#and like god I can’t remember the last time someone has reached for me. because I am worth the effort of repair

[terrainofheartfelt]

.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 6 masterlist

-

The interior door slides open when Gaz pulls down the lever on his side, fitting into the recesses in the wall until there’s nothing between you. He’s the same and yet entirely different with nothing separating the two of you; more corporeal, undeniably flesh and blood. You can feel it now—the heat of another body in close proximity.

His stare penetrates you to the root, eyes so dark that you can’t look away. It’d be easy to get lost in them, like falling into a black hole, body stretching out into infinity, even the smallest subatomic parts of you torn apart. Expressive eyes, the kind you might look at and think that there’s someone behind them worth knowing. But the sharp angularity of the intelligence there makes your skin crawl. 

Farah finds her voice before you do. “Who are you?”

Gaz breaks his stare to glance at her, his frozen smile suddenly warming. “We haven’t met; I’m Gaz.”

When he holds out his gloved hand, Farah only looks at it instead of taking it, disbelief warring with her common sense. You wish you could hear the thoughts running through her head. 

“You can see him too?” you whisper to her.

Her head snaps in your direction, dark brows already furrowed. “Of course I can. What are you talking about?”

It’s perhaps impossible to explain without making yourself sound insane. More insane, in any case. But with the proof in front of you now, you can’t deny any longer that Gaz is real; that after days spent worrying about the state of your crumbling mental health, the very cause of your concern now stands before you, witnessed by someone else. You’d laugh if you didn’t feel faint. 

Because he is real—all six feet and two inches of him. Close enough to reach out your hand and touch. His skin looks buttery soft; if you were a foot closer, you’d almost be tempted to take his hand if only to see if your fingers would pass through.

Without warning, the intercom suddenly crackles to life again and a familiar voice blares from the speaker. “Panel secure. Headed back now.”

The sound of Nikolai’s voice sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. Even Gaz glances over his shoulder at the door and the vastness of space behind it. There’s nothing there, but his thickly accented voice asks for confirmation and you know it must be him, not a trick of the comms system. You stumble back until you hit the wall behind you.

“Kolya?” you hear Graves respond sharply, his voice still carrying through the ship over the intercom. “Shit, is that you? Do you hear me?”

“Черт побери. Yes, I hear you, mother hen,” Nikolai laughs in response. His laughter is a crisp, hollow sound over the intercom, like crackling blue electricity. “On my way back now. No need to pluck all your feathers out.”

His nonchalance is, frankly, unreasonable for the amount of time elapsed since he last checked in with the crew. 

A whole body comes into view this time, an astronaut waving to you through the window of the exterior door. Even from the other side, you can tell it’s Nikolai, the sheer size of him apparent. 

“Alhamdulillah,” Farah breathes, pulling the lever down for a second time to initiate the return sequence. 

Like deja vu, you watch as the first set of doors open and Nikolai slowly makes his way into the airlock one slow step at a time, the man looking no worse for wear. Beside you, Farah whispers something that you miss. The doors slide shut noiselessly behind him, and again you watch as a man in a spacesuit undergoes repressurization, the tensing of his shoulders making his discomfort with the process apparent. 

He already has his helmet off before the second door even opens. “Like I said, easy peasy. Can someone get me a coffee now?”

It’s almost too much for you to digest in such a short period of time, your emotions slingshotting between losing Nikolai and finding a strange man floating in the middle of space and then hearing the Russian man’s voice again like nothing happened. Lost time, or gained time. 

He must pick up on the way you and Farah simply gape at him in stunned silence.

���Something the matter?” Nikolai asks, a thick caterpillar eyebrow arched. A second later, he registers the other man in the hallway and grins. “Ah, you met Gaz. Nice guy, huh?”

“You know him?” Farah asks, her incredulity apparent.

“We met outside. I sent him in to get warm.”

You’re properly dumbfounded now, staring at Nikolai with abject disbelief for giving someone permission to board the ship without the commander’s permission. 

The footsteps of your commander and his second echo as they race down the hallway from the cockpit, the metal clunking under their boots. Louder and louder until they reach you, coming to a halt just a few feet away.

“Didn’t think I was gone that long,” Nikolai murmurs, stripping out of his spacesuit at the same time. Without a word, Farah helps him tuck it back into the storage locker he originally took it from. 

The two men stalk forward the remaining distance and when you look over at Graves, you can see the worry and relief writ large across his face, his attempts at concealing his emotions only partially successful. 

“What the fuck happened?” Graves barks, his expression stern until his eyes land on Gaz standing peacefully in the middle of the corridor, and then something shifts. A brief uncertainty clouding the pale blue of his eyes. “Who’s this?” 

Gaz lifts a gloved hand in greeting. “Name’s Gaz.”

“Found him outside wandering around,” Nikolai booms, slinging an arm over Gaz’s shoulders in an obvious show of fondness. “Poor bastard couldn’t find his crew.”

“Just wandering around in the middle of nowhere?” Graves asks, cocking a brow, skepticism thick in his words. 

Gaz smiles sheepishly. “It’s my fault. I got a bit turned around.”

Graves hums, mulling over the information. “…Turned around, huh?”

“Yes, sir. Looked away for a second and then my group was gone.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

His deference is second to none. You could almost imagine yourself believing him, swept away by concern for his welfare. 

There’s a difference though. You’ve had the benefit of several days of acclimation. 

“Sir—commander,” you interject, swallowing when Graves turns his attention on you, the microexpression that flits across his face betraying his displeasure at being interrupted. “I’m sorry, but this makes no sense. I don’t see how…well, how he could have survived out on his own. I mean—” Your eyes flick towards Gaz. “I’m sorry, but none of this makes any sense to me.”

Graves’ lip curls up. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"Well, should we have brought him in? This just doesn't seem like protocol—"

“I don’t get your point, doctor. Should we have just left him out there to die? I thought you had that whole Hippocratic oath to uphold.”

None of this makes any sense to you. Apart from Farah, they’re being entirely too cavalier for happening upon a man in the middle of nowhere. There should be talk of heading back to Earth or quarantining him in the brig. 

“It’s not about that,” you croak. 

“I don’t understand you, doctor. You of all people should want to help.”

But he’s the man I’ve been seeing for days, you almost scream, but the blatant disapproval in Graves’ eyes makes you hold your tongue. You know your instincts aren’t wrong. Basic science isn’t wrong. Even if his spacesuit were able to provide basic environmental protection and life support, the longest a human might be able to survive after becoming untethered from their ship would be just under nine hours. 

You don’t know why this isn’t registering as strange to any of them. They act as though there’s nothing at all unusual about a man floating in space without any spacecraft within fifty million miles of him. As if this were just something that happened from time to time, and not an unprecedented anomaly. 

“Well, you could probably do with some shut eye after your trip, I reckon,” Graves says, clamping a hand down on Gaz’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “We have a spare bunk near mine—bit cramped, but I’m sure you’ll make do.”

Gaz tips his head in thanks. “I’d appreciate it.”

“And—sorry, forgot to ask, but are you good? Not feeling faint or sick or anything? I know our doctor’s a little prickly, but whatever you need, she can help with.”

The weight of Gaz’s gaze makes your body feel leaden. 

“All good for now,” he says, still smiling serenely. His stare never wavers, smile never dips. “But don’t worry, love. I’ll come find you when I need you.”

Nikolai’s arm drops from his shoulder and Graves leads him off down the corridor to recuperate in his new room. The scream is buried in your throat; if you try to cough it up, only blood and mucus will come out. 

You can only watch helplessly as they walk away, Farah gone by the time you remember to look for her. 

After that, hours pass by without any sight of the man who recently boarded your ship. You don’t see much of anyone in fact. Hadir eats lunch around the same time as you, but his conversation is oddly circulatory, muddled, like he can’t keep his thoughts straight. He mentions the same thing twice and doesn’t seem concerned when you politely remind him that he already told you. He also doesn’t seem to register your words when you tentatively broach the subject of Gaz’s sudden appearance. 

Hadir shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Better for us anyway. Could be nice to have another warm body around here.”

“Don’t you…don’t you remember what I told you the other day?” you prod, pushing your potatoes around with your fork, your stomach in knots. “When I told you I saw someone outside?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s who I was talking about,” you whisper, as if concerned about being overheard. “I saw Gaz out there. He must have been out there…for days at least.”

“Ah,” he says, mildly contemplative. “Funny, that.”

The conversation feels like a dead end because it is, and you abandon it not long after when you realize that though Hadir is responding to your words, he doesn’t seem to be understanding them. It’s like you’re talking to an automaton, something designed to give you a response but not engage like a human would.

Even that thought seems wrong somehow. You shouldn’t be thinking those kinds of things about your coworkers. 

Back in the medical unit, you pick up the stool that fell to the ground on your way out earlier and take a seat, sipping periodically at the ice cold coffee still sitting on the table. Your mind goes blank for some time. Different than earlier though—not the blankness of concern and paranoia, but the blankness of complete stupefaction. 

It gives you some time to think, but no matter how many times you run through the events of the day in your mind, you keep coming back to the same questions. The same questions with no answers. 

Appetite a no show, you figure it’s better to just retire to your quarters for the evening. 

In bed, you read the same paragraph of your book three times before it sinks in. You can’t concentrate on anything. The same phrase on a loop, your real thoughts swarming like locusts and drowning out the narrator in your head. 

A knock at your door startles you, accidentally making you crinkle a page of your book with your thumb. You bite back a curse, smoothing the page out and calling out a frustrated one second when the person on the other side of your door knocks again. Impatient much. 

You open the door, expecting to find Graves or Nikolai on the other side, only for you to balk when you’re met with the sight of Gaz towering over you, his forearm braced against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” he says after a beat of silence. 

“…Are you lost?” you ask suspiciously. 

“No. Thought I’d stop by before I turn in for the night.”

Something occurs to you the longer you stand so close to him. It’s been lingering in the back of your mind since the interior doors to the airlock slid open and he boarded the ship, a thought hidden under its own afterbirth, placenta and membranous fluid soaking the ground beneath it. A thought that, to this point, has escaped your notice, hiding away like a prey animal. 

And it’s that: Gaz doesn’t have a smell. When you inhale, he doesn’t smell like anything you’ve ever smelt before. No lingering traces of body odour or sweat or soap. You breathe in and it’s like you’re standing in front of an empty doorway staring out into the empty hallway. 

But he does have a scent. 

It doesn’t register to your nose, not a scent that your olfactory senses can detect. Nothing like that. Instead it hits you like a memory, like a feeling blooming in your chest. Palo santo and orange blossom; the sound of a tennis ball hitting a racket; an aerial view of an Olympic pool and someone swimming laps, their body stark against the blue; white florals and a masculine voice laughing. 

His scent is a delicious rush of wonder and elation, a dopamine spike. You crane your neck to meet his eyes and honestly you’d forgotten how beautiful he is. An Adonis; over six foot and body corded with muscle. Lean waist and wide shoulders. The most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, sculpted from something divine, a substance not found on Earth but in a more heavenly realm. 

You rock forward on your heels, pulled like a magnet towards his lips. His lips gently part, anticipating yours before they’ve even met.

