#drained pool politics

[thoughtportal]

Sabotaging of Black People Era

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn your first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[superswet]

🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them. 

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him. 

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours? 

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

[pure-smut]

the taste of you.

featuring: Laios Touden x f!reader

contains: you're a succubus and Laios wants to eat you (out), cunnilingus, mention of death

word count: 1.4k

note: all characters are 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. the taste of you | 2. the feel of you

masterlist

You’re lounging in the small, rocky pool of your home, dipping your head back in the water to clean your hair. Your floor of the dungeon resembles a mini paradise, all fresh water and cherry blossoms and soft, vibrant grass. You love living here, your own space shared with no one – except the odd dungeon crawler, traipsing through your home with their dirty boots and loud voices.

You don’t mind though. You have to eat sometime.

You’re not a bad monster, you just get hungry. And it’s not like the men who stumble across you aren’t willing, they just forgo all logic and think with that thing between their legs. Once you’ve had your fill, drained the life from their bodies as they spill their seed inside you, you leave their bodies by the entrance as a kindness.

You’re starting to get hungry again, starting to wonder when someone new will visit, when you hear the rasp of metal armour. You smooth your wet hair back and turn to the source of the disruption.

A tall man with fair hair stands at the edge of your pool.

Perfect.

You rise from the water, exposing your bare chest, and smile sweetly at him.

“A weary traveller,” you say. “In need of refuge.”

The man only stares at you, a notch between his brows. It’s not the same hungry look that men usually give you, their instincts already taking over before you even touch them. You wait a moment for him to say something but he doesn’t, only studies you.

“Your name?” you ask, trying a different tact.

“Laios,” he replies.

“Laios,” you repeat, rolling his name around your mouth.

“And yours?”

You smile. Only a few men have ever asked your name, some of them thinking it will save them from their fate. It doesn’t.

“Y/N,” you tell him and he considers this.

After a beat, he offers his hand out to you. You take it, stepping out of the pool to stand naked in front of him. When Laios looks you up and down, it doesn’t feel the same as the other men. It feels… curious.

“Come, Laios.” You keep holding his hand, guiding him to a clear area of soft grass. “Sit with me.”

Laios does what you say, kneeling politely in front of you. You sit opposite and spread your legs for him, leaning back on your arms. Laios’s eyes trail down to your glistening lips, making you smile. He is still a man after all.

“You’re tired,” you say sympathetically. “Your body is sore, your mind is weary. Take some respite with me, Laios. I’ll take care of you.”

Laios’s golden eyes flick up to yours.

“You’re a succubus,” he states. You smile and shrug.

“I am.”

He holds his chin in thought as you wait for him quietly.

“Will my body be recovered? he eventually asks.

You huff a laugh in surprise. No one’s ever planned their death in advance before. There’s always a hint of hubris, of thinking they can pull back at the last moment, not knowing you have them as soon as they’re inside you.

“Yes.” You reward his honesty with your own. “I leave the bodies by the entrance so they can be found.”

Laios looks pleased, gifting you his first smile since he arrived.

“Not many monsters care about that,” he says.

“Well, I have to eat, that's all.” You shrug again. “Otherwise I’ll starve.”

Laios’s eyes brighten.

“I’m hungry, too,” he says.

Huh, that’s a weird thing to say. You shake the thought off as Laios moves closer to you, gently pushing your knees apart to make space for himself. His eyes are glued on the fruit between your legs, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. You grin and rest back further, sinking onto your forearms. You’re looking forward to your meal – little do you know that Laios is as well.

Laios stands to tugs off his armour, carefully laying the pieces down in a neat pile, leaving himself in his undershirt and drawers. When he falls back down to his knees between your legs, you expect him to pull his cock free, to sink himself into you as soon as possible.

You don’t expect him to bend down and run his tongue along your pussy.

You inhale sharply, nearly pulling back in shock. You stare down at him as Laios raises his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Sweet,” he says, rolling his tongue in his mouth. “A slight tang and… hm. Something else.”

It takes you a second to realise he’s talking about you. About your taste.

With wide eyes, you watch Laios as he lies down on his stomach to get more comfortable. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you to him and licks another stripe along your folds. His broad tongue splits your lips as he finds your hole, the source of your nectar. Laios makes a content noise as he pushes his tongue inside you.

You shudder with pleasure, reaching down to slide your fingers through his hair. His strong nose nudges your clit, heightening your enjoyment.

Laios laps at your hole, delighted by the taste of you, your flavour dancing along his tongue. You’re not like he expected, much sweeter and earthier, but delicious either way. And he’d be lying if he said he isn’t enjoying the noises you make, the little quiver of your thighs. Eating is an experience, he knows.  The way you whimper and scratch at his scalp is part of the experience, part of why you taste so good.

Laios moves away from your hole, licking his way up to your clit. He finds it swollen and slippery with more of your arousal so he flattens his tongue and swipes broad strokes over it. You tug his hair a little tighter, your moans a little louder.

You’re leaning back, supporting yourself on one arm as you look down at Laios, watching him feast on you, his lips flush to your mound. His eyes are closed in bliss, his brows pushed together in the middle.

Laios sucks softly on your swollen bud and moans into your pussy. You cry out, pleasure seizing you in a vice grip. You squeeze his head between your thighs, the dungeon echoing with your ragged moans. When you’re too sensitive to continue, Laios moves back down to your hole, lapping at you once more, eager for the juices he just caused.

