the hotel, the sound a steady rhythm against the roof of the car. None of them kept quiet the entire drive — they started off boring, agreeing that the capricious weather was a real pain in the ass throughout the weekend, but their conversation took off, flying like ping-pong balls from one topic to another.

Now, the tension between them is like a subtle current that neither is rushing to acknowledge, but it's buzzing just beneath the surface.

Who would've thought they have so much in common?

“You up for a drink?” asks Franco, taking even himself by surprise.

She has to think about it for a while — it can't be a good idea. He's had a long weekend and needs rest, and she desperately needs to dry up. However, her pulse starts racing just at the thought of being around him more.

Her lips lift in a small smile. “ Alright. Just one,” she agrees, raising a finger in the air to accentuate her determination.

One drink turns into two.

Then three, each sip bringing them closer, the conversations drifting from track tales to late-night jokes, then back to stories about his unexpected rookie season. She listens intently, her laughter genuine, her gaze warm and focused, like he’s the only one she’s interested in hearing from. There’s a depth to her that Franco can’t look away from, a curiosity and calmness that makes him feel understood; he didn't know he needed that until now.

“So,” says Franco after taking a sip of his fourth drink. “Can I ask you something?” his gaze is observant, yet gentle, as he decides to take the conversation to a more personal tone.

“Shoot,” she nods once, just starting on her third Negroni.

“You seem to know a lot about the world of racing, and the people involved in it. But you’re not part of it. Why?”

She smirks in his direction, “Yet. I mean, there is no school to prepare someone for the position I want, but I hope I’ll get to be in front of the monitors one day. To tell your engineer when is the optimal time to pit or what tires to use in order to gain competitive advantage, maybe, ” her voice is lost in reverie, like she's been dreaming about this for a long time.

He cocks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her answer, “You want to be a race strategist? That’s quite unique, no? Most people,” adds Franco, pointing at himself, “Dream of being racers.”

“I work better with my brain than my body. Plus, it's too late for me, even if I wanted to do something about it,” she says, a tint of nostalgia embracing her by the shoulders. “I've also seen Alex training before,” she continues, shaking her head while laughing, “Nope, thank you.”

“So then, brains over brawn, huh?”

“In my case, yes. Something like that,” she agrees, catching the little hint of interest in his eyes.

He studies her for a moment as if he tries to figure her out, because he knows there’s more to her than what meets the eye; their interaction so far proves that. It's a pleasant surprise for him, because it means there is a chance he'll get to see her around the paddock more frequently. And the thought makes him happier than it should.

Franco leans back, a playful smirk on his lips, “I see you, mystery girl. You seem to be full of surprises.”

“What about you?” she challenges him, copying his body language. “Who’s Franco when he’s not in the car?”

He grins, amused by her question. He takes one more sip of his drink, swirling the amber liquid around, stalling for a moment before he decides on his answer.

“Gonna sound cringey if I say I’m just a regular guy?”

“Oh, dear God,” she laughs, and Franco's eyes light up at the sound of it.

“I mean, I like the simple things, you know? Hanging out with my friends, music, enjoying good food… and drinks,” he continues in a suggestive manner.

“And drinks,” she repeats, nodding at his insinuation.

She looks back at him through her eyelashes, realizing for the first time since they bumped into each other tonight how late it must be. But, somehow, time seems to stay still when she catches him staring, her heartbeat fastening.

Franco’s gaze darkens slightly, the tension between them becoming suddenly palpable.

“And pretty girls,” he adds, lifting the glass and emptying it in one go, without breaking eye contact.

The warmth blooming in her chest catches her off guard, spreading from her neck to her cheeks as she shifts slightly, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze. She tells herself it’s just the alcohol, of course. But then his lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and her heart stumbles again in a way she can’t control it.

It’s not the alcohol, she realizes; it’s him.

It’s the way Franco looks at her like she’s something worth getting lost in, and she’s not sure she knows how to handle that.

He puts the glass back on the table and leans in slightly, as his eyes flicking from her lips to her eyes, and back again.

She looks at him, intently, feeling the warmth, and the way his breath hitches. It’s not just what she finds behind his gaze — it’s the reflection of her own desire, the undeniable pull that could easily make her lose it, if she's not careful.

And the realization is overwhelming.

“I think… we should call it a night?” she does not sound confident in the slightest.

“Probably a good idea,” replies Franco, studying her expression for a moment.

By the time they get to the elevator, the tension settles over them like a heavy blanket. He stands close, his hand brushing against hers as they walk inside, their gazes meeting in the reflective walls of the elevator the moment the doors close.

“Can you press 7 for me?” she asks, stepping back and waiting patiently.

He smirks, leaning over to do so, then he presses his own floor, just a few levels up.

The faint hum of the elevator is the only sound that surrounds them, but it barely registers over the rapid beating of her heart. Franco’s scent surrounds her from every direction, remembering the same unique smell from earlier.

His eyes catch hers in the mirrors again, and the look is almost unbearable, even through the reflection. They both know that, whatever this is, it's begging to snap. And it will. It's just a matter of when.

Every nerve in her body is dancing on the edge of patience — or lack thereof — and when he finally turns to look at her, slow and deliberate, she can't help but smile.

He takes it as a sign.

After that, Franco doesn’t think anymore — he just acts, leaning in, bringing his hand to her cheek as their lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss that deepens gradually, both of them feeling the weight of the night hanging heavily on their shoulders.

The kiss is experimental at first, like he asks a gentle question to which she answers to with a soft press of her lips on his. Then suddenly, they both start to feel the adrenaline of being in each other's space like that — so close and heated up, that it makes them wonder what contributed to the state they're in.

Aside from the alcohol, of course.

The elevator feels way smaller when Franco's free hand finds home on her waist, his fingers pushing the jacket away and then her blouse, gripping her warm flesh. The air gets heavier as they kiss, the oxygen becoming a secondary need for them, after tasting each other.

The soft ding of the doors opening goes almost unnoticed. But then she pulls back, stepping away, just enough to put some distance between them. Her lips are tingling with the aftertaste, mind so dizzy that her legs are currently made of jelly. She's about to step out when Franco's hands pulls her back to him by the edges of the jacket, their bodies colliding halfway.

So are their lips.

“That was me,” she manages, whispering against his mouth, her voice shaking slightly.

“Not tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as he attaches his lips to hers again.

They stumble together, barely registering the way the doors close again to take them up to his floor. And by the time they reach his room, her back presses against the door as he fumbles for the key card, their mouths never straying far from each other.

Inside, the dim light of the room casts a golden hue, welcoming them as if it's not the first time.

“We walked through rain,” she reminds Franco, flushed as she catches sight of both their reflections in the mirror that’s hanged on the wall in the hallway. “Shouldn't we shower first?” she asks with a nervous laugh.

Franco smirks, his accent thick with the heat of the moment, “Ahora eso no me importa nada, bebita.” (I don't care about that at all now, baby.)

“No… vamos a ducharnos, por favor,” she cuts him off, “I feel dirty.” (No… let’s take a shower, please.)

Franco freezes for a split second, his eyes snapping to hers with a mix of surprise and something deeper, more intimate. He feels as though she has cast a spell on him, leaving Franco unable to resist doing everything in his power to fulfill her every desire, right here, and right now.

“¿Hablas español?” his voice is tinged with a boyish curiosity, as if her understanding of his language has just unlocked another layer between them.

It makes his head spin.

And that makes her smile.

“Un poquito,” the Spanish words roll off her tongue effortlessly, and he can’t help the slow grin spreading across his face.

“This just got even more dangerous,” he admits with a chuckle.

She lets out a breathy laugh as he steps back, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Her pulse quickens at the sight of him, the lean definition of his torso illuminated under the soft light. Franco follows, finally ripping off her — his — jacket, then her blouse, revealing her smooth skin.

Each piece of clothing dropped on the floor is another barrier that’s falling away, leaving a messy trail to the bathroom.

His hands roam up and down her body, frantically, kissing slopply until they get inside. Franco lets the shower run, stepping back for a moment, his breath catching as his eyes take her in completely, as if he just realized they are completely naked — no barriers, no hesitations, no inhibitions, just them.

It overwhelms him. The way the light skims over her skin, highlighting every curve and line. It reminds him of the first time he jumped into an F1 car and how each of his senses was somehow heightened up to the max, his pulse quickened by the gravity of what he was about to experience. He was over the moon then, and he’s over the moon now, though this time around, everything feels infinitely more personal.

“You're staring,” she notices his lingering eyes, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

Instead of contradicting her, Franco reaches for her hand, guiding her toward the shower. The steamy air envelops their bodies, giving them a sense of comfort and safety. She steps in first, letting the water cascade over her. He follows closely, pausing just before the spray to watch her tilt her head back, the droplets tracing paths down her body.

Franco swallows hard, parts of him awakening at the sight of her, while the heat soaks into his skin almost as quickly as the feeling of her presence does. His hands find her waist instinctively, pulling her in while his chest presses into her back.

The steam cloaks them in a moment that feels completely detached from reality.

He brings his hand up to tuck her hair out of the way, then he leans down to press his lips on her neck. She closes her eyes for a short moment, admiring his tenderness, but something tells her that it's him who needs it more. She turns around in his arms, finally facing each other again, her heart picking up the pace once she sees his hooded eyes filled with nothing but want.

“Turn around,” she tells him, managing to get a confused expression in return.

However, he doesn't question her, complying, while she stands on her tiptoes to reach his hair. Her fingers start threading through it with care, massaging shampoo into a lather. At first, it’s easy — an act of intimacy that’s supposed to bring them closer. But then she notices the way Franco’s shoulders sag under her touch, the tension radiating from him like a silent cry for help.

Her movements slow down, “Franco…?” she says softly, stepping closer.

He exhales sharply, his head tilting forward, “It’s fucking stupid, I don’t know why it scared me so much,” he murmurs, the words raw and heavy.

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate — she doesn’t need to. Everyone saw the state his car was in after the crash; of course it scared him.

She remembers holding her breath, the way time seemed to stop until she saw him climb out unscathed.

“It’s not stupid,” she assures him, her hands sliding down to rest on his shoulder blades, placing a tiny kiss between them, “You’re okay, Franco. It’s all that matters.”

