#and yeah look forward to hearing about it!

[urmum-lovesme]

Toxic!Rafe when he gets jealous. . .

The night had been a blur of music and laughter, a house party filled with people she didn't really know. Y/N was just being polite, talking to the new guy in town- someone whose family her parents had mentioned working with- and she felt like she had to. Her parents had spoken about how nice the guy’s parents were, so Y/N did her part, listening to him babble about things that didn’t matter, keeping the conversation going.

She wasn’t flirting, just being nice.

“So, have you lived here your whole life?” Logan asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Not much changes around here, but I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.”

Logan chuckled, “Good to know. So, what do people even do for fun?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but something in the air shifted- like the atmosphere had thickened, weighed down by a force she couldn’t ignore. She knew before even turning her head.

Rafe.

Her eyes flickered across the room, and there he was- leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at her. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his fingers flexing at his sides.

He was pissed.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she quickly looked away, refocusing on Logan. “Uh, well, the beach is a big deal here,” she said, trying to push past the way her pulse had suddenly started to race.

“Boating, parties, stuff like that.”

But even as she spoke, she felt Rafe’s eyes burning into her. She glanced back and he was still staring, but now his expression had darkened- his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitch. She knew that look. Her breath hitched as he suddenly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Shit.

She excused herself quickly, barely even hearing Logan’s response as she pushed through the crowd, her heart hammering. She knew better than to let him leave like that.

She called out to him, but he was already halfway to his car. Her heart started to pound, a cold knot of dread forming in her stomach.

“Rafe!”

She called, jogging after him. He didn’t look back. By the time she reached the car, he was slamming the door shut with a force that echoed through the quiet street. Without thinking, Y/N grabbed the handle and yanked the door open just as he was starting the engine. She could hear the engine rev, and the headlights cut into the darkness as his hands gripped the wheel. “Rafe, please wait,” she said, her voice shaky,

“I- I was just being polite.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

He didn’t even look at her, his voice flat and laced with venom. Her heart pounded harder, her hands trembling as she slid into the seat, buckling her seatbelt as quickly as she could. She could feel his anger radiating off of him, thick and suffocating. He wasn’t going to let this go easily. As he slammed his foot on the gas, the car jolted forward, tires screeching against the pavement. Y/N’s grip tightened on the handle of the door, the fear mounting inside her. The street passed in a blur as they drove down the road, and Y/n couldn't stop herself from gazing over at the speedometer,

“Rafe… slow down,”

She said, her voice shaky but firm. She could hear his heavy breathing beside her, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. “You think that shit was funny?” His voice was low, seething.

“You think you're funny, huh? Talking to him like that?”

Her stomach twisted as she realized what was happening- he was high. She could see the haze in his eyes, the way his pupils were dilated. The anger was consuming him, and she was at the center of it. “Rafe, please,” she said softly, trying to calm him down.

“I was just talking to him. I didn’t do anything wrong, you know I’d never-”

“-no,” he interrupted, his voice cold and sharp.

“You were being a cheating fucking whore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, the sting of his words cutting deep, but she wasn’t surprised anymore. He’d said things like this before. He always did when he was angry or high. Still, hearing it from him again hurt like hell. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I wasn’t—”

“The way you smiled at him? The way you touched his arm?”

“I didn’t touch him, Rafe”

She responded, voice rising. She bit the inside of her lip, she’d never touched the boy, she knew she didn’t. She cautiously looked at him, he looked enraged, that almost psychotic look in his eye, she knew exactly why he was imagining her actions, exactly why his pupils were so blown.

“Bullshit,” he growled.

“I saw it.”

His laughter cut through the car like a blade, dark and humorless.

“I do everything for you, and this is what I get?”

His voice was shaking now, not with sadness, but rage. His knee bounced restlessly, fingers drumming against the wheel in a twitchy, coked-up rhythm. He was spiraling, completely lost in his own head.

“You’re so fucking ungrateful, Y/N. Do you even realize what I do for you? Huh? DO YOU!?”

Her throat was tight, hands trembling in her lap.

“I keep you safe, I give you everything I have.”

He let out another sharp laugh, shaking his head.

“And you just—what? Smile at some random guy like I don’t fucking exist?”

He sniffed sharply, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. His pupils were still blown wide, making his normally piercing blue eyes look dark and dangerous. He was wired, running too hot, unable to slow down.

“You like the attention, huh? That’s it, makes you feel good? You like making me look like a fucking idiot?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak and he angrily spat out.

“Because that’s what you did, Y/N. You made me look fucking stupid.”

His voice was shaking now, but not from hurt. From rage. From pure, untamed fury.

The speedometer climbed and the road outside the window blurred. The car shot forward, and her heart slammed in her chest. She could see a deer in the distance, its eyes glowing in the headlights.

Her stomach dropped.

“Rafe, slow down, you're gonna hit it,” she pleaded, voice rising in panic.

“Yeah? So what?”

He didn’t slow down. She could feel the terror creeping into her chest as she began to beg.

“Stop, Rafe, please- what are you doing?”

But instead of slowing down, he pushed the pedal harder. The car sped towards the deer, and Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat.

“Stop! Please—”

At the last second, she reached out and grabbed the wheel, swerving the car to avoid the deer. The tires screeched in protest, the car veering off course. She could feel the panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins as Rafe’s hand jerked the wheel back into control; the range rover came back onto the road, but the air was thick with fear. She was crying now, her hands trembling, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“Please, Rafe. . . you're scaring me.”

He didn’t answer at first, the tension in the car suffocating, until he suddenly slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a sudden stop, throwing Y/N forward so hard that her seatbelt snapped tight across her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands flew to the dashboard, bracing herself against the impact. Her ears were ringing. Her heart was racing. The silence that followed was suffocating. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she turned, terrified, to look at Rafe.

He sat completely still, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were bone white. His chest heaved, his nostrils flaring with every sharp inhale and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. She could feel the rage rolling off him in waves. She whispered, voice barely there.

“You’re scaring me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

And then- he moved the action so sudden it made her breath hitch. His hand shot out so fast she didn’t have time to react. Fingers wrapped around her jaw, hard. Y/N gasped, her head snapping toward him as he forced her to look at him. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Don’t ever- ever -fucking do that again, d’you understand me?”

He growled, his breath heavy and uneven. Her heart thudded in her chest, fear and adrenaline mixing with the sting of his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, the tears streaming down her face now. She nodded frantically, the words caught in her throat.

“I said” he repeated, his voice cold and booming in the silence of the car

“D’YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!?”

“Yes- yes! I hear you”

Y/N barely managed a nod, the words caught in her throat as she whimpered out. He let go of her face with a sharp shove, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, her head snapped back against the seat, leaving her gasping for air. Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as she tried to steady her breathing.

And then—

BANG

His fist slammed against the steering wheel.

Y/N flinched.The sound echoed through the car, raw and violent.

“You fucking embarrass me like that again, I swear to God—”

He cut himself off, breathing heavily, Y/N sat frozen, her heart hammering, her body still trembling. He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before a small sound rang out in the thick air of the car.

The click of his seatbelt.

He leaned over towards her causing her to stiffen and soon the slow creak of the glove compartment opening was heard. A rush of nausea hit Y/N’s stomach, her body locking up as the air turned suffocatingly thick around her. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t want to look- she knew she shouldn’t look but she did and that was when she saw it.

The gleam of cold metal in the dim light.

Her breath hitched so sharply it felt like a blade to her lungs. A noise- small, fragile- escaped the back of her throat, but it barely filled the silence. The fear was instant.

Crippling.

Her fingers dug into the seat, her nails pressing so hard into the leather she thought they might tear through. She knew she should move, open the door of the car and just get out, but her throat had closed up, her body locked in place by something deeper than terror- helplessness.

Rafe didn’t even look at her at first.

He sat there, fingers running over the handle of the gun like it was something precious, something sacred. The weight of it in his palm seemed to calm him, his chest rising and falling in an almost steady rhythm. His expression was unreadable and then- he turned his head, eyes met hers with that cold, calculated look. The kind that made her stomach drop, the kind that told her he wasn’t just trying to scare her. The gun was heavy in his grip, the black steel gleaming under the glow of the dashboard lights. It looked too big, too real, like something that shouldn’t belong in a moment like this.

Then- he clicked the safety off.

The sound sent a jolt through her body and a small, broken sob tore from her throat, her entire frame shaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. But Rafe? He barely blinked, his movements were slow.

Deliberate.

She hoped that he was just trying to intimidate her, scare her so she would shut up, but when he raised the gun her prayers stopped. Her stomach plummeted and a desperate, breathless noise pushed from her lips, her body tensing so hard it hurt, but she still couldn’t move.

The barrel of the gun was cold when it pressed against her forehead.

Her breath stopped. The pressure was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to make her entire world stop spinning.

Rafe studied her.

Watched the way her body locked up, how her chest barely rose, how her lips parted just slightly- like she was afraid even breathing too hard would set him off, it was as though he enjoyed it. Some sick and twisted part of him liked having control over her, having her so powerless.

His thumb brushed lazily over the trigger.

“I do everything for you”

He murmured, voice low. Soft. Almost gentle. It was like he wasn’t holding a loaded gun against her forehead, like he wasn’t watching her fall apart right in front of him.

“And this is what I get?”

Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink, she was so terrified.Tears slipped down her cheeks, her vision blurring, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. She wanted to beg him, to scream in his face, to move and run.

But she couldn’t.

Rafe tilted his head, still watching her, eyes following the tears that slid steadily down her cheeks, some dripping off of her chin, others rolling down her neck. Studying her, he pressed the cold metal against her skin slightly harder.

“Tell me who owns you.”

Her stomach twisted violently as he opened his mouth. The words sent a deep, horrible kind of dread crawling down her spine, settling in her bones like lead. She tried to breathe past it, but her lungs weren’t working. Her hands clawed at the seat, desperate for something- anything- to ground her, but there was nothing. Rafe’s thumb brushed over the trigger again and her breath hitched sharply.

“Say it”

He ordered, yet his voice was ironically calm. Cold. Y/N’s lip quivered, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Her throat was so tight she could barely choke out the words.

“You do”

She finally whispered her voice shaking. Rafe’s lips twitched. A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corners as her wide pleasing eyes looked at him.

“That’s right.”

And just like that—

The gun disappeared.

Like it was never there in the first place.

is it bad I lowkey have a thing for psycho season 2 Rafe...

[goatgoesmbe]

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, open ending

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant colonel's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence 

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled. 

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ‘im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking  the cotton  even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were  pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that  Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside  you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making  Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe  they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery,

[st7rnioioss]

can u do bsf!chris taking off inexperienced!reader's virginity?

BSF!CHRIS TAKING INEXPERIENCED!READER'S VIRGINITY

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬... smut!!, fluff, softdom!chris, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), kissing, swearing.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟ the air and atmosphere in chris’s room was all hot and cloudy. every breath felt heavier than the last one, the close proximity of the two of you making it hard to breathe.

you were sitting on top of chris. it all sort of happened so quickly neither of you got to comprehend it—but here you were, on top of chris, your tongue gliding over his while mindlessly reaching and touching his chest, gripping his shirt.

chris’s focus was everywhere else than on the movie playing in the back, long forgotten. he was way too busy trying to kiss the best he could. his hands were everywhere, but mostly resting on her hips which were starting to jerk forward.

“chris, can.. can we go further with this?” your voice was quiet and meek, almost too shy to ask.

you’d gone over the topic of sex with chris a couple times, and you always said you’d know when you were ready, because you wanted to—mostly you wanted it to be chris, not someone else. you let him know of that.

chris’s eyes widened at the question you just asked to casually, but he didn’t want to dwell on it, so he nodded. “o-okay.. i mean, are you sure you want to, it’s not just the heat of the moment?” his voice was soft, his lips plump and hands caressing your sides. “no, i’m sure chris, i’m ready.” your words were like honey to him, delicate and sweet while you avoided his eyes.

his hands cupped your face, finally making you look directly at him. “are you sure?” you nodded slowly, staring back at him with an soft smile, almost not there. swiftly, he kissed your forehead, before he started to take off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor next to you. your legs were already straining from being on top of him for so long, so you shimmied away.

you watched intently as he got undressed, almost forgetting about your own clothes, quickly discarding your shirt. “um, chris?” you spoke up, meeting his eyes once more. “what’s up?” you sucked in a breath, staring at his bare chest you so desperately wanted to feel and kiss at like usually. “is it’s okay if i keep my bra on?” chris stared back at you, offering you a sweet smile and a nod. “yeah, that’s- that’s okay. don’t worry.”

you nodded again, quickly going back to unbuttoning your pants, messily pushing them down your legs and ankles so you were left in your underwear. chris was too left in only his boxers, the two of you sitting with a good distance on the bed.

“okay, just lay back for me,” he instructed, shuffling closer to you, watching as you got into position. “is this okay?” you whispered, your hands awkwardly resting on your stomach while staring up at the man on top of you. “it’s perfect,” he leaned over you, both hands next to your head. “if you want me to stop, just say the word, okay? or slap me, or just-“ he laughed, watching as you broke into a giggle. “okay, i’ll slap you.”

he chuckled along with you, slowly shifting further down the bed, his hands following down the sides of your arms. chris’s eyes met yours, and when you nodded he gently rested his hands on your knees to spread them apart. he never wanted to look away, your panties already sticky and damp, a patch forming on the fabric.