You lay back, chest heaving as Laios continues to lick you deep. You let him, enjoying the feel of his tongue against your less sensitive nerves. Laios only pulls back when his jaw cramps, stopping him.

You prop yourself back up on your forearms to look at him. Laios’s mouth and chin is shiny with your arousal, which he doesn’t bother to wipe off.

“Definitely sweet,” he confirms, his eyes alight and a grin on his face. He absently rubs his jaw, trying to work away the cramp. “Which makes sense – succubus tend to eat a lot of fruit.”

You listen to him, still slightly dazed from your orgasm, as Laios continues thinking out loud, theorising your taste and growing more animated by the second. His excitement is palpable and you can’t help but smile at him but you’re distracted. There’s a strange feeling in your stomach, something familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. You’re still trying to place it when Laios interrupts your train of thought.

“I’m curious about something though,” he says, flexing his hands and looking down at them. “Why haven’t I died?”

You scrunch up your face in confusion.

“What?”

“I thought I’d be dead.” Laios looks equally confused. “Isn’t that what a succubus does? Drains energy?”

Huh. You guess you’d never thought about what would happen if someone had sex with you without penetration.

“You know, I’m not sure,” you answer truthfully. “I’ve only ever drained them through their…”

You pointedly look down, noting that Laios is sporting a sizeable tent in his drawers despite his curious enthusiasm.

“Oh.” He looks down before glancing up again, his knuckle pressed against his lips in thought. “That’s interesting. Would it need to be genitals or would fingers work? I definitely had my tongue inside you so we can rule that out.”

Laios goes onto another tirade again, his face alight. You watch this adorable weirdo enthuse about what appendage he could safely put inside you and feel your face breaking out in a smile.

You enjoy being alone, being in your own company, but it’s been a while since you were this entertained.

“Laios,” you say, interrupting him gently.

“Hm?”

You beckon him closer, brushing your thumb across the light stubble on his jaw. He’s quite handsome, you think. How did you not notice before? You grin at him.

“Why don’t we try some of your theories out?”

[san8ny]

robber ellie falling in love with victim reader😭

Something.

?: tried experimenting with angst / Older!Divorced!Reader x Younger!Robber!Ellie / Bi!Reader

“and you decided on here of all places?” You ask for what seems like the hundredth time, cleaver in your hold waving in the air all too closely for Ellie’s liking.

“Fuck— yes, lady, like I said, I just get paid to do this shit.” She groans, struggling against the ropes you had her embraced in, “What kind of knots even are these?..”

“Now, i’ve never really had to use this up until now..”

She feels her eyes widen, color draining from her face at the implication, “Woah! H-hey, you wouldn’t need to. We can find a compromise—

“You tried stealing my father’s urn.

Ellie’s winces at the weight of your words, her soiled plan gone to waste, “I thought it was a regular vase.. but— but with that being said, I didn’t succeed so you don’t need to be so brutal! Eh?‘Whaddya say?”

You stare at her for a rather long time before taking the knife and inching it towards her,

Ellie’s entire body tenses up, teeth clenching and her eyes shutting to prep for her seemingly inevitable demise—

Instead, you lightly poke her chest with the knife experimentally, “You’ve got like, no boobs.”

“WHAT THE FUCK? O-oh my god, you’re a pervert..”

“You’re in my house.”

“THAT DOESN’T JUSTIFY IT!”

“Back on topic! Why my place?”

“Needed the cash, how else?” She spits, gaze still never meeting yours fully

“That bad?”

“Wouldn’t be robbing people if I didn’t, would I?” She snaps aggressively, though it was expected

“You know, you should be nicer to me.” You say, reaching over back for your knife threateningly. She seems to quiet down at that, relaxing her shoulders as she obediently nods,

“I think i’d rather you just call the police at this poin, lady..” Ellie whispers, not having the willpower to deal with your manical interrogations, “My dad is sick, alright? He’s on the verge of dying, and I need that money for his treatment. Content now?”

After a brief pause, you speak up,

“Tell you what, you give me proof of this.. and I might be graceful enough to do something for you.” You thumb her bangs, separating each strand to reveal the glistening beads of sweat that pool at her auburn hairline.

“Huh, why?” Her head raises at your all-too gracious proposal, what exactly were you playing at? Pay the person trying to rob you? It’s laughable.

“Well..” you tilt your head, “You’re interesting”

Eventually, you do let her go, informing her of an easier way out than she came in. However, a deep pit in her stomach tells her she’d had been safer with cops than with whatever you were.

The following week, she’s being put to absolute work once she’d validated her father’s bills with you— from scrubbing floors to literally helping you wash your hair in that stupidly huge bathtub you have— she wants to hate you. no, she does! She hates you with every fiber in her. So, why does she feel so strongly opposed to seeing you interact with your husband everytime he’s back from his job? Maybe she hates him too? Yeah, that must be! Ellie hates everything to do with you by proxy, including your husband.

“Have you ever considered marriage, Eleanor?” You ask out of the blue, politely cutting your steak as you two sit across from each other at the dinner table, your husband not being present, per usual, not like he ever is. “My name is Ellie, not..whatever that is.”

You grin at her response, “Aren’t you too old to be going by a nickname though? Especially one as infantile as Ellie? It sounds like a pet-name if i’m being honest.”

She feels a vein threatening to pop as she points her fork at you, “Well, it’s my name so either call me it or not.”