He turns around, slowly, the water falling over his face, his expression torn between vulnerability and something deeper, something he doesn’t know how to name. It's not shame, but it could be.

Her hands rise to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his wet cheekbones. As a response to that, Franco leans down, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths blending in the warmth of the shower.

“How did I come across you…,” he whispers thoughtfully, feeling her hands sliding down his chest, slick with water and soap.

As her touch grounds him, something shifts between them in an instant.

The vulnerability melts into something else entirely — a need, urgent and impossible to ignore. When their lips touch again, her back presses against the cool tile behind her, the contrast making her gasp as his hands find her waist, drawing her closer. The water pools around them like it's simply forgotten, as the intimacy of the moment consumes them both to the point it washes away the fear and everything else in between, leaving behind only one thing — the present moment. The now.

“I know we're both un poquito tipsy and the alcohol would be such a pathetic excuse tomorrow morning, but you have to understand that I've wanted you since we were in the car, and I wasn't drunk then.”

His confession makes her heart tighten, smiling up at him.

“Okay,” she says, giggling while looping her arms around Franco's waist to bring him closer to where she wants him.

Franco chuckles, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she repeats, feeling his hands cupping her breasts, making her whimper as a result.

He pauses for a moment as he looks at her reacting to his touch. “Are you sure?”

She nods, arching more into his touch.

To cover her sounds, his lips attach back to her mouth, moving against hers with increasing fervor, the weight of the day dissolving into the way she kisses him back. Her hands slide up his chest, water-slicked skin beneath her fingertips, and she presses closer, desperate to erase the lingering fear she can still feel surrounding him.

“Franco…” she whispers his name against his lips, her voice shaky, but laced with want. “Let me help?”

He doesn't need words to reply, instead he's deciding on tilting her chin up to deepen the kiss. The other hand wanders all over her body, mapping out her curves that fit against him as though they were always meant to. Her head falls back, resting on the wall as his lips move from her mouth to her jaw, then lower, tracing a line along the column of her neck, discovering her sweet spots for the first time.

“Is this good?” he asks, reaching her thighs, brushing the pads of his fingers between them and pushing his hand further, gently opening her.

“Yes…” she agrees, moving her hips against his hand, forcing his fingers inside her.

Her moans sound like they are accompanied by a choir of drunken angels, encouraging him to find a pace, fucking his fingers in and out until he feels her squeeze him tightly.

Her arms are draping around his shoulders, pulling him towards her tightly.

“Franco,” the girl gasps his name into his wet skin before she lowers her head to watch his fingers slipping free of her.

“Joder. You're so sensitive, cariño,” he figures, widening his eyes at her.

She looks back at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, “That turns you on?”

“Sí...” he responds gruffly, taking a small step back, his eyes not leaving her body, drinking in every curve.

“Do something about it,” she urges, raising one leg up on his thigh.

Franco gets the memo, lifting her in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the motion pulling him even closer. For a moment, everything else disappears — the crash, the weight of the day, the entire world. There is only her, her touch, her breath, her whispered name for him that sends his heart racing faster than any race car ever could.

She grips his shoulders tightly as he hovers above her. His dark eyes lock onto hers with an intensity that leaves her breathless, and Franco can't be sure either of them are breathing as he guides his cock to her entrance, hissing at the contact before sliding inside.

“Ay, fuck,” he breaths hard, feeling her body welcome him in, warm and wet.

She can't help but moan at how full she feels once he's all in.

Franco lets out another low grunt, his body responding to hers. He's struggling to hold back, to control the need that's consuming him. But soon, he realizes he can't resist the feeling of being inside her. So, he starts moving, slow at first.

“Feeling you so thight around me,” he mutters against her skin, “Fuck, there you go, cariño,” he ends up proppting a hand on the wall next to her head, to steady himself when he feels her fucking back against him.

“Franco, please,” she whimpers, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, breathing heavily at the sweet stretch.

Franco lets out a shaky breath, sliding all the way inside her, again and again, until his brain turns into mush. “You're so good, bebé. So good, unbelievable,” he rambles, his thrusts so slow and gentle, that make her see little white dots all around.

His mouth finds hers again, kissing her intently while fucking her so painfully slowly. It bothers her, but she knows it's about him right now; she doesn’t want him to rush. Franco's had enough of that today; enough speed, enough chaos. He doesn’t need to race toward the finish this time.

If he needs it slow, then she can take him that way.

She cups his face in her palms, forcing his eyes back on her — such a rookie mistake. The sight of him looking through wet eyelashes and glossy lips makes her pussy clench involuntarily around his cock, aggravating the need for him, causing a string of moans out of her mouth.

“Fran…” she loses her head, squeezing her eyes closed and rocking her hips harder against the wall to meet Franco halfway.

The way she molds to his rhythm, grounding him in the here and now, sends Franco to a completely different universe, where everything is pleasure. He needs it. Not to escape, but to rebuild himself.

They move together, each of his thrusts a reminder that not everything has to be fast to be meaningful, or to take your breath away — she's never been this close to coming from such a slow fuck before. His cock is hard and demanding inside her, though, throbbing against her walls the second he decides to pull all the way out, so he can fuck back in, finally setting a more alert pace.

“So good for me, aren't you? Letting me have my way like this?” asks Franco, his tone high and breathless. “Even though it's not how you like it, no?”

He's so close to the edge, too. She can sense it in the way his breaths are ragged and erratic.

“Talk to me, bébé. What do you want?”

“Mhm… more,” she manages, her body so close to collapsing in his arms.

That's all Franco needs to hear. His control snaps, the need and the pressure taking over as he lets out a low moan, “Sí, cariño... I've got you.”

He grabs her hips firmly, his fingers leaving indents on her skin as he slams into her harder, the feeling leaving her gasping for air. Franco smiles, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her wet skin.

“God, Franco. Don't—yes, don't stop.”

“So tight, and pretty, and hot, and—fuck, you're not real, bébé,” he's muttering in between deep thrusts, his words half-incoherent as he moves inside her, giving in to the primal lust, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

He can hear how wet she is, knowing it's just a matter of time until she finally lets go. So, he rises his head slightly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, his voice raw and rough.

Franco's grip on her hips tightens, and it's almost painful, but then he suddenly stops, his body stilling inside her, the pleasure receding just slightly as he feels her come all over his throbbing length.

It takes everything in him to stop himself from following her, thrusting a couple more times to prolong her high. Then, he pulls out completely, guiding his cock between their bodies and pressing into her until his cum starts leaking onto her stomach. For a few seconds, it leaves a hot, dense trail before the water washes it away.

“Oh, my…” she breaths heavily, struggling to find her words.

As Franco finally releases his hold on her thighs, her legs falter beneath her, the strength utterly sapped from them. The slippery tile meets her feet, so unsteady, her body still trembling from the intensity her orgasm. Instinctively, her hands grip his arm, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping her from falling.

“Tranquila, bebita. ¿Estás bien?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, while turning the water off. (Easy, baby. Are you okay?)

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh. “Sì.”

Franco chuckles softly, his grip on her tightening slightly.

For some reason, he feels the need to hold her, as though he’s afraid she might slip away — not in the shower, but from him.

“Have you ever been to Argentina?”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[creamflix]

toji fushiguro x reader; no reader gender implied. heavyyyy angst, no comfort. artist! toji + reader. flashbacks. one-sided love, remincising. — masterlist here ☆

"always the artist, never the muse."

toji fushiguro clung to those words like a lifeline, like an apology he muttered to himself when he was alone in his room, staring at a blank page that haunted him as much as it inspired him.

they said he was a fuckboy, playboy supreme, the kind of guy who’d leave you breathless and forgotten in the same night.

and maybe that was true.

maybe it was easier that way, easier to keep everyone at arm’s length when the one person he couldn’t forget had slipped through his fingers.

it had been five years since he’d met you.

a random train ride home, him half-asleep, you sitting across with a sketchbook open on your lap.

he couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way you were so lost in what you were creating, your pencil dancing across the page. when you caught him staring, he felt a flicker of embarrassment, quickly masked by his usual, easy grin.

“what’re you drawing?” he’d asked, trying to sound casual.

you looked up, eyes widening in surprise, and for a moment, he thought he saw a hint of amusement there.

“just a study,” you replied, lifting your sketchbook to show him — a messy, half-finished sketch of a figure in motion. “still working on it.”

he leaned closer, catching the faint scent of your perfume, his eyes scanning the lines, the shadow work. “you’re pretty damn good,” he murmured, almost to himself.

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “thanks,” you said softly. “not often someone notices.”

he felt something tighten in his chest. “well, i noticed.”

you laughed, and he thought it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“are you an artist too?” you asked, tilting your head, genuinely curious.

he scratched the back of his neck, hesitating. “yeah, kinda. i don’t really…talk about it.”

“why not?” your voice had been so soft, so damn sincere. “art’s meant to be shared, right?”

he’d paused, the words catching in his throat.

it wasn’t that simple, wasn’t something he could just share.

not with everyone.

but with you… it had felt different.

“maybe,” he’d muttered, more to himself than to you, “just… maybe.”

he hadn’t wanted that ride to end.

he could have listened to you talk about art supplies and your favorite brushes and the little frustrations of the creative process all day.

he remembered every word.

“do you ever feel like it’s never enough? like no matter what you draw, there’s always something missing?”

he’d nodded, knowing exactly what you meant. “yeah, all the time.”

and then your stop came.

the universe’s cruel timing, forcing you to leave when he wanted to ask for your name, your number, anything to make sure this wouldn’t be the last time. but he’d held back, let the fear of seeming too eager or desperate paralyze him.

“guess this is me,” you’d said, standing up, and he’d caught the faintest hint of a sigh in your voice. “it was nice talking to you…?”

“toji,” he’d replied, voice rougher than he intended.

“nice talking to you, toji.” you gave him a little wave, stepping out of the train, disappearing into the crowd, and he’d watched you go, something hollow taking root in his chest.