“holy shit..” he whispered to himself, his palms smoothing up your inner thighs, before his thumb stroked the wet fabric. a moan slipped from your lips, and in pure embarrassment you slapped a hand over your lips. “hey,” he said, looking back up at you. “i wanna hear you.”

with red cheeks and a shy smile, you removed your hand from your mouth, letting it thread through his hair. “that- that felt really good,” you mumbled, making chris snap back out of the trance he was in. “yeah? d’you like it?” he couldn’t help but smirk, letting his thumb continue to carefully rubbing.

another pathetic whimper slipped, and before long you felt his slender fingers hook under the material of your panties. “tell me to stop if you need to..” you rolled your eyes with a groan, growing impatient. “chris, i just need you to touch me, i’ll let you know!” you whined, making him smirk. “okay okay, sorry.”

your panties met the floor with swift movements while chris admired the naked sight of you. his hard dick was already straining against his jeans, bucking his hips into the mattress. “you’re so fucking wet already,” he looked at your soaked folds, glistening and slick. his thumb ran down your walls up to your sensitive bud, making a moan rip from your throat and fingers tighten their grip on his hair.

“touch me please, it hurts..” you whimpered, your hips grinding into his weak touch. chris quickly reached for your leg, throwing one of them over his shoulders with a gentle touch. his fingers returned to your pussy, his middle finger making its way to your slit while his thumb rubbed slow circles on your clit. “keep going chris..” your voice was weak, but loud enough for him to hear your pleading.

chris slowly entered his finger into your hole, his eyes stuck on your face to watch your reaction, and he nearly came in his goddamn pants from the sight of your jaw dropping, eyes rolling back, and back arching. your walls fluttered around his finger as he slowly retracted it, before pushing it back it. “does it hurt? at all?” his words were soft and gentle, keeping his pace slow. “n-no, it feels really good,” you shook your head, your mind enveloping the feeling of his touch.

chris smiled, carefully adding another finger to your dripping pussy, emitting a moan of his name from your lips. his eyes were stuck to your cunt, watching you clench around the two digits pumping in and out of you easily from the slick coating his fingers. “c-chris i think i'm gonna cum,” you whined, only moaning louder when his pace on your clit sped up, immediately releasing around his fingers.

“you’re doing so good, so perfect for me..” he whispered, listening to the sweet noises you let out shamelessly, pulsing around his fingers. he was quick to withdraw them, popping them into his mouth to lick off your slick. “taste so perfect too..”

within a few seconds, his boxers were throwing on the floor, his hand next to your head, the other one lining his cock up with your walls. “it might hurt a little..” he mumbled, but slowly aligned his leaking tip with your walls, his sticky precum mixing with your precious release. “it’s- it’s fine, just go slow please..”

and he did—chris slowly pushing the tip of his dick inside your drooling pussy, watching your face scrunch up in discomfort. “o-ow, that hurts like hell,” you whimpered, fingers digging into the skin of his shoulder to steady yourself from slipping out of reality. “sorry, i’m sorry,” he kissed your lips gently, stilling his movements. a minute or two later of kissing and comforting, chris stuffed more of his length into you.

his free hand grabbed grabbed your breast, still clad in a bra. “you’re so fucking right, oh my god. you feel s’good.” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut when he plunged most of his length into you. your own eyes screwed shut as well, pain striking through your body momentarily, before it subsided into pleasure in the matter of a few minutes.

“you can move, i think,” you weakly murmured beneath him, making his hips stutter and eyes open to look down at your pretty, pink face—now your eyebrows were knitted up in pleasure, lips parted, and eyes still pinched shut. “f-feels good,”

chris nodded with a laugh, the knuckles of his hand grabbing the sheets next to your head, turning white. you wrapped your legs around him to press him closer when his hips started moving, pulling his cock almost all the way out, before thrusting it back in. with every buck of his hips, the painful stretch of his cock spreading you open felt more and more pleasurable, sending your mind into a frenzy with a loud moan. you were squeezing around him, your nails clawing at his broad shoulders for some sort of stability.

“harder p-please. harder chris,” you let out a cry, feeling his pace pick up gradually. chris let out a breathless laugh at your wish, but he didn’t hold back from stuffing his dick harder into you with every thrust. “you like this, hm? tell me how it feels being fucked by your best friend,” his words caused you to let out a guttural moan. it was a half-lie, because just as much as he was your best friend, he was your boyfriend too—but yet his words sent a particular chill down your spine, making you clench around his cock.

“g-good.. s’good..” you pathetically mumbled, opening your eyes to look up at him, his face flushed and forehead glistening. the sight was enough to make your legs quiver around his waist, a groan followed by a whimper of his name leaving your lips. “you’re so fucking beautiful.. think you’re gonna cum?” his voice was strained and breathless, his fingers sneaking from your breast to place two of them on your clit, rubbing in careful circles while looking down to meet your eyes.

you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer with a nod, moaning through gritted teeth. “yes, oh gosh.. i’m- ah,” when he sped up his circling on your sensitive nub, you almost came immediately, the last push to send you right over the edge.

your face was twisted up in pleasure, legs closing around his waist while a moan was ripped from the back of your throat. chris was in a trance, nearly spilling his cum right into you at the sight and sound of you, his hips stuttering against your own. “fuck, i’m gonna cum too..” he groaned, leaning down to press his forehead to yours, your pants and breaths mingling. “chris!”

you were holding onto him for dear life, thighs aching and pussy fluttering around his cock with every buck of his hips, his name being the only thing both your tongue and mind could remember. it didn’t take another second for him to paint your walls with his cum, emptying himself inside of your velvety walls with a gasp.

his eyes found yours, a giddy smile taking over your lips quickly as you turned flustered. you grabbed him by his face, pulling him closer to kiss him—it wasn’t as needy and desperate as earlier. this time is was much more gentle, patient, intimate. you’d never ever felt like this, your skin prickling and cheeks burning. “i love you so, so much. that was amazing.. but i can’t feel my legs at all.” you chuckled between pants, your laugh like music to his ears while he laughed along with you.

his lips quickly found your neck and collarbones, littering and placing wet kisses down your chest. “you couldn’t love me more than i love you,” he chuckled against your skin, his hands tracing your sides with gentle fingertips. your fingers found his hair when he continued to trace kisses down your body, twirling the dark hair between your fingers. “you did so well, pretty girl. and m’sorry about your legs.”

his words caused your heart to swell, turning you a little shy and meek. “was it really okay?” your voice was small and soft, but you cut yourself off when he looked up at you. “are you serious? you did so well, so, so good. you’re perfect in every way,“ he muttered, his hands roaming your body when he leaned over you once more, his eyes close to visibly darkening. “—let me show you.. please?” his lips attached to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you when he started rocking his hips.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬... sorry if this STINKS chat💔 i lowk hate it but haha.. for the lore..

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

❛❛ © 𝐒𝐓𝟕𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ❜❜

[hardly-an-escape]

inspired by this gorgeous art by @newtkelly 🌹💕

It's just a normal Tuesday. They're about two hours out from the end of their shift and Buck is upstairs in the kitchen, finishing up the dinner dishes, when Chimney's voice floats up from the floor below.

"Hey, uh... hey Buck? I think you have a visitor."

He sounds a little weird, almost like he's trying to hide something. Buck frowns and grabs a dishtowel. "Be right down," he calls back.

He hops down the last few steps, rounds the front of an engine at a jog, opens his mouth to ask what's going on and – stops dead.

Tommy is standing in the middle of the ambulance bay, feet planted like he's expecting someone to come along and shove him out the big garage doors – and from the slightly murderous glare Eddie is throwing his way, it might be a valid concern. He's wearing a cream colored Henley and his hair is tousled, a couple artful locks falling over his brow.

But what stops Buck in his tracks – what roots his boots to the floor and makes his mouth drop slightly open – are the flowers.

Tommy's arms are absolutely overflowing with roses. There's got to be at least two dozen, maybe even three, wrapped in classic brown paper with a bright ribbon holding it closed. They're full and perfectly opened and a deep, rich red, with a handful of pink and white carnations scattered through the bouquet that, rather than distracting from the roses, just make them look even more luxurious by comparison.

"Hey," Tommy says. "Happy Valentine's Day, Evan. Can we talk?"

Buck spends at least two and a half seconds fruitlessly opening and closing his mouth.

"Valentine's Day isn't until Friday," is what eventually comes out. He can practically hear Eddie's eye roll from behind him.

One corner of Tommy's mouth lifts in a tight little smile. "I know," he says. "But this is the day I knew for sure you'd be on shift, so."

"Oh. Right," Buck says stupidly.

"These are for you." Tommy hefts the armful of roses and Buck automatically steps forward to take them. His fingers brush the backs of Tommy's hands as he does so.

He could swear he feels a spark. Maybe it's just static electricity. But Tommy's eyes widen minutely, so he must feel it too, whatever it is.

"You, uh. You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. Yes." Tommy clears his throat. Buck is intensely aware of the fact that they have an audience. Eddie is still frowning, Chim is doing a very bad job pretending he's not hanging on every word they say, and even Bobby has paused what he was doing to lean too-casually against a wall, arms folded and carefully neutral expression on his face. "I have thought... so much about what I want to say to you. I've gone around and around, telling myself if I could just find the right words, I could make you understand. And then telling myself I haven't even earned the right to try." Tommy takes a deep breath. "It shouldn't have taken me so long to get my shit together and come talk to you. You deserved better than that, Evan. But I... I'm here now."

"I'm listening," Buck says. He's glad he can hold the flowers, because he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Tommy seems to be having the same problem; he clasps them awkwardly in front of himself, then unclasps them, then goes to shove them in his pockets and seems to change his mind, rubbing them briefly against his hips instead.

"Thank you. Thank you for being willing to listen," he says. "I... I never found exactly the right words. But I know what I want to say. First, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I fucked up, and I panicked, and I just kept panicking until it felt like it was too late to do anything else. Second, there are still things I hope we can talk about, things I tried to say that night that I couldn't get out right. Stuff about my past, and questions about the future. But most important... Third. I do want a future with you, Evan. Everything you said that night, I want it so... so badly. And it took me walking out to realize that, because I'm an idiot, and a coward, but all I learned by being without you these last couple of months was..."

Tommy trails off. His eyes have never looked so blue. "Was how much I don't want to be without you," he says simply.

There's a long moment of silence. You could hear a pin drop in the firehouse. It's as if everyone in the building is holding their breath. All Buck can see is Tommy – Tommy, with his broad shoulders, and his fidgety hands, and his blue eyes, full of hope and tears.

"Can someone come take these flowers, please?" Buck says over his shoulder, without unlocking his eyes from Tommy's. Chimney comes up behind him and gently takes the bouquet from his hands, stepping back without a word.

Buck takes a step forward. And then another. And then Tommy steps too, and then their arms are wrapped tightly around each other, cheeks pressed together, and it's as if the entire station heaves a sigh of relief.

"You are an idiot," Buck whispers fiercely into Tommy's neck.

"I know."

"This doesn't magically fix the fact that I'm still really mad at you."

"I know, Evan. I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I promise."

Buck pulls back far enough to look Tommy in the eye again, and what he sees there reassures every uncertain inch of him: sincerity. Hope. Apology. Even – he dares to hope – love.

He begins to lean back in, but before he can crush his mouth to Tommy's, the bell rings – because of course it does – and the alarm squawks, calling the 118 to a house fire a couple neighborhoods over. Buck reluctantly tears himself loose and heads for the engine.

"Don't you dare leave!" he yells to Tommy, pointing a dramatic finger at him.

"I won't! I'll wait right here for you!" Tommy yells back.

Chim claps Tommy on the shoulder and shoves the bouquet back in his hands as he runs past. The last thing Buck sees before they pull out and round the corner is Tommy's smile, blindingly bright above a cascade of red roses.

[goldfades]

i miss baby hayes joe and reader so bad but do you think you can do a quick little blurb of hayes saying “ mama “ for the first time?

i missed them sm too!!! here's a little blurb babe, new fics are coming soon i promise!

It had been the ongoing debate in the Burrow household for weeks now. A friendly, but very serious bet between you and Joe—who would Hayes say first, "Mama" or "Dada"?

Joe, ever the competitor, was convinced it would be Dada. "I mean, c’mon, babe," he’d said one night, sprawled out on the couch with Hayes tucked into his chest. "I’m with him all the time. He watches me throw a football around, he hears everyone call me ‘Joe’—‘Dada’ just makes sense."

You had snorted. "First of all, I am also with him all the time. Secondly, I carried him for nine months. He literally owes me."

Joe had laughed, all smug and sure of himself, and that’s when the bet was made. No money involved—just bragging rights. The ultimate I told you so.

And now, here you were, on an otherwise uneventful Tuesday evening, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the nursery while Joe lounged on the rocking chair, tossing a small plush football in the air, Hayes babbling away in the middle of the room, completely unaware that his first clear word was about to decide a war between his parents.

"Alright, buddy," Joe leaned forward, setting the football down as he patted his hands against his knees. "C’mon, let’s say it. Say ‘Dada’—you can do it."

You rolled your eyes. "Not fair, you’re coaching him."

Joe smirked. "It’s called encouragement, honey. Ever heard of it?"

You ignored him, scooting a little closer to Hayes, who was entirely focused on a little wooden ring toy in front of him, his chubby fingers gripping at it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Hayes," you said softly, tapping a finger against the carpet to get his attention. His big, Joe-blue eyes flicked up to you, and your heart melted just like it did every single time. "Say ‘Mama.’ You can do it, baby. Say ‘Mama.’"

Joe scoffed. "That’s literally the same thing I just did."

"Yeah, but when I do it, it’s cute."

Hayes looked between the two of you, his gaze bouncing back and forth, his little brain clearly working through something. And then—

"Mama."

The room went silent.

Your mouth parted, heart stopping in your chest, and you swore you could hear the sound of Joe’s soul leaving his body.

Hayes blinked up at you, completely innocent to the life-altering moment he had just caused. Then, like he could sense your excitement, he grinned, bouncing slightly where he sat, saying it again—

"Mama! Mama!"