There it is. The way you stare at her even when she’s slightly out of line. It’s a mixture of both amusement and surprise. Like she was some sort of entertainment for you.

“Ellie it is.” You softly say, smiling as you chew your food.

She hates the way it rolls off your tongue smoothly, no sign of condescension in it despite your previous words.

She hates how she feels something else stirring other than supposed hatred.

The other time she’s noticed this odd-feeling of hers rear it’s ugly head, was when you two had visited a bath-house, you stripping with ease as you walk the small steps they have before relaxing into the steamy water. Ellie stands there awkwardly, watching as you let your hair-bun down, all stress exiting your body once the sensations of the water settle around you.

“Well, aren’t you joining me, Ellie?”

She bites her bottom lip in an anxious fashion, almost fighting herself whether or not she’d let herself get that close to you. Regardless, one overpowers the other so she, like you, quickly sheds her clothing, stepping into the pool experimentally, however, she maintains a moderate space inbetween you two, careful not to ever let her body even touch a bristle of hair on yours.

Facing across from you, she studies the way your eyes are closed, soft crows feet at the corners— you were only 31 as she learnt, and already seemed so tired of the life you lived, having to run an entire estate while your— fuck, she couldn’t even recall his name— husband, ran business elsewhere. Ellie saw and took care of you more than she’d ever seen him done. I mean, what did you even see in him— ..what is she saying?

At the realization, she turns her gaze away from your face, eyes instead busying themselves with the small ripples the water makes.

“You never answered my answer.”

She doesn’t seem to want to avert her gaze from the water just yet, but speaks, “I don’t answer alot of the questions you ask if you haven’t noticed.”

“So will you answer one if I ask now?”

“Why should I?” She scoffs at your bluntness, if she didn’t want to answer a question, it’s not like you’d force it out of her.

“I see.” You say, before standing up to dry yourself off with a towel. At this, Ellie seems alarmed. What happened? Why’d you leave so suddenly? Why— why does she seem to care recently more than she’d like?

A reasonable amount of time had passed since the bathhouse, and you seemed to forget about it reasonably quicker. Almost immediately, actually. Currently, you were hauled up in your study while Ellie sweeped the hallway flooring. Upon arrival to your door, she’s met with a quick ‘I’d like to be alone, thank you!’ She rolls her eyes, knocking again. When ignored again, she opts for a 3rd time, before you open the door in irritation, “What— Oh, it’s you, Ellie! Hello!”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, can I come in? I have to tidy up this room before I can clock it for the night.” She says briefly, attempting to enter the room before you block her way with a nervous smile, “I don’t think this room is obligatory, you can just skip it and leave.”

“Uh, no, I’d like to it now rather than have it pile up tomorrow.”

“That’s really not necessary, I mean it, i’ll clean it even.” You try one last time of persuasion. However, this earns you a blank state and an occasional eye-twitch.

Sighing, you step to the side, “If you insist..”

Ellie looks around as you return to your desk, massaging your temples as you seem focused on a slight-stack of documents. I mean, she hadn’t seen you this stressed since the time you were told the oak-tree in the grand-garden had to be cut down because the neighbors were complaining about it obstructing sunlight to their meek vegtable plants. You went though with it, with the help of Ellie’s shoulder and a couple of shirts she had to run through each time you soaked them with your tears.

“I thought you said you had an accountant for taxing?” she asks, dusting the bookshelves, “I do,” You say, biting the cap of your pen as you twirl yourself in the swivel-chair, “these are divorce papers.”

It’s almost like time itself stops when those words dawn on Ellie. You’re..divorcing whatshisname? It’s like a fever dream. Almost surreal. Sure, you two never seemed all that in-love but you had your moments like when you’d kiss his cheek before he departs for whatever country he had shit to do in, I mean, that’s..romantic, right?

“12 years i’ll never get back down the drain. This, is why I ask you if you’d ever marry. Could you ever dedicate your life to another for it to be wasted like this?” You snap your fingers to signify time, bitterly laughing at Ellie’s solemn expression, “Don’t look at me like that, I liked you better than the others because we mutually agreed not to pity eachother.”

There it is, that feeling she faces when these moments spring up on her.

It’s not pity, it’s more like understanding where you’re coming from— but that’d be sympathy. Ellie doesn’t feel quite sympathetic about it, I mean, rich people don’t exactly feel that anyways but, she wants you to be the exception. You’re not like whatever the bunch are. You don’t frequent country clubs and you don’t go seeking elaborate affairs to spice your life. You’re an unsatisfied woman.

“I was young, you know? When my family heard of the marriage, they immediately called me mentally unwell— his family? Even worse. Guess what they immediately came to as reasoning? Witchcraft. It’s comical, isn’t? Me using spells to make a man of all things want me. If I did that, i’d be with Christian Bale, I tell ‘ya! I should’ve taken my signs then when he wouldn’t defend me, but I chalked it up to his fear of confrontation. ” You share, sipping your tea, “Older Men do nothing but leech off your youth. Don’t be like me, Ellie.”

“I won’t.” She finally says, though her throat tightens up, making her voice extra quivery rather than the assertion she was going for.

“Oh dear, don’t tell me my cautionary tale scared you?”

“No! No! It didn’t. I was just wondering, does your rule .. also apply to women?”