Your hand hits the wall and reality comes back to you. Solid metal under your feet and an aluminum composite under your hand. White, sterile walls. In the hallway, the lights dim as the night cycle commences. You have to physically shake your head to rid your mind of any thoughts of Earth. It’s still there though, on the periphery of your senses; a dream world that you might get lost in if you were to look for too long.  

Something is very wrong. 

You rest back on your heels and move your hand until it hovers over the button to close your door. 

“Unless you’re sick, I can’t help you.”

“I’m not sick, love.”

“Then what do you want?” you bite out, overtly hostile now. 

He smiles but he doesn’t blink. Then his eyes flick up, studying the room behind you, his gaze roving over the walls and furniture, scrutinizing your space. Examining the clothes strewn over your bed, the little knick knacks and oddities that make your room yours. 

“Just wanted to see what it looked like from the inside,” Gaz finally says, and your blood goes cold. 

With that, he pulls his forearm off the doorframe and straightens to full height. 

He makes it a few feet away from your door before turning around to look back at you. “Night, love. See you in the morning.”

[sectumsempraaa]

More Than a Gut Feeling

Pairing: soulmate!Theo Nott x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Based on this request! :)

TW: none, just unlawful amounts of fluff

Featuring: Theo, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Lorenzo, Blaise

Summary: Transferring schools in your fifth year is overwhelming enough. But when you find yourself seemingly tethered to a Slytherin boy, you start to wonder… Did you come to Hogwarts by choice? Or did someone lead you here?

“And there was fog, and dust, and all I could see was this hand reaching out for me-”

“Bloody hell Theo, please, we get it. You smoked before bed and had trippy dreams,” Pansy complains, cutting him off from his hazy explanation. She turns to you and rolls her eyes, expressing her disdain.

It’s a typical Monday breakfast in the Great Hall for the Slytherin lads, except they have you now. They’ve recently (and graciously) taken you under their wing after you transferred schools in your fifth year.

Though you’re still adjusting to your surroundings at Hogwarts, your new friends have made the transition easier.

“I didn’t smoke before bed, bastardo,” he replies, lunging slightly towards her in annoyance.

Your eyes linger on Theo for a moment, his dream piquing your interest for some reason. There’s something about it that feels… familiar.

But you shake it off as deja vu in order to move past it. The last thing you want right now is to stand out amongst your new peers.

It’s only been a week since you arrived, but the connection you have with Theodore is unlike the others, and they are starting to notice.

Like when you first met, and the both of you were each holding a hardcover copy of your mutual favorite poetry book.

And a couple days later, when you turned your head to greet him as he was several yards behind you in the hallway, before he even called your name.

And yesterday, when you watched him win the first quidditch match you’d seen because the golden snitch hovered over you the entire time.

“I wish I could remember my dreams like that,” you respond, adding a touch of understanding to the conversation.

Theo’s head turns in the direction of your soft voice, like his gaze is attached to it somehow.

Blaise looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

Suddenly and smoothly, Mattheo nudges you with his elbow and leans in close to your ear.

“If you dreamt of me, you would.” He smirks, laughing to himself and earning a light smack on the chest from Lorenzo. You notice Theo’s expression turn a smidge darker, something new looming in his eyes.

Lorenzo comments. “You really do ruin everything. You’re like, the king of ruining everything.”

Draco scoffs at Mattheo’s quip and places his hands on the table to signify that it’s time to leave for class. “Come on, Mattheo. Let’s not traumatize the new girl.”

Draco throws an apologetic glance your way.

“Please don’t listen to this child.” He spits out the last few words with haste.

When you look at Theo, you find him still staring at you with a hint of wonder and confusion.

You blush, feeling the crimson warmth spreading from one cheek to another. You reach down to grab your bag and make your way to potions class with the rest of the group.

—

Today’s lesson is, surprisingly, something you’ve already learned at your previous school. And thank the gods, because something about Theo’s dream has your attention caught like a fly in a web.

You imagine his vision, the fog and the reaching. You look down to your own hand, your brows furrowing as you continue to rack your brain. The longer you look at your hand, the more convinced you are that…

No. You just met him a week ago… there’s no way.

But that’s not it. It’s the other dreams he’s mentioned in the past few days, too. One where he’s at Durmstrang looking for someone, another where he’s trying to find them on the Hogwarts Express, but he doesn’t know who he’s following.

Who he’s looking for.

You can’t help but compare them to your own dreams, strikingly, eerily similar.

You recount images of them, scouring through empty train cabins and following the sound of alluring footsteps in your former school.

A tug on your ponytail pulls you out of your distraction, the slight pain guiding your stare. A sea of giggles spreads through the class as you watch Professor Snape’s hand return to his side.

“Miss Y/L/N, I suspect you were the potions teacher at Durmstrang with the way you ignore my curriculum.” Snape retorts, his stern voice closer than you were expecting.

But one particular laugh catches your ears, the corners of your mouth turning up at the sound of it. Your eyes land on Theo, and something about his expression makes your heart skip a beat.

“Tsk tsk, bella,” He whispers, and you bite your lip in response, turning back to your textbook as that damn blush creeps back onto your face.

There’s no denying how unfathomably handsome this man is when he smiles at you, because of you.

Your desk partner, Draco, looks to Theo and then back to you in bewilderment.

“I can never get him to joke around like that,” He says to you. “I’ll be damned if he fancies you more than me already.”

You smile back to Draco, returning the playful demeanor. “Oh, I bet he just adores you.” You respond loud enough so Theo can hear behind you.

You don’t have to turn around to see the bashful smirk on Theo’s face.

—

That night, you toss and turn more than usual. A wild dream keeps you trapped in slumber, unable to relinquish you from it until your roommate, Pansy, physically shakes you awake.

“I’m right here, you oaf!” Pansy yells, her hands squeezing your shoulders as you urgently sit up in bed.

“What? What are you doing? Why are you yelling?” You ask, genuinely lost. The beads of sweat trickle down your temple.

“You don’t remember just now when you were asking ‘Where are you?’ a thousand times in your own sleep?” She responds, her eyes widening with each word.

And then it hits you, the images of your dream. That laugh, a gentle breeze, and a-

“Paper crane?” Pansy asks, looking down into your lap with eyes like headlights.

You slowly look down, afraid to reveal to yourself what lays in your grasp. In your palm is a small, crumpled paper crane. Your baffled stare freaks her out, her hands retracting from your sides.

“What the filthy fuck is that?!” Pansy yells, but her voice sounds quite distant to you as you try desperately to get a hold on reality.

But you know. You know what this is, and you know how you got it. Accepting this fact is like swallowing glass.

“I brought something out of my dream,” you whisper, your breath picking up in pace and weight. The thought is sending you reeling, your brain suddenly racing yet devoid at the same time, unwilling to connect the dots.

“How is this even possible?” You ask yourself.

Pansy continues rambling on, asking you endless questions.

But you can’t seem to shake the idea that this item didn’t exist before you fell asleep last night.

—

After long deliberation, and a real pull back to reality, you manage to get yourself dressed and out the door. But the mental picture of this thing takes up most of the space in your mind that day, haunting you each time you think of it.

It’s not until Divination class, your last period, that things somehow become even more unsettling.

Professor Trelawney begins a lesson about the influence of dreams in real life and the messages they can send to the dreamer.

“Dreams, they can be so powerful. They can point you in specific directions, impact your decisions, make you see the truth.”

Her shakey, ominous voice echoes through your head, her words bouncing off the walls of your skull as you feel around in your pocket for the mysterious object. When you feel the edges of the paper graze your skin, you gently pull it out and place it on the corner of your desk.

From the table over, Theo absentmindedly observes you, your movement guiding his trailing eyes. He sees the object in front of you, but it takes him a second to register what it is, that curious little thing.

He squints, then performs a stunning double take. And when he’s finally able to identify it…

Everything changes.

“Oh… my… god…” Theo whispers, his heart dropping into his stomach like an anchor. His body goes into a state of utter disbelief and stillness. His eyes piercing white and his face ghostly pale as he struggles to grasp the scene in front of him.

Mattheo notices Theo’s knuckles white against the desk and chimes in to check on his friend.

“Mate, you alright? You look like Enzo after a Friday night at the Three–”

But before Mattheo can finish asking, Theo suddenly stands up and gains the attention of everyone in class by the sound of his bench skidding backwards on the floor.

Professor Trelawney’s gaze shifts from Theo to you as she locates the focus point of his unrelenting stare. She offers to take him to the infirmary as he looks “unwell.”

But Theo shakes his head, places his hand over his heart, and silently dashes out of the classroom.

Pansy’s head slowly turns to you with a look of complete perplexity.

“Better go check on Rome, new girl,” she mutters under her breath, referencing Theo’s hometown. She gestures her head in the direction of the door.

You nod hesitantly, soon following in his footsteps and ignoring any questions from your teacher.

—

When you make it to the hallway, you find Theo pacing back and forth, his hand still placed over his heart as if to stop it from exploding. But when he sees you, it only gets more difficult.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off before you can even inhale.

“Where in seven hells did you get that paper crane?!” He asks, stopping in his tracks. The conversation continues in bouts of interrupting each other.

“Theodore, I-”

“Don’t call me that, that’s not what you call me in-”

“In what?”

“In my-”

Then a pause. A tense, incredible pause. A stare down.

He continues. “Nothing, it’s mind numbingly mad,”

You take a step towards him, but something in your chest suddenly becomes achingly heavy. In response, you place a hand over your heart, just like Theo is.

In your free hand, you unfold your fingers to reveal the paper crane. His eyes land on it, the shock of it still trapping every fiber of his being.

“You…” you start, the weight in your chest transforms from a brick to a block of anvil with each word.

When you’re within arms length of each other, he manages to reach out, the struggle evident on his face. He fights to finish your sentence for you.

“Made this. Gave this… to you, last night.” He explains, his voice dragging as you notice his hand now gripping his shirt in a fist from the sheer pain in his chest.

“Theo… I think we aren’t dreaming of each other,” you suggest, taking time to breathe between thoughts. The weight on your heart is now seemingly unbearable.

“We’re dreaming with each other,” you say, and just as you finish the thought, Theo’s fingers touch the paper crane in your hand, a graze that feels like lightning.

And just then, as the object fuses the touch of two destined souls, a small clad of thunder emits from between you that only you two can hear. The pains in your chests implode, a knee-dropping sensation of light and warmth replacing it.

Like dynamite in your hearts.

“Bella,” Theo’s hoarse voice is laced with a sincerity that sounds like liquid gold to your ears. There’s no way to describe the feeling inside you right now, this fantastic blend of energies and desires.

The only thing you do know is that it’s burning at both ends, like a charring rope.

“I think… I was meant to find you, cara mia. Gods I sound mental,” he shakes his head, embarrassment written all over his face. To his surprise, he finds your hand gently caressing his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“Then maybe we both need to visit the infirmary, because I’ve only just arrived here and for some reason I can’t fathom a minute away from you.”

Relief washes over him as he drinks in your words, and the stunning sight of you confessing the very same sentiment he, too, harbors.

Your heart rate quickens as you feel an arm snake around your lower back, out of your line of sight. This feels strangely comfortable, like you’ve felt it for a lifetime already.

“Y/N…” he beckons, his forehead dropping to rest on yours. “I can’t ask you to be mine, because I think someone, or something, else already decided that.” He jokes, the huff from his laugh hitting your face.