You gasped, hands flying to your face as you turned to Joe, wide-eyed, victorious.

Joe, meanwhile, looked absolutely betrayed. Like his best friend had just stabbed him in the back. Like he had just lost the Super Bowl.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me," he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

You beamed, reaching out to scoop Hayes into your arms, peppering kisses all over his chubby little cheeks. "That’s right, baby! Mama! Oh, you’re so smart, my sweet boy!"

Joe shook his head in pure disbelief, letting out a deep sigh as he stood up, hands on his hips. "Unreal. After everything I’ve done for you, man? You’re a traitor."

Hayes just giggled, completely oblivious, and you could not stop smiling.

"Guess what, baby?" you teased, flashing Joe the smuggest grin known to mankind.

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don’t want to hear it."

You leaned in closer, still holding Hayes tight. "I told you so."

Joe groaned, dramatically flopping onto the carpet beside you, rubbing his hands over his face before peeking up at Hayes. "You wound me, little man. Thought we were teammates."

You just laughed, running a hand through Joe’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Better luck next time, Dada."

[lady-lostmind]

GIVE A SHIT

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Dress Up

Rating: T | WC: 631

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

“This is stupid, Buckley. I look like an idiot. This is never going to work.” Eddie’s face scrunches in disgust as he stares in the mirror, tugging at the secondhand suit jacket Robin shoved onto his shoulders. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “You always look like an idiot.” She pulls Eddie to face her and wraps a tie around his neck. “You guys have been dancing around each other for too long. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Eddie scoffs. “And you think this–” He gestures to himself in his best, non-ripped black jeans, black dress shirt, and the stupid fucking jacket. “Is the solution?”

Robin glares at him while she ties the tie. “No. I think you getting your head out of your ass and actually making a move is the solution.” 

“And this is the move? Dressing like some yuppie in a suit!?” 

Robin flicks him on the forehead, grinning meanly when he yelps and rubs the sore spot. “I think actually making an effort and showing Steve you actually give a shit, is the move.” 

Eddie’s face drops. “Is that what he thinks? That I don’t give a shit?” 

Robin sighs and she smoothes out his tie. “Steve doesn’t think anyone gives a shit about him.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Even I have to constantly remind him or he gets all in his head about it and pulls away.” 

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at his ridiculous outfit with a sigh. “Do I buy him flowers?”

He glances back up and sees Robin smiling widely. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Eddie shows up at Steve’s house with a bouquet of roses, and a baggie of weed, feeling ridiculous as he knocks on the door. He wants to be with Steve. And Robin is right. They’ve been dancing around this for close to a year. But he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s not– He’s never really had a relationship. He’s never really cared that much. He’s never–

Steve opens the door, eyes going wide when he sees Eddie. “Eds, what–”

“I give a shit.” Great. Really solid start, Eddie.

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay–”

Eddie sighs, pushing past Steve and pushing the flowers to his chest. “These are for you.”

Steve’s eyes go all sparkly as he looks down at the flowers in his hand, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie starts pacing. “I’m not good at this, okay? I know I’ve probably been fucking this up, majorly, and I’m sorry about that. And I know you deserve better than a trailer trash freak but–”

Steve’s face goes soft. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I know, I know. But please, just hear me out, okay? Robin said I have a shot. And I figure she knows. And I know this–” He gestures to himself and the flowers. “Is all a little cheesy and over the top but I do give a shit. About you. I give a lot of shits about you. All the shits, honestly and–”

Steve takes a step forward. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head holding his hands out in front of him. “I know I’m probably not what you imagined for your life. I know this is–” He sighs. “I just want you to be happy. And I think that maybe– Maybe I can make you happy. If you give me a chance.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh and Eddie’s heart sinks. “Are you done?”

Eddie stops pacing in front of him, his body slumping in defeat. He knew this was a bad idea. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Steve smiles, wide and cocky as he strides forward. “Good.” He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in close. “Because I’m going to kiss you now.”

[lmvari]

⟳ 03. FALSE HOPE

No reply. You shake your head and rub your temples, setting your phone face down and trying to focus.

And then, barely fifteen minutes later, a familiar figure slides into the seat across from you. Kuni, hoodie loose over his frame, hair still slightly damp like he left his dorm in a hurry. A cup of coffee and a bag of snacks land on the table between you.

You blink at them. Then at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He shrugs, nudging the coffee toward you. "You look like you’re two pages away from losing your mind."

You don’t take it immediately. You steady your breaths, grounding yourself to reality and not letting your thoughts stray from what is actually real.

You tell yourself it’s just coffee. Just your favorite snacks. Just Kuni, showing up unannounced because he feels like it. And yet, something about it sits in your chest, unsettling.

"Seriously," you murmur, staring at the cup instead of him. "Why are you here?"

He leans back in his chair, watching you. "Dunno." A pause. Then, a little softer, "Just figured you’d need a recharge."

Your fingers curl around the cup before you can stop yourself. It’s warm. Comforting. A contrast to the cold pressure in your head from hours of studying.

He noticed these things.

Kuni’s gaze drifts over your notes, your scribbled notes and highlighted texts. He doesn’t comment on the mess, just tilts his head and studies your face. "You sure you don’t wanna take a break?"

"I can’t."

"You look like you need one."

You scoff, tearing open the snack bag. "Yeah, well, I don’t have that luxury."

He just watches you again, unreadable. "It’s late. Continue studying at home.” He ponders for a but before casually adding, “Or at my place. It’s closer.”

You freeze, fingers tightening around the edge of your textbook.

Of course. Of course. You should’ve known. Kuni never just shows up. Never just does things for no reason. He always wants something.

And yet, for a moment, for just a second, you thought maybe…

No. Stupid.

You force out a laugh, shaking your head. "Right. And I’m sure we’d get so much studying done there."

He raises an eyebrow in confusion at the sharpness in your tone. "What do you mean?”

You push your notes into a neater pile, trying to steady yourself. "Nothing." You don’t look at him when you add, "I still have a lot to do.”

Silence. You expect him to call you out, to tease, to say something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just exhales, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. He waits for a few minutes before making a move to stand up.

"Fine," he murmurs. "Don’t overwork yourself, moron."

You hate that you almost believe there’s no ulterior motive behind it.

Yeah, leave because you’re not getting what you want.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

NOTE what do you guys think about my writing style? i’d love to hear out your thoughts and if i need more improvement <3

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie e @vi0let-writes @tomsishere

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Chapter 1: I Was Just Getting Coffee, and Now I’m a Therapist for a Demon King?!

Synopsis: One minute, I’m fighting a vending machine for coffee. The next, I’m the therapist for Zarvath, the Demon King who’s one bad day away from obliterating the realm. His mental health’s a mess, and I’ve got nothing but my psych degree and questionable life choices to fix it. No pressure, right?

It all started with a vending machine.

Not some magical, glowing vending machine that dispensed ancient relics or cursed snacks. Nope. This was the regular, broken vending machine in the breakroom at work, the one that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me.

I just wanted a cup of coffee. One measly coffee to help me survive another session with a client who swore Mercury in retrograde was the reason her life was falling apart. I was dangerously low on caffeine, and without it, I was one minor inconvenience away from shouting at inanimate objects like she did.

But the vending machine had other plans.

It ate my dollar. Then, just for fun, it ate my life.

I gave it a light smack. Nothing violent. I’m not a monster. Just a small “I’m watching you” kind of tap.

That’s when the vending machine decided to electrocute me.

There was a bright flash of light, a weird sound like a thousand cats sneezing at once, and then….nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a throne room.

I lay flat on a cold, black floor, staring up at a ceiling covered in glowing runes and what I really, really hoped were fake skulls. Around me were creatures straight out of a heavy metal album cover, demons with horns, glowing eyes, and questionable fashion choices.

In front of me sat a seven-foot-tall demon with glowing red eyes and a crown made of actual fire. He was lounging on a massive black throne, sipping something from a skull-shaped goblet like this was just another Tuesday.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one?”

The one what?!

I sat up slowly, still trying to process the fact that I was very much not in my office anymore. My first thought? Hallucination. Second thought? Maybe I’m dead, and this is some weird afterlife punishment for all the times I lied about liking kale.

“Answer me, mortal!” the demon barked. “Are you the legendary mind healer we summoned?”

Legendary mind healer? Was he talking about a therapist? Did I just get isekai’d to be a demon king’s therapist?!

“Uh… yeah. Sure. That’s me,” I said, adopting the time-honored strategy of when in doubt, agree.

The demon who I later learned was Zarvath, the Demon King of Darkness leaned forward, his eyes glowing brighter. “Excellent. My armies may be unstoppable, but my mental health is… fragile.”

Oh. My. God.

One of the demons, a nervous little imp cleared his throat. ��Lord Zarvath, we were supposed to summon the most powerful mind healer in all the realms. Are you sure we got the right one?”

Zarvath frowned. “Do you doubt my summoning rituals?”

The imp shook his head so fast I thought it might fly off. “N-no, of course not! But… they don’t look very powerful.”

Rude. I may not look like much, but I’ve survived family holiday dinners, passive-aggressive coworker emails, and clients who believe crystals can cure broken bones. I’m tougher than I look.

“I may not have magic,” I said, crossing my arms, “but I’ve got a master’s degree in psychology and plenty of experience dealing with difficult people. You want therapy? I’m your person.”

Zarvath tilted his head. “Master’s degree? In… psychology?”

“Yeah. It’s a degree that qualifies me to help people process their emotions, manage stress, and develop healthier coping mechanisms.”

Zarvath narrowed his eyes. “So… it’s a form of magic?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like… mental training. But instead of using spells, I help you talk through your feelings and reframe your negative thoughts.”

Zarvath crossed his arms. “Sounds like sorcery to me.”

The imp leaned closer to Zarvath, whispering loudly enough for me to hear, “Master, perhaps it’s some kind of mind enchantment?”

“It’s not enchantment! It’s cognitive behavioral therapy!” I said. “There’s science behind it!”

Zarvath nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “Hmph. Whatever it is, if it can stop me from obliterating the next hero I meet just because they irritate me, I’m willing to try.”

He leaned back on his throne, considering me carefully. “Very well. Prove your worth.”

And that’s how I found myself sitting on a demon-sized couch, preparing to give my first therapy session to the Demon King of Darkness.

I wasn’t sure how I got here, or how I was supposed to survive in this world… but one thing was clear: this Demon King needed serious help. And if I played my cards right, I might just live long enough to give it to him.

[tovibeornottovibe]

Club Rats

Azriel x Fem!OC

Azriel and Merrin have been meeting in clubs for months now. Sometimes, they ditch Rita's for dinner, and most of the time, they end up sleeping together. It's better than relying on the skills of strangers, and they like each other, probably more than either of them would admit. This time, they drink far, far too much, make some regrettable decisions that get them thrown out, and share a moment more intimate than they ever have before. [2.7k words]

warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of spiking and Azriel not taking that as seriously as you should!, self-destructive behaviour, mentions of sex (no smut tho), Azriel being the rude, snarky, imperfect male that he is (not towards the OC, to everyone else)

Prefer to read on Ao3? [this is a series there! let me know if you want me to post those fics on here too (:]

“Azriel.”

He looks up. The sound of the sea washes over him as he sits there, legs hanging off the edge of the dock, with his thigh brushing hers. His wings feel like deadweight, like his muscles aren’t even connected to his body. She’s settled in the crook of the right one, and every time she breathes, her shoulder nudges him where he wants her to put her tongue.

It’s maybe four-in-the-morning. He doesn’t know. They got kicked out of Rita’s not more than an hour ago. Merrin bashed in some male’s teeth. Azriel bashed in his jaw. His shadows won’t tell him why she did it, and he doesn’t know why he helped. 

For the briefest moment, he remembers that they might have banned them for it. He huffs out a laugh.

Both he and Merrin are very, very drunk. He’s not entirely convinced they didn’t get spiked. It should concern him, but they’re both suffering, and that’s a comfort. 

They’ve been trying  to convince each other that they were just in this for the sex for the past few minutes. They like each other, but it’s just release, you know?

Head heavy from the alcohol, he cranes his neck forward to look at her face. He distinctly thinks she is the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and guiltily goes through why she’s prettier than Elain. It’s totally unfair and he knows thinking about it makes him an asshole. Merrin’s hair is a nicer colour and she lacks the etherealness of High Fae that unsettles him. She fits better in his arms; she’s tall enough that he can rest his chin on her head without bending down when they embrace, and when they’re in bed, he can tangle their legs together and she can settle into the curve of his body without issue. Of course, these things were fantasy with Elain.

He swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

She hesitates and something in his gut twists, like he can tell she’s about to say something serious. 

“Are we—are you happy?”

For some reason, that makes him laugh. It’s a horrible, bitter, broken kind of laughter. It’s utterly without warmth. He hates it, actually.

“No,” he says, and it’s true. “Are you?”

She offers him a smile. “Not at all,” she says. “What a fucking pair we make, eh?” Something inside him recoils at the thought of her putting herself at his level. Giggling, she presses her forehead into his shoulder and clutches his forearm where the scars on his skin meet the unmarred flesh. Then she sighs. “Gods,” she says like she’s just discovered the secret to life, “you’re actually an important person, and you’re miserable.”

“It’s not all cocktail parties and fountains of champagne,” he says.

“No,” she laughs. “You torture people for a living.”

Though he stiffens, not even that can knock him out of whatever it was they drank. Feeling him tense, she shifts so her chin is resting on his shoulder, and she laughs again when she sees the look on his face.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she says. “That’s kinda fucked, right?”