“damn it,” he’d muttered to himself, gripping the seat as the train pulled away.

five years later, he was still cursing himself, wishing he’d just called after you, asked you to wait, to stay, anything to keep you from walking away. he’d gone through more meaningless flings than he could count since then, and yet none of them mattered, none of them filled the space you’d left behind.

in his studio, his fingers hovered over the page, pencil poised to draw yet another sketch of you. he could see you so clearly in his mind — the way your eyes had lit up when you talked about art, the little smile tugging at your lips when he’d asked too many questions.

sometimes he could still hear your voice.

“do you ever wonder if the right people just… pass us by?”

he’d scoffed, tried to brush it off, but that question haunted him.

yes. god, yes, he wondered.

every damn day.

he spent hours drawing your face from memory, perfecting every curve, every expression, capturing the moments that never happened, the smiles he’d never seen, the touches he’d never felt.

“what’s wrong with me?” he muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face. why can’t i just let you go?

he’d even tried to find you once, scouring social media for any trace of you, looking for artists who matched your style.

but you’d disappeared as completely as you’d arrived, like a dream he couldn’t wake up from.

in his mind, you were still that girl on the train, sketchbook in hand, eyes so bright they made him feel like a kid again, excited and scared all at once.

he could never shake the feeling that he’d missed something, that maybe if he’d just held on a little tighter, you’d still be there, a part of his life instead of a ghost haunting his art.

and now, he was stuck.

“always the artist, never the muse,” he whispered, tracing the lines of your face on his sketchpad. it was all he had left — endless drawings, memories of things that had barely even happened, a handful of words exchanged on a crowded subway.

he slammed his sketchbook shut, the familiar ache tightening his chest. you were gone, a stranger he’d never known, a muse he’d never have, and he had no one to blame but himself.

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[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson 18+

idk i’m feeling some sort of way

“Wider,” a voice came from the bottom of the bed, in the shadows where the bedside lamp didn’t quite reach. “C’mon, I wanna see her, keep her legs open, Eds.”

You squirmed as two big palms pressed into the insides of your thighs, doing as they were told. Eddie groaned, moved closer into the cradle of your legs and you tried not to cry out at the feeling of his mouth over the seam of your cunt. He kissed at you, pretty little pecks of affection over your folds, eyes rolling at how wet you were, how you tasted.

There was another boy watching it all, eyes dark and hooded as he got exactly what he wanted with stern, quiet orders and soft praise. Steve lounged against the headboard, his shirt off, jeans unbuttoned and his hand down the front of the tight denim, a flat palm dragging across his hard cock, just enough pressure to stave off the ache.

“That’s it,” he cooed and you saw Eddie’s cheeks turn pink. “Lick her nice ‘n slow, you know how she likes it. Yeah, like that, keep going, I wanna see her soaked.”

Eddie obeyed, keeping your legs wide, his head tilted to the side, his cheek pressed to your thigh so Steve could watch the way his tongue flicked out to press into your entrance, dragging your slick up to your clit. He did it over and over, slow and soft until you were squealing, cheeks hot and eyes glassy, your hands fisted in the pillow above you because you weren’t supposed to touch either boy.

Not yet.

“Ooh, baby,” Steve was grinning but his own face gave him away, flushed like Eddie’s, eyes hazy as he stared at your pussy, drinking in every piece of exposed skin. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, like he could taste you too. “Is that good? You gotta tell me or Eddie’s gonna stop.”

You nodded through a whine, lips falling open in a silent groan, back arching and Eddie moved his attention to your clit, soft lips pursing around it as he kissed gently, sucking at it between sweet pecks. Steve swore, a sound you probably weren’t supposed to hear and then the mattress dipped as he moved closer. He joined Eddie between your spread legs, kissed at your knee in a soft moment of affection before he smirked again and let his gaze roam over your naked frame.

“There you go,” Steve cooed and you weren’t sure who was talking to, but Eddie sighed the same as you did. “Keep her nice and open, man, I wanna see how wet she is, yeah— yeah, that’s it, let her feel your tongue.”

Steve coaxed Eddie through it, stroking a line along your stomach as the other boy pushed his tongue into you, his nose pressed to your clit, his chin wet with you, his eyes closed in a dreamy way. Your poor fingers were still twisted in the cotton pillowcase, yanking and pulling and you wanted to do that to the boys, you wanted to tug at their hair and demand more — but you knew better.

“Lick right there, that’s it, give her a kiss, huh? She’s so pretty,” Steve kept talkin’ soft and low and his voice sounded like silk, like dark chocolate, brown sugar, like a fucking dream. “You’ve got the prettiest little pussy, haven’t you, honey? She deserves all the love.”

Eddie did as he was told once more, pulling back just slightly before he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the centre of your cunt, tongue laving over your sensitive skin, the boy groaning something filthy when you bucked your hips into him. He looked at Steve when he was done, pupils blown wide and his own body moving against the mattress, boxers tented and wet in the front.

Steve grinned, leaning in to kiss the boys lips, pulling back just a little but only to flick his own tongue across Eddie’s mouth, licking into the seam and you whined, knowing that Steve was tasting you too.

“So sweet,” Steve told you both and he used one finger to sneak between Eddie’s hands, where the longer haired boy still held you open with two thumbs over your folds. Steve dragged his pointer over your clit, rubbed soft, little circles until you were squirming again and thought you’d finally be allowed to come.

But then—

“C’mere, honey,” Steve patted your hip, moving back. He coaxed Eddie with him, sliding his fingertips into the black band of his underwear, slipping the material down his hips until his hard cock was on show. He looked back at you, nodding towards Eddie who had his eyes closed, waiting. “Don’t you think Eddie deserves some attention?”

You couldn’t argue, Eddie had been between your thighs for almost forty minutes, diligently listening to Steve’s dirty instructions. So on wobbly knees, you crawled down the bed, too warm and aching between your thighs, wondering how long it would be until you were allowed to come.

But Steve just smoothed your hair back and pecked your cheek, a loving thing that was full of fondness. It made you squirm even more, face flushed and eyes wide, and god, it made the boy beam.

“Pretty girl,” Steve praised. “C’mon, open your mouth for us, there you go.” Steve tapped at your bottom lip with the same finger that he’d dragged through your slick, pulling it until it popped and fell back into place. “Good girl, now, do as you’re told and show us your tongue.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part One

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.

They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).

Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.

The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.

"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.

So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."

Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."

Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."

He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.

"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."

-

Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.

"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.

"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."

"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."

"Me either."

"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"

"What? Careful how?"

"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."

Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.

Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.

He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.

"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."

-

They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.

"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."

"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.

He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."

"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.

He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.

Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.

"Eddie, it's Steve."

"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"

Steve laughs, "business."

"Boo!"

"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"

"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.

"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.

Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."

Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."

There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."

"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.

Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.

-

Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.

One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.

Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.

It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.

"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.

It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.

Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.

Ah. Steve knows what's coming.

"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"

"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.

-

If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.

It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.

"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."

"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"

He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.

He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.

How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?

Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.

None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.

He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?

He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.

He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.

[suguann]

an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two

It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 

Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 

It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.

Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 

He never claimed to be a good man. 

(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)

Just an honest one.

So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.

Rinse and repeat. 

The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.

You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.

He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 

Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.

Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”

A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”

“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 

“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”

You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.

It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.

(A mindfuck is what it is.)

[darlingsblackbook]

Right Next Door

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary : Your mysterious neighbour helps you out when a date goes wrong, what happens when you try to befriend him?

Warnings : Creepy guy, Simon Riley, Delusion

°•♡○° Masterlist °•♡•°

The air was biting cold as I climbed the steps to my apartment building, my heart pounding as I tried to maintain a polite smile. The date had been a disappointment from the start, but I’d wanted to see it through, thinking maybe I was just nervous.

Yet, every attempt to cut the night short had fallen on deaf ears, and now he was right behind me, insisting on escorting me all the way for my own 'safety'.

I fumbled with my bag, pretending to search for my keys. “Thanks for the evening,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint and turn around.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet.” He laughed, sidling a little too close, his shoulder brushing mine. “The night doesn’t have to end here, you know. Let’s go to yours for a nightcap.”

I forced a laugh, swallowing down the anxiety building up. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His face shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing his expression. “Come on,” he murmured, edging closer, his hand reaching to touch my arm. “We had a nice time. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze, my voice firm. “I’m just… not interested in taking things further tonight, maybe another day.”

His smile faltered, frustration creeping into his tone. “What’s the problem? You were all smiles back there. Now you're not interested?"

I tried to step back, but he mirrored my movements, closing the space between us as I reached my door and closing in on me. "You know it's not fair to lead a guy on, right?"

My fingers finally found the keys and I gripped it tightly between my fingers, trying to resist the urge to ram it into his eyeball.

He trespassed the line even further as he leaned in, his gross breath burning against my cheek. "Just one kiss,” he muttered, his hand pressing against the doorframe to cage me in.

Panic flared as I shook my head. “Please, I’d rather you didn’t. I just… don’t feel that way.”

His expression darkened, eyes narrowing as he leaned even closer. “Teasing me all night just to leave me hanging, huh? That’s how you get your fun?”

I felt the words stick in my throat, my pulse racing. His voice grew harsher, thick with frustration as he got angrier. “You think you’re too good for me? That it?”

I barely had a second to process his words when a shadow appeared in the hallway, and I felt a wave of relief and fear as I recognized my neighbor—Simon Riley.

The big guy who had moved here a few months ago, aside of the few times we passed each other in the hallways, I rarely saw him. He was always quiet, I've never heard him talk and not a peep of noise was heared through the walls.

Something about his size and the dark clothing he always wore ( and the usual grumpy expression on his face ) had, for some reason, caught my eye. Maybe it had something to do with all the books I read with the typical older grumpy man and the sweet sunshine girl trope.

That trope was unfortunately a guilty pleasure of mine, having always wanted to feel safe, protected and taken care of by someone. Someone in whose presence I could just turn my brain off without a worry and know I'll be fine

Maybe those desires were born from my feelings of loneliness and my hard time in making friends. Maybe, it was because I wanted someone to love and accept me as I am and see me as me and still fully and wholly love me.

Sometimes, when I would just think and daydream of having such man, I couldn't help the flashes of my neighbours face in my mind. I wanted to actually love and be loved so badly instead of just imagining it, so I had decided to go out for the first time in a very long time, unfortunately I just ended up putting myself in this situation.