A brow is raised in response to the question, “I’d say so, though it’s a more common practice among that accursed other gender.” You kid, smiling. Ellie’s lips slightly pull into their own smile, her worrying expression now relaxing when she thinks you hadn’t caught onto her words yet.

“Do you like older women?”

At that question, Ellie feels the embarrassment return double the amount, slightly ruffling her short hair as she feels the hotness reach her cheeks, “I’m indifferent.”

Ah.

You look out the window before looking at your ring, “I don’t suppose your answer is supposed to imply dual-affection?”

She sighs, continuing to sweep, “I only like women, miss.”

…

“I suppose a women as a lover would be nice.”

Ellie’s heart races at this, is..this an opening? What exactly were you trying to do by saying this?

“Have you ever been with one, Ellie?” You tease lightly

Oh, how she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

After a brief pausing to catch both her breath and recollection of thoughts “..No, ma’am.”

“Want me to be your first?”

How this turnt into many illustrious nights with Ellie warming your the bed had become something both of you couldn’t come with an answer for other transactional sex.

How scandalous would this be if it got out? A well known older, recent divorcee seeking comfort in the arms of her 20 something year old house-hand. It would only intensify rumors, not that you ever cared, but..

“I won’t let you ruin yourself.” You softly whisper, sweeping a light tucking of hair behind her ear, “You’re too sweet for your own good, Ellie..”

That night, while Ellie slumbers, you pull together her seemingly last paycheck, wads of cash together into an envelope that could easily total above 20,000 as you place them near her pillow.

When she does awake, she’s brought to the empty idea of you, slot next to her feeling cold and empty. Where did you go?

Instead of a verbal answer, she’s given one in the form of payment and a brief letter:

‘Will be enough for your father’s bill. Collect your stuff at once and leave.’

Even when she does leave— she says nothing, catching a glimpse of you sat on the stump of the old oak-tree in what seems to be deep thought.

As per usual, Ellie’s last to saying everything

“Anyone could have seen she wasn’t in the right of mind.” The elderly ladies exchange amongst themselves, “I just didn’t expect it to be in such bad taste. Nobody is going to buy that home.’

Ellie’s fingertips brush against the ‘SELLING HOME’ sign they’ve posted up, the other 20 she’s ran off with clearly not stopping the process of this house being sold.

How long has it been since you left her behind again?

[swappermanent]

Life In Retrospect (Part 2)

I ran my fingers along my neck again, as if expecting it to suddenly materialize, but all I felt was smooth, muscular skin. If the necklace was gone... did that mean this was permanent? The thought hit me like a jolt of electricity, raising my cock to attention.

I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought I wanted something so drastic. But now that it had happened—now that I was staring at the face and body of a man who was young, powerful, and exuded raw sexuality—I could see exactly why this was the wish the necklace had granted. Deep down, beneath the polite smiles and quiet resignation of age, I’d wanted this more than I could admit.

And seeing it, feeling it now… I knew it was right. This body was wasted on Mikey. But now, the thick mustache, the powerful jaw, massive shoulders, the rich, dark hair—they were all mine. All mine.

My hand drifted lower, sliding down over my—his—flat stomach until I felt the warm thickness of his cock, already hard in my grip. I moved to the bed, sinking down onto it as I leaned back and let my hands continue exploring. With one hand stroking my cock slowly, I used the other to feel up my smooth, firm chest, indulging in the primal thrill.

The pleasure built quickly, my breaths coming in shallow gasps, my new voice low and rough as I gave in completely. I stroked myself with a steady rhythm, feeling the warmth pooling in my core, spreading through every muscle, every inch of skin. The sensation was dizzying, almost overwhelming. Finally, I cameMy body tensed, a shudder running through me as waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and grinning at the ceiling as I ran a finger across my stomach and brought it up to my mouth for my first taste. Fuck I could get used to this.

---

I settled into Mikey's life with surprising ease. The next few days were a whirlwind of hanging out with his friends, hitting the gym, running around town, and just enjoying the energy that came with this young, powerful body. I felt more alive than I had in years—every step felt strong, every laugh deeper, every meal tastier. Even the simplest things, like the weight of this body as I moved, brought me a thrill of satisfaction.

But about a week and a half in, the glow started to flicker. It was subtle at first—brief flashes of weakness, a strange sense of disorientation that hit me out of nowhere. I’d chalked it up to the gym, maybe pushing myself a bit too hard, but the feeling grew worse, and by the third day, it was undeniable.

One morning, I got home from a run, feeling the most drained that I had since the swap, and sat down heavily in front of my computer. A thought nagged at me. I pulled up the site where I’d first looked up the necklace and scrolled through the pages, scanning the text with growing dread. I found the entry that had originally described the necklace’s powers and read the section again, the words coming into sharper focus than they had the first time.

"The Amulet of Wishes grants the wearer the temporary experience of their deepest, subconscious desire. The magic is designed to fade with time, gradually encouraging the wearer to take action toward meaningful changes in their own life."

Shit.

I kept reading, my eyes darting over the ancient text as I searched for a way to make this last. My heart pounded with urgency as I came across the section I’d been hoping for: the conditions for making a wish permanent.

“In most cases,” the text read, “the wishes bestowed by the Amulet of Wishes cannot be made permanent, as they are based on creation—an inherent violation of the natural laws of the universe. Thus, the magic is destined to dissipate.”

My stomach sank, but I kept going.