The sight of both your smiles is what shifts everything into place. Everything, all at once. And then, your fists are the ones gripping his shirt, pulling his lips onto yours.

The paper crane falls to the ground between you as your lips move against each other, his hands exploring your back like they’re hunting for treasure. The magnitude of this kiss surpasses any other you’ve shared in the past.

Chills run up and down your body, like it’s finally found its home. Its match. His fingers grasp your hair lightly, keeping you in place as he kisses you with vigor.

He pulls away, looking at you like you’re his most prized possession.

“You’re more than a gut feeling, tesoro.” He confesses, earning another kiss from you. This one feels like an aftershock, the aftermath of the impact of your newfound, yet momentous intimacy.

You nod your head in understanding, barely able to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

“Did you… feel that, Theo?” You question, sending a glimmer of hope his way.

“Yes, like… fireworks?” He asks back. He takes your hand and places it on his chest once again, and you swear you could feel the butterflies erupting from inside.

Behind you, a mess of rushed footsteps make their entrance, accompanied by a couple of stern voices.

“These two, I swear…” Blaise complains, shaking his head and catching his breath.

“What in the Merlin-loving fuck is going on here?” Lorenzo sneers, his expression a mix of urgency and frustration.

But you two never broke that stare, that ruthless, solid stare. Instead you beam at each other as you scramble to put the answer into words.

“Fireworks.”

—

That night, you wander the grounds of Hogwarts together as Mattheo, Draco, and Pansy watch you from the Astronomy Tower. The three of them convene to discuss.

“You reckon she used a love potion?” Mattheo suggests, earning another smack on the arm.

“No, you bloody fool. They’re like, tethered or something.” She attempts to convey the notion to the boys, but they just don’t get it.

“Are we tethered then, doll?” Draco jokingly asks Pansy.

“In your dreams, mate.” Mattheo responds, taking a drag from his cigarette. She responds while picturing the paper crane she found in your lap that one fated morning last week.

“You’d be surprised how accurate that is.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions. 

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.” 

Silence. 

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention. 

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin. 

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out. 

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair. 

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.” 

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them. 

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.” 

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-” 

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly. 

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home. 

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest. 

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks. 

“How long have we been married?” 

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her. 

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years. 

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

[pedroscurls]

The reader and Hugh are in bed in the morning and the reader has to get up for work but Hugh doesn't want her to leave so pulls her back in bed in a big bear hug and she calls In sick 😉

bad influence (one-shot)

summary: already running late for work, hugh convinces you to call in sick. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader tags / warnings: fluff, brief suggestive sexual content (18+), no use of y/n word count: 913 a/n: to the anon who sent this in - i'm so sorry it took me a while to post this! hope you enjoy regardless. and as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

You awake with a jolt, glancing at the clock and realizing that you’ve slept through your alarm. You glance over to the man next to you who’s stirring awake at your sudden movements. He’s lying on his back, shirtless with an arm behind his head as his eyes slowly begin to flutter open. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to be late!” you exclaim, trying to scramble out of bed and bringing the sheet with you. Last night had been amazing and you hadn’t expected to spend the night with Hugh. It had only been your third date with him, but throughout the night, there had been a lingering tension of what the night would bring. 

When he invited you back to his place after dinner, you were excited to accept. To be able to spend uninterrupted time with him behind closed doors without worrying about someone asking for a picture or an autograph was something you were looking forward to. You had both been sitting on the couch – you with your glass of wine and him with his – before the effects of alcohol coursed through your veins and gave you the courage to straddle his lap. 

He had looked up at you in surprise, but with an excited look in his eyes. Hugh had immediately rested his hands on your hips and groaned to himself when you pressed yourself further into him. He wanted to be a gentleman, wanted to be respectful of you and your boundaries, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found it difficult to keep the pent up frustration to himself. His hand could only do so much and he was finding that he needed more relief. He needed you. 

So, when you agreed to come over to his place, Hugh was excited. Not only because of what could happen, but because he was starting to like you more and more with each date. He didn’t want to scare you away, but you had promised him that his lifestyle wouldn’t deter you from pursuing a relationship with him. And it was true. When fans came up to him, you gave him the space and distance he needed but also went so far as to offer to take the picture for the fans; you knew how important Hugh’s fans were to him. 

When the paparazzi would follow him, you’d be right there by his side, just as polite and kind as he was. He knew that not many people could fit into his life, especially after the success of Deadpool & Wolverine, but you managed to fit in so well – like you had always belonged by his side. 

And last night… Well last night was amazing. Falling asleep with you in his arms had lulled him to a deep slumber and it had been a very long time since he had a good night’s rest. Hugh had convinced you to just spend the night, that he’d wake up early today to make sure you leave on time for work, but he was just too comfortable. Too relaxed with you by his side that he had slept through his own alarm too. 

When he hears you mumble under your breath, followed by your sudden movements, Hugh slowly opens his eyes. He sees you from the corner of his eyes lifting the sheet above your chest, covering yourself. He grins to himself, having remembered that you both had fallen asleep naked. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers, the hand behind his head reaching out to gently rest on your lower back as you sit up. 

“I’m going to be late for work, Hugh,” you answer. “I should be at home, already on the way to leave and–”

“Take the day off,” Hugh interjects, eyes gazing up at you. “Spend it with me.”

“Hugh, I can’t. I have a big project that I need to get done.”

“Will it be done today?” Hugh asks.

“Well, no, but–”

“Then at least you’ll have something you can do tomorrow.” Hugh smirks.

You shake your head and go to climb out of his large bed before his arm snakes around your waist to pull you back into bed. He turns on his side and pulls your body flush against him as your back rests against his chest. 

“Hugh…” you whisper, feeling his naked body press against you from behind. You can feel his lower half begin to harden, begin to stir awake at the close proximity. 

“Call in sick, baby,” he mumbles, lips lowering to pepper soft kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. Hugh’s hand slowly dips lower past your abdomen, inching closer and closer to the place between your legs. 

“You’re a bad influence,” you whimper, rolling back into him as your hand reaches down to grip his wrist. 

Hugh grins against you, leaning up to gently nibble at your earlobe. “I’ll take as much time with you as I can get, baby. Now, let me have my breakfast, yeah?” 

You’re about to ask him what he means before he moves to hover above you, lowering himself further and further down the bed until he disappears underneath the sheets. You feel his breath against the inside of your leg and when he licks a stripe up the center of your sex, your back arches and you reach down to grip onto his hair. 

“God, good morning to me,” you whisper, eyes falling shut as you let out a quiet moan. 

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[loveinhawkins]

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

[joicecubes]

i love the idea of ford and stan healing when they’re on the sea together. i need it. SO BAD. i keep thinking about how one of the last entries ford wrote in his journal was talking about how he wants to repair their relationship and finally make it up to him. if stan gives him a chance.

and stan… oh my god he’s desperate for that!! are you kidding me!! i know to ford it must feel like stan has always held a grudge against him since he came back, and because he feels so unworthy now that he’s come to terms with how he failed the people he loves, it skews his perception of what stan really wants. what he doesn’t realize in doubting whether or not stan also wants to repair their relationship is that stan has yearned for this for his ENTIRE. LIFE. he’s wanted to go back to being what they were to each other as kids from the moment he was kicked out to the moment he remembered who ford was after weirdmageddon. of COURSE he says yes to sailing the world with him. of COURSE he’ll wait as long as it takes to have his brother back, he worked thirty years for this!!

and now it’s just a matter of being there for each other. because neither of them were able to be there in each other’s worst moments. as stan regains memories ford can’t help him reach, he starts realizing just how damaged he became in the time he was homeless. and i’m sure ford’s trauma from bill shows up in ways neither of them expect either! and it must be so healing for them to be each other’s support in the aftermath of their suffering. it must feel like regaining a limb, to have your twin brother back, your best friend. ugh it just kills me.

by the way if ya’ll are looking for fics with this premise of the two of them healing… i highly recommend any gravity falls fics by ao3 user parsnipit. perfect ratio of hurt to comfort. and they’re all about stan and ford. i think about these fics every day no joke someone save me

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 21

part 1 | part 20 | ao3

“Right?” Steve asks, scratching his head as he glances back at the door. 

“No, I meant you, dingus! What the fuck was that with you?” 

Steve feels his face go hot. “What? What do you mean?” 

She throws her hands in the air, stomping over so she can get in his face and say, “Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. Your faces” —she lifts her hands like she’s about to applaud, palms hovering an inch apart— “were like thiiis close to just…”

She claps them together, and Steve feels the blood drain right back out of his face, dread pooling in his gut as she twists her palms this way and that, like two people tilting their heads to kiss deeper. Oh, god. Oh, god. Were they—? 

“Mwah,” Robin says helpfully, mashing her hands more tightly together. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah—”  

Steve grabs her by the wrist. “Dude. Stop.” 

She drops her hands and stares at him — one of those Detective Buckley looks, combing over every inch of his soul for missed clues — and then her mouth does some horribly self-satisfied thing that he hates. “If I didn’t know any better,” she draws, “I’d say someone has a crush.” 

I’d say someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a

Steve’s gonna pass out. The words feel like bile in his brain, acidic and sharp; like puking right after chugging a glass of orange juice. It’s not like he’s— 

Look, he knows that he’s— but—

The bell dings. Thank fucking Christ. A big family group, three generations of people talking and laughing and fussing over a baby in a stroller and carrying leftovers from the Italian place down the strip. 

Steve sags in relief. 

Robin hisses in his ear, “We are so not done talking about this.”

—

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

About Eddie, about the word Robin lobbed at him like a lit bottle rocket, about any of it.

Just thinking about it is giving him a stomach ulcer and a migraine and maybe an aneurysm, too. 

He was hoping he made that obvious enough during the last hour of their shift that Robin would just drop it, but that girl has never dropped a single thing in her life. Worse than Nancy, the little bloodhound. Steve saw this documentary once about crocodiles; remembers how they can lock their jaws shut after clamping down on their prey with up to 4000 PSI of pressure. 

That’s enough pressure to cut a person’s arm off with a jet of water. 

Damn, nature’s cool.

“Steve!” 

You know who’s not cool? 

“Steve!” Robin hollers again over the song he’s currently blasting to drown her out on the drive home. “Steve, you can’t use ABBA against me like this!”

Steve ignores her protests, responds by shout-singing “DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN, OOH OOOOOH” at her in his most nasal falsetto because he absolutely can and will use ABBA against her like this, and it works like a charm. He’s pretty sure this song has, like, hypnotic power over her or something, because every time without fail she gives the answering “ooh-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-oooooh” as if on auto-pilot.

“HEY!” she shouts when she realizes what she’s doing. “No sir!” She reaches over and mashes the volume button. 

Silence falls over the car. Sucks the air out of Steve’s lungs in the sudden void; his ears adjust slowly, picking up the quiet thrum of the engine, the whispered whoosh of the wind outside. Is he ever going to get used to being kind-of-sort-of-deaf? This shit sucks.

“...Okay, look,” Robin says tentatively. She’s staring at the side of his head, and he keeps his eyes on the road; tightens his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about you, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about with me.”

“Right!” she rushes to agree. Playing along like they don’t both know that’s bullshit. “Totally.”

Steve risks a glance at her. Her expression is earnest, some full-paragraph silent communication like: whatever bathroom-floor-confessional crisis you’re having, we can leave it alone for now. We can let it stay hidden in the dark corners for a little longer; I promise I’ll put my flashlight down. 