But, as I saw Simon standing in the doorway of his flat, right next to mine. His presence as imposing as ever, I was immediately swarmed by images of being wrapped up and safe in those tree trunk arms- ( valid )

His gaze was calm, but the tension radiating off him was anything but. He took a step forward, his voice low and laced with quiet authority that made my brain tingly in all the right ways.

“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome,” he said, voice gruff and cold. “Leave.”

My date turned, his confidence faltering for the first time, though he tried to laugh it off. “And who are you, her guard dog?”

Simon’s jaw clenched, and he took another slow step toward him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk away. Now.”

The guy scoffed, glancing at me as if I would defend him, but I could only stare, feeling my pulse in my throat as Simon’s presence loomed, unyielding and almost terrifying in its intensity.

“Fine,” the man muttered, backing away with a huff. “Good luck with that one. She’s just a tease anyway.” He threw a final look over his shoulder, muttering curses under his breath as he disappeared down the stairwell.

I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my body finally loosening. My eyes met Simon’s, and for a moment, I was acutely aware of how close he still stood, the quiet strength and warmth radiating off him.

“Thank you,” I murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Simon’s gaze flicked over me, taking in my tense posture, the unsteady breaths. “Get inside,” he said softly, his tone softer but still firm. He didn’t move, just kept watching, waiting until I stepped back into my flat.

I wanted to say more—to thank him properly, to explain—but my voice failed me. I just nodded, stepping back into my apartment as he remained outside, a silent sentinel. As I closed the door behind me, I felt the echo of his presence linger, leaving me wondering who Simon Riley really was behind the walls he kept so carefully constructed.

°•♡•°

I leaned against my door, heart still racing from the confrontation with my date. What just happened?

I pressed my palms to my cheeks, feeling the heat rising in them, embarrassment crashing over me in waves. I wanted to scream at myself for letting things get so out of hand.

Why hadn’t I been firmer?

My date’s cruel words echoed in my mind. “Teasing me all night…” Had I really been that confusing?

I knew I had always had a hard time speaking to people, but I did not think I had been teasing or anything alike at all. In fact, I was pretty sure I was keeping my distance the whole night.

I sank down to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, wishing I could disappear. It wasn’t the first time I had been made to feel this way, but it hurt more than usual. I hated that I had let him walk me to my door, thinking it would be harmless, but now, all I felt was a sense of violation mixed with anger.

But as I replayed the events of the night, my thoughts drifted to Simon. The way he had stepped in, fierce and unwavering, how his presence had made me feel safer. His intense gaze, the way he commanded attention without even trying, sent a flutter through my chest. Why did he even care?

In the days that followed, I found myself stealing glances at Simon whenever I heard him in the hallway or caught sight of him through the window. He always seemed so focused, moving with purpose and intensity that made my heart race. He was intimidating but also…protective. I couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself, confident and strong, making it hard to believe he even lived next door to me.

I found myself thinking about him more than I wanted to admit. What was it about him? There was something in the way he furrowed his brow when he was deep in thought, or how his lips curled slightly when he was amused, that made my heart skip a beat.

I’d catch myself daydreaming about what it would be like to get to know him, to see the softer side that lay beneath his tough exterior.

But would he even be interested in someone like me?

One evening, as I sat at my kitchen table, the smell of cookies wafting through the air, I decided I needed to make a move. Maybe a little gesture would help break the ice. I figured I’d bring him a treat and see how he responded. I hesitated, biting my lip as I gathered my courage, reminding myself that it was just cookies, not a marriage proposal.

After baking, I carefully placed the cookies in a small tin and knocked on his door, my heart pounding. I waited, second-guessing myself. What if he thought I was a silly little girl for doing this?

When the door opened, Simon stood there, dressed in his usual casual attire, the warmth of the lights behind him casting shadows across his face. “Yeah?” he asked, his deep voice grounding me despite the chaos in my head.

“Um, I made some cookies,” I stammered, holding out the tin. “I thought you might like some.”

He glanced at the tin, then back to me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, though he accepted it without hesitation. The briefest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for a moment, I felt a flutter of hope.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other night,” I added quickly, my cheeks warming under his gaze. “You really saved me.”

He nodded, but the moment felt fleeting, like catching smoke in my hands. “No problem,” he said, his voice steady. “Just doing what I had to.”

And just like that, he closed the door, leaving me standing in the hallway, heart racing, filled with a mixture of elation and disappointment.

Was that all?

I turned to leave, feeling a knot of longing tightening in my chest. I wanted more than just a quick exchange; I wanted to be seen by him.

In the following days, I couldn’t help but keep an eye out for him. Each time I spotted Simon in the hallway, my heart raced, a blend of hope and anxiety filling me. I’d muster the courage to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between us.

“Hey, Simon,” I’d manage, my voice barely above a whisper as I tried to catch his eye. He’d glance my way, a quick nod, but his focus would shift immediately, and I’d feel that familiar pang of rejection in my chest.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself trying harder to initiate conversations. I would catch him on his way to the gym or returning from work. Each time, I’d greet him, my heart pounding, and every time, he’d respond with a grunt or a nod. I wanted to learn more about him, to break through the walls he had built around himself, but he always seemed to have somewhere to be.

One afternoon, I spotted him in the hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. My pulse quickened, and I took a deep breath. “Hey, Simon! How was your day?” I asked, attempting to sound casual.

He looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he replied, “Fine.” He didn’t elaborate, and I felt a heaviness settle in my stomach.

“Just…fine?” I pressed, hoping to elicit more. “Did you have a busy week?”

He sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “You could say that.”

I bit my lip, trying to think of something else to say, but the silence stretched awkwardly between us. “Well, if you ever want to talk or hang out, you can—”

“I’m not looking for friends,” he cut in, his tone sharper than I expected. “I did what I had to out of duty. Don’t think about it too much.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could only stare at him, my heart sinking as his gaze shifted, avoiding mine. “It’s nothing personal,” he added, but it felt cold, devoid of the warmth I’d hoped for.

“I understand,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands trembled slightly, and I fought back tears as I watched him step past me, leaving me standing there, shattered.

I felt the weight of his dismissal settle heavily on my shoulders, a reminder of how invisible I really was to him. My heart ached, not just from his words but from the reality that I would never be more than an afterthought to Simon Riley.

As I stepped into my flat, the door closing behind me, I sank down against it, tears slipping down my cheeks. I had wanted to be seen, to have someone recognize my worth, but instead, I was left with the painful truth: Simon didn’t want me around, and that stung more than I could express.

Each encounter with him became a reminder of my own insecurities, and the ache in my chest grew heavier with each passing day. I felt lost in the maze of my feelings for him, unable to reconcile the admiration I felt with the reality of his indifference.

All I wanted was a connection, but somehow, it felt as if I was always reaching for something just out of my grasp, destined to remain alone while he moved on, unbothered by my existence.

[thedancingcostumeyoungadult]

It's all timing - S.R.

Spencer Reid x fem!reader smut, no use of y/n

Spencer's return from a case just so happens to coincide with the part of your cycle that has you feeling a certain type of way, which Spencer is only too happy to help with.

Warnings: fluffy smut, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie, a smidge of breeding, d/s a little if you squint

~

It's hard to say that Spencer traveling for work was ever convenient, but every once in a while the timing lines up nicely. Like tonight, he's on his way back from a case and you are, to put it crudely, horny as shit. It's not normal horny, either, this is ovulation horny, the kind that leaves you aching all day, overwhelming your already frayed system.

So when you get the text that he's on his way from the airport, you waste no time stripping naked and arranging yourself in the big armchair that faces the door. And then you wait, the clocks ticking taunting you, each second reminding you of his absence.

Finally, the clinking of keys at the door alerts you to your boyfriend's return, the thought of who only rekindling the low burning in your belly. You swallow as the door swings open, adjusting your position slightly to best present yourself to the entryway.

"Baby! I'm h-" Spencer's voice seems to stick in his throat when he sees you, "-ome." He finishes the word slowly, setting his go bag down and closing the door but never moving his gaze from your form. Even in the shadows you watch his eyes rake down your body slowly.

"Welcome home." Your sultry voice draws his eyes back to yours in an instant, the intense gaze softening with a smile shared between you.

"That is quite a welcome." Crossing the room, he kneels slowly in front of you, one of his big, warm hands sliding up the back of your calf as he leans in to catch your lips with his. It's one of those kisses that melts your core, warming your bones and drawing a happy sigh from your chest.

"What did I do to deserve a welcome like this?" He speaks softly as he pulls away, sitting back on his heels as his other hand smooths up the side of your thigh, his touch firm but reverent. You can't help the smile that rises on your face looking down at your love, those soft eyes of his glowing back at you, messy curls falling in his eyes that you gently sweep away. His eyes flutter when you cup his cheek in your palm.

"Being you, mostly." You run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip, not missing how his breath hitches. "But impeccable timing helps." His head cocks questioningly at you, a line forming where his brows knit together. "You know how I get this time of month." You finish with a devilish little smirk as he finally understands. An eager grin splits his face, his eyes absolutely lighting up.

"Oh!" His hands move immediately, uncrossing your legs and pushing them apart, his grip now anchored in your soft thighs as he surges forward to kiss you excitedly. His excitement and the slight manhandling only add to the quickly forming puddle between your thighs, causing you to whine into his kiss.

As if he read your mind, Spencer broke away from your lips, kissing and biting his way quickly down your body. Excitement clearly outweighed romance tonight, made even more eveident when Spencer, with neither ceremony or hesitation, dove into your pussy like it was the fountain of youth. He'd always eaten pussy like god, but this is even a step beyond that, you didn't even care what he was doing that much, your hormone-flooded brain only barely able to process the sheer pleasure burning through your veins.

"Oh fuck!" You can't help the words falling from your lips as your hands fly to his hair, gripping desperately in a way that must have hurt as your body arches and writhes under him. His hands, large and strong and so warm, run once again up your thighs, gripping your hips almost hard enough to bruise. You can hear him devouring you, wet, lewd sounds interspersed with low grunts of effort that border on animalistic.