“However,” it continued, “there exists one exception: the wish of a body swap. Unlike creation, a swap is an exchange of essences, preserving the balance of natural order. To make such a swap permanent, the grantee must transform their new body to better reflect their unique essence—through altering mannerisms, attire, personality traits, and any distinctive aspect that marks their identity. This process convinces the amulet that the body’s former inhabitant is no longer suited to reclaim it. Only then will the necklace bind the grantee to their new form forever.”

A spark of hope flickered in my chest, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The entry concluded with a note on how to summon the amulet if it had already disappeared: an incantation, ancient and direct.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I whispered the words aloud. The room seemed to shift, the air crackling around me. I felt a familiar weight settle against my neck—the amulet, its cool metal pressing against my skin.

I exhaled slowly, a mix of awe and anticipation coursing through me. The first step was complete. Now, it was time to begin the ritual to claim this body as my own for good.

I stood up, looking at myself in the mirror—the sharp eyes, the rugged face, the powerful build that I’d inhabited over the last week and a half. This would take more than superficial changes; it would take commitment, subtle shifts in behavior, and the kind of confidence that came naturally to Mikey but had always eluded me.

“Alright,” I murmured to my reflection, feeling a surge of determination. “Let’s get started.”

Stay tuned for Part 3.

[shadowsandshapes]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 | afab!Reader/Geto Suguru

◇ summary: Sometimes you forget Geto is just a guy. But then he shows a sense of vulnerability that surprises you. After a particularly emotionally draining battle, you run him a warm bath and take care of his aches. ◇ contains: Friends To Lovers, Pining, Reverse Comfort, Splish-Splash Water Activities, Casual Nudity, Fluff ◇ tag: @the-milk-anon ◇ wc: [4.1K] (Ao3)

Suguru Geto was just a man.

You tended to forget about that fact every once in a while. To most people, he was this mysterious, enigmatic Buddhist priest — a healer who never turned away a soul in need. A kind, smiling man who received the ill and distraught and cured their worries with a simple wave of a hand. It was a carefully crafted image that came almost naturally to Geto. You had to admire his acting skills. The truth was much, much darker than that. Geto was building an army of curses and those people were merely tools he used to achieve that, a means to an end. Their pain meant nothing to him. Only a select few people ever got to see the real Suguru Geto, the man behind the polite smiles and unparalleled poise — and they better pray to whatever god was listening they never crossed him in a bad way.

He was so kind, patient and understanding with fellow curse users. There was a deep, caring fondness in his eyes whenever Geto looked at you or the little girls he had adopted all those years ago. Every sorcerer under his wing had his seal of approval. More than just that, you were a family in Geto’s eyes — with him as your just but stern patriarch. He cared for you in his own way and built his entire philosophy on wanting to see his fellow curse users thrive in a world that had been cruel to their very existence.

A beautiful wish — in theory.

It was easy to forget that only a lucky few received such gentle treatment from him.

Each time Geto cut down a civilian, you were reminded of how monstrous he could truly be. They were ants beneath his boot. Inferior, useless beings not even worth keeping as a pet. He didn’t even blink as their blood tainted the earth beneath his feet, pooling toward him and staining the bottom edge of his robes. Their cries for mercy went unheard, morphing into a chilling scream as one of Geto’s many curses tore them limb from limb. No matter how often you witnessed the man’s cruelty manifesting like this — it never got any easier to digest. The crunching of bone and snapping of tendons sent a chill down your spine, each brutal rip of flesh echoing in your brain as you closed your eyes to the horrors. 

Curses were easy to kill — humans were not.

Geto’s eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion as their lifeless bodies slumped to the ground. He didn’t care. They weren’t people in his eyes. Dealing with them was as easy as snuffing out a candle or flipping a switch. You approached him, as you always did, and placed a hand on his shoulder. A subtle tension settled in his muscles as you touched him — like every inch of his body was on high alert, burning with adrenaline and subdued rage.

Those people, those insects, they were inferior to you and him in every way. Monkeys. Nothing but the scum of the earth.

But Suguru Geto was a man. And no matter how much he liked to pretend the faces of the people he killed didn’t haunt his dreams, he couldn’t lie to himself forever. You saw the emptiness in his eyes and knew it was difficult to distance himself from what he was doing to these people. Even if he genuinely believed it was necessary. 

“Let’s go home,” you offered, wanting nothing more than to take him away from the nightmare he had created. Geto nodded — the movement of his head was slow and sluggish like he wasn’t quite there, present in the moment with you. You couldn’t blame him. 

As soon as your soft fingers brushed against his palm, Geto blinked, regaining some of his senses. A smile returned to his face but you couldn’t help but notice how the shine didn’t quite reach his eyes. This was merely a feeble attempt at saving face — he wanted to show you how strong he was for you, for everyone, but you knew better. 

He followed you in silence, using the grasp of your hand as a tether to keep him grounded in reality. No matter how dark things got, Geto could always rely on you to bring him back to the light. How did you do it, he wondered, shuffling after you as you led him back home, staring at the back of your head while his mind came down from the mental paralysis brought about by his misdeeds. Killing the weak, shaping humanity for the next step of evolution — it was easy to get lost in his own head doing what he did. All for the greater good. Some days Geto wondered if and when he’d lose his mind. It was a grim prospect.

Perhaps he already had.