“Totally,” Steve echoes, nodding at her. 

“Okay. Cool. Cool…”

She lets out a long breath, cheeks puffing out as she sits on her hands. Oh, my god, just spit it out. “Can we please talk about him, though?”

—

part 22

tag list pt. 1 below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow (heads up i'm not tagging any new under 21 or ageless blogs unless we’re mutuals or you dm me to verify your age. gonna purge this list when i get some free time)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[riofann]

10. tempestuous

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Monday July 4, 2022

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Yea what's up?” you turn to face your sisters 

Gia asks “You okay?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” You ask frustrated 

“Well because I just had to call you like 10 times to get you to respond” 

“I’m sorry Gia just thinking about work” 

“GOD! are they still texting you” 

“Yeaaaa” you say in a ‘duh’ tone

“Then your managers suck that's why you have managers to manage not text you all the time give me that!” she says snatching the phone from you

You reach for the phone “Hey! I need that!” 

“No! Alicia back me up!” she commands before  throwing the phone to her

“ALICIA!” you plead

Alicia moves away from you “I’m sorry sissy but sis is right”

You throw your hands up “Oh my god! You guys are killing me” 

“Look at you!” Gia points at you “you’re killing yourself.” 

You shake your head and sit down on the couch

“When's the last time you treated yourself or went on a date?” 

“Not this again” you say, this has been a recurring topic of conversation 

“No seriously when's the last time you were told you were beautiful” 

You roll your eyes “A lot of my customers tell me that daily” 

“Not your customers, your boyfriend! your man!” Alicia asks 

Gia approaches you “Listen when is the last time you got some really good dick?” 

You feel your palms sweating, “Gia really is that important?” 

“YES IT IS! we have needs too just like guys” Alicia interjects 

“Alicia! I can’t hear this!” you say covering your ears 

“No you’re gonna listen”  Gia says laying on you. “We are worried about you, and you're overworking. It was bad with one bar but now two?!”

Alicia jumps on top making you both groan “and you’ve canceled on us like 50 times!” 

“That's an exaggeration”

“Okay not 50 but every time its like I can’t ‘I'm working I cant gotta run to the bar’ ”

“I'm a busy woman!” 

“We know we also know you won’t make time for things unless someone forces you to ! You’re working too hard!”

You sigh “I promise to do better”

“We want a boyfriend for Christmas if you dont we are gonna snitch on you”  

“Nooo dont tell mom and dad” 

“Well I guess you better get to doing other shit besides working”

You groan and finally get the strength to push them off you 

“Its because we love you” Alicia hugs you 

“Yea I know” you say begrudgingly but hugging her back 

As you drive home that evening you think of the dream  you had recently. You and Rio were in his office arguing over something stupid you can’t even remember the details. Next thing you knew he was kissing you, shoving you back against the wall, and you were kissing him back! It was sloppy, not quite coordinated like it would be in real life, he was groping the same areas, some scenes kept replaying over and over, others were so vivid you could smell his cologne, taste the spearmint gum he chewed occasionally, the fabric of his shirt against your fingers. It ended when he reached up your skirt to yank down your panties, and just as you felt his calloused fingers graze up your thighs your alarm went off. Saved by the alarm! You would have liked for it to continue, because that would be the only way you were getting any. When you go to take a shower you feel the wetness between your thighs. Anyway the conclusion that you came to was you thought there was too much proximity to him and you were horny so your mind conjured him up nothing more, nothing else. 

Saturday August 13, 2022

“It's hot!” you complain as you approached Rio, once again at the country club 

“Its summer” he states the obvious 

“Yup anyway here you go” you stated dropping the bag on the floor. You changed tactics you were either dropping it on the floor/table or in his hand now by holding it with both hands on the straps instead

He shoves the bag to the side next to his duffle “It’s getting cooler though it was burning at 3” he adds 

“You’ve been here since 3? (it was 6:30 in the evening)” 

He nods “had a couple of meetings”

You nod feeling the awkward tension “want anything else or can I go?” 

He smiles, looks at the tennis court then back at you “Not gonna take me up on my offer?” 

“Offer? What offer?” You think to yourself “Oh tennis? I can't” pointing to your attire dress and heels 

He nods “I know you don’t have to work at either place so what's holding you back?” 

“Actually, stalker, I have to be at Oasis tonight so I need to get going” 

He chuckles at your stalker comment before arguing “James said he had it covered” 

“Well James is your hire and he doesn’t ‘have it covered’ because” you show the text message James sent you begging you to go in because the Andersons were gonna stop by with some friends  and only you knew how to make them happy. “I have to go in” 

He sighs with slight irritation “he should be able to manage” feeling like you were just making up an excuse 

You smile at him “He is your hire” you reiterate bringing back the memory of you telling Rio he may not be the best manager but Rio insisting 

“Let him take care of it” he argues 

“Can’t Andersons are big customers spend close to 2 grand or more every time they stop by I gotta go” you turn to walk away

“How is he gonna learn?” he continues 

You shrug and open your hands “You should have asked yourself this before you asserted his position at Oasis!”

He scoffs looking around 

“Oh look at you two! How cute! Again!” 

You both turn to face the older woman and both give her an awkward smile there's a brief moment of silence before Rio asks “Hey I’m sorry do we know you?” 

“Well I saw you two at the launch of Oasis” 

Your mind immediately remembers her “Oh how nice to see you again! Have you been back? I’m sorry if I haven’t recognized you” 

“Oh I have but you're always at the other bar Cure?” You nod “I haven't been but my husband and I plan to stop by with friends”

You give a small pout “I’m sorry I keep missing you”

She waves you away jokingly “Oh it's alright the place is still great, drinks are just the way I like them strong” You giggle “and you know staff is perfect life is still merry!” 

“That's good!” you smile 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt I just thought I would come say ‘Hi’ my name is Edith by the way” she extends her hand 

“Edith nice to meet you I’m Y/N and that's..” 

She answers “Christopher he’s in the Tennis tournament this year saw your profile” she winks 

Rio smiles

You look at your watch. “I have to go, or the manager is gonna be calling me nonstop. It was nice meeting you again Edith and next time you're there have them reach out to me I’ll stop by” 

“Okay see you later young lady” 

You don’t even think to say bye to Rio just wanting to get out of there as soon as possible 

“Boy you must have made her mad!” Edith jokes 

He laughs “something like that”

“That's alright, nothing a bouquet of flowers, chocolate, and a big kiss can’t fix! Always does the job!” She advices

He nods and looks at the older woman Edith looks at the tennis court then back to Rio “You up for another round?”  she asks

He shrugs “sure why not?”

“Good because I'm gonna smoke ya!” 

He takes a sip of his water “I owe you a round of drinks at Oasis if you do”

“Oooh more motivation!!” 

Thursday September 8, 2022

As things slowed down and the staff began closing down at Oasis you went into the office to grab your purse and go home for the night, a vow you recently made to not work past midnight. You hear footsteps walking in after you. You look back to see James standing there 

“Oh James!”, you smile at him even though he annoyed the shit out of you tonight i was just grabbing my bag

“Hey Y/N I wanted to talk to you?” 

“Yea what's up? Today was a hit right? Made a lot.”

“Yea I didn’t want to talk about that” he walks closer “I wanted to talk about you and me”

“Excuse me? I don’t follow” 

“Sorry came on too strong but I have to say it”

“Please don't” 

“You’re really beautiful and you’re an amazing woman”

“James Seriously”

“I know you’re not dating anyone why won’t you give me a chance” he says reaching to touch your cheek 

You jerked back “OH!”  You are shocked that he touched you “Don’t do that!” 

“I like you”

You roll your eyes “I know you do and I told you I’m just not interested right now it's not you its me”

“Why won't you let yourself be loved?” he asks reaching for your 

“James” you warn

He retracts “Seriously I can take care of you, make you feel good, make you feel loved

“I’m just not interested end of discussion”

“I can take care of you, you don’t have to work anymore”

“Well no that's...” 

He cuts you off “Come on” he says stepping closer to you and blocking you in as you push up against the desk “I think you’ve had a lot to drink, we’ll discuss that later but right now I need you to back the fuck up”

“Don’t be scared just let it happen” he whispers 

“James, if you don’t back up, I will shoot you.”  You declare in a flat tone 

He sucks his teeth “you wouldn’t do such a thing to me baby” he says inching closer  as you lean back placing your finger on the trigger 

“You better listen to her” You both hear from the doorway James head snaps to see Rio leaning against the door way “She will shoot you” 

James harshly mugs Rio, “cock blocker” he mumbles 

You’ve never been so grateful to see Rio “I’m going home good night!” you say moving away and walking past James 

“Text me when you get home” James says trying to stake his claim to you

“Good night James!” You say forcefully you’ve never texted him he was either really drunk today or really bold or both

“What the fuck was that about?” James asks stomping up to Rio. “I called first dibs, you knew this, You know I like her!” Rio squares up as James reaches him “you fucking up my spot now?” 

“Take your drunk ass home James before you do something that gets your ass in some shit you'll regret” Rio speaks unwavering 

“Oh you big man now?! You gonna make me regret it?!” Rio doesn't say anything he holds eye contact with him refusing to back down “Fuck you man no ones fucking scared of you!”  They both have a stare down contest before Rio snickers to himself and walks away. He had other things to do he didn't drop by for James 

“Y/N!”  you hear Rio’s voice calling to you as you speed walk to your car

“WHAT?!”  You snapped, spinning around as he was walking towards you. 2 strides and this man caught up to you. Lanky bastard “I am not working with him!” You announce “Did you see that bullshit I had my hand on my gun! I was getting ready to shoot him!”

He waves away your concerns “Don't worry about it Ima take care of it”

“By doing what “talking” to him?” 

He looks you in the eye “What’d I just say?” he responds 

You look up and rub the back of your neck. The migraine was returning  “Why are you here? What do you want?” your feet were hurting your and adrenaline was high 

“Need to talk to you” 

“About?”

“Need a favor”

You roll your eyes again “Favor before apology wow” you mutter 

“What was that?” He asks not fully catching what you said but knowing you made a smart comment 

You smile at him “What is it boss? How can I be at your disposal?” you ask sarcastically 

He drags his tongue on his lips taming the irritation from your sarcastic tone and comment “Got a gala night coming up at the country club need a date”

You scoff and roll your eyes  “Do you really need one? Just take one of the many women around you”

He smirks “Jealous?” he teases

“No! But why the hell do you want me? Don’t you have cousins, aunties or I don’t know?! Lady friends you can take?” He nods “I do but you fit the bill plus how do you want me to tell Edith we broke up?” Your eyes bulge “Did you tell her we were dating?” He smiles seeing your reaction “No but you didn’t tell her either that day or when she saw what happened on launch night” “That was your fault I was trying to move out of the way. I remember correctly you wouldn’t let me!” “So that what?  Your ex could corner you and you stand there looking like you don’t know how to tell him to fuck off I did you a favor”

You throw your hands up frustrated “I don’t get you” 

“Feelings are mutual”

“Why do you want to take me? You don’t even trust me!” you state

“Who told you that?”