It's all so so good, but you still need more, that burning ache in your belly only satiable by one thing.

"Spencer," you manage, your voice cracking on his name "More, please please I need more." He hears you, taking one last harsh suckle at your clit that makes your whole body shudder at the sting before sitting up, his mouth leaving you with a wet pop.

"More? What more do you need, baby?" You just whine, bucking your hips weakly as you throw your head back. Spencer tsks,

"Come on, sweet girl," he plants a kiss on your swollen clit, making you twitch, "you gotta tell me what you want."

"I want your cock," it's like a damn breaks, and suddenly you're begging, clawing at his shoulders with tears pricking your eyes, "I want your cock please, Spencer, please! I wanna be so full of you and your cum and your babies oh god-" you don't get any further before his lips crash against yours, his hands hauling you out of the chair and into his arms. In a matter of seconds you're on your back on the bed, Spencer's lips still hot and demanding against yours, the taste of yourself heady on his tongue as it slides against yours. He breaks from you for only a second or two, definitely ripping something in his haste to rid himself of his clothes.

There were no words, you didn't need them as he pushed into your waiting warmth, his forehead falling to rest against yours as you take him to the hilt, choking on a gasp as he hits that spot thats just so deep and it hurts just a little but it's too good for you to care.

You've always been able to find a rhythm together, fitting against each other just right as he rocks into you, singing your praises in soft grunts and low moans, drawing you ever closer to the edge, begging you to cum for him in every bite, every loving touch, every breath.

You give in to him as he loses himself, the warm ache of his cum spilling into you taking you that last step over the peak and you tumble down the other side. You come apart in the safety of his arms, crumbling and shaking under him as he answers your cries with soft kisses and words of praise mumbled against sweaty skin.

You're glass in his hands as he turns you gently, rolling into his back and bringing your body to lay on top of his. He hasn't pulled out, his cock twitching slightly at the way you squeeze him, still riding the last few shocks of your orgasm.

Your body feels so heavy, so relaxed as you cuddle into his chest, deliciously full and sleepy.

Before sleep takes you, you manage something that sounds like "I love you."

And in that last hazy moment before you drift off, you hear him say it back.

"I love you."

~taglist~

@nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @f-me-reid @spencer-reid-wonderland @dungeons-are-too-cold

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

❥ college/uni au - teaching assistant Geto Suguru x Reader

ft: philosophy Geto, mutual crush, office hrs // wc: 2k // [ao3]

Your TA was absurdly hot. It really shouldn’t be allowed.

You were embarrassingly down bad for Geto Suguru. Bad enough that you were pretending to be fascinated by philosophy, sitting at the front of the room for his study sessions as if you were a model student and not soaked just from the way his arm flexed as he wrote on the chalkboard.

He had apologized for his hoarse voice as he began today’s session, blaming seasonal allergies. Suguru was muffled in a fuzzy sweater, strong hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. You wished they were wrapped around you instead, holding you close, or holding you open…

“Everything okay?”

You flinched and snapped out of your daydream, blushing to the tips of your ears. “I-I’m sorry, I got distracted…”

He smiled reassuringly at you, achingly pretty with the wink of a dimple on his right cheek. “No problem, just checking!”

He paced around the room, answering questions and reading over essay drafts as he sipped his tea.

He leaned innocently over your shoulder to critique a few lines of your writing. The man smelled like vanilla and parchment, and a few strands of his soft hair brushed your cheek where they’d escaped from his bun.

Your stomach flipped, your blush back with a vengeance. You absorbed exactly none of what he was saying, but nodded anyway. “Of course, that makes sense.”

He stayed bent behind you for a few more seconds, enough for you to wonder if it was intentional and if your hair smelled nice too, and if he could stay there forever- “Okay great. Keep it up!”

He turned to address the whole room. “Great work today, everyone! I know you’ll be ready for the final on Friday. If you need anything, my office hours are tomorrow from four to six.”

———————

Your heart raced as you knocked. What were you doing? This was such a stupid idea, he’d never-

The office door swung open, and Geto stood blinking at you, his tired eyes framed by dark shadows. He was pale, a thick scarf now draped over the fluffy sweater. “Here for office hours, yeah?” His rasp had devolved into a croak.

“If you’re not feeling well, I can come back another time!”

He shook his head, waving you inside. “It's not contagious, just allergies kicking my ass…and finals aren’t going anywhere.”

You followed him into his office, taking in the sea of abandoned mugs and teetering stacks of books and papers. You steeled yourself to follow the plan, and pulled a thermos of soup out of your bag.

“This is for you.” You held out the thermos awkwardly. “Since you’re sick. It’s soup.”

He took the thermos you were brandishing, eyes crinkling over the edge of the scarf. “You got me soup?”

“Made you soup,” you clarified, rocking a little on your heels. “It’s just chicken noodle, something I always had when I was sick as a kid- it’s basically a cure-all.”

“You’re very kind.” He shook his head. “But if this is an attempt at a grading bribe, you know I can’t accept.”

Unable to read his expression from behind the scarf, you reassured him a little frantically, “Of course not! I didn’t even think of that. I just thought it might help you feel better…” You trailed off, realizing that your TA was laughing, his broad shoulders shaking.

“I’m kidding. But really, this is too kind.” He tilted his head, loosening the scarf a little to flash a grin. “Did you just come bearing soup, or are there philosophy questions to go with it?”

You shook your head, trying to recover from dazzle of his perfect smile. “Ah, not exactly…but I can think of some!”

Geto laughed again, and you wanted to listen to it forever. “Don’t worry, my brain is a bit stuffy at the moment anyways. Just makes your gesture all the more selfless.” He leaned forward with a soft smile. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Anything to stay a little longer, you didn't say.

He was so graceful. Watching him make tea is like watching a dancer, or a master calligrapher- an act delicate and perfected. It didn't help that his long fingers curled around the mug so easily, his body heat still warming the ceramic when he passed it to you.

It tasted floral, a hint of smoke at the back of your throat. “Mmm, this is amazing.”

Geto stretched casually, pulling his scarf off fully to sip his own brew. "I'm glad." A quiet fell between the two of you, not altogether uncomfortable.

You wanted to say something brilliant, ask some profound question that would make him think of you as a kindred intellectual, and hopefully sexy to boot. What you came up with was, "Why philosophy?"

A faraway look settled on his face as he looked down, lost in thought. You hadn't expected him to take you so seriously. "I...used to have a lot of questions. Still do, but- I had more when I was younger, let's say." He was barely older than you, but you didn't dare laugh as he described himself that way. There was a weight on his shoulders as he spoke, drawn into himself.

"I've never been satisfied with the answers that I was given by authorities, or the structures that they operate in. How can you hope to change a system if you refuse to interrogate it, or to fix something without admitting it's broken?" His gentle voice had taken on a steely edge, eyes narrowed as he stared at the carpet. "I wanted to think for myself, to teach others to think for themselves- keep them from being taken advantage of."

He glanced up at you, quickly softened back into the charming TA you knew. "At least I hope that's what I'm doing now. That's 'why philosophy', I suppose." He leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees with a disarming smile.

You squirmed under his attention, suddenly embarrassed by how distracted you were during his study sessions. But you had been motivated to try harder, had spent a record number of hours in the library this semester. Concepts that put you to sleep when laboriously explained by the ancient professor came to life on Suguru's lips, and not just because you couldn't help staring at them, imagining how soft they'd be against yours...

"Everything okay?" It was becoming a frequent question with you, he noted to himself.

"Yes, of course," you said shakily. He wasn't convinced, became steadily less so as he crossed the room to you, leaning down with a hand on the couch behind your head.

"Are you sure? You're looking a bit flushed." He was being nice, was just showing concern for a student...and was far too close to your face. Deep brown, nearly violet eyes lingered too long on the way you bit your lip, struggling to regain composure.

"I'm fine. Just- moved by your answer, that's all." This time his answering smile wasn't just solicitous, it was hungry. He moved closer, enough that you could feel his warm breath on your cheek.

"That means a lot to me, you know. To have such a...passionate student."

You couldn't breathe. Had to be dreaming, couldn't possibly be feeling his warm palm on your cheek, his thumb hovering over your parted lips. You reached out, tried to pull him closer, but he smoothly laced his fingers with yours and pinned your hand beside your head.

"Office hours are almost over," he murmured into your neck, lips ghosting over your thrumming pulse. "Do you have any burning questions for me?" You felt his smirk against your skin, felt a brief flash of shame that he had seen through you so easily, could tell how badly you wanted him- but quickly forgot it in the heat of his body against yours.

A sigh fell from your mouth instead of the witty comeback you hoped for, and he laughed. This close, it felt like thunder in the hollow of your chest. With great effort, you caught your breath enough to whisper, "What do you taste like?"

"Hm?"

"That's my burning question. What do you-"

He cut you off with a searing kiss, slipped his tongue into your mouth to make sure you had your answer. He tasted like the tea, of course, but also cinnamon, and something sharp and harsh that sent sparks down your spine.

His hands were everywhere, roaming across your ribs, lifting your chin, pulling your body closer in a helpless gravity. Geto broke away with a gasp, his forehead pressed against yours. "I shouldn't be doing this, fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking-"

Your eyes met. "I know what I was thinking," you protested softly. "I know what I've been thinking since the moment I first saw you. After all," you mustered all your courage to run a hand through his hair, "you're in the year above me, aren't you? A teaching assistant, not the professor-"

He grinned, nudged his nose against your cheek. "Don't act like you don't enjoy being my student. I've seen you too, starry-eyed in the front row of my review sessions..." He was high off your embarrassed little protests, pushed his advantage.

“I thought about you so many times- imagined having you under the podium on your knees, sucking me off while I lectured…” You whimpered, clung to him as he whispered filth. “Bouncing in my lap while I graded papers..." He lightly kissed the corner of your mouth, achingly close to where you wanted him.

"You have no idea how hard it was to focus on my damn lessons with you right there in front of me. And then," he huffed a laugh. "and then here you are, coming to my office hours with homemade soup and looking so goddamn beautiful..."