It’s stupid that it makes him feel good. It’s stupid that he likes hearing that. Some days, he doesn’t think it bothers him either. And yeah, that is kinda fucked. He kills people for his brother. A lot of the time, they probably don’t even deserve it. Yet, here he is, with the most gorgeous female in the world, drunk off his ass with her, and she doesn’t care that he tortures people for a living.

“It is,” he says. “Really fucked.”

Merrin grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, and he lets her because he wants her to touch him. All of the time. He thinks about her so often that one day it’ll probably get him killed, but if he goes out with her on his mind, he’ll consider it a pretty decent way to die. Cassian would throttle him for saying that. Rhys and Feyre too. Mor would look at him like he’d lost his mind and call him an idiot.

Merrin would make a joke and smile at him.

“I don’t think we’re fucking tonight, Azriel.”

He hums in agreement. “We’re not in a state to do that anyway,” he says, “but I would if we were.”

“I would too.” She goes back to resting her cheek against his shoulder and he can smell the shampoo she uses. Gently, she rubs circles with her thumb on the back of his palm. It’s probably more intimate than they have ever been in bed and the feeling runs up his arm and into his brain. He traces her reddened, bloodied knuckles. “Wanna just sleep?”

He raises a brow at her. “Together?”

“Literally. In the same bed. Just sleep.”

“...Okay.”

“Come on then,” she says softly, pulling herself up more gracefully than the amount of drink in her system should allow for, then she’s tugging him up too, despite the fact that he’s heavier. With the amount of force it takes, she almost loses her balance and tips backwards, but he catches her at the waist. “Back to mine?”

In response, his shadows languidly start to swirl at his shoulders. They’re objecting to the presence of her cat, but the chances are that it’ll be asleep, or otherwise outside, since it likes exploring the city in the early hours of the morning. 

Raskal meows at the bedroom door at inconvenient times: sometimes when they’re asleep; sometimes when they’re in the middle of something else. It’s so achingly domestic that Azriel can’t even be annoyed. Merrin always comes back after letting Raskal out and buries her face into the crook of his neck, clings to his torso like he might disappear if she didn’t. She blames it on the cold, but she’s from the Winter Court and never gets chilly. If he’s awake enough, he pulls her on top of him and cards his hands through her hair, usually in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

Hand-in-hand, they stumble back through the city to her apartment. Merrin makes him crouch down so she can pet a stray cat for what seems like half an hour, but it’s really only for a few minutes. Passersby stare at them and look away when he glares. No one will mention what they see, not to the rest of the Inner Circle; that’s asking for trouble, and the city has had enough. 

He has no idea why he’s letting her do this with him. They aren’t together. They’re club rats who keep finding themselves in each other’s company and more often than not, they end up sleeping together because they trust each other and it’s easier than gaining the attention of a stranger. 

Though, recently, they’ve been ditching Rita’s for dinner, and he’s glad because these days he’s eating less and less when he’s in the House of Wind. Merrin takes him to little bistros he knows only by name. He brings her to fancy restaurants and she always laughs because they look so out-of-place with her in slinky, little dresses and with his lipstick-stained cheeks that the High Fae actually turn up their noses. She once ate a whole meal with her fingers to really push it, and they couldn’t kick them out because he’s a member of the Inner Circle. Things like that are why he likes her company. She’s so unconcerned about what other people think of her in the way that the rest of his family pretend they are. 

She’s a smart person. She understands that people assume things about the nature of their relationship, about her, and about him, even though they know nothing. More than once, she’s been called a whore, and, more than once, he’s scared someone shitless for it. And she doesn’t care. Not that she should be ashamed, but Azriel isn’t certain that Merrin ever feels shame for anything she does. Regret, maybe, but not humiliation. 

People, the ones whose opinions are worth listening to, like Merrin. She’s compassionate and generous and she can make even him roar with laughter. She isn’t those things because she wants approval for them, she just is. It’s so rare that he meets someone who has no ulterior motive, who speaks their mind and says what they want with no caveats.

Azriel can’t tell if he’s in love with her or if they’re just friends who fuck sometimes. If they’re really friends at all. He doesn’t know which of those things he even wants. He knows that he likes holding her hand. Likes the sound of her voice and that his heart stutters sometimes when she laughs. He could sit and listen to her go on tangents about anything and everything for hours on end. 

Her choice of dress tonight is driving him insane: the black velvet hugs her curves and it barely reaches her mid-thigh. Open at the back, the expanse of her smooth skin that he has dragged his hands down countless times teases him. He wants to pull at the curls in her hair.

When they’re in bed, he’s almost insatiable. He’ll stay between her thighs and do pretty much anything she asks of him. Seeing her flawless form when she punched that male earlier sent twitching heat racketing through him. But so does waking up to her making tea, wearing his shirt, humming to herself. 

It’s a lie that he isn’t happy. Here, on this random street in Velaris, with his head pounding and his legs not quite working as they should, in Merrin’s blissful presence, he’s happier than ever.

Maybe he does love her.

Would she have invited him back to her apartment just to sleep if all she wanted from him was sex?

Would it feel so normal to be with her, to recognise the scent of her even in a crowd of writhing bodies in a club, if he didn’t feel something for her? 

Is it strange that he sleeps better in bed with her curled into his side than he ever has in the townhouse? That she can chase away his bad dreams just by tightening her grip on his waist? That he hasn’t had anyone else because the thought of sleeping with another makes him feel ill?

He can’t figure it out and maybe doesn’t want to right now.

He squeezes her hand and drags her away from the stray, leading her down alleyways so they can get to the townhouse where she owns the top-floor apartment. The stairwell is in no way designed for Illyrians, so his wings scrape against the walls. She's pushing him up in front of her so he goes quicker and doesn’t have to endure the discomfort for so long. They’re definitely stamping about and waking her neighbours.

But they’ve undoubtedly done that before. He’s reminded of the time he carried her upstairs and didn’t wait until they were at her door before he pulled her underwear down. Merrin shamelessly moaned his name particularly loudly halfway up and complained in the morning that the female who lives below her might not cat-sit for her on account of disturbed sleep. He’d snickered. She smacked him in the arm.

Not tonight, he reminds himself. Tonight, they’re sleeping off whatever was in their drinks.

When her front door clicks shut behind them, he almost pins her against it and kisses her. It’s only her ducking under his arm and taking him to her bedroom by grabbing his shirt which stops him. He can kiss her in bed, he thinks. Not with any expectations. He just wants to.

“I think I lied earlier,” she says, pulling at the ties of her dress before he takes over for her wordlessly, letting her continue. “I am happy sometimes. I just don’t think I’m content. They’re different, right?” She peers over her shoulder at him when his fingers still at the small of her back, the dress starting to slip off her as he nears the final tie. 

“They are,” he replies. “I don’t think I’m content either.” Then he undoes the final tie and the dress falls to the floor in a heap of black velvet. She steps out of her stupidly high heels and kicks them towards the door. 

He’s absolutely not focusing on the fact that she’s left wearing nothing but lacy, black panties. He’s not thinking about the fact she’s topless as she disappears into the bathroom to clean off her makeup. He does not care that when she comes back and he’s lying on her bed in his underwear that she picks up his shirt and drapes it around herself to sleep in.

Instead of going to her side, Merrin climbs on top of him, her knees in the space between his hips and his wings, and he instinctively curls his arm around her to pull her down to him. She’s practically pinning him down with her arms braced against the pillow below his head. Despite the Autumn chill, she’s warm.

He gets his kiss. It’s tender, slow, and without heat. Her lips are soft and he lets her push her tongue in his mouth lazily. They’re uncoordinated and a little messy, but it’s fine, he doesn’t care because it’s her. It feels like they’re the only two people in the world, like all things have led to right here, right now, and he thinks that everything that’s happened to him has been worth it. When they separate, she presses chaste, wet kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw and makes him smile. 

“What would make you content, Az?” she asks quietly.

He could say lots of things, most of them he shouldn’t admit to because they’re both still drunk and it’s a bad idea to make serious decisions when your head feels like lead. 

But…

“Just—stay there,” he says, shaking the vulnerability from his tone, sliding his hands under the shirt and settling them at her hips. He refrains from toying with the waistband of her underwear.

Merrin kisses the crest of his brow and his cheekbones. “What?” she asks, smiling when he starts to blush. “For the whole night?” He hums confirmation. She whispers against his lips, “That would make you content?”

“If I wake up with you on top of me too.” The distance between them is closed. He runs his fingers along the back of her thigh while his other hand creeps up the dip of her spine, pulling her impossibly closer until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel how her nipples have pebbled through her—his—shirt. Of her own accord, she shifts her hips a little lower until she’s sitting on his pelvis, giving him just a hint of friction. He tuts and pulls away. “What happened to just sleeping, Merrin?”

They need to rest. At the same time, he also needs to know how wet she’ll be if he sinks a finger into her tight heat. She’s always so… reactive. Learning all her sensitive spots has been a lesson he never wants to finish. She isn’t shy about showing him. 

She catches his hand before he can satisfy his curiosity.

“Just reminding you of what we would be doing if we hadn’t drunk that last bottle of liqueur,” she says, shimmying even lower so she can rest her head on his chest, slotting her legs between his thighs. 

He sighs a laugh, his eyelids suddenly heavy. “Like I needed reminding.” When he rests his free hand on the back of her head, dipping his fingers into the fine hair at the top of her neck, he feels her melt against him and fully relax. He tugs the covers and pulls them over the both of them. “What would make you content?” he asks softly, letting himself sync his breathing with the rise and fall of her shoulders, with the soft puffs of air he can feel on his pectoral where his tattoos mingle with her flaring curls. Somehow, the sight of them doesn’t make him wince as often as it used to, but he sees them more these days. Merrin likes to trace the lines of ink in the mornings.

“I don’t know,” she says, “‘suppose we’ll find out if I feel the same as you when we wake up.”

He blames the drinking, but he hopes that she does.

[alluramiura]

hyunju x animal lover reader <3

word count: 535 words

warnings: fluff, g/n reader (edit: i actually think hyunju refers to reader as “sweet girl” once, sorry 🙏), intended lowercase, i did a mass amount of projection in this one

authors note: inspired to write this by this post. i hope i did it justice. i lost my headphones so i rawdogged the writing process of this. 🥲 enjoy

hyunju is an amazing girlfriend who loves every aspect of you. she especially loves how much you adore animals.

she loves the way your eyes light up when you see people walking their dogs, immediately asking politely if you can pet them.

she loves the way you keep cat food in the house ever since you came across a stray cat that was hungry but you didn’t have anything to feed it (you cried).

she loves the way you ramble about the “animal of the day”, spewing random facts about random animals she’d never even heard of.

(”did you know that female great spotted kiwis only lay one egg a year despite having two ovaries while most birds only have one?”

“no baby, i did not.”)

she loves the way you talk about all the pets you want, a new animal catching your interest each day.

(“have you seen fennec foxes?? they’re sooo tiny and adorable and they’re like balls of energy…i want one so badly! i don’t think it’s legal in korea though…”)

(“rabbits are so cute….did you know they stomp when they’re angry? it’s the cutest thing! we should get one some day.”)

she loves the way you have tons of stuffed animals in varying sizes, in varying species of animals, all them them having names of their own.

(“good night, baby…oh wait! how could i forget snowy? could you grab her for me, hyunnie?”

…

“that’s jett.”

…

“that’s angel.”

…

“that’s—actually, i’ll just get her. thanks though, love.”)

she loves the look on your face when she surprises you with a date at the zoo, walking around with you as you point to almost every animal and tell her facts about them. she loves how adorable you look in all the pictures she takes of you posing outside the containers of various animals.

she loves how when it’s late at night and you’re cuddling together, there’s youtube videos on the tv playing from your playlist of animal facts.

(“y’know, hyunju…i know i talk about animals a lot and that i can’t possibly have a favorite, but i think i do have a favorite.”

hyunju, who was half asleep, opens an eye as she raises an eyebrow. this was news to her. you had finally settled on an animal to call your favorite? she never thought that would happen.

she opens both eyes, propping herself up onto her elbow, resting her cheek in her palm.

“really? and what animal might that be, sweet girl?” she asks softly, absentmindedly reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’ve recently been looking into maned wolves. they remind me of you, in the way they look.” you say, smiling softly as you lean into her touch, wrapping an arm around her.

she lets out a small chuckle at that. you’re so adorable.

“is that so?” she asks, wrapping her own arms around you and running her fingers through your hair.

you nod softly in response, a yawn leaving your lips.

“well, i’ll look forward to hearing all about maned wolves when we wake up tomorrow.” she says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.)

yeah. she loves your adoration for animals.

[nameless-jamie]

Reading your PA x Jamie FF has become the highlight of my day! Pls never stop posting! Can I request a FF where PA twists her ankle or sth and Jamie insists on helping her out all the time? Like carying all her stuff, carrying her up and down the stairs etc.?

At Your Service

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting, physically hurt reader, suggestive language

A/N: I love love love this request. Had so many ideas I even added a bonus in the end! Hope you like it.

It happened in the stupidest way possible.

One moment, Y/N was walking down the hallway at Nelson Road, focused on the emails she was typing, and the next, her ankle rolled awkwardly on the edge of the step leading into the locker room. Stupid High Heels...

A sharp jolt of pain shot up her leg as she stumbled forward, barely managing to catch herself against the doorframe.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath, already feeling the dull throb settle in.

She turned her head and immediately regretted it.

Jamie was standing there, arms crossed, watching her with a raised eyebrow. "The fuck was that?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, standing up straight despite the pain. "I just—"

She took a step and winced.

Jamie was on her in an instant. "Oi, oi, oi—none of that," he scolded, hands hovering like he was ready to catch her at any second. "You just went down like a sack of bricks. You alright?"