You point at him “You!” you look at him unbelieving of his naivety “Every chance someone gets to lie to you telling you I screwed you over you believe them” He scoffs looking away, waving you off “why the hell would you trust me around those country club people? People I am assuming you want to impress” 

He sighs “It was a yes or no question” he asks now annoyed 

“I told you no”

“No you asked about irrelevant shit”

“Okay well the answer is no! There!” 

“Reconsider, I’ll be in touch” he says before walking away

Saturday October 1, 2022

The butterflies in your stomach might as well be wrecking balls your nerves are bad. Why? QTNA. You spent the last 3 weeks finding gala appropriate attire. Some were too much, others too little in any case you had back ups in case your highness didn’t like what you had on. 

You hear the doorbell ring and you hang your head low shaking it as you walk towards the door you had told him to text you so all you had to do was get out of the house. 

You open the door to see him standing there with a tuxedo “Nice tux” an all black tuxedo you couldn’t have predicted anything else 

He nods “clean up nicely yourself”

“Thanks, ready to go?”

He slowly takes you in before responding “mhmm” he hums 

“Okay lead the way” 

The ride to the country club was silent with old school RnB playing in the background. You were temporarily okay until you got to the club and were forced back to reality. You ran over the details you had memorized. 

You and Rio have been together for a little over a year, he owns several businesses around town. He is working on a non-profit to help families pay off medical bills. You’re just there to be his arm candy nothing else as he put it. Even though you argued over him literally getting said arm candy from the slew of women he had at his disposal 

“Ah Mr. Serraño your table number is table 5” 

“Thanks” he says, taking your hand and pulling you along into the room. When the space got too small making it hard for both of you to walk by he would go first, occasionally during that time your hand would bump against his glock that was secured around his waist. 

He stops to mingle a bit catching up with old friends/partners? You don’t know you're just here to be here. 

Eventually you made it to your table. You hated feeling like the newcomer but at least you weren't the only one. 

The night events commence shortly after  with a speech (how the club did this year, plans for next year expansion blah blah blah), announcement of silent auctions, awards, dinner and drinks. 

“Congratulations on the awards Mr. Serraño” He does something that resembles blushing but you write it off as a smile. Rio had gotten 3rd place in the single tournament and 2nd in the double tennis tournament. 

You turn back your attention to the host of the night. The drinks were good, food was good, a good change of scenery from your usual. At some point after dinner during the drinking hour and silent auction Rio excused himself. You don’t question why you just assume it was his usual running to the loo or getting another round of drinks. 

You notice he had been gone awhile when you glance down at your phone and realize almost 30 minutes had passed by. 

He returns shortly after in a huff, irritated. 

“You good?” you ask, glancing at him before you return to listen to the host not wanting to bring attention to his changed mood to your table mates. All he does is grunt frustratedly in response. 

When the host stops talking and the attention is brought back to the table for desserts/drinks/conversation. You notice Rio’s right hand and left, bruised and bloody. With the right being worse, it was bleeding and just as he finishes putting his glass down you grab it in a sly manner bringing it to your lap. 

Rio goes to pull it away but you hold it there pretending to be engaged in conversation while removing the tissue that was in your purse. You hold it firm and in a quick moment you look down at the tissue which was showing stains of red and up at Rio who locked eyes with you. 

That got him to relax enough to let you deal with it. 

When you're confident the bleeding has stopped you let his hand go and Rio takes the hint to go to the bathroom and clean up the rest. You two linger for a little before you both make your exit. You don’t know what he discussed half the night, plans for opening up another business it was all corporate jargon you just weren’t interested in. 

The car ride now is completely silent, no radio, nothing just breathing and the occasional glance at the phone here and there. 

You pull up to a strange building and Rio drives underground and parks the car. He turns to look at you and you stare back not knowing what he’s gonna say

“Gonna wait in here or upstairs?” 

“Upstairs?” you answer unsure of what the right option was

He nods and gets out of the car and being the gentleman of the night he opens the door for you again. You slowly make your way out of the car and walk beside him as he walks into the concrete building, you see number letter combos on the doors. It must be an apartment building you think to yourself. When you arrive on the fourth floor via the elevator only one door is present to you, you assume it was a penthouse unit. 

He opens the door and lets you in, “I’ll be quick just need to change” you nod “make yourself comfortable” he offers before disappearing into the hallway. 

Only  a few lights were turned on. From what you could see it was very much Rio, in some ways it resembled his office at the warehouse. Not a lot of clutter, everything seemed to have its place and served a purpose, no need for the extra fluff. As you continue to take in the space you see a few pictures of Marcus and him along with a larger picture of the greater family. Even the art framed matched him somehow. You turn to the kitchen and think to yourself either he didn’t cook or he cooked everything from scratch except for the very expensive espresso machine sitting on the counter. 

You take a few steps in and your hand grazes the back of his leather couch. It has minimal signs of being utilized. He was busy so a couch with signs of use didn’t seem right. You turn to face the hallway hearing noise coming from that end, a door closed. There were two hallways one by the kitchen the other by the wall where Rio disappeared. You want to walk around exploring his house like he has done to yours several times, you want to strip away any ounce of privacy he had left, you wanted him to feel exposed and vulnerable like he made you feel, not maliciously, maybe some ill intent involved to get back at him if you were being truthful with yourself. To even out the playing field in some sort of way. After he broke into your house the first time and you discovered he looked around you got rid of every sex toy that existed practically became celibate involuntarily. 

“I’m ready” you hear as Rio walks out with a bandaged arm wearing his usual garb. You smile at him and wait for him to approach you. “You could have made yourself a drink or sat down” he chuckles

“It’s okay, I know you have somewhere to be, don’t want to hold you up.” you say before turning to walk away towards the door. 

This time there was music on your way to your house. 

“Sooo what happened to... your...... hand?” you dare to ask after 15 minutes of driving. There's a long silence before he responds. He takes in a deep breath “Fucker moved and I punched the floor” 

“Ouch” you comment 

“Mhm!” 

“Take pain meds?”

“Mhm!”

You nod and look out the window watching as the city lights fade away as you approach the suburbs. Satisfied with his answers. 

He pulls into the driveway turning off the car before slowly turning to face you 

You feel nervous; it's not how he typically looks at you with a blank face or annoyance; there's familiarity in his gaze; he is comfortable with you, well at this moment anyway. 

You giggle nervously “You have somewhere to be”  you say before looking into your bag to find your key “got my keys and cellphone” 

There's a lazy smile on his face “ ‘preciate you joining me tonight” 

You nod, smiling “You made a good impression, they really like you.” That was the whole purpose of the night, right? 

He smiles again looking away  

“Yup well goodnight Rio” you say before opening the door

“Oh come on you wouldn’t let me open the door this time?” he asks jokingly as you step out “Oh! Slipped my mind, sorry” 

He nods stepping out of the car “well the least I can do is walk you to your door” 

You nod in response and close the door making your way towards the house, you were used to him being angry with you, you knew how to navigate around him when he was, this was different it felt like you were being studied in ways you didn’t even understand. 

You fumble slightly to open the door but you do and step in “do you want to come in?” you offer just to offer not that you really wanted it 

He shakes his head “can’t” 

“Right you have things to do, well I guess thanks for the evening I had fun hope your hand heals” 

“Yea here’s your cut” he says handing you the envelope full of money before walking away. 

Friday October 14, 2022

“Have you talked to him?” Alicia asks

“Talked to who?” “Who else?!” 

You sigh “no!” you were starting to regret telling your sisters about the faux date between you and Rio

“Why not?” 

“Well it’s more of like a ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ thing”

“Did you text him the next day?”

You look at the camera on your phone “To tell him what?” 

“Y/N!” Gia scolds 

“Whaaaaat?” You whine

“You were supposed to tell him that you enjoyed your time” she continues

“I already told him that when the night was over! He doesn’t need me to say it again!” 

“You’re supposed to remind him, to keep his mind on you!” 

You roll your eyes “Ugh there's too many rules to dating now”

“Christmas is approaching” she threatens 

“I know!” 

“Either you show up with a boyfriend or we tell mom and dad!” 

You let out a sigh of frustration “Fine! Just tell them. Tell mom and dad!” They remain quiet “What? I don’t think I will have anyone by then guys. I'm busy, I just don’t have the time and I can't ask any man to accommodate this schedule of mine. I know mom and dad won’t be happy  but hey its okay we can’t have it all” 

“That's not true” Alicia speaks up sounding sad

“Don’t Alicia” you warn “I’m not dying here, you guys are acting a bit crazy over this”

“What's wrong with wanting someone to take care of you like you do everyone else?” 

“Nothing I just want you guys to be a bit more realistic on how soon or the possibilities of that happening. But I don’t like talking about myself. I wanna hear about you guys. How are your beaus?”

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

Taglist:

@katymae12344, @yinmaggiorebass , @flirtyjen, @wnbweasley, @meadows5, @ffenthusiastt, @rio-reid-whoreee, @belezaya, @meera10, @aunicornmademedoit, @stilestotherescue, @thatoneasiagurl, @baddiereads,

[anklebitingbrat]

mdni ! 18+ this is inspired by Pencil Skirt by Pulp :3

It’s Tuesday at 5:48pm, he was over. Fiancé out of town on a work trip made this easier for you both, but the goodbye later on was hard, a lingering “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” would always fall from his lips as he stood in the hall. He would always be back, be back for you.

Anakin wouldn’t let you change from work, pencil skirt still on, blouse unbuttoned but still tucked in, he took his time, relishing in the moment. He would sit back on his knees, looking at you, slowly beginning to move the hemline further up, never breaking eye contact, a sense of teasing, a sense of power over you.

“You still miss me even when you’re with him?” it was hardly a whisper, he wanted to ask if you still loved him. You did.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Ani-” you reply, stating the obvious and dodging his question, but of course you did.

He liked when you said this, when you put up a fight. For the past 22 months whenever you would find each other again, you made a point to say this, to clarify just how wrong this had been.

But Anakin liked that it was wrong. He liked that you knew it was wrong, and still did it.

He has you bent over now, his hands running down your arched back, back up towards your hips, memorizing this feeling, he never knows when it’ll be the last. When you finally marry someone else, when you finally move away.

“Anakin, this isn’t right.”

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care because that matters in this moment is how wet you are, how you respond to him.

He’s been teasing his tip at your entrance for over a minute, slowly dragging himself back up your slit, collecting your slick on the head of his cock. He always loved how responsive you are to him.

“Anaki-”

He knew you put on this show of regret because he liked it - loved it - he loved when you’d tell him to stop. But he needed you to shut up, finally. As he thrust into you, he felt his conscience disappear.

Picking up his speed, he forced his hips into the back of your thighs, already coated in your arousal made this easy. His hands had a harsh grip on the skin of your hips, leverage to angle into you deeper, to hit you cervix, so when he’s long gone you still feel him. Anakin would always say this was a “parting gift,” “something to remember him by” when your fiancé gets back.

“Shut up, tellin’ me stop but you’re the one who begged me to be here” his voice was seething with anger, every word punctuated by his harsh and unrelenting pace.

He would let one hand go from your hip, slapping the side of your thigh, you were just so pretty all bent over in front of him, especially like this, especially when he could feel you pulsing around his length, a creamy ring forming around the base.

The anger from his comments was never towards you, he could never blame you, god, he still loved you, he still wanted you, but that diamond ring on your finger kept glinting in his eye and he couldn’t help the rage he felt.