"Suguru, kiss me again. Please, kiss me-"

Suguru kissed you. He kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, awed and demanding in the same shared breath. He laid you down on the couch, caged you in with his strong body. His silky hair fell across your cheek, framed his sharp features like an inky halo.

His fingers trailed down your neck, to the buttons on your blouse- and a clock began to chime in the recesses of his office. He sat up with a curse. "I have a 6:30 class, I'm so sorry-" he flurried around his office, throwing papers and books into his backpack. "Damn it, my scarf-" You reached for it on the back of the couch and held it out to him with a shy smile.

"You're an angel, thank you." You glowed at the praise, though he was too preoccupied to notice. Geto shrugged into his jacket, tossed back the dregs of his cold tea, and smoothed his hair back into a neat bun. He was halfway to the door when he turned back to you with a crooked smile on his face.

"Can we...continue this another time? Please. I'd really like to."

You nodded, stood up to follow him out, heart still racing at everything that had just happened. "Your next office hours?"

He laughed and waved you ahead, holding the door. "I think I could find the time for some one-on-one tutoring." He locked his office, and you stood facing each other outside it for an awkward moment.

"Well." He looked down the hallway, then back at you. All you could think was that he looked like a painting, a sculpture- Suguru was somehow a work of art under the dingy fluorescent lights. He debated hugging you goodbye, shaking your hand, kissing you senseless, and settled on a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck on that exam." He was halfway gone already, long legs carrying him out of sight when he turned back with a wave and called, "and thank you for the soup!"

[etherealxwitch]

Blood Sport

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: No matter how fast you run or how good you hide, Eddie will always find you and claim you as his prize.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), kas/vamp!eddie, reader being hunted, cnc, eddie calling reader bunny, pet names, name calling, blood, blood consumption, lord of biting, teasing, begging, mocking, spanking, face and pussy slapping, oral (f and m receiving), ball play, rimming (f receiving), fingering, panties used as gag, overstimulation, slight orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie

WC: 5.5K

(i hope y’all enjoy this wild ride!)

REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND SUPPORT THE AUTHOR!

Your bare feet mushed into the muddy ground below you, adrenaline shooting through you and taking full control of your body. You had no clue where you were going, just anywhere to get away from him.

He had whispered the word run in your ears, and you took off and never looked back like your life had depended on it. Soon enough, he’ll be after you, tracking you like some wild animal.

The forest may have been huge, but at this moment, it’s never felt so small. There weren't many places to hide, trees only covering you so much, and no sheds to bunker down in. He would find you eventually, taking you as his prize. Even during the thick night air, he could still see your form running from him. The hunt of it all was the best part, the anticipation of when you would get caught made you run a little slower.

Eddie gave you a head start, even though he always seemed to catch up no matter how far ahead of him you were. You could be seconds or minutes away, and before you knew it, it would be right behind you, taunting you.

You could hear him now, his heavy boots stomping closer and closer to you.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, bunny.” His voice dripped with lust and need. The deepness of his voice had goosebumps forming over your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. If he caught you, the game would be over. You’d be his prize, and he would take you however he wanted, wherever he wanted. “You can’t hide forever, not when I can smell you.” 

And he was right. You were sweaty, sure to have blood scratches from thorn bushes, and soaked from the muggy air. He could smell you no matter how far you got. Your scent always lingered, keeping you close. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your lungs burned from running, but you couldn’t stop now. Just a little longer, and you could rest, let your body relax for just a moment.

“Why don’t you be nice and come out to play?” You hid behind a tree, hoping to be out of his view completely. 

You held a hand over your mouth, trying to suppress how noisy your deep breaths of air were. 

The fallen branches from trees crunched under his feet; the moon illuminated his giant shadow. Eddie was close, but you had the chance to get away, to slip out from underneath him.

He came face to face with you, his eyes red and his fangs shining in the moonlight. “Gotcha!” 

You took off running, slipping on the wet ground below you. He had caught you too soon, but you still had a lot of fight left in you. 

“Get back here, bunny!” Eddie’s voice boomed over the window and night animals. You almost stopped dead in your tracks, but you couldn’t give up that easily. 

You ducked behind a bush, looking through the twigs to try and see how close he was to you. Now that you got to rest for a quick minute is when you realize just how much your feet and legs hurt. Your breaths were coming out in fast pants. Maybe you didn’t have as much fight as you thought you did. 

Eddie was nowhere in your line of sight, and you thought that maybe he had taken off in another direction. That was until you felt a hot breath fan over your ear and a deep chuckle. 

“You think you can get away from me that easily?” His big arms wrapped around you, pulling you off from the ground. You wailed, threw punches against his chest, anything to get away though the punches did nothing, didn’t stir him one bit. 

He covered your mouth and slammed the front of you against a tree, the bark pinching and scraping at your face. “Naughty little thing, running from me like that.”

“P-please…” you looked to the side at him, your voice muffled, your eyes big, round, and full of innocence. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Eddie runs the tip of his nose up the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent more. “Now that I’ve got you in my arms, I can smell just how soaked you really are.” He bunches your dress around your waist, his cold fingers ghosting over the warm skin of your thighs, and pulls your flimsy panties to the side. The crisp night air hits your exposed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. “Bet my cock would slide so easily into your pretty, little cunt, yeah?”

Your blood was coursing through your veins, and Eddie could hear it. He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth, debating on taking a bite. One small bite couldn’t hurt, could it? 

Without a second thought, Eddie sunk his teeth into your neck. He sucked, just enough to get the smallest test of your sweet, crimson blood. Another small bite here, another small bite there, nothing too serious to hurt you. He let out a long, low groan that vibrated his chest.

Your blood trickled down your neck as you moaned and whimpered. This shouldn’t be feeling as good as it did. Eddie licked up the small amount of blood, making sure to get every last drop, his tongue pressed against your skin. The pain mixed with pleasure made your cunt drip, your thighs becoming stickier than before. 

That didn’t go unnoticed either, Eddie catching on quickly. One of his thick fingers dipped inside your cunt before quickly slipping out. “Just as I thought, you love the pain.”

When you looked at him, you noticed his stained teeth and lips, your blood dripping from them, making them all shiny. 

You whined and closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than him. Eddie was giving in to what your body needed, what it craved. Your body was betraying you. This isn’t what you wanted, or was it? The smallest touch of his fingers had your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled and pumped full of cum.

“Oh, so you wanna be full of cum?” Eddie’s nails raked up and down your thigh, taking his finger and barely rubbing against your swollen clit.

You gasped, digging your fingers into the tree you were pushed up against. “N-no. I just…” 

“N-No? You sound so pathetic, bunny.” He mocked your whines with a smirk. “Just say you do. There’s no denying just how bad you want me when your cunt is dripping for me.”

You tried to shake your head, but he pressed it more into the tree. “Let me go, please.” Tears welled in your eyes, slowly falling down your cheeks. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. You know that just makes me wanna fuck you more,” Eddie pressed his body into yours, his hard, clothed cock against your bare ass. You could feel it throb against you, your body instinctively grinding against him. “I’m going to have so much fun with you, and you’re going to take it all.”

Shaking your head, you tried to push away from him, but it was no use. Eddie had super strength; you weren’t going anywhere. You were stuck, and you had to give in and let him do whatever was on his dark mind.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was weak, strained. 

You watched as he retracted his large hand before coming back down with a hard spank on your ass. Your skin jiggled, your mouth falling agape. “Speak up.” 

“Y-yes! Yes, sir.” 

“Shit, you’re already following rules so easily.” Eddie finally let up, pulling your body away from the tree. He spun you around so that now you were facing his tall form. “On your knees, pretty girl.” 

He didn’t give you time to act, putting his hand on the top of your head and pushing you down. You quickly fell to your knees, the leaves crunching under them. 

With shaky hands, you reached up for his belt, slowly undoing it. Eddie watched you with his dark eyes. Seeing how nervous you were only made him harder, his cock twitching in his jeans.

You ran your hand over the prominent bulge, dragging your nails across it. Eddie took a deep inhale, his chest heaving. It was taking everything out of him not to rush you, but he wanted to take his time with you and let it all linger.

Your hands worked on the zipper and button next. The pounding in your heart was harder, faster. His cock was so close to being down your throat, and your mouth watered for it.

Slowly, you pulled down his pants, taking his boxers with them, just enough for his cock and balls to hang out. His cock sprang forward, tip an angry red and leaking with precum. You watched as he spat into his hand and wrapped it around his cock. The precum kept bubbling out his slit, dribbling down his knuckles as he pumped his cock with his hand, the schlick sound becoming louder.

You couldn’t help but lick your lips.

Eddie grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing the tip along your lips, smearing the precum. “You take too fucking long.” He nudged his cock past your lips, rubbing it along your waiting tongue. 

You whined as he shoved his cock in your mouth, your tongue gliding along the thick vein that rested on the underside. The salty taste of his precum flooded your taste buds. 

“Shh, shh,” he ran a soothing thumb down your cheek before holding your head in place. “You just sit there and look pretty while I fuck your face, okay?”

Before you knew it, his cock was fully seated in your throat, and you were gagging around it, spit blubbering out the corners of your mouth. More tears spilled down your cheeks, coating them in smeared mascara. 

“Fuuuck- such a good mouth, just had to put it to use.” Eddie slowly thrust his hips back and forth, his cock fucking in and out of your mouth. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of the tip gliding across your tongue. “You like this, don’t you? Being used like my own personal fleshlight?”

You tried to answer, opening your mouth wider, but all that came out were whines and gags. Tears kept falling down your cheeks, drool dripping down your cheek. Eddie’s cock was making your throat raw, and you could already feel the burn that would surely linger there for days to come. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was already a bruise forming. 

“What was that?” He guided your head down his cock, your nose now pressed against the small thatch of curls at the base of his cock and his balls wetly pressed against your chin. “Shit- Couldn’t hear you with my cock stuffed down your throat.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he held you in place, letting his cock drag in and out of your mouth. Your gags and the soft squelch of your throat contracting around him echoed into the night. Nothing would ever feel as good as your pussy, but this was a close second for him. 

Your nails dug into his clothed thigh, inaudibly begging for some air. When Eddie pulled your mouth off his cock, salvia strung from your lips to the tip, mixing perfectly with his precum. 