It wasn’t until you made it back to Geto’s borrowed estate that the man was able to come back to earth. His eyes locked onto his reflection in a hallway mirror as he passed by. The blood and sweat caked to his skin burned like a raging inferno as he caught sight of it. He looked — cursed. Monstrous and vile. It wasn’t right. Geto didn’t want to feel this way anymore — this soiled, broken image of a tyrant wasn’t how he wanted to be perceived. But even he couldn’t deny the truth the mirror was showing him. 

Something had to be done.

“Would you draw me a bath?” His voice was quiet, barely rising above a whisper. You almost thought your ears were deceiving you when he first asked the question.

Such an honest request — its simplicity caught you off guard for a second. When you looked at him now, you didn’t see your fearless leader or the enigmatic priest – Geto just seemed lost instead. His brow was furrowed, taut with concern and uneasiness. Deep lines, ones you had never noticed before, carved their way across his forehead, making the man look much older than he really was. Your hand tightened its grip on his palm and he smiled at the touch. It was a small and insignificant gesture, but it was enough for him. For once in his life, Geto was asking for help. He needed you.

Maybe not you, specifically, you told yourself. But you would not deny him this vulnerability.

“Of course.” You tugged the man along behind you as you headed for the bathroom without delay. Geto followed quietly, letting you be his guide both mentally and physically. You wouldn’t lead him astray, he trusted you in that and more. His sweet, loyal little sorcerer. The world was desperately yearning for more people like you. It was starved for the type of tenderness your touch could provide — Geto himself could relate to that sentiment, more than he would ever admit out loud. 

You sat on the edge of the bath, waiting for it to fill up and making sure the water's temperature was to his liking. Suguru came up behind you and gave you a pat on the back, a tired smile tugging at the edge of his lips. He was exhausted but your presence felt like a comforting blessing. This life would be miserable for a regular person but you were one of the few people able to understand his struggles.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Suguru disrobing. Without another word, you left the tub to fill up and assisted in removing the layers upon layers of ceremonial garb. His eyes softened as he watched your deft hands loosening his robes. It was always such a hassle getting them on and off—you knew he tended to struggle with that. He didn’t even have to ask for help, you just appeared whenever he needed you. 

Your brow creased as you tugged at the silks, your frustration apparent in the soft huff that escaped your lips.

“I know, I know—why do I wear this thing in the first place?” Suguru asked, anticipating the question floating around in your head.

“I know why. Showmanship. It sells the whole holier-than-thou act.” You slid the first layer off his shoulders, carefully folding the garment so it wouldn't crumple. “Doesn't make it less annoying to take off, though.”

Suguru laughed. “It's a good thing you're here then. I can use the extra hands.”

You were so adorably meticulous as you helped him undress, Surugu couldn’t help but smile at the way you carefully folded and stowed away each layer of clothing. For all your complaining about his little priest get-up, you sure did show it a lot of respect. Even though you knew it was essentially just a prop, you moved his clothes onto the bathroom counter with the utmost care. Suguru noticed the way your fingers lingered against the fabric as you smoothed out any wrinkles.

So gentle. Soft. 

In contrast, Suguru was jagged. Marred with blemishes that would never truly heal. He was willing to risk life and limb for his cause and the evidence of that could be found within the deep, unsightly scars on both body and soul.

You caught sight of these marks as Suguru removed his hadajuban—laying himself bare. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked and you knew better than to pry about his healed injuries. Sorcerers who could heal others were in short supply, doubly so for your little family of rogue curse users. As a result, any injury sustained in battle would have to heal the natural way—which left a myriad of scars behind. This time, he’d gotten away with just a few bumps and bruises but that didn’t mean Suguru would be as lucky next time around. You couldn’t help but release a sigh. He looked tired. Dried blood crusted his hair and trailed down the side of his neck and chest. You made a mental note to take care of that as soon as possible. 

When the bath was full, Suguru didn’t waste time sinking into the warm water and closed his eyes with a satisfied grunt.

"Do you want me to leave you in peace or should I wash your hair?" you asked, moving a little side table closer with all kinds of soaps and shampoos, brushes and sponges. If he wanted to be by himself, you would respect his wishes but a part of you really wanted to be there for Suguru. He didn’t seem quite himself tonight.

"You can stay, sweet girl," he replied simply and opened his eyes to meet you with a faint smile. As much as Suguru loved being alone, he was always comforted whenever you decided to stick around. "Your company is nice," he added as your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he splashed the bathwater, the realization of what Suguru was implying slowly setting in. “Why don’t you join me?”

Oh. Okay.

"Give me a minute," you said and scooched to the corner of the room to unrobe.

His eyes never left you—you could feel his gaze in the back of your head as you shed each and every layer of clothing until you were completely bare. Despite this sense of awareness, you felt comfortable. Suguru had that effect. Any other man laying eyes upon you like this would make your skin crawl, but not him. The bond of trust between the two of you was stronger than that. You didn't feel the need to hide from Suguru—there was a sense of respect to his gaze, an appreciation for your body as if it were a priceless artifact.

After safely stowing away your own garments, you climbed into the warm water right alongside him–leaning on the opposite side of the tub with a blissful sigh on your lips.

"You may be the prettiest sorcerer I've ever seen," Suguru commented, the heat of the bath and the exhaustion of the day making his voice raspier than normal. Damn–he was exhausted.

"You're just saying that."

"Am I?" Suguru questioned back, staring as you waved a hand, dismissing his compliment, and grabbed a sponge to lather your skin. “Am I lying?” he prompted again–pushing you to look at him and truly think about it.