"It’s fine, Jamie, really—"

He ignored her completely, kneeling down and gently wrapping his hand around her ankle, inspecting it like he was suddenly a qualified physio. "Yeah, that’s gonna be swollen as fuck in about five minutes," he declared, looking up at her with those big blue eyes of his. "You need to sit down. Now."

She sighed. "Jamie—"

Before she could protest, he stood up and—without any warning—scooped her up into his arms.

"JAMIE!" she shrieked, gripping onto his shirt.

"What?" he said, completely unfazed as he started walking. "M’helpin’ you."

"You can’t just—carry me around like this!"

"Sure I can," he said easily. "You’re my assistant, yeah? That means I gotta take care of you. Ain’t that how it works, love?"

"That is absolutely not how it works."

"Well, it is now."

She groaned, but there was no point in arguing. Jamie Tartt was nothing if not stubborn as hell when he wanted to be.

As they made it to Y/N'S office, her ankle was swelling up, and Jamie had fully committed to his self-appointed role as her personal helper.

"Right," he said, setting her down gently in her chair. "What d’you need? Water? Ice? Maybe a cuppa?"

"Jamie, I can handle it—"

"Shush," he said, pressing a finger to her lips like a dramatic idiot. "Not another word. I got this."

Before she could argue, he was off, stealing the ice pack from the physio room and shoving it against her ankle with all the gentleness of a golden retriever puppy.

"Jamie—"

"Shh, m’bein’ helpful."

He didn’t stop there. For the rest of the day, he followed her around like a shadow.

He carried all her things—even her tiny crossbody bag. He made her tea. Yup, just hot water and sugar. AGAIN. And when she needed to go upstairs for something, he flat-out refused to let her walk.

"I can walk just fine!" she insisted.

"Yeah, nah," he said, already crouching slightly. "Get on."

She blinked. "Jamie—"

"Piggyback, babe," he said with a grin. "Hop on."

She did not hop on.

She refused.

So Jamie did the only logical thing: he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder.

"JAMIE FUCKING TARTT!"

"What?" he laughed, carrying her up the stairs like she weighed nothing. "Told ya, I ain't lettin’ you hurt yourself worse."

"I will murder you in your sleep."

"Nah, you love me too much."

She would never admit it out loud, but—maybe, just maybe—being fussed over by Jamie Tartt wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Not that she’d tell him that.

Because if she did, she’d never hear the end of it.

By the time lunch rolled around, Y/N had resigned herself to the fact that Jamie Tartt was not going to let her do a single thing for herself.

Not. One. Thing.

Not when he had practically carried her all through the morning like she was some helpless maiden. Not when he had physically taken her laptop off her desk and plopped it onto his lap instead, typing things out for her like her own personal (and highly unqualified) secretary.

And definitely not now, when she was trying—and failing—to carry her lunch tray through the cafeteria. Barefoot. Limping.

Jamie materialized beside her, swiping the tray right out of her hands before she could argue.

"I got it," he said casually, strolling toward the nearest table like he hadn’t just stolen her food.

"Jamie, I am perfectly capable of—"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted, setting her tray down before pulling out a chair for her. "C’mon then, sit."

She rolled her eyes. "You know I’m not actually dying, right?"

"You might as well be," he said dramatically, waving his hands. "Dunno if you noticed, but you’ve been limpin’ all day. Looks tragic, babe. Like somethin’ outta a sad animal documentary."

She shot him a flat look. "It’s a sprained ankle, not a career-ending injury, genius."

Jamie shrugged. "Same thing, innit?"

Before she could argue, Jamie plopped down next to her and—because he was absolutely incapable of keeping his hands to himself—stole a chip right off her plate.

"Jamie!" she swatted at his arm, but he just grinned, chewing obnoxiously.

"What? You can’t fight me for it," he teased. "You’re injured."

"You’re the worst."

"Nah, I’m proper helpful, actually," he said, nudging her. "Bet you wouldn’t even be eatin’ right now if it weren’t for me."

She sighed dramatically. "You’re right, Jamie. I would have starved to death. Thank you for your noble sacrifice."

"That’s what I’m sayin’!" he said, gesturing like she had just proven his point. "Now, go on. Eat up. Need to keep your strength up."

She huffed but took a bite of her sandwich anyway, because fine, maybe he had a point.

And for a few minutes, there was silence—until she noticed Jamie watching her, chin propped in his hand, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

She swallowed. "What?"

"Nothin’," he said, still smirking. "You’re just cute when you’re grumpy, is all."

Her face heated instantly.

"Oh, piss off," she muttered, looking away, but Jamie just laughed, absolutely thriving off her flustered reaction.

He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, teasing drawl.

"Bet you like me takin’ care of you, don’t you, love?"

She nearly choked on her food. "What?!"

Jamie grinned. "S’okay, baby, you can admit it. You love it, yeah? Me dotin’ on ya, carryin’ ya round, bein’ all sweet and that?"

She refused to give him the satisfaction.

"You’re ridiculous," she scoffed, stabbing at her food with unnecessary aggression.

Jamie just laughed again, obnoxious and way too pleased with himself.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, stealing another chip. "But you still let me, don’t ya?"

She had no good response to that.

And Jamie knew it.

Which meant she was never living this down.

SMALL BONUS:

Y/N had been dreading this moment all day.

Because of course, with Jamie insisting on carrying her everywhere like some sort of overenthusiastic prince charming, it was only a matter of time before she had to face the most humiliating question of all.

And Jamie, being Jamie, didn’t make it any easier.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearing her throat. "Uh, Jamie?"

"Hmm?" He didn’t even look up from his phone, lazily scrolling through some post-match analysis.

She hesitated, already regretting this. "I, um… I need to go to the bathroom."

Jamie immediately looked up, a slow, devious grin spreading across his face. "Ohhh," he said like this was the best news he’d ever received.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Don’t. Start."

"Start what?" he asked, looking utterly innocent—which was exactly how she knew he was about to start.

"Jamie," she warned.

"I mean," he continued, stretching dramatically, "since you can’t walk an’ all, guess that means I’ll have to carry you, yeah?"

Her entire body went hot. "Absolutely not."

"Aw, c’mon," he said, biting back a laugh. "I been carryin’ you everywhere else. Why stop now?"

"Because this is different!"

"How?" He leaned in, way too entertained by this. "You think I’m gonna just drop ya in the loo an’ run? Or you worried I’ll hear somethin’ I shouldn’t?"

Y/N groaned, covering her face. "Jamie, for the love of—"

"Bet you’re a shy pee-er, aren’t ya?" he said, grinning like an idiot.

She wanted to die.

"Shut up!" she hissed, glancing around in case anyone overheard.

Jamie, being the absolute menace that he was, kept going.

"Could always help, y’know," he said, mock-thoughtful. "Like, if you need me to hold you over the—"

"STOP TALKING."

He howled with laughter, doubling over like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to him.

"You’re such a child," she muttered, covering her face.

Jamie wiped fake tears from his eyes. "Fuckin’ hell, babe, you’re killin’ me."

"Good."

Still grinning, Jamie stood up and stretched. "Right, c’mon then. Let’s get this over with."

"I hate you," she mumbled as he bent down, effortlessly scooping her up bridal style.

"Nah, you love me," he said, way too cocky.

And, okay. Maybe she did.

But she’d rather die than admit it.

[thatguyjam]

Highschool Sweethearts - Max Verstappen

Valentines event Masterlist <3

Max Verstappen x Male!ChildhoodFriend!Reader

You and Max Verstappen grew up in the same town, and went to school together, and quickly grew close. Although you didn't cart, you would always play with max's toy cars, leading to you being his best friend pretty quickly. His dad didn't like you very much, only ever seeing you as a distraction from Max's racing, but his mom always welcomed you with open arms, just happy that you could make her son happy.

As both of you got older, Max was away for racing more and more often, and the two of you couldn't help but separate a touch. Quite a bit actually, to the point where the once inseparable friends hadn't talked in years. That was, at least just until one day when you where towards the end of high school, he showed up at your door.

"Hoi- Max???"

"Y/N!!! Y/N guess what!!!"

Max came into the house like he lived there despite not having been there for years, buzzing with energy, only stopping to politely take off his shoes and look as you expectantly

"Huh?"

"Guess what"

"What?"

"Well, guess"

"Max, I haven't seen you in ages, how would I know? You've just randomly shown up at my house in the middle of the day."

"Oh yeah, it- I'm sorry it's just with carting and single seaters getting to a high level I'm hardly even in town, and whenever I am, dad is working me to the bone, I just- I'm sorry I haven't come by as much. I've missed you a lot. If it's any consolation you're the first person I've told? Even before my dad."

"Told what exactly? We didn't really get there"

"Oh! I'm gonna be a f1 driver next year!" Jaw dropping, your eyes widen as you stare at your childhood friend. Max takes your hand and pulls you to the couch as he rambles on, "Yeah, youngest ever, even younger than Vettel was. I'll be driving with Alpha Tauri, which isn't the best of course, but it is still very good, and they said if I perform well I'll definitely have a seat at Redbull."

Your brain finally catches up with the situation as Max continues on about things you never really understood, you think you hear the name Damiel a lot and mentions of F2, but your thoughts are going too fast to be sure. Looking up, you're finally able to really look at the blue eyes that have been absent from your life for too long. A feeling in your chest that you remember from when you where a kid bubbles up again, and there is nothing you can do as you surge forward and plant a kiss on Max's rapidly moving lips. His eyes go wide, and lips silent as he processes the situation, before he clumsily kisses back.

When you pull away, those big blue bambi eyes look up at you, cheeks tinted pink as he struggles to catch his breath

"That was- That was incredible. I've never kissed anyone before"

"Never? Awww, I was future formula one driver Max Verstappen's first kiss? Cute"

An even darker red forms over his cheeks as he buries his face into your chest.

"I'm glad you're the first person I told" he mumbles into your chest, pushing you further down onto the couch so that he can properly lie atop of you.

"Me too pretty boy, me too."

banner credit to @enchanthings-a

Taglist: (comment or dm to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl

[luvst4rc0r3]

"Why did you do that?"

Jinx x F!Reader Isha x F!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Death? suicide ATTEMPT!! If you do not like than leave.

WC:2311

The hideout is quiet. For once.

Isha is curled up in the corner, tangled in a mess of blankets, her tiny chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. She’d fought sleep at first, stubborn as ever, insisting she wasn’t tired, that she wanted to stay up with you and Jinx. But five minutes later, she’d been knocked out, mumbling something about “no fair” before slipping into dreams.

Now, it’s just you and Jinx.

She sits across from you, legs stretched out, fiddling with a small gadget in her hands. The lantern flickers between you, casting soft golden light over her sharp features. Her fingers move absently, twisting wires, adjusting gears—something to keep her hands busy. Something to keep her from thinking too much.

You watch her for a while, taking in the way her blue hair falls in messy strands over her shoulders, the way her lips part slightly in concentration. She’s beautiful, in a way that sneaks up on you. Unpolished and restless, always moving, always fighting. But here, in this quiet, she’s something else, too. Something softer.

“You’re staring.” She doesn’t look up, but you can hear the smirk in her voice.

You shrug. “Maybe.”

She snorts, setting the gadget down and stretching her arms above her head, groaning when her joints pop. Then she leans back on her hands, tilting her head at you. “What’s goin’ on in that weird little head of yours?”

You smirk. “You, mostly.”

Jinx blinks, then snickers. “Damn. Must be crowded in there.”

“You have no idea.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. For a moment, neither of you speak. The lantern flickers, casting shifting shadows over the walls. The city outside hums with distant life, but here, in this little pocket of warmth, the world feels small. Almost safe.

Then, softer—“Y’know, this is kinda nice.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What is?”

“This. You. Me. Not runnin’. Not fightin’.” She gestures vaguely at the room, at the small space between you. “Just—this.”

Your chest tightens. Jinx doesn’t talk about stuff like this. Not usually. She jokes, she deflects, she throws on a manic grin and keeps moving. But right now, she’s still. Open.

You reach out without thinking, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “It is.”

She exhales slowly, like she’s letting go of something heavy. Then, before you can react, she shifts forward, laying her head in your lap.

It’s so unexpected that you freeze, but she just sprawls out, making herself comfortable. Her hair spills over your legs, and her fingers idly trace shapes against your thigh.

“You’re warm,” she mutters.

You smile, running your fingers through her hair. “And you’re exhausted.”

“Shut up.” She nudges your stomach with her elbow but doesn’t move away. “I’m just… restin’ my eyes.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

A beat of silence. Then, quieter—so quiet you almost miss it—

“You won’t go anywhere, right?”

It’s barely a whisper.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, resting your hand over hers.

“Never.”

Jinx hums, something small and content, and for the first time in a long time, she lets herself believe it.

But who knew that was going to maybe be the last family moment you guys had with each other.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The city is burning.

Smoke chokes the air, thick and clinging, the acrid scent of metal and fire pressing into your lungs. The battle rages around you—gunfire, screams, the crackling roar of flames consuming what’s left of the street. The war for Zaun is at its peak, and you’re caught in the middle of it, running alongside Jinx as she cuts through the chaos like a live wire, her hands twitching, her eyes wild.

She’s been unraveling all night. The moment she spotted Vi across the battlefield, something inside her snapped. She fought harder, more reckless, as if trying to drown out the weight of her past with every bullet, every explosion. You’d been trying to keep up, trying to keep her grounded, but it was like holding onto a storm.

And then—

Isha.

She’s too small to be here, too fragile for a war she never asked for. But there she is, standing in the middle of the wreckage, holding that hexatech gun. The sounds of battle ring around her, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t run.

Jinx sees her, and you see the way her breath catches, the way her entire body tenses like a coil about to snap.

She’s going to run straight into the fire for her.

You don’t think. You just move.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Jinx barely registers it at first.