Eddie ran a hand down your cheeks, wiping away the tears that ran down your face. You looked so pretty when you cried for him, whether it was from all his teasing or his cock being shoved into one of your holes. He loved to see you cry for him.

Deep breaths filled your lungs, and you sighed at the bit of relief you felt. The relief didn’t last long, though. Eddie was guiding your face toward his cum filled balls, dragging them over your lips. 

“Open up for me, baby. J-just like that.” Eddie had to brace a hand against the tree when you took the heavy sack into your warm mouth, rolling your wet tongue over the velvety skin. He could’ve cum right then and there. “You’re doing such a good job for me, yeah? Just a good little slut for me to use.”

You moaned around his balls in appreciation before sucking them into your mouth. Your tongue cradled them as you slobbered, your spit dripping down your chin and onto your chest. 

Pulling back, you let his balls fall from your mouth long enough to spit on them. You reached up and cradled them in your hand for a moment, rolling them around your fingers before you sucked them back into your mouth. The whole time, your eyes never left Eddie’s. You wanted him to see you, watch you. 

“Jesus Christ, look at you.” Eddie took his spit-covered cock in his hand, slowly stroking it over your face. He ground his hips against you, the sensitive tip of his cock rubbing against your forehead, precum bubbling out of the slit and into your hair. “Gonna make me fucking cum all over that pretty face of yours, bunny.”

His balls fell deeper into your mouth, your throat gargling around them. That was the moment that he lost control. 

Eddie pulled your head away and looked down at your swollen lips, tongue out, ready to catch every drop and tear-stained face. He squeezed at the tip of his cock before throwing his head back with a sharp inhale. Cum shot from the slit. His hips stuttered as his hand shook, “shit, shit!”

Your tongue caught what it could, not swallowing until Eddie could see what a good job you did. The rest hit your face, covering your chin and cheeks. 

He slowly looked back down at you, a proud smile on his face. “Swallow. All of it.”

You downed every drop, making a show of it and licking your lips once you were done. 

“Let’s clean you up.” Eddie collected what had fallen on your face with his rough fingers before sliding them into your mouth. You sucked them clean, making sure nothing went to waste. 

“What do you say?” 

“T-thank you, sir.” You shyly looked up at him. You’d do anything to please him.

He shoved his still-hard cock back into its confines before shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the ground beside you. You caught on to what he was wanting and laid down on his jacket, your legs bent at the knees. 

“Don’t even have to tell you what I want anymore,” he lay on the ground, his face right next to your aching cunt. “She’s ready for anything, isn’t she?” 

You felt Eddie slowly drug your panties down your legs. Once they were completely off, you closed your legs back, sitting up on your elbows. “Wait, wait.” 

Eddie jumbled up your panties and reached an arm up to shove them in your mouth. “Sometimes you talk too damn much.” The same arm that shoved the panties in your mouth also shoved you back down to his jacket, forcing you still. 

To take extra measure, he grabbed both of your wrists and held them in his rough, strong hand. He was making sure that you could get away or take your panties out of your mouth. 

You had no protest at all because once your back hit the jacket, Eddie had your legs gripped tightly in his hands, the air from his lungs blowing against your swollen clit.

“Mmm- mmm,” you tried to moan, but the sounds were completely muffled by your panties.

“Just relax,” he bit at your thighs, switching back and forth between them. You could feel the blood trickle down to the ground below you, but not before Eddie was licking it up. He let the blood linger on his tongue, savoring just how good you tasted before swallowing it. “As much as I’d love to drain you dry, I’d much rather keep you alive, so I slowly drink from you.”

All you could do was whine and dig your fingers into the palm of your hands. He had barely touched you, and you were already silently begging for more. Every part of you ached for some kind of friction, a touch, a rub, anything at this point.

Eddie watched as you clenched around nothing, looking for him to touch you. He thought it was cute how much your body wanted him. 

Just as you were about to beg (as much as you could with your panties in your mouth), Eddie licked a long strip up your cunt, from your needy hole to your clit. Your head fell back against his jacket as you let out a deep exhale. 

“Can’t get enough of that taste,” again and again, he licked at your clit, just enough pressure to have you whining. “You want more, huh?”

God, you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs how much you needed more. 

“Oh, that’s right,” he kissed around your clit, smirking against you when you let out a frustrated huff. “You can’t talk.”

Deciding that you had enough teasing for now, Eddie finally wrapped his plump lips around your clit. A deep moan was pulled from you, and your eyes rolled back at the pleasure you were finally able to feel. 

Your nails dig deeper into your hands the more he sucks on your clit, his teeth grazing it, making you arch your back. The palms of your hands were sure to be bright red tomorrow. You wish you could moan louder, let him hear just how he was making you feel, but he knew. Your cunt was soaked, dripping on his jacket below. It was so easy for him to see how good you were feeling. 

“Every part of you tastes so fucking amazing.” Lick, lick, lick. “Your cunt, your ass, your blood.” He used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, licking his lips when your slick strung between them.

Eddie dove back, licking all over your cunt, soaking his face in you. Your muffled moans grew louder with each lick and suck. Somehow, you were already close, and Eddie knew, could feel it in the throb of your clit. That only egged him on more. 

He slid his tongue into your beckoning cunt, making sure to swirl it around. Your chest heaved, and the pounding in your heart felt harder. Eddie moaning against you didn’t help at all—the vibrations making your head spin in the best way. 

Eddie's skilled tongue was making sure you were going to cum on his face, licking deeper than you ever thought possible and fucking in and out of you so fast that you you couldn’t focus on anything. His nose nudged at your clit and it was taking everything out of you not to rip your hands from his and pull on his hair.

Your thighs had started to shake, and he let your hands go. He used both hands to run up the back of the thighs before bending your knees into your chest, giving him more room to do whatever he wanted to your cunt. 

Eddie dipped his tongue lower, circling it around your puckered hole. Your hole clenched around his tongue, wanting him to go deeper. You screamed around your panties as the tip of his tongue dipped inside you over and over again. 

Shaky fingers raked through his hair before pulling, trying to get him as close to you as possible.

Eddie licked back and forth between your cunt and ass before he took your clit back into his mouth and shook his head back and forth. His eyes never left yours, even when your cunt was in your mouth. He wanted to see you come undone on his face. 

One more hard suck at your clit was all it took before you were cumming all over his face. Your cries were muffled, your legs shaking in Eddie’s hand. You couldn’t focus on anything other than your orgasm running through your body, making each hair stand up and your back arch so far off the jacket below you that you could almost reach the night sky. 

“Mmmmph!” Your hips ground against Eddie's face as you kept cumming, and he didn’t stop, even once you were finished. Your whole body felt like it was on fire in the best way.

Eddie groaned loudly against your cunt. The feeling of your cum against his tongue and face was enough to have his cock twitching in his pants, making a mess of them.

You ripped your panties from your mouth and threw them somewhere behind you, not caring where they ended up. “E-Eddie!” 

He pulled away, the moon making your cum shine on his face. “Sound like an angel when you say my name.” His fingers circled your cunt, making you gasp. You were already so sensitive from one orgasm, but you knew he was just getting started. “Too bad you’re nothing but a needy slut.”

Eddie’s hand left your cunt, reaching up to the top of your dress, it now bunched around your belly and pulled it down enough so that your tits fell out. Your nipples immediately hardened, the cold air making them stiff. 

“Look so good like this,” he slowly kissed up your body, making sure to bite every so often. Eddie stopped at your hips, biting at each one until he was sure they’d stung.

Once Eddie had kissed his way to your chest, he took one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue softly around it. His fingers squeezed and pulled at the other nipple, pulling the cutest whimpers from you. 

You bit your lip when you felt his teeth dig into your nipple and pull on it before letting it go. “Feels so good.”

“Of course it does.” He forced your legs back open with his hand, sliding his fingers through your sticky pussy lips. You gasped, grabbing ahold of his wrist. “Awe, you wanna cum again?”

You nodded your head quickly, barely letting him finish his question. “Yes, I wanna cum as many times as you’ll let me.” 

“How cute.” Slap! Your cunt stung, his rings catching against your clit, and you tried to close your legs, but Eddie was much stronger than you. Slap! “Beg for it.”

“Fucking- Eddie, please! I’ll do-

Slap! Slap! Slap! “I don’t wanna hear how you do anything I’ll say. Think of something better.”

More tears flowed down your cheek for another time tonight as you tried to think of the words to stay. You didn’t know what to say, you just knew you wanted to cum again, and you were getting impatient.

“Just- please! I’ll be such a good slut for you, and I promise to let you do whatever you want to me. Just let me cum again.” 

“Now, was that so hard?” Eddie finally slid his fingers into your waiting cunt, and you immediately clenched around them.

“Thank you, thank you.” You spread your legs further, making it easier for him to slot himself back between them. 

His fingers curled right against your g-spot, and you could already feel your second orgasm fast approaching. “You’re about to cum this quick?” Eddie tutted at you, curling his fingers over and over again. “Better hold it in.”

“I-I can't, I can't!” You shook your head, your toes already curling. 

With a heavy hand, Eddie smacked each of your thighs, immediately causing them to burn in such a blissful way. “You can and you will.”

Eddie knew how badly you wanted to cum, and he also knew how to skillfully use his fingers to edge you and make you hold it in. You were sure that if you didn’t listen, the inevitable would happen, and you wouldn’t cum again. 

“Now, are you gonna listen and hold it in? Or do I have to stop touching you all together?” His fingers slowed down as he waited for you to answer. 

“I’ll hold it in!” You grit your teeth, trying to find a distraction while Eddie toys with your sopping-wet cunt. 

You could hear how wet you were, your pussy squelching around Eddie’s fingers the more they pumped in and out of you. His pace was slow, making sure to drag at the pleasure, helping you hold your orgasm at bay as long as you could. 

“Whose pussy is this, huh?” Eddie had moved so his whole body weight was pressed into you, his forehead resting against yours. “I wanna hear you fucking say it.”

“Y-yours.” Your voice was weak as you stumbled on the words, finding it hard to focus when his fingers felt so good. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up, bunny.” He pulled his fingers out of your cunt long enough to slap your cunt again. You were sure that it was going to be bruised in the morning.