“Pretty ring on your finger, baby, too bad he can’t make you cum, that’s why I got you bent over right now, huh?”

“You gonna call me up like this when you got kids”

“You gon’ keep on creaming on me like this forever”

He knew you couldn’t respond. Your inner guilt, but mostly because your face was pushed into the bed, soft moans being pushed out in tandem with his thrusts. But he didn’t like that.

Bending at his abdomen, never letting up on his quick pace, he’d reach around your neck, pulling you up. Your blouse open, your back to his bare chest. His mouth just behind your ear.

“Answer me” he would demand in a growl.

You could hear his pants, you could hear the desperation lacing each labored breath he let go, he wanted this just as much as you did.

But this was too messy, it was too ugly to keep going back to him like this. Your lack of response was irritating him, the hand on your neck moved to your jaw, and he craned your head towards the engagement pictures on your nightstand.

“Look at that picture and tell me we’ll always do this” your head buzzing from a lack of oxygen not even realizing his other hand was between your thighs, rubbing quick circles on your throbbing clit.

A ragged breath came from your mouth, “Yes, Anakin - yes.” You meant it, but it came out in sobs, you hadn’t meant to sound like that.

That was all Anakin had to hear, he pushed your head back down into the mattress, noticing a small tear rolling down the bridge of your nose, he loved you. He loved your body, your face, your hands, you, how wet you got, how you made him forget reality.

He wanted to make you forget about the man who put a ring on your finger. It should’ve been him. But, it wasn’t, so if this is how he got to spend his life with you, he was fine with that.

His hand landed back on your hip, other hand still toying with your throbbing bud. He had moved one of his knees up for a better angle, you’ll feel it more this way, and he wanted to show you a good time. He would die here if he could, he had to let you know.

He was high and drunk on you, he didn’t mean to let it slip, but it did.

“I still love you-”

[allastoredeer]

Hello I had this dream last night and I need to share it with you!!!

We know the whole crew is invited to the Cannibal Cookout for the weekend.

So I imagine Al is gonna let cameras take pictures of him and Lucifer, that way the headline of his relationship with the king of hell will reach the seven pentagram faster(it was showed that he can take pictures when he wants to, since vox kept one). But that also mean he is gonna be exposed for the first time in probably forever. Like he is known for his terrifying radio podcast, which means that not many ppl know about his true form, especially new born sinners. So I can only imagine the surprise of those people to see the radio demon , the scariest overlord of them all, being a cute deer with a a fluffy tail and all the package that comes with it. Also Alastor mentioned to Lucy to ‘Wear your Sunday best.”, which might imply that he is gonna wear something nice as well…

It would be hilarious if Half of hell will start simping for Alastor and downright ignoring Lucifer.

I can imagine the internet exploding with Alastor pictures and people going like 'aww his ears are moving’ or something, sinners go as far as make fan club about him, meanwhile a certain picture box is having a mental breakdown…

~Valentino: “u know u can just say it that u want him”

~Vox: “Alright alright fuck yea I do and so Does half of hell. God damn it”

Meanwhile Angel reading through the chaos Alastor just unleashed

“oh he is so stealing my job already”

Lmao

OFC In all of this Al is completely oblivious about the situation he caused, so the crew tries to keep him out the flow, to not freak him out, which it’s not hard at all, since the dude doesn’t have a phone, but he does get a bit suspicious when Lucifer makes him wear something to cover his upper body, almost as far as making him wear an hat and glasses lol(I don’t see Lucifer as being who enjoys losing himself on new trends and gossip on the internet, so Angel probably showed him a innocent picture of them, but Lucy made the bad choice to go read through the comments. Nonetheless to say he was scarred for life, and decided to take it upon himself to protect Alastor’s privacy)

Also Alastor can probably sense when someone takes pictures of him, twitching his eyes and tail but otherwise leaves it be for the sake of maintaining the charade.

This was it ehehe, I kinda felt bad I woke up from that dream, I honestly wanted to know how it ended.

Either way I can’t wait to see how u are planning to go with it. Cause I just know u are gonna make me love every second of it😆👌

thank you for listening

Ps I wrote this at 5 in the morning a week ago, and I am not sure if I already sent it to u or my mind is playing tricks to me…so I am sorry if u already got the message.

Heheheheh I love this! You have the BEST dreams. I'm so in love with most of Hell not knowing Alastor, or not really remembering what he looked like, since he's been gone (and Hell is expanding by the thousands every day, so of course there would be people who don't know him).

And so they see him for the first time and it's such a stark difference to what they were expecting XD He's developing a fan-base and Lucifer has to scare them all of (otherwise Alastor WILL murder. He will).

And no worries! I did get the ask from earlier! Sometimes, if it takes me a long time to get to an ask, that's because I want to draw some doodles for it like the pics above ^.^

[uchihaharlot]

Ok so we had a thought—well several. A simple civilian girl being plowed by Shisui 🫠🫠🫠 @shisuis-left-nipple

How rough it is even when he is being careful.

His body control, stamina, omg!!!

She can’t ask him to go harder because he would hurt her. 😩

This Drabble has to particular direction. We were going back and forth the other day and then this little number was made.

I believe he would be extremely into having someone so innocent be at his complete mercy. It is totally freeing for him, actually. No threat of an assassination or attack, no training or alterior motive, no village or clan politics, just two bodies in the throes of ecstasy. He is not usually one for power games, but somehow being completely and utterly in charge does things to him. I guess Uchiha genes do take over sometimes…

NSFW; just some Drabble on the idea of Shisui blissfully taking a civilian girl to pound town.

Civilian courage:

No matter how fucked out she is, she knows he could keep going. For hours more! Those few times his perfect control slips just slightly, she will have marks for days. On the other hand, she can just let herself go completely. No matter how much she scratches, bites, writhes under him, he just smirks and enjoys it. Encourages it!

‘Is that all you got?’ Returning her love bites and then some.

About 5 orgasms in and he is still dressed? How can someone be that good with their fingers alone! She is faintly remembering that hand signs and being adept with your fingers are a key element for jutsus, before he crooks his fingers again juuuust right and has her seeing stars. And, oh gods, her civilization body can barely keep from shaking 🫨 basically having perpetual orgasms 😭😭😭

Shaking after number six and he is now scooting down, kissing all over her body until he reaches her happy bean. He hasn't even removed his pants yet, and she starts to realize what she's in for. Poke the beast, get salaciously mauled.

She knows he is nice and will take care of her, but knowing how powerful he is and could nick her in a second makes it oh so hot. So tantalizingly good is the idea of being crushed under his weight, what would really feel like if he gave it all. To be ruined by a man that holds precedence over the entire greater Shinobi allied forces, she feels like a house of cards beneath him. There is nothing like being rammed continually over and over into head knocking orgasms.

All the while she was wholly unprepared to what lengths Shisui would go to make sure she has her fill. He is a prime specimen of man, an adonis, even among Uchiha. She expected it to be good, but not like that. Not so good to be tossed around like a rag doll, did she not think for one second that maybe shinobi men were so bored with mundane sex that they went to higher lengths to get off. No, she didn’t. Being folded like a pretzel was the last thought she had.

She comes face to face with a Shinobi's restraint and self-control, or cunt to face, really, when he has been lapping and licking and sucking at her for another hour. He just keeps on fucking her with his tongue, like she is a jumbo lollypop and he wants to reach the gooey core. Her serum coating his nose, drips down his chin. How attentive Shisui was when devouring her with full mouths haste.

She must look like a raisin at this point, there is no way she can produce that much slick without becoming dangerously dehydrated. But it can’t be that bad, she trusts he knows what he's doing and apparently he is also so, very, much, into it.

‘You’re so fucking wet for me.’ Against her sopping wet cunt as he finally untucks and strokes himself out of her peripheral. The words are hot and laced with desire, making her all the more eager for him.

Shisui sinks into her halfway for the first thrust, coating his length and running his fist to spread her fluids from mid shaft to base. Fully bottoms out the second thrust, raw and deep. Unrelenting and rough, not even trying. Not anything like Shisui would normally put out. A cry or mewl, no sound she made could be contained. Divine praise from her lips into his ears makes Shisui tick. A paper bomb rocking inside of her, pulsing. Expanding at every whimper, every contraction of her slick walls. It’s shameful she would only cum once on his throbbing cock, twice if he really tested his luck. But that’s what lip service was for, and something he excelled at. Holding her up with one arm to fuck her. Just because he can. Rugged hip thrusts, deep and long, making her cry out for any deity her lust-muddled mind can think of.

It's the first time she thinks she caught his resolve cracking for just a moment, when she works up the nerve to grip his hair and pull at his now sweaty curls. His rhythm falters just once, his hips jerking and bucking out of order of the pace he set. Interesting…

She’s so deliciously taut around him when cumming. Squeezing his cock hard, threatening to massage it out of him. Making Shisui lose his resolve and self respect for filling her stupid with his thick sticky cum. It was known practice to not cum inside of one night stands—better yet if it were a civilian. But this time, he might. Might just ‘accidentally’ bless this random village girl with an Uchiha baby.

He loooves this in particular. Because he knows she is not using any chakra to manipulate her body in any way. Because she can’t. It's all him. Because of him. For him. Her body is so pliable, flexible for a girl who doesn’t train las a kunoichi would. Bendable enough to lift her knees to chest and then ears. Allowing him to reach the deepest parts of her cunt, to scratch a particular itch she’s never felt before. The limitless stamina Shisui held over any regular man who was thinking they had brought this pleasure to her was laughable. Not when legs were shaking, heart was racing and eyes rolled shut to unwind in this elevated feeling. This hunger.

She’s nasty too. Knows exactly who’s balls deep in her, writhes for his leaking cock. “…Shisui…you can come inside me.” As if she knew and could see it in his face, “…I want you to, please.” 🫠 The vixen.

So yeah, him filling her dormant womb up with his precious creamer really was inevitable. She is so soft, so fragile, so unmarked. She is untainted by ruthless fights and the harsh reality of a Shinobi's life. She represents all that he fights for, lives for, and damn if that doesn’t make him want to ruin her even more. Soft and innocent, wholly woman in every sense of the word. The daughter of some shopkeeper would be his guess, and what on earth was she doing at a bar filled with deplorable people. People who sought out this sort of thing. Shisui was definitely doing this girl a public service by fucking her stupid for the night.

It's not out of malice or even planned, she assumes he won't, but how could she know the effect her words and body have on him. So delicate, fragile even. Him dragging his thick cock in and out slowly. Nothing she can even do about it, completely at his mercy when he does cum. It seeps around the base of his shaft, forming a creamy white ring of their mixed pleasure. Even the most productive oil rig would be out of business if Shisui was in town, his persistent dredging allowing her to cum again and clench the blissful euphoria out of his cock a bit longer. Giving this girl the show she wanted, reaming a hand around her neck as he pumps her full. Thrusting deep to the hilt and halting as the last of his genetic material spurted within her. Warm and thick.

Peppers kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Apologizing if he had gotten rough, this girl is besotted. She just bagged the hottest guy for a night. Sheepishly asks if he would want to get tea or lunch sometime. Even if just as acquaintances. Shisui isn’t an asshole, he is taking this girl out wherever the fuck she wants and paying for the entire day.