One second, she’s preparing to sprint toward Isha—the next, you’re already there, shoving forward through the broken street, arms outstretched, calling her name.

“ISHA!”

Your voice is hoarse from smoke, from shouting, but it cuts through the chaos. The little girl flinches, finally seeming to wake up, her eyes locking onto yours.

Jinx should be moving too. She should be right there beside you. But she hesitates—just for a second.

And that’s all it takes.

The moment stretches, just long enough for her to catch it—

A flicker of blue light. A familiar, horrifying hum.

Jinx’s heart stops.

Your feet skid against the rubble as you reach Isha, arms wrapping around her small body, pulling her in—

But the explosion is already blooming.

“NO!”

Jinx lunges forward, but something yanks her back—Vi. A firm grip on her arm, stopping her from running straight into the blast.

She fights against it, claws at Vi’s hand, tries to break free—

But it’s too late.

The world erupts.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

(A couple hours before Caitlyn comes to the prison cell)

Jinx is screaming.

She doesn’t know if it’s words or just noise, raw and guttural, ripping out of her throat. The air is thick, clogging her lungs, making her eyes burn, but she doesn’t care.

All she can see is the wreckage where you were. Where Isha was. Where neither of you are now.

Her body is trembling, her breath coming too fast, too shallow. Her mind is running through every possibility, every sickening scenario. Maybe you made it out. Maybe you’re just buried under the rubble, waiting for her to find you—

But the rational part of her—the one she’s trying so hard to drown out—knows the truth.

She was too slow.

She should’ve grabbed you first. Should’ve grabbed Isha first. Should’ve stopped you from running ahead. Should’ve done something.

But she didn’t.

And now—

The realization hits like a knife to the gut, twisting deep.

She’s lost you.

She’s lost both of you.

A sob rips through her chest, raw and broken. She doesn’t care who sees, doesn’t care that Vi is still holding her back, still saying something—words she can’t hear, words that don’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

She stares at the wreckage, at the smoldering ruins of what was once a street, once a home, once a life—

And she breaks.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Jinx could still hear the explosion ringing in her ears. The scent of burning metal and smoke clawed at her lungs, but none of it compared to the sight of you—of Isha—standing right in the line of fire.

She saw it happen.

One moment, you were running toward Isha, arms outstretched, desperate. The next, a brilliant, blinding light consumed you both, swallowing your forms whole. The force sent Jinx tumbling back, her world twisting, shattering.

Then—darkness.

When Jinx woke, she was somewhere cold. Metal walls, stone floor, damp air. A cell.

She barely remembered being dragged away. Hands gripping her arms, voices yelling, but none of it mattered. Not after what she saw. Not after she watched the only two people keeping her from completely falling apart—you and Isha—disappear in an instant.

She sat curled in a corner, knees pulled to her chest, fingers gripping at her arms, at her hair, at anything to stop the aching in her chest.

“You’re the reason I’m alive, Jinx.”

“You still got us, Jinx. You always will.”

Gone.

Just like Silco. Just like Mylo. Claggor. Vi. Everyone.

Jinx clenched her teeth so hard it hurt.

If you were both gone, what was left?

Her? No. She wasn’t anything without you. Without Isha.

Her nails dug into her skin, deep enough to sting.

She had to get out of here.

She had to go home.

The old hideout felt emptier than ever.

Jinx moved on autopilot, weaving through her mess of blueprints and bombs, stepping over cracked floorboards and broken memories.

She knew what she had to do.

A single bullet sat waiting on her worktable, gleaming under the dim light.

Her hands didn’t shake as she loaded it.

She sat on the bed, gun pressed to her temple, finger tightening over the trigger.

Then—

“please don’t do this.”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even move. She doesnt think that he is real

“Always a dance with you” Ekko laughs, sitting closer, his voice urgent yet playful.

Jinx finally turns her head, her eyes hollow, almost empty. There’s something in them that shakes Ekko to his core. She’s broken, but not in the way he’s used to seeing her. Not in the manic, unpredictable way. This is different. This is cold, numb.

“It’s too late, Ekko,” she says quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “(Y/N)’s gone. Isha’s gone. I— I can’t…” Her words choke in her throat, as if saying them out loud makes them real. “I should’ve protected them. I didn’t— I didn’t save them.”

Ekko freezes, a cold shiver running down his spine. His mind races, his thoughts spinning. He had just been with them. He had just carried them back to Firelight—he bandaged them up, kept them safe from the blast. They were alive. (Y/N) was alive. Isha was alive.

“What—what are you talking about?” Ekko asks, confused, his voice breaking slightly. He steps forward, eyes searching hers. “Jinx… I—I took them back to Firelight. They’re alive, (Y/N) and Isha… they’re safe.”

She doesn’t react at first, her gaze vacant as she processes his words. Then, slowly, her lips twitch into something that could almost be a smile, but it’s nothing more than a shadow of what it should be.

“Safe?” She laughs, a dry, bitter sound that sends a chill through Ekko. “They’re gone, Ekko. They’re all gone. I couldn’t— I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t do anything to keep them safe.” She shakes her head, her fingers curling around the device in her hand again, tightening with desperate force. “And now I’ve lost them. I lost everyone.”

Ekko’s mind spins, trying to reconcile the words she’s saying with the image he has in his head—the image of (Y/N) and Isha, alive, breathing, wounded but alive. He takes a step forward, trying to keep his voice calm, trying to reach her, to pull her back from the edge.

“They’re at our hideout,” Ekko continued, voice steady, careful. “Alive.”

Jinx finally looks at him, her eyes unfocused, distant. She shakes her head again, as if she can’t bring herself to believe him. “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose anyone else.” Her voice cracks, a shudder passing through her body.

Ekko’s heart aches. He steps forward, slowly this time, not knowing how to break through the wall she’s put up. He doesn’t understand—how could she think they were gone? How could she not know the truth?

“Jinx,” he says, his voice softer now, trying to connect with her. “You’re not alone. (Y/N) and Isha—they need you, okay? They need you to be strong. You can’t give up. They’re not gone. Not yet. Not like this.”

She doesn’t respond at first. Her hands tremble more violently now, and Ekko can see the tension in her, the battle she’s fighting inside. Her eyes are raw, like they’ve seen too much to be able to trust anything anymore.

But then, slowly, she lowers the device in her hand, the metal clattering softly against the ground. For a moment, everything is still.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Ekko reaches out, his hand finding hers. She doesn’t pull away this time. She lets him hold her, her fingers curling weakly around his.

“I’m here, Jinx. You’re not alone,” Ekko says quietly. “We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out. I’m not leaving you. You’re not alone.”

Jinx lets out a shuddering breath, her body slumping against him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she lets herself feel something other than the pain.

“Take me to them,” she demanded.

He nodded. “Come on.”

Should I make a pt.2?

I want sleep

[earlgreylatte]

Nothing to Declare

You and Mark try not to sync up your breakdowns.

Watching Mark solemnly gaze at his phone, his call with Amber cut because of the ship’s rising altitude, you shift, fiddling with your camera’s settings.

“It’s not too late to back out,” you suggest, “I should be fine to go on my own. Honestly, this might be overkill.”

“No way,” he immediately refutes, looking back at you, “I’m not letting you go to a planet that’s who knows where by yourself. And, honestly? You should still be resting. You can only now just eat solids—“

You press a hand to your abdomen. It’s been months now since your dad impaled you with his bare hand and took off. If you weren’t you, you’d be killed instantly.

You brought back into reality when Mark places a hand on your shoulder, “I just mean…you shouldn’t be pushing yourself back into work so soon. You’ve been going at it for years now.”

You grimace at the reminder, “I could say the same to you. You don’t need to put others before yourself all the time. You’re missing your first week of lectures, for god’s sake.”

“It’s fine, William will cover for me,” he shakes his head.

“You better take him flying when you get back.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“You guess?”

You and Mark take a seat as you see stars shine outside the ship’s windows.

The Thraxan piloting the ship, speaks up, “Are you comfortable, Mark Gray—sorry, Invincible, Singularity?”

“Very plush seats,” you compliment.

“Yeah, thanks,” Mark responds, sullenly. “How long until we get to Thraxa?”

“Approximately six of your Earth days!” The alien informs.

You eye your brother as he sighs and slumps into his seat. “Space sucks…”

You don’t disagree.

Mark shakes you awake, you try to batt your hand at him, “We’re here. Finally.”

Staring out the windows, you immediately notice the violet colour of the planet and its architecture, maybe you’ll take a picture or two. When the planetary threat was extinguished, of course.

Exiting the ship, you and Mark find yourselves surrounded by Thraxans starting at you two in awe, whispers of excitement filling the air. You take a picture. You can multitask.

“Uh, hi?” Mark offered.

Your alien guide, leans in, “Don’t mind them! The monarch wants to meet you at once!”

Mark steps forward first, into the direction of the purple palace at the centre of the city, cubic and with waterfalls. You snap another photo as two children duck under Mark’s arm, laughter filling the air as they eagerly try to take the lead.

For a planet on the cusp of supposed doom, they sure are cheerful.

“It’s certainly tranquil here,” you murmur.

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving?” Mark questions, looking around. “What about the meteors?”

“Meteors? What meteors?”

You and Mark stop walking, and blankly stare at the Thraxan.

“The ones that are killing billions?”

“Ah, those meteors! Must be a touch of dementia, we age much quicker than you humans, you know! Don’t worry, the monarch will explain all!”

You and Mark exchange a look.

“Bro.”

Finally making your way in the Monarch’s abode, the outer-worldly architecture now filling up your camera’s gallery, you notice Mark softening at the serene aura encompassing your surroundings.

Approaching a grand and very red staircase, you observe what must be a throne like area above.

“Your Majesty,” the alien beckons making way for you, three Thraxans turning to look down at your party. “May I present Invincible and Singularity of Earth.”

You and Mark take a kneel, awkwardly lowering your heads in respect.

The Thraxans part, and your hear heavy footsteps sound against the floor. The ruler.

“Hello, kids,” A warm and agonizingly familiar voice greets.

Mark gasps and jolts up but you keep your head down for a second before slowly lifting your head up.

Your father, with his hand outstretched, smiles down at you two, “It’s been a while.”

“…Dad?”

You pull off your mask, letting it fell to the floor.

“Dad?” You call, as your brother clenches his fists next to you, breath shuttering, “Dad!”

You fly to embrace him, tears burning your eyes. He catches you, like he always does, strong arms wrapping around your form, bring a hand up to cradle your head that’s buried against his shoulder. You hear his heartbeat thump, slow and calm. You can almost pretend things are normal again.

“I…missed you two,” he admits.

Mark shouts your name, a thunder you’ve never heard in his voice before. The spectating Thraxans flinch, as Mark rips off his mask, approaching you with measured steps, grabbing you by the arm to pull you away and behind him as he stares down your father.

“This was all you? Bringing us here?” He grits out, “The Thraxans told us they needed help, but that was another one of your lies?”

“They do need your help,” your dad responds.

“Why?” He squeezes out, his grip on your arm tightening.

“It’s complicated. Come with me—“

“No, WHY did you lie to us again?” Your brother’s glare hardens, “You killed thousands of people. You nearly killed your own daughter after scaring her into silence! Who knows what else you did to her! You stuck a hand through her, like—-like she was nothing!”

You bite your lip, “Mark—“

“Why would you think we would ever want to see you again? That you would even deserve it. You called mom a pet,” his voice breaks.

“You broke her heart,” you whisper, backing away.

Your dad calls your names, “I need your help—“

Mark sighs, tired, before gesturing to the aliens standing behind your father, “And you made them lie to us?”

“Just listen—“

“I don’t need to listen to anything you say,” he retorts, turning away and pulling you with him.

“Look, I made a mistake. I thought about you two every day—“

“A mistake!?” Mark shouts, twisting around to face your father.

“Son—“

“No, you don’t get to call me that anymore!”

“What do you want me to say?” Your father looks defeated.

“You could have started with ‘I’m sorry’!”

A moment of silence passes over you.

“You know what? Don’t bother, alright? It wouldn’t mean anything anyways. I hope you like it here with your new friends,” Mark asserted, “Guess they don’t know you the way we do.”

You breathe out, “We can’t go back to how things were, dad. Not after everything.”

You follow Mark as he makes to leave, the latter glancing behind him.

“Fuck you.” Were his final words before you two took off into the sky.

You hear your father follow.

“You’ll never make it back on your own. It’s millions of miles, and you don’t know the way. Navigation was neither of yours strong suit. Come back, and we’ll talk,” your father explained, “Please.”

“And what are you going to do if we don’t? Knock out all my teeth again? Strand her in another planet with you to make a point?” he asks venomously, gesturing towards you before speeding up, you and your father following.

“I’ll get you a ship home, but there’s something you need to see first.” Your father bargains.

“No,” Mark refuses.

“Nol’Zak wasn’t lying to you, his people do need your help. Let me tell you why.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know that’s not true,” your father refutes.

“Mark,” you speak up, “If we leave now, we could risk being stranded for years or even forever without a way home. Let’s just help this planet and we can go home.”

Your brother slows to a stop with you, “Five minutes. For them, not you.”

He descends back down. You and your father hover for a moment.

“Dad,” you speak up, “If you try to do anything to Mark, I won’t hesitate this time.”

“I know.”

“So, you conquered this place, instead of Earth?” Mark notes.

“I didn’t conquer this planet, the Thraxans asked me to be their emperor.” Your father rebuffs, leading you through the palace halls before stopping at a door.

“Conqueror, emperor, what’s the difference?” Your brother mumbles.

“Consent, I guess?” You answer as you three enter a pastel coloured room, a lone female Thraxan standing within.