This was not the first time the two of you had bathed together–and in that time he had always found a way to steal a glance or two whenever he could, discreetly admiring just how utterly breathtaking you were. But there was no hiding his appreciation this time. There was a raw honesty to his expression that took you by surprise, making your hands pause mid-scrub as you let out a quiet chuckle in response.

"You're not lying, you're being polite," you said. "Come here, you've got blood on you."

You leaned forward in the tub, placing the sponge on his chest and rubbing it in small circles to loosen up the grime stuck to his skin.

Each stroke and drag of the sponge had an almost ritualistic quality to it. With these gentle, careful touches you managed to banish all of Suguru’s burdens and aches. If he didn’t know any better, Suguru would have thought you were casting a spell on him. He let you clean him, his heart skipping a beat as he felt the gentle touch of your hands. In the midst of everything he does, this moment, this feeling was the closest thing he had had to being human in a very long time. You were careful and concentrated as you worked, taking care to clean and wash him properly. His chest, arms and stomach all got a gentle scrub. When the grime and dirt were all gone, you turned your attention to his injuries. Nothing too serious at first glance but your brow still furrowed with worry. Your focus then shifted to his older injuries, scars that told of many battles. Your fingers reached out and traced them gently, almost absentmindedly as you quietly admired his strength.

"You know, you deserve a little tenderness every now and then," you said. It almost sounded like you were scolding him for being so rough all the time but Suguru knew you didn't mean it that way.

"A little tenderness, huh?" he echoed—wondering if he truly qualified for such a luxury.

"Mhm," you hummed in agreement, placing the used sponge back on the side table. You would take care of yourself later—right now Suguru needed some attention. Something to wash away not just the literal grime of the day, but also soothe his mind and soul. If you could help with that, you would. You scooted a little closer into his arms, sitting on your knees. "Let me wash your hair...c'mon. Then we can get out of this tub."

He was surprised by your forwardness and your little maneuver to get into his arms in particular. Suguru did not mind it one bit. He had always been curious to see just how far you'd take things between the two of you. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, nothing made him feel as safe as letting you be near him.

"That sounds nice," he replied, smiling softly at the idea.

Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, running through his long hair to detangle it gently. Your eyes remained focused on Suguru as you worked, soaping up his hair and running your fingers along all the little pressure points you could find. The touch was soothing and relaxing, rubbing away the tension on his brow and scalp with each pass of the fingers.

The more you worked, the more his stress melted away. After a while, he couldn't help but let out a quiet moan from the satisfaction your hands provided. Your touch was different—it felt genuine. There was something almost otherworldly to it.

He let his eyes drift closed, allowing the sensations to overcome him as he leaned his head onto you for more comfort. Seeing him this blissful and happy did bring a smile to your face. When his hair was thoroughly shampooed, you took a small cup from the side table and filled it with bath water. One of your hands rested against Suguru's forehead, preventing water from cascading down his face as you rinsed the soap from his hair with the little cup.

"Feeling good?"

"Very," he replied with a smile, his eyes still closed in blissful relaxation. There were few people in the world who could make him feel like this. Few people he trusted so deeply that he'd ever put himself in a situation where he was truly relaxed, vulnerable and at your mercy. "What about you? Are you feeling well?" he added with a tilt of his head, his breathing slightly shaky from your touch.

You nodded quietly, fishing a bottle of leave-in conditioner from the side table. It was yours, but you didn't mind sharing it with Suguru for once. You spread the product between your fingers before gently running it through his hair. It smelled just like you.

"I'm just glad to see you finally relaxing a little," you said, massaging the leave-in conditioner onto his roots.

Normally he would be against the idea of someone taking care of him like this. He was the strong one—the protector, after all. But he decided to surrender his pride to you and let you be the one in charge for now. You were a special case. You were the one friend that he trusted so dearly.

"I was only able to relax because..." he trailed off, deciding to show his vulnerable and honest self for once and finally admitting the truth. "Because of you, sweet girl. You always go above and beyond for me," he added, letting out another satisfied sigh.

The gravity of those words made you halt your movements for a second. But only for a second. Suguru could see you took what he had said to heart—a small, genuine smile forming on your lips as you continued to pamper and care for him. As soon as you were satisfied with your work, you rinsed off your hands in the water.

"I'm glad I can bring you some peace," you whispered. 

"I'm glad too."

You were done. Bathed, pampered and cleaned from top to bottom, which meant it was time to get out of the tub. He watched as your smile flourished and found himself smiling back as well. You always managed to brighten up any room, just by being you. No matter what misery Suguru found himself in, you were a spark of hope. Of love. And if he were a braver man he’d tell you this.

Suguru took hold of your hands and helped you up, a warmth growing inside his chest when you took his hand. "Shall we get out of here?"

"Yeah," you said being careful not to slip and fall on the slippery surface as you rose from the tub. One of the racks on the wall held clean towels: you handed Suguru one and took another for yourself, then returned to the tub to drain the water and stow away all the things you had used. Suguru took the towel and started drying himself off. Once he was finished, he returned the towel to you and put on his robe before stepping over towards you.

"Come here. I have something I'd like to show you," he said in a low tone of voice. It felt different when he spoke to other people. He had such a way with words when it came to you, and it caught you off-guard every time.