[innerempire]

(Warnings: Discussions of pissing, piss kink, Tony pissing, somewhat-under-negotiation of said kink)

Tony’s bladder is on the verge of fucking bursting, but relieving himself had been the last thing on his mind after coming home to the sight of Peter hunched over his Statistical Mathematics textbook. Kid’s wearing one of those sleep shorts with the white frills at the hem and the word princess threaded at the back, a gag gift from Sam last Christmas because he had overheard Tony’s affectionate nickname for the boy.

The simplicity of it arouses Tony and he manages to wrangle the textbook away from a sleepy-eyed Peter. He finds it ridiculous sometimes because it’s been two years past the honeymoon phase, but a languid “hello, baby” kiss is enough to spark arousal. Okay, priorities: piss first, give Peter a thoroughly good fuck, and then dinner. And more sex until Tony starts feeling like someone has rubbed sandpaper against his dick.

But Peter’s grabbing at Tony’s belt before he can move away and everything moves far too quickly because Peter’s slicking him up with lube from Tony’s secret (apparently not-so-secret if the kid can find it).

“Statistical Mathematics gets you hot and bothered, kid? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ease up there.” Tony presses Peter up against the island counter, gently kissing his nape.

“It’s fine. I already acquainted myself with that, uh…ginormous toy you got for me.” That’s enough to erase any other thoughts from Tony’s mind.

“Yeah?” He kisses that particular spot behind Peter’s ear that gets him all squirmy. “I clearly remember telling you to wait for me. Bad Petey.”

“Tony. I’m a hot-blooded 20 year old who’s finally home with his-“ Tony rests a hand on Peter’s hip when the boy reaches around to guide his cock in, the urge to urinate slamming back full force when the tip pops past the tight ring of muscles. “God, yes. So much better than the toy.” The boy sighs with absolutely delight, blissfully unaware of the torment he was putting his partner through.

That’s a massive stroke to Tony’s ego, but fuck, he can gloat later.

“Peter, I’d say I’m the luckiest man alive right now to have your gorgeous ass wrapped around my cock, but you gotta give me a minute and let me use the bathroon, baby. I’ve had nothing but water and wine today, and I can assure you I’m a minute away from an accident happening.”

He’s not sure if he’s so desperate to relive himself that he’s hallucinating Peter clenching around his cock, or if it’s because the boy is actually aroused by the idea of Tony needing to pee so badly. Tony grunts when Peter teasingly shimmies his hips backwards until he’s got the entirety of the older male’s thick girth all the way to the hilt.

“Peter.” Tony grits his teeth and internally, there’s warnning bells and flashing lights repeatedly warning him that his bladder is beyond full.

“…you can…you know-“ Peter stutters breathily, head hanging low as he rests his arms against the edge of the counter. “Do it in me.”

“What?”

Great, now he’s hearing things.

“I’m saying you can piss in me.” Peter repeats with more confidence this time round.

It’s always been on the table that it’s something they’d explore together, but it never really took priority since there were other, well, mutual interests that they dove into first.

“…Tony? No offense, but you can’t be having hearing problems at this very second.” Peter does that nervous laughter thing, even though he’s been assured one too many times that, “hey, we don’t kink shame in this tower.”

Tony really, really can’t hold it in anymore and he’s gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw’s starting to ache.

“Oh fuck.” Tony experiences a full-body shudder as the urge completely overtakes him, fingers grasping helplessly at Peter’s hips.

“Yes, come on, Tony. Use me.” Peter tips his head back, eyes glasst when he feels the first hot spurt of urine.

Tony has experienced his fair share of orgams that’s on the tier of mindblowing. Literally orgams so fucking fantastic that he once strained a muscle and had to bed on rest for a couple of days (Peter never lets him live it down).

But the sheer relief of being able to empty his impossibly full bladder, coupled by the hot silky tightness of Peter’s ass clenching around his cock, as if milking him……..Tony might actually believe in the whole concept of singing angels and Heaven at this very moment.

“Oh god, this is the hottest thing ever.” Peter’s closing his fingers around his own cock, tugging at it with jerky strokes, toes curling against the floor when whatever Tony’s spilling into him begins to trickle down the insides of his thighs. “Like, way hotter than that time when you fucked me in the backseat of your car during last year’s Stark Expo.”

“I’ll add this achievement to my list.”

[ivystoryweaver]

Jingle Bells

Summary: Santiago is a flirty cute dork and you can’t stop me

Pairing: Santiago Garcia from Triple Frontier x gn!reader

Word Count: 800

Content: fluff, mentions of Christmas songs (but story doesn’t indicate what Santiago or reader celebrate, if anything), not beta’d

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"That'll be $73.07," you mumble to your customer, waiting as she runs her credit card through the machine before handing her a receipt.

Twelve hours on the cash wrap at work, scanning grocery item after item, dealing with faulty coupons, the holiday rush and fussy customers. Your feet are sore and you're dying to get off your shift in thirty minutes.

You picked up back-to-back shifts to pay for a plumbing bill your landlord refused to cover.

"Plumbing is the responsibility of the tenant," he groused at you last week. "Read your lease."

Without even a glance, your hand reaches to scan the next customer's items.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Happy holidays," a soothing tenor voice greets you.

"Happy holida - " You trip over your monotonous reply when your eyes meet the most beautiful man you've ever seen in person.

Sparkling brown eyes dance underneath thick eyebrows, arched in playful curiosity. A sprinkling of gray dusts his dark curly hair.

"Hi," he greets you, chomping playfully on his gum, which draws attention to the curve of luscious, full lips and the sexy stubble on his chin.

"Good afternoon," you manage, reminding yourself to continue scanning his groceries.

"Afternoon?" He shoots back, nodding toward the darkened windows at the front of the store. "It's 9:15."

"Oh. Right," you sheepishly chuckle.

"Long day?" the handsome man genuinely questions.

Your first instinct is to shrug him off with the run-of-the-mill small talk that comes as naturally as breathing to you, as a cashier.

But something happens - a contradiction that has your heart tripping over itself.

His eyebrows shift curiously, like a puppy, while, at the same time, a smug smirk curls the corner of that mouth.

"Uhh, yes," you admit, pausing, "the longest."

"I'm sorry," he sincerely returns, reaching to swipe his next grocery item for you. "Must be busy this time of year."

"Oh, god...sorry," you stammer, reaching to finish up his order.

"'S okay," he shrugs one shoulder. "You gonna be able to get out of here soon?"

"Not soon enough," you joke. "If I hear 'Jingle Bells' one more time, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Hmm," he nods and then he sings, "Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleeeiigghh..."

"Nooo, please stop," you find yourself laughing. Out loud. When was the last time you laughed?

"Are you sure? Because I do all the hits. Siiiilent niiiight - "

"Oh my god," you giggle, "you have a terrible voice."

He pretends to be offended, "Is this how you treat all your customers?" The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle with amusement, letting you know he's still teasing. "Because if you smile at everybody like that, you must be the best cashier in this place."

"Could you hurry it up?" A grouchy customer behind this gorgeous man interjects, almost bouncing on her toes.

And just like that, you're deflated. This is why you don't waste your time caring. No point, no time to truly connect. Everyone is in such a damn hurry, especially this time of year.

"Sorry," you mumble, flustered as you start to bag the man's groceries.

"Hi, I'm Santiago," he greets the grinch behind him. "And this is... " he glances back at you, reading off your name tag. "Been a long day. Just trying make 'em smile. I'll get out of your way."

He flashes a stunning, yet disarming smile and the woman falters.

"Oh. I-it's okay."

"Thanks," he nods, shifting his attention back to you.

You give him the total. “Hang in there,” he winks. “Bet this place would fall apart without you.”

He leaves you stupefied, but smiling.

You can’t even remember the last time someone showed kindness and warmth to you, a simple cashier - let alone made you laugh.

The remaining 27 minutes of your shift feel a little lighter.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

One week later…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Dashing through the snoooowww…”

Your eyes snap up to find Mr. Handsome next in your checkout line.

“This is gonna get awkward if you don’t remember me.” His dark eyebrows shoot up questioningly.

“Santiago…right?” Your cheeks feel warm as he flashes you that smile.

“Guilty,” he chuckles. “I really am dying to see what happens when ‘Jingle Bells’ pushes you over the edge.”

“Don’t try me,” you laugh, scanning his grocery items. "Nobody wants me to lose control in here."

"Maybe somewhere else then," he cooly suggests, with the cutest eyebrow wiggle. "Maybe a restaurant? Or a bar? We could grab a drink when you get off?"

Your mouth drops open. "That...was..."

"Pretty smooth, right?" He grins. "Yeah, I've found that singing off key holiday songs is the way to go."

You laugh for about the twentieth time since you met Santiago.

And you go for that drink.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[yourdeluluescapist]

REDEYE | BANGCHAN X Fem!Reader.

A/N: So... I learned I'm god awful at scheduling, and the whiteboard I got didn't help at all. I'm definitely gonna try to keep up the 3 day thing, since the human alarm clock I'm related too would want it. This is like a months work i guess? I might continue this...

✧ “Control your breathing, clear your mind, and switch off the safety. Aim with not only intent to harm but also intent to kill. This is how someone as strong, as beautiful, and as ravishing as yourself protects themselves. Especially from all the filthy men who’d dare try to touch my beloved. Mhm, that’s how, just like that. Good girl.”

Warnings: Mafia, fingering, light murder, guns.

WC: 2111

---

Satin black, hugs the waist, and plays into your hourglass figure. Channie had picked the perfect dress for you. It screamed class and authority, displaying the strong woman you were. Followed with a pair of black heels and an expensive chained purse made with gold. Your black ensemble was there and thriving because of the woman who wore it. And Chan knew you were the only one for it, the only woman who could make something so simple, so plain and empty. Only accentuate your aura more and more until it spreads like pheromones.

You stared at this outfit that was laid out for you on your bed by the maids, thinking about when's the last time you’d laid out an outfit for yourself. The lavish life he’d provided you was amazing. But it always felt weird. With all this fortune, came the right of not having to do most things. Since others just did it for you. It felt as if it was false solace. Business was the only thing  keeping you busy, and when it wasn't you were with chan, cuddling with chan, or loving chan. 

You basically revolve around chan nowadays, and thanks to him. This life of riches and sovereignty was real even if it was built with blood illegality. You were already accustomed to that life, and he simply gave it to you the way you knew normal.

But now, business has been on its uptake, more clients willing to deepen your pockets to reduce the earth’s population and more drugs that need moving. Meaning it was a mafia's heyday for profits.

Though, with the added work and illicit moving, that meant an advent of increased danger arose. The only important part being,

It’s become sooo dangerous, even for you pretty women. Had to get their hands dirty in the case of  “self defense.”

Chan, obviously aware of that fact, decided that it’s high time for you to learn to shoot a gun. With him as your teacher, and you being a quick learner. The method of concept, method, and exposure would make this quick and easy.

After you got dressed in this empowering outfit, you stood in front of the mirror in quiet admiration, though the outfit was basic. It had class to it, a certain chique if you will. You liked the look even though it isn’t as flashy as what you're normally accustomed to.

Distracting you from yourself, You felt a vibration from your phone in your purse that hangs near your side, reaching for it and checking who had texted you. 

It was Chan.

Chan|Y/N

Amor, did you wear the dress I sent for you?