You and Mark watch in horror as your father… tongues her. You tried to step out of the room, but your back meets the door that closed automatically, the traitor.

The Thraxan turns to warmly greet you two, your father’s arm on her waist, oblivious to the looks on your faces, “Welcome to our home, my husband’s told me so much about you two.”

“Andressa,” your father near chides.

“What the fuck is going on,” Mark whispers, a second away from bursting.

With your back still against the door, you slowly slide down until you’re sitting on your knees.

“Did I mispeak?” Your stepmother asks as your father silently gestures for her to give you some space.

“I know this comes as a surprise—“

Your brother immediately interrupts him, “No shit, we’re surprised! What about mom?”

“I can’t go back to Earth, Mark. Not ever. That life is over.”

You and Mark stare at him, hurt, before your brother scoffs, “Alright, you’re all done with Earth. Super glad you got to show us how great your life is without us!”

You rise to your feet, “She’s still mourning you, beating herself up for not seeing you for what you really are, and you just—start over?”

You shake your head before moving a hand against the door to try to open it, Mark following behind you.

“That’s not what I wanted to show you.”

You bump your head against the door. “Fucking seriously…”

Mark whips around, “What else could you possibly mean—“

Nothing could prepare you for the sight of your dad holding a purple, but very human—-no, Viltrumite looking baby, his wife proudly at his side.

“Who is that?” Mark asks, denial etched on his face as you slowly raise your camera.

“This is your little brother,” your father introduces.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Your brother explodes as your shutter goes off, before turning to you, “Sis, what the fuck!?”

“Instinct,” you say, a little shellshocked, blankly staring at the trio in front of you.

You stare as your…new little brother coos, cradled to his mother’s chest. Mark continues to berate your father, who explains that Thraxans ages faster than humans, which is why he’s so big for what should be a newborn.

Mark shakes your shoulder before pointing at your dad, “Are you even paying attention!? He literally—-with a grasshopper! Say something!”

“He kinda looks like you,” you observe, “When you were that young.”

He stares at you incredulously.

Debbie: Who’s the father!?

Singularity, holding baby Oliver: The better question is ‘who’s the mother?’

Debbie: Oh, honey, I’ve always known—

Singularity: Excuse me?

Mark: Yeah, things are looking up, I think.

*

Donald: The Graysons are back on Earth, but Singularity seems to have a purple baby??

Cecil: The kid has a kid now? They’ve only been gone for two months!

Donald: That’s what Debbie seems to be saying right now, at least. Well, we don’t have any information on how pregnancy works for female Viltrumites—

Cecil: Listen in!

*

Mark: I can’t believe the last thing he says to us is to read his books—

Singularity: Huh?

Mark: You were passed out, and what books??

Singularity: …is Space Rider real?

*

Singularity: If anything happens to this baby, I will actually end it

*

Mark: You got a lot of nice photos when we weren’t being beaten to death.

Singularity: Yeah, I’ll probably get a decent amount for them, Thraxa is a pretty place.

Mark: What are you going to tell them when they ask where the photos are from?

Singularity: That’s the neat thing; I won’t.

Mark:

Lol, Singularity took a family photo for Nolan, instinct from doing baby showers and family photos as a freelancer…

Yes, we do see some canon divergence here with Mark being abrasive with Omni-man from the start! He literally saw his dad stick a hand through his sister’s stomach and then found out their dynamic was a lot more harmful than he could have ever known! Mark seems to hold Nolan’s actions towards others against him more than his own pain.

And, have you noticed a pattern where sometimes the eldest child will be the nicest/most forgiving to bad parents while the younger one is more unhinged? I’m the younger sibling hehe

I would describe Mark’s weakness to be his inexperience while Singularity’s weakness is because of her experience, being unable to handle violence and responsibility, starting out as a hero at such a young age. If she were a computer, she’d have really good hardware that could run Elden Ring without overheating but software from the 2000s.

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

[bitchinbarzal]

Choose Me | J Middleton

summary: you overhear something you shouldn’t and jake realises he can’t lose you over it.

-

The bar is packed, buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a big win. Jake is in the center of it all, surrounded by teammates and friends, his laugh carrying over the music. You had been standing near the bar, sipping a drink, when you heard his voice—clear as day, cutting through the noise like a slap to the face.

“Marriage? Nah, man. I don’t see the point. We’re good how we are.”

You freeze. The words slam into your chest with the force of a slapshot.

You turn to look at him, your stomach twisting as he claps his teammate on the back, completely unaware that his words just shattered something inside you.

You want to walk away, pretend you didn’t hear it, but the ache in your chest demands otherwise. So you step forward, heart pounding, and call his name.

Jake turns, still grinning—until he sees your face. His expression falters. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.” Your voice is steady, but barely.

He nods, sensing the shift in your mood, and follows you outside. The cold Minnesota air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat boiling inside you.

You round on him the second the door closes. “So, you don’t see the point?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Marriage, Jake. You don’t see the point in marrying me?”

His jaw tightens. “You heard that?”

“Yeah, I did.” You cross your arms, trying to keep your voice even, but the hurt seeps through. “Is that how you really feel?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t think marriage changes anything. We’re good, aren’t we?”

“Maybe you think that, but I don’t,” you snap. “I want to get married, Jake. I’ve always wanted that.”

His brow furrows. “Why? It’s just a piece of paper—”

“It’s not just a piece of paper to me!” Your voice breaks, and you shake your head. “It’s about commitment. It’s about choosing each other, every day, no matter what. It’s about knowing that we’re in this for life, that we’re building something real.”

His face twists in frustration. “You think I’m not committed to you? You think I don’t love you?”

You swallow hard. “I think you don’t want the same things I do. And if that’s the case… then what’s the point?”

His eyes widen, panic flickering across his face. “Wait, what are you saying?”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want to get married, then I don’t see a future here.”

“Baby, come on.” His voice is rough, desperate. “You’re really gonna walk away over this?”

You hate the way your body trembles, hate that you love him so much it physically hurts. But you can’t ignore this. You won’t settle.

“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want the same future as me.” The words taste like regret, but you say them anyway.

And then you walk away.

Jake doesn’t sleep that night.

Or the night after that.

Or the one after that.

Your absence is everywhere. The bed is too cold, too big. The apartment feels empty, hollow. He catches himself reaching for his phone too many times, only to remember you’re not his to call anymore.

And it wrecks him.

Because he was wrong. So goddamn wrong.

Losing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. Worse than any injury, any loss on the ice. And if marriage is what you need to feel secure, to feel loved, then he’s a goddamn idiot for ever making you think he wouldn’t give that to you.

He just needs to prove it to you.

It’s a week later when you step out of your building and nearly run into Jake.

Your breath catches. He looks exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, like he hasn’t been sleeping. But his eyes, stormy and desperate, are locked onto you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask cautiously.

“Fighting for you.” His voice is rough, and he exhales, pulling something from his pocket. Your heart nearly stops when you see the small velvet box in his hand.

Your lips part in shock. “Jake—”

“I fucked up,” he says, stepping closer. “I was scared. Not of commitment, not of you—just of the idea that I could lose you. But I already did, didn’t I?” His voice breaks. “And I can’t live like this. I can’t live without you.”

Tears blur your vision. “Jake—”

“You wanna get married?” He opens the box, revealing a ring. “Then let’s get married. Not because I have to, not because you’re making me—because I want to. Because if being your husband is what it takes to keep you, then I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

Your breath hitches. “Are you serious?”

He steps even closer, crowding into your space, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you more than anything. And I want a life with you. Whatever that looks like—married, kids, whatever. As long as it’s you.”

A sob escapes you, and suddenly, you’re in his arms. He holds you so tightly, like he’s terrified you’ll slip away again.

“You idiot,” you whisper against his chest. “You should’ve just said that in the first place.”

His laugh is shaky, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know. I’m sorry. Just—tell me it’s not too late.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze, then glance at the ring in his hand. Your heart swells, aching and full.

And then you nod. “Ask me properly.”

His lips curve into a slow, relieved smile. He sinks to one knee, still holding your hand.

“Marry me?”

This time, there’s no hesitation.

“Yes”

[thebrothel]

Heyyyy❤️ I’m here for the sleepover and I hope I’m not late😅 I don’t know what I’m asking for, anything honestly, but I’ve been thinking a lot about my man Nightwalks and his friendship with baby Vamp. I love their bromance so much and I’m definitely not opposed to be in that sandwich. So what if my car breaks down and it’s raining and I happen to walk to the brothel to ask for help and Nws and Vamp take me to their room to warm me up and Vamp is sweet and a little shy and Nws is 🥵🫠😵‍💫 asdfghjkl ya know, does his thing (this scenario brought me comfort when I was sick the last time🥹) I’m not even asking for smut. Just anything about these two will make me happy❤️😍

Love y’all and love you, Toxy💖💖💖

men of the night

After blowing out your tire, you pull into a sprawling, wooded estate. It's a foggy evening, and you get quite a scare. But your luck turns around when a mysterious man carries you to safety.

STARRING: vampire!Joel x f!reader x night walks!joel

LENGTH: 3.6k words

CONTENT: 18+ comfort, smut, minor injury, blood

NOTES: Love you, kate! I'm so happy these two bring you comfort. Ty ALL for your patience and support. Hope y'all enjoy this one. I do. 🩷

Your phone has been dead for a while by the time your tire pops. As your car hobbles along, you have no choice but to turn into the first driveway you see. Two big, steel gates are sitting open enough for you to pull in. Just after dusk, a dense fog has settled over the area. 

What is this place? 

You drive slowly, looking for signs of life. Someone you can ask for help, or at least to use their phone.

The road is winding. There are woods, lots of woods. When the tread falls off your tire completely, you’re still in a remote part of the complex, but you have no choice but to pull over. 

It starts raining. 

-

You get out your tire-changing supplies and you’re taking the spare tire out of your trunk when an imposing figure appears in your peripheral vision. You stare at the tire and freeze. Your heart races.  You’d know that figure anywhere. That stance. But it must be your imagination. Michael Myers isn’t stalking around some remote old estate waiting for a victim to blow out their tire. It’s probably the property owner. . . or groundskeeper. Huge groundskeeper. By the time you find the courage to look in the hulking figure’s direction, he’s gone. You exhale in relief, but then–are you hearing things, or are there footsteps receding into the forest? 

You need a minute. Deep breaths. 

Several deep breaths. Eyes closed. 

Then, back to the task at hand. 

You start using the tire jack and a sharp corner slices a hot line across the heel of your palm. “Shit,” you whisper.

You’re staring at your hand when a gentle voice some distance behind you calls, “Hey, You okay?” You jump and gasp, and he says, “Didn’t mean to scare ya, sorry.” 

You look over to see the silhouette of a man in a cape approaching. As his form pushes through the fog, you can see it’s not a cape, it’s a cardigan. He has the face of a kind professor. “Lost?” he asks, and his nose twitches. You stand up to face him, and his eyes fall on your bleeding hand. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters then yanks his eyes back to your face. He swallows and takes a handkerchief out of his cardigan then steps forward and hands it to you. “Here,” he whispers, then backs up and turns away to offer you a private moment, putting his hands back in his pockets. 

You thank him.

His adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, then he inhales through his nose and tilts his head up to the sky and mutters “Jesus.” He takes a deep breath through his mouth and composes himself, then forces a chuckle as he looks at you again. “All good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“Sorry, I’m Vahh....” his voice trails off as he realizes how strange this situation must be for you already, without knowing his condition. “Vam. You can call me Vam,” he decides. 

"Vam," you repeat, then share your name in return.

Your face is overcome with horror, but not at him. You're looking just over his shoulder, toward the woods. He turns to see what you’re looking at–who you’re looking at–Michael Myers, towering in a faded navy jumpsuit, mask and all. 

“Mike,” Vamp acknowledges the enormous slasher, then turns back to you to explain, “He prob’ly just wants to help.” 

You swallow and your eyes gaze over. You’re still staring over Vamp’s shoulder when Michael lifts up a big wrench. Your eyelashes flutter and your knees buckle under you.

“Oh, sweetheart-” Vamp lunges forward and catches you in his arms as you lose consciousness. “Oh boy,” he mutters to himself. 

Michael is still standing there. 

Vamp tells him, “Yeah–I’ll uh–you take care’a that, I’ll take care’a her.” 

Michael gives a single slow nod, then goes to the stripped tire, tools in tow. Vamp holds you securely with one muscular arm, then the other, as he takes his cardigan off and wraps it around you. “There ya go,” he whispers to you in your sleep, then scoops you up. “I’ve got ya, sweetheart.”

It's not a short walk, and vamp does his best to ignore the beautiful scent wafting from your hand. He passes the front of the mansion and no one notices, they're all watching tv together. Something exciting. A couple of them are bickering. Others are glued to the screen. For a moment, vamp wonders if he's missing a watch party, but he's far more intrigued by you.

As the road winds around back and vamp nears the joel mansion’s basement, you wake up in his arms. 

He feels your body tense as you lift your head up and ask, “Where am I?” 

“My buddy's place, he’s a real good guy, we’ll get ya dry, and warm, get ya back to your car….” 

He seems to carry you effortlessly. You can hardly take your eyes away from his face. He’s handsome and familiar. His eyes nearly glow. Is he real? Is any of this? You wrap your hands around his neck to get a better look. He presses his lips together and gives you a shy look, holding you, a stranger, in a bridal carry with his handkerchief wrapped around your sliced hand and his cardigan wrapped around your body. Your hair has gotten misty in the fog and drizzle, and so has his.  

“Who are you?” you ask. 

He exhales through pursed lips before answering, "I'm Vam, remember?” 

Your eyelashes flutter heavily again. 

“Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart” he reassures you. “You’re okay.” 