“Yours! It’s your fucking pussy, sir- oh my god!” You were so sensitive, so needy that you almost came right then and there. 

Easily, his fingers slid back into you, your eyes rolling back. You clenched around them, your orgasm fast approaching again. “Eddie…”

As soon as he felt you were about to cum again, he pulled his fingers out. You watched as they dripped in your juices, hitting your thigh. 

“Open up for me,” Eddie traced his wet fingers against your soft lips, waiting patiently. He dragged his fingers across your tongue, making you clean up the mess you made on them. “Don’t you taste so good?”

You wrapped your lips around his fingers, bobbing your head as your tongue swirled around them. Your doe eyes looked up at him as they silently begged him to fill you up again with his fingers, giving you a chance to cum.

“How can I say no to those beautiful eyes?” Eddie’s fingers trailed down your body, tracing over your nipples before dipping lower and lower. They ghosted over your clit, rubbing just enough for you to feel something. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“Yes- oh fuck.” He caught you off guard, sliding in three thick fingers and filling you up just like you wanted. Your cunt sucked in his fingers, tightening round them. “R-right there.”

The pads of his fingers rubbed perfectly against your g-spot, making you see stars behind your eyelids. “Right here?” Teasingly, he grazed his fingers over the spot again, and you couldn’t hang on any longer. 

You were so sensitive from your first orgasm that this one was coming fast. There was no stopping it this time. 

Your legs clamped around his arm as you heard yourself cum before you felt it. You gushed around his hand, soaking everything below you and Eddie in the process. You bit at your lip so hard you could taste blood. “Fuck- Eddie!” 

His name left your mouth like a repeated prayer, his fingers not stopping until you felt your juices drip down the crack of your ass. 

“Shit, look at the mess you made.” Eddie pulled his fingers from your overly sensitive cunt, watching as they dripped more than they did before. The sheen of your cum shined brightly in the moonlight.

You watched with bright eyes as he pulled out his cock and balls again, it still leaking with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight before you. 

One of Eddie’s hands ran up your body, stopping to tightly wrap his fingers around your neck. “You know you made me cum in my pants while I was eating you out?” His other hand grabbed the base of your cock, dragging in through your wet folds. “Now it’s my turn to cum and fill up your pussy just like you wanted.” 

You whimpered at his words, reaching down to spread your pussy lips apart as the tip of his cock caught on your clit. “God, yes, I've been needing it so bad.” 

“Is that so?” Eddie barely slid the tip in, but it was enough for the both of you to moan in unison. “Will never get over how tight your pussy is, bunny.” 

The hand wrapped around your throat had you gasping for air, but you just smirked. “Please, fuck me.” 

“You want to be filled with my cum that bad?” Eddie grabbed hold of your hip, lifting you off his jacket so you were resting in his lap. “Work for it.”

You couldn’t help but moan at his words as you slowly started to grind your hips against his. Your body weight was on your hands as you used them for leverage. 

His cock moved slowly in and out of you, Eddie’s eyes never leaving where the two of you were connected. “Look how good you take my cock.”

Eddie helped you and guided your hips back and forth, his jeans roughly rubbing against your ass. “Can’t give everything to you easily, can I?”

Your head rolled back as you whined out for him. The slow drag of his cock was just enough to set your body on fire. “A-am I doing good for you, sir?”

“Doing so good, just keep doing that, sweetheart.” His hand tightened around your neck as you gasped for air, your hips still grinding against him. “Just taking what you want from me, aren’t you, slut?”

“F-fuck, uhuh!” The burning in your hips started, but that didn’t stop you. The squeeze of his hand around your neck and the throbbing of his cock inside of you egged you on. “Oh my god!”

“Pussy was made for my fucking cock.” Eddie spat on your cunt, his thumb rubbing it along your clit. “Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

His thumb kept rubbing at your clit as your cunt ground back and forth along his cock. You’d leave only the tip in before slamming down on the rest of his cock. The two of you groaned and moaned in unison, both close to cumming. 

Your tits bounced with the grind of your hips, Eddie’s eyes transfixed on them as if you had him in some sort of spell. 

“You’re a fucking goddess.” His eyes trailed up your neck, stopping to look and admire your face. Your lips were plump from all the biting, sweat beading on your forehead. “You look so good when you're fucked out, drunk on my cock.”

You couldn’t say anything, words completely leaving you. Your mind was complete mush, his cock the only thing on it. At this point, you’d say anything to him just to cum. 

Eddie’s hand let go of your neck to slap your face, bringing you back to him. “Feels too good, doesn’t it?” His smirk is brighter than it has been before. 

“Y-yes,” you ground your hips faster, chasing your release. “Your cock feels so good!” 

Both of his hands pinned your hips back to the ground, pulling out. You whined but quickly shut up when he slammed back into your cunt. Your whines now turn into pleasurable screams.

“I can’t take it anymore.” His hips crash into yours at a bruising pace, his balls wetly hitting against your ass. “I got fucking cum.”

You arched your back, grabbing his hands and squeezing them as you kept screaming. “Please turn me, Eddie- please!”

Eddie looked down at you, his cock bulging in your belly with each thrust. Your words replayed over and over in his head, the thought making his cock throb hard inside you. “Bunny- Shit! Gonna cum in this pretty pussy.”

“Give it to me, Eddie.” You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “Need you to cum inside me, fill me up until it's dripping out.”

His eyes got darker as he leaned down, attaching his lips to your neck. What started as sloppy kisses turned into a hard bite. His teeth puncture your sweaty skin, your blood seeping into his mouth. 

Your toes curled, and you pulled on his hair, the bite being enough to make you cum so hard your body convulses. You couldn’t see anything, your vision going totally white. “I-oh, my god! Oh my fuck- Eddie!”

Eddie groaned loudly against your skin as he finally pulled his teeth from the two holes that adorned your neck. The taste of your blood, the clenching of your cunt as you came around his cock. He couldn’t take it anymore. You can feel his hard pants against your neck and his cock cumming inside you with a twitch.

He whispered your name as he kept cumming, spilling everything he had inside you. “That’s it, take it fucking all.” 

Your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

The only thing heard over the animals in the night was heavy breathing, the two of you spent. 

Your body felt sore, weak, and used by the time Eddie had pulled out of you, causing you to wince at the sensation. You couldn’t see him, too tired to open your eyes, but you could hear him move around you, fixing your dress so it sat just right and picking you up so he could cradle you into his arms. 

You felt weak, the bite on your neck stinging more than it had before. 

“I promise that you’ll feel better in the morning,” Eddie placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. The total opposite of how he was just acting with his cock inside you. “Just rest for now.”

[starryinkart]

[CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY!!!]

(Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

Soooo I was sucked into Poppy Playtime again because of these goobers!! I don’t think I’ve ever posted Poppy Playtime stuff on here before, buttt I think I will now, I just wish the fandom was a bit bigger and more lively lmao 🤣

Catnap is my #1 favorite, then DogDay, then KC, and then Hoppy! I love the others too, but Bubba and Crafty are so hard to draw atm. I just need to practice more with them!😓

{Colorless Lines Below!!}

Headcannons for them below too!!!

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Some headcannons in the show universe cause I’m feeling fun:

- Catnap is the youngest! DogDay is the oldest of the crew! Their age order goes (oldest to youngest) DogDay, Bubba, Picky, Kickin, Crafty, Bobby, Hoppy, Catnap!

- Catnap doesn’t talk much, but he can. Just with a low voice that tends to be calming, and very sweet sounding. He usually just points, says short answers like yes or no, and nods.

- While Kickin (or KC) is the most egocentric and confident, Hoppy is the most energetic and tends to like talking people’s heads off, which causes them to butt heads at times, all while Picky tends to be the usual third wheel, often just quietly eating.

- Crafty is the most creative while Bubba is the most thoughtful and intelligent, which usually allows them to have deep, meaningful conversations of the wonders of life together.

-Crafty is the shyest out of the bunch, usually drawing with Catnap calmly, sharing her creations with him or hanging out with Bubba.

- Bobby and Picky tend to share their love for the world together, usually playing dress up with each other, talking about crushes. or cooking of course! Bobby always has something lovely to share and Picky, in contrast to her name, always is open to trying something new, as long as she thinks she may like it.

- In contrast to the canon, all of the crew just magically woke up in the Playcare, with no memories of before they opened their eyes to the colorful world around them. DogDay and Bubba were the first to appear, Picky, Crafty and Kickin spawning after, Bobby and Hoppy spawning together and Catnap spawning alone. There seems to be no way out, so the crew just embraces their situation and tries their best to not think about it too much.

- Catnap was the last and most unexpected to spawn in. From the time he opened his eyes to the new world around him, he had felt like something was off, like he didn’t belong there. While most of the others treated him nice, some of the crew were uneasy about his sudden appearance, seemingly years after the last of the previous arrivals had spawned in.

- Catnap begins to grow close to DogDay, almost becoming like his little brother. They spend the most time together, due to DDs kindness and warm welcoming energy towards him on his arrival! Also them both noticing they wore opposite necklaces, Cat being the moon and DD being the sun helped with that connection too!

- Kickin doesn’t really like or trust Catnap much, and doesn’t try to hide it, making snarky remarks and comments to clearly express his dislike for him.

- Catnap is super playful with the others, his best friends being Dog Day, Hoppy and Crafty! He tends to move like a ghost, the crew not usually noticing they are in his presence until they turn around! A lot of times, he hangs by his tail on the trees to say hello, or can be found in the fields laying in the grass and sleeping.

- Cat can sleep anywhere that is a surface, and is not wet.

- Every once and while, Cat swears he can see a skinny, metallic hand in the shadows, beckoning his attention. He’s tried to bring it up to the others, but they either think he’s acting weird, insane, or tell him not to worry about it.

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If you want to hear more, my asks are open!!! And I will be drawing them inbetween my Absolutely Chapters for Murder Drones, which I am STILL working on and Chapter 4 is coming out soon!! Promise, I didn’t forget, things have just been busy!!

ALSOOOOO New Murder Drones Comic for King Solver N coming this weekend 👀👀👀 Perhaps some angst or something fun?