Mhm, it’s wonderful. Hugs my body perfectly, my love.

Perfect. Remember, it’s a special day today. 

Yes, yes I’m aware mio. It’s only your fifth time reminding me.

Don’t get smart with me. 

Oh I can get as smart as I want too channie, no gun of yours could scare me, you wouldn’t hurt me even if I begged you too.

Whatever.. See you in five, you know where. 

Mhm. I’ll be there. Love you. 

Uhuh.

Say it back, Chan.

Love you too, bitch..

That’s better, I’m overjoyed you came around.

There’s a possibility of pigs flying before he’d understand that he can’t threaten you, you made it clear that the same threats to those little grunts of his doesn’t make you get down and suck his dick till he’s satisfied. You could do that if you wanted, but it all fell on you, and it always will.

You had to be in the basement's firing range in 5 minutes. You wondered what his sadistic method would be, since he always. For some reason, had a kink for it.

_ _ _

The sounds of bullet casings dropping to the floor and metal colliding with the steel targets echoed around the range, a sound you’ve grown used to being there for Chan when he decided to practice his shots. Chan had always been a good shot, but business called for him to improve more and more. Until it was perfect.   

You notice Chan leaning on a wall, his bodyguards not too far from him. It looked like he was waiting for you in the most sour way possible. Noticing that, you decided to make your way over to him to see if he was ready, and to figure out what his sour expression was for. 

“Channie.” You cockily dragged your words. 

“Oh hey baby, you're early.” His sour expression seemed to fade away as he stopped leaning on the wall and stood upright.

You threw yourself into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his back and resting your face on his chest, “Did you miss me, my love?” You asked in a muffled, yet gentle tone, comfortable as you melted into your man’s arms.

“You know I did.” He wrapped an arm around your waist and the other clasped your head that’s laying on his chest.

He gently kisses the top of your head, getting a whiff of your fragrance and letting a satisfied groan, “You smell great, sweetheart.” He mentioned.

“Mhm, I appreciate the verbal reviews.” You let out a slight snicker.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Unfortunately.. I thought I wouldn’t have to since I was but a pretty woman that’s spoiled rotten. Not shooting people for protection, we have bodyguards for all that bullshit!” You whined, distasteful with the fact you had to learn something that should’ve stayed unimaginable.

“It has to happen, my love. Shit’s getting dangerous now, bullets are flying everywhere like the air we breathe. I’d be destroyed if I had to get the news that you caught one.” He wept, his grip tightening around your waist in what seemed to be an expression of his worry.

“Chan it’s okay, I get your point.” You let out an awkward, yet worrisome laugh. Tightening your grip in response since you knew it affected him.

“I just need to at least know my baby is able to defend herself in case of a situation like that. Meaning, I wanna be the one to teach you.” He explained to you in a somber tone.

His unexpected sweet and worrisome tone caught you off guard, you weren’t ready to see him get all mushy and fragile like that. Deep down, you knew he noticed you were joking, but he couldn’t hide how much he cared for you, bringing out a warm smile out of  your muffled face.

You pulled your head off of his chest, your arms still locked around him and said, “Then, would you like to teach me so we can keep it to others being the bullet sponges?” You release one of your arms from his back, lifting your hand up to his and resting it on his cheek. 

“Yeah right, sorry.” He uses his hand to gently take your hand from his face. Let's head over to the range.” He consented.

“Okay, my love.” You unhook him from your clutches, taking a couple steps back to release yourself from his embrace and give him space. 

You grabbed his unattended hand and began to walk and guide him over to the range.

After you made it to your section of the range, Chan handed you a gun embroidered in silver. Your Initials, Y/N engraved on the entire barrel of the gun.

“Oh shit, is this for me?” You ask in a slight stoic tone, not completely since your moral compass decided to make yet another terrible entrance and is now making you question. If you should be happy for a gun or not. It didn't matter, he was never fun anyway.

“Mhm, it was made personally for you. If you hafta defend yourself, You oughta be sexy and stylish.

“This is why I love you.” You gently smiled

“I love you too, baby. But now I need you to focus,” His voice went low, stern, and most definitely assertive. You could already tell that he was about to shoot orders at you and you just had to try your best to follow.” 

“First, Plant your feet firmly on the ground and get a good grip on the gun.” 

You assumed a strong stance and gripped your gun with vigor.

“Next, line your sights with the target until it’s a clear shot.”

You line the sights with the target in front of you, until you had a clear shot. 

“Now, rest your index finger just shy of the trigger and brace your hands..” 

You rest your index finger mere inches away from the trigger, and you braced your hands for whatever came next.

“Lastly, curl the trigger and let it fly.”

You curled the trigger. A loud bang and a harsh, violent force slamming into your hands following after.

“Holy fuck, that was loud. And my hands are tingling like all hell now.” You put down the gun and turn to Chan while trying to catch your breath, winded from the force.

“Forget all that, you hit him straight on the money!” Chan exclaimed, proud of you for hitting the target.

“Him? What do you mean, him?” You shoot a suspicious eyebrow to him, confused now realizing you never paid attention to what the target was.

“Oh baby look! You got a headshot  on him.” He started to lean on your shoulder and pointed towards the target you had hit.

You turned your head to where he’d been pointing, to notice it wasn't a normal target, it was a man with a bag over his head. Completely tied up from head to toe with his mouth gagged with a rag. At least, that was before he was lying on the floor with a pool of blood streaming from the hole in his head because of the bullet.

“Oh my god, Chan…. That was maybe the most twisted idea you’ve ever had.” You gasped, a bit uncomfortable by the methods.

“Sorry, I just had to prepare you for how it is.” He apologized in a somber manner, not regretful of his actions.

“It’s okay, I get it. Just a little off the grid is.” You mellow with him, understanding that sometimes normal isn't the best option.

“Okay, but for something more on the grid. I planned to reward you for doing so well.” He said, a smirk forming on his face.

“Oh? And how would you th-” 

He had cut you off by pinning you to the nearest wall and immediately started to kiss your neck, the kisses getting deeper and rougher the more he continued his barrage.

He pauses his lovely attack on you for a brief moment to say, “Since you pulled that trigger so well, I wanted to treat you like a trigger.” He hints in a seductive tone, going back to kissing your neck and playing a moving hand on your thigh. 

Wasting no time, that hand never strayed from its course, pulling up the hem of your dress and beginning to caress in between your legs. 

You could tell where this hand's goal was, and you werent gonna even try to stop its advances, since its goal was already drooling for it.

“Just do it, Chan, treat me like a barrel.” You submitted to him, happy with whatever he’d do to please you.

Hearing that, he stopped teasing you and immediately went to your vagina, rubbing two fingers across your labia and eventually inserting those same two inside you. 

“Don't stop, Chan.” You panted relentlessly, since he never stopped kissing your neck and he only added more to the load.

He began to kiss your neck harder, and curl his fingers that were inside you. He was going like he was trying to set a record making you cum. And with the way those curls got faster, and your arms wrapping around him. He was definitely setting something new. 

He only got more passionate the louder you got. He didn’t care if the guards could see or hear them, it really only turned him on more. He knew that this was his palace and he could please you whenever, and wherever the fuck he wanted. 

But not after too long, he went as hard as possible, and his reward. Coated the entirety of his hand.

“Are you proud of yourself, Channie?” You said, absolutely blown out from his actions. 

“Not really, I was simply pleasing what’s mine.” He said in a cocky tone.

“Mhm..” You leaned in towards his face and stole a kiss from his lips.

You always loved how he’d do things, it’s just something sweet, then something pleasurable. It was great being his.

[werepuppy-steve]

strawberry wine

real life has got me feeling stressed and uncertain so, naturally, i started thinking about a previous fic, which can also be read here

The kitchen’s dark, save for the light above the sink. Steve is elbow deep in soapy dish water when the radio on the china hutch behind him clicks on, a soft country ballad trickling into the quiet space. Arms wrap around his waist and Steve huffs a laugh as he reaches for the dish rag to dry his hands.

He turns in Eddie’s arms and is met with an expression that’s so open and full of love. It still catches Steve off guard sometimes, still not used to being loved by someone who proudly shows all of his emotions on his sleeve.

Eddie takes Steve’s hand in his as they sway in the dim light. Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder and closes his eyes, letting him take the lead.

I still remember

When thirty was old

My biggest fear was September

When he had to go

The lyrics are like an arrow in Steve’s stomach. He grips Eddie’s shoulder tighter and presses closer to him as they continue to sway in the slow circle. Eddie just rubs a soothing hand up and down his back.

A few cards and letters

And one long distance call

We drifted away

Like the leaves in the fall

Doesn’t mention the tears seeping through his shirt or the way Steve’s shoulders wrack with silent sobs. Eddie presses a kiss above his hair and holds him tighter while he croons softly.

Strawberry wine and seventeen

The hot July moon, saw everything

My first taste of love

Whoa, bittersweet

“I don’t want you to go,” Steve admits against his shoulder, feeling a bit like a child throwing a tantrum. He thinks he’s allowed to be a little selfish when it feels like his whole world is being ripped away from him.

Robin’s transferring her community college credits to a state school after her gap year ends and the kids are a month away from graduation and starting their own college journeys.

Corroded Coffin’s been noticed. Their gigs at The Hideout have been growing ever since Eddie’s name was cleared and the murder charges were dropped and there was an actual scout at their last one. Talked to the band and showed them a pretty picture of fame and fortune.

And a way out of this cursed town.

And Steve? Steve has no idea where he’s headed in life. He gave college a try three separate times after Vecna and dropped out each time after a semester. Too stupid to understand what his professors were talking about and unable to keep up with the workload while also working full time.

What good is he if the world isn’t ending? If he isn’t being the protector, the body they need when shit goes sideways (it always goes sideways.) His parents were at least kind enough to pay off the mortgage and cover the utilities for at least a year before they fucked off to God knows where, but once that’s up? Family Video only pays so much and he’s definitely not being paid to drive the brats around every weekend.

“I know,” Eddie says, because they’ve already talked about it. The band’s been invited up to Chicago to meet with label executives next month to let them hear some samples of their music, and that means the possibility of signing a contract and finally getting their big break.

Steve is so, so proud of him.

He’s also so, so lost.

They’ve stopped dancing. Eddie is still running his fingertips along his spine comfortingly. Steve sniffs and pulls back just enough to look at him. His boyfriend has opted for a flannel over a band t-shirt today. Steve fiddles with the collar and doesn’t meet Eddie’s concerned eyes.

“But you have to go.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “I can’t hold you back from something you’ve waited your whole life for.” He gives Eddie a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Corroded Coffin is your baby.”

Eddie cups his face and frowns. “You’ll always come first, you know that, right? Even if I’m on the other side of the world, as soon as you say the word, I’ll come right back to you.”

Steve does know that, and it scares the absolute shit out of him. Being loved so completely and unconditionally. It’s been almost three years and he’s is ashamed to admit he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to wake up and realize he could do so much better than a washed-up has-been who peaked in high school.

For him to realize that Steve Harrington isn’t actually a good dude after all.

But he wants this thing with Eddie to last longer than three years. He wants forever with him and he can only hope that Eddie wants the same. So he swallows down his insecurities and self doubt and leans into Eddie’s space, pressing their noses together and taking the lead of the dance this time.

“I promise not to call too often, then.”

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