In lieu of knocking at the basement door, Joel taps it with his boot a few times. “N-dub,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb you. 

As the door opens, a man is saying, “No more edibles, man. You gotta…” but his voice trails off when he sees you in Vamp’s arms, wrapped up in the cardigan. He’s speechless. He steps out of the way. 

He’s handsome, too. You’re in a daze, but god, he's good looking, and he's got this vibe, you can tell that much. He has a joint behind his ear and his eyes are slightly glassy. The place smells of weed with a hint of patchouli and shaving cream. 

“Shit, man. Where’d you take her from?” the basement owner asks. 

“SHH!” Vamp responds. “I didn’t take her. She was stranded in the rain.”

“She okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer for yourself. 

“Michael scared her,” Vamp explains. 

“Well shit, guess we’ve all been there,” the man with the vibe says and closes the door behind you. 

You feel strangely at ease in the basement. It feels familiar, like a place you’ve been in your dreams or fantasies, but hadn’t fully visualized. At the same time, it feels foreign, like it’s a familiar place in a strange location. A little darker, maybe. A little off.  But still, the strong sense that you belong somehow.

 

Vamp sets you down in an easy chair and they both stand there looking at you, then each other.

The pothead steps forward and squats next to the chair to have a better look. He gently nudges your chin to look toward him, and keeps his hand there. His eyes soften and he bites half his bottom lip as he admires your features, then says,  “Well, god damn. . .” Then, as his hand leaves your face, his forearm brushes the cardigan and he feels the light misting of rain on it. “Let’s get you dry,” he offers, and nudges the cardigan open.

Hunger overtakes his face as he catches a glimpse of your body in your rain-soaked clothes. He doesn’t bother averting his eyes from your tits until you accidentally cough. 

Vamp reacts, “we gotta hurry, she's getting sick,” and goes to check the closet. “Where are all your clothes?” he asks his best friend. 

“Laundry day,” the basement dweller answers. “Shit.” 

You ask, “You got a robe or something?”

“Uh, yeah,” he retreats to his bathroom. 

Vamp takes the opportunity to discreetly tell you, “Hey, I think he’s kinda into you. So if he makes you uncomfortable at all…”

“I can handle it,” you smile, and you get butterflies at the thought. “What’d you call him? Indub?” you ask. 

Vamp chuckles. “That's just his initials. It's Night walks,” vamp answers. 

“First name ‘knight’?”

“No you say it like one word, nightwalks.”

“Nightwalks and Vam, huh?”

Vamp nods, then asks, “You want a bath to warm up?” 

“Uhhh… I am kinda chilly, yeah” 

He calls over to the bathroom, “Hey nightwalks? Draw her a bath while you’re in there.” 

“Do what to the bath?” night walks laughs at the old fashioned term.

“Run a bath, man. C’mon.” 

The water starts, and night walks emerges holding a silk, leopard print robe. He lets it hang over his muscular shoulder as he kneels to take your shoes and socks off. 

Vamp leaves to attend to the bath. 

You giggle and flinch as your second sock is pulled off. 

“Ticklish?” Night walks smiles, eyebrows up.

You shrug demurely. 

He prowls up the lazy chair hovering over you, then kinda hugs you, hooking one strong arm under your back. “Let’s get you outta this,” he murmurs. 

You stand, and he helps for balance to make sure you’re not too dizzy. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper, and he lets you stand on your own two feet.

He nudges the cardigan off your shoulders and it falls behind you.  His eyes scan your body then meet your eyes again. You rub your lips together trying not to flirt with him, but there’s a cheeky sparkle behind your eyes. There’s something darker but equally charming behind his. 

And there’s a calming energy that seems to waft from him to you. Comfort and desire is thick in the air. 

He begins to take your clothes off, slow and intimate as if he doesn’t know how to do it any other way. His warm hands glide over your hips and up your sides as he lifts your thin, wet shirt.

He lets you keep on the undershirt for now. Not that it makes much of a difference. 

He stares at your tits, nipples blazing through the damp, thin undershirt. No bra.

“Freeballin’,” he nods in approval. “My kinda’ girl.” 

You can’t help but giggle at that. 

He adjusts himself, making your loins buzz, then he kneels to unbutton your jeans.  As he takes down the zipper, your face heats up as you remember the panties you’re wearing - they’re printed with a she-devil whose tail points down to your cunt. 

“Oohh,” He coos nearly under his breath, “We got a bad girl here.”  

You cringe at yourself and mutter, “oh, god,” 

He looks up and doesn’t laugh. “My kinda girl,” he repeats, locking eyes with yours. 

As he takes your pants down, his hands glide down and around your hips and linger on your ass for a squeeze. “God damn,” he whispers. 

Once your pants are off, for the first time, he notices the bloody handkerchief in your hand. It had been tighter in the clutches of your fist before.  

“Oh, shit,” he comments. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little cut,” you answer and glance at it to check. “It's fine, it stopped bleeding.”

He takes the handkerchief from you and discards it on the chair. He inspects your palm. “I dunno if I got any first aid shit,” he mutters to himself. 

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure him. He holds your hand, inspecting your palm, then looks at your face again. His eyes fall on your mouth and he seems to forget what he was thinking about. He wets his lips. “God damn, you’re hot,” he murmurs. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, thinking the same about him. 

He laces his fingers with yours as he steps even closer, then he brings his hands to your waist. 

Your head tilts upward, watching him look back and forth between your eyes. 

He leans in and your lips meet. 

There’s a spark, more of a spark than you’ve ever felt, and he must feel it, too. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hand meanders and grabs your ass. “Mm,” he hums into your mouth. You put your arms around his neck and he pulls you against him. A warm bulge throbs against you, making you moan into his mouth. 

He breaks the kiss to murmur, “There’s my bad girl,” then he kisses you again and crosses his hands behind your back to take off your undershirt. 

He takes a long, deep breath as he looks at your tits, then urgently pulls you up against him again, one hand cradling your head as he feeds you his tongue

He grinds against you as you kiss, and your fingers lift the back of his shirt. He takes it off, breathing heavily, then says, “c’mere, baby.” His lips attack your neck as his thumbs hook into your panties and pull them down below your ass cheeks. He gives you a little spank then groans into your neck. 

Fuck, he's hot.  

His palm slides down your crack and between your legs until his middle finger can feel your dripping hole. “Hell yeah,” he breathes against your neck as he reaches further. Then he breaks away from your neck and wedges his other hand in between the two of you to finger you from the front. The hand in the back palms a cheek, fingers spanning quite a distance on your skin. 

He rubs you from the front and you moan. “Yeah, that's right, sugar.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly upward as he touches you, letting himself get absorbed entirely by the feeling of you in his hands.

You're hypnotized by the veins on his neck and the rhythm of his fingers through your slick. 

The way he touches you, it’s like he knows exactly what you like. And his hands, they feel so…

“Oh, daddy,” the word slips from your lips and he replies, “Mmm,” and looks down to observe your face of pleasure. He grinds himself against your hip as he fingers you just the way you like. Like he'd done it dozens of times before - to you. 

“Yeah, cum for daddy,” he breathes then nudges your forehead with his nose, prompting you to lift your chin for his lips to take yours again. 

He moans into your mouth, the shape of his cock stiff against your hip through his PJs, his hand between your legs, and one on your ass.

As his fingers push you over the edge, you break away to moan, then stifle it in his bare shoulder, gently biting. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, “fuck yeah.” 

You cum in the palm of his hand, and he moans. 

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “fuck.” 

He shudders and groans, then his hard-on throbs against you and a warm, wet spot spreads through his PJ pants. 

“Damn,” he mutters. 

A short sigh comes from behind you. 

“Hey “ Night walks greets vamp matter of factly as he catches his breath. He looks vamp up and down and vamp casually covers his crotch, prompting a smirk from night walks.  

Vamp clears his throat, “Bath’s ready.” 

“Thanks,” night walks says. “Now I need one too,” he chuckles, then turns his attention back to you. “You’re real damn hot, you know that?”

He kisses you gently on the mouth then says, “finish this later,” with a wink. He pulls your soaked panties from your thighs down to your feet and helps you into the silk robe. 

-

You make your way into the bathroom and Vamp lingers in the living room with night walks. Never judging, he’s simply raising his eyebrows in a question - how did that happen? 

“Just happened, man,” night walks says, then squints. “She familiar to you?” 

“Uh, YEAH,” vamp agrees. “Smells familiar.” 

Night walks sucks his slick fingers and says, "Tastes familiar."

“Nice bathroom,” you announce, and both men file into the room to see if you need anything. “Never seen a bathtub this big,” you add, stretching out your arms, tits on display. 

Night walks takes the opportunity to ask, “Want some company?” 

“Sure,” you smile, and he takes down his pj pants. 

“Room for three?” night walks asks on behalf of his buddy. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

Night walks asks, “You wanna be sandwiched or wanna look at his pretty face?” He can’t let vamp sit behind you. Too much neck access. 

“I’ll take the extra body heat,” you answer with a flash of your eyebrows.

-

Night walks gets in the bath behind you and settles his legs outside yours. You can feel all of him against your back. He sneaks in a squeeze of both tits as vamp prepares to get in front of you.

Vamp is a solidly built man. Not in a distinctly muscular way. A little softer than night walks, but he’s just so broad. His back flexes as he gets into the tub and rests back on you. His hair smells nice. And your tits feel amazing against his back.  

Sandwiched between them, you feel their breathing. You just sit and feel it for you don’t know how long. Your breathing synchronizes. All three of you.

You’re almost lulled asleep--maybe you even are asleep-- until vamp gasps softly. 

You look down to see a faint red plume coming from your hand. 

“Oh, crap,” you react. 

“He can take care’a it,” Night walks murmurs, sounding half asleep. “He’s got ya.” 

“How?” you ask. 

“Kiss it better, man,” night walks encourages, then sighs with how comfortable he is with you nestled between his legs, laid back on his chest. He gets a waft of your hair and sighs, “Mm.” 

“You gonna kiss it better?” you ask vamp with a giggle.

“Sure, I can if ya want,” he offers and holds your wrist. He plants a kiss on the lower end of your wound, letting his lips linger long enough to inhale as much of your scent his nostrils can get. 

It’s not just a kiss. To the naked eye, it’s just a kiss, but it feels like more. It feels like healing. It feels almost like...pleasure. He takes his lips away and the part he kissed is no longer bleeding. 

“Whoa,” you whisper. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” Night walks mutters over your ear. 

“You want more?” vamp asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer. No brainer.

Night walks takes your un-injured hand around to vamp’s abdomen and rests it on vamp’s thick, semi-hard, uncut cock. The shape under your hand sends a pang of desire down your spine and between your legs. 

“might lose a little blood,” vamp warns. “But not much.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses your wound again, starting at the top and sliding his lips all the way down it. Then he shifts his lips a bit, and something smooth begins to slowly trace the cut as his lips slide back up the wound. You feel a suction along the cut, and at the same time, his cock stiffens under your palm. You reflexively palm his shaft, holding it against his stomach.

The suction in your palm feels good. Your nipples harden and a rush of pleasure shoots down your chest, then lower. 

“Oh, god,” you whisper. 

When he reaches the top of the cut, his lips break away with a moan, as you continue to massage him. “More?” he asks breathily. 

You nod, “please.” 

He repeats the process, ever so slowly, twice. . .and you go from massaging his cock to pumping it, until he’s coming against his stomach underwater, moaning into your hand.

When night walks slips his hand between you and vamp, you realize your hips have been moving, seeking pressure. Night walks finishes you off, and God, you cum hard.

Night walks’s dick is hard against your back, and you’d love to do something for him, but you’re utterly spent. Your palm looks good as new, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. Vamp twists his torso to look back and check in on you. He idly tongues his sharp incisor. 

You look at him, eyelashes fluttering and say, “You’re….” He closes his lips and swallows, and he looks away, expecting you to say that word he doesn’t like. But you don’t. . . “Special,” you say, making his heart swell. 

“You too,” he whispers as your eyelids fall shut. 

Your head lulls back against night walks and he asks vamp, “she okay?” 

“Yeah,” vamp answers. “Most people can’t process that kind of pleasure their first time.” 

“That’s why she’s passed out? God damn,” night walks says. “We’re the dream team, buddy.” 

“Let’s get her to bed,” Vamp says. 

—-

“This is all good, right?” vamp asks night walks as they get you situated nude in the bed. All three of you are dried off. 

“Yeah, bud,” night walks reassures vamp in a whisper. “We’ve got a duty to act.”

“That’s doctors,” vamp replies, then lowers his whisper more. “Not….men of the night.” 

“Shhh,” night walks replies. "we gotta keep her warm."

You stir and let out a sigh. Vamp is wearing silky shorts and night walks is in fresh boxer briefs.

They settle in on either side of you. After a minute, vamp whispers, “hey, n-dub?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is she really familiar to you?” 

“Yeah,” night walks answers unequivocally. 

“Me too,” vamp agrees. “I think she–” 

“Let’s talk about it later,” night walks whispers. 

“Yeah,” vamp agrees. 

“Get some sleep, man,” night walks encourages. 

Vamp starts to respond, “I…” then doesn’t bother. “Yeah.” 

“Oh. Sorry, bud.” 

“It’s okay,” vamp says, then asks, “but hey, if I go in my restful state, will you rouse me if you're gonna fuck her?” 

“I think you'll be ‘roused,” night walks chuckles. “But sure, buddy.”

Vamp gets up on his elbow, then hovers over your face. strokes your cheek and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers. 

---

----

---

----

---

I sincerely hope y'all enjoyed this as much as I did 💕. Ty kate for the prompt that kinda led me to write a comfort fic for myself too lol.

Note: in English, "woman of the night" is a tame or old fashioned way of saying female sex worker