You had retrieved one of the robes too, wrapping it around yourself and tying the ends of the waist shawl to keep it closed. Your eyes found Suguru's as he approached you: they widened ever so slightly when he placed a hand on the back of your neck.

"What is it, Geto?"

He continued to gaze at you quietly, a slight grin tugging on his lips.

"Close your eyes," he said after a small pause. His voice was soft and quiet. There was a different kind of warmth to it now, a hint of intimacy that he had yet to display with you. "I have...something I feel like showing to you." Suguru could feel your skepticism even as you obeyed this command, chuckling at the suspicious little pout on your lips. You were wary of him–but decided to place your trust in his hands regardless. "No funny business. I promise."

Suguru was being a little disingenuous right now, he knew that. All he really wanted in this moment was to admire you for a moment, to work up the courage to speak on what was in his heart. But it was hard. He'd faced countless horrors and consumed the rot of the world all for the sake of his unfathomable dream. In that pursuit, he'd felt lonely. And then you came along. You meant the world to him—and the fact that you weren't aware of this was a most unforgivable deception. 

What are dreams if they’re not shared with the one you love most?

He sighed. His hands moved to cradle your face, gently resting against your cheeks as his thumbs stroked the soft skin beneath his palm. You were so beautiful—Suguru could stall no longer. He should bury these feelings. Really. It was the safer bet, but it would kill him to keep lying to you.

"Open your eyes please." As soon as you did what he asked, a smile spread across his face and his eyes immediately locked with yours. "What do you see when you look at me?" he asked. The question carried something raw–a vulnerability you were not used to seeing from Suguru. You immediately knew this was serious. "Do you see someone worthy of your time? Worth your trust?"

"What–of course I do, Geto. You have my trust and time. Always."

You could hear the relief in his breath. The pure affection shining in his eyes was in such contrast to the coldness he normally expressed that it was difficult to grasp the truth. This wasn’t one of those fake, practiced smiles he had mastered in the name of manipulation—no. Suguru looked thoroughly smitten—almost miserably so.

"I just... wanted to make sure." His voice was shaky and unsteady. "I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," you assured him.

"Promise me you won't leave me," he replied, his voice shaking with intensity. Too many people had let him down—too many souls had left his care.  "I don't have anything without you."

"I promise," you affirmed—voice steady and certain. The only thing you wanted was to make him happy. To bring him relief and peace when he needed it. Leaving him was the furthest thing from your mind. You were in this together.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You have nothing to thank me for, Geto," you said, brushing your thumb against his cheek. This must have been difficult for him to do, you realized. Confessing one's true feelings and desires was never easy. For a man like Suguru, doubly so. "Now that your cards are on the table, what's next?"

"I...I want to kiss you more than anything," he replied quietly. "I want you and I need you. Is that too much to ask?"

How could you refuse him? You couldn't. Not when he was this vulnerable and real for once in his life. The hand on his cheek continued to gently caress his face, even as you leaned in to grant his wish. Your lips found his as you kissed him, answering his question in the only way you could.

Suguru Geto was just a man. And he would never be too much for you.

He wanted this more than anything, and the moment you felt his lips on yours, a wave of relief washed over him.

Suguru wasted no time pulling you closer as he let out a quiet moan into your mouth. It felt almost unreal that he was showing this much intimacy to you. All other thoughts were lost as you let the moment wash over you, allowing yourself to sink into his kiss. Suguru felt like he couldn't possibly get enough of you. This was love. It couldn't just be a passing fancy or lust. You meant so much to him that the very thought of anyone or anything taking you away from him made him sick.

Suguru allowed himself to be weak—just this once.

"...I want you," he said, breaking the kiss with a breathless sigh.

Hearing those words, that spontaneous admission of desire, made your heart skip a beat. Suguru, who was always so deliberate and collected, was desperate enough to say something like that in the heat of the moment.

"You already have me."

If you liked this, please leave a little reply or reblog | [Masterlist]

[ozzgin]

I was pondering on what horrors to write for Halloween and when I remembered how many times I’d hoped for Valak content…I ran and whipped out my Grimoire and started typing in delirious inspiration.

Yandere! Valak x Reader

Featuring the Infernal President and a blissfully unaware reader backpacking through Romania. Warning: NSFW, blasphemy, non-consent

[Horror Masterlist]

“Mommy told me something

A little kid should know

It’s all about the Devil

And I’ve learned to hate him so

She said he causes trouble

When you let him in the room

He will never ever leave you

If your heart is filled with gloom”

"Now, you can't really say you've visited Romania until you see at least one monastery! Most Romanians are very religious, so churches and monasteries are popular attractions for tourists and locals alike." The tour guide is awfully enthusiastic for a cloudy Sunday morning. You nod politely and follow the group, although you can already feel yourself become distracted.

You're mostly interested in the old castles and bucolic hiking trails that Transylvania has to offer. Religious places...not so much. Alas, it's part of the experience. You check the flyer containing today's travel plans and google the location mentioned by the guide. Cârța Monastery. Seems to have some ruins included, and you'll be right on time for the Sunday chorus service, huh. Maybe that's why they picked today for a visit. 

You hurry along the cobblestone path until the first traces of a building come into view. Somehow you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You scan over the visible windows, wondering if someone is watching from above. Nothing. Once you lower your gaze again, you notice the tour guide vigorously waving his arm and encouraging you to enter the church with everyone else. You were at the very front of the group, so how long did you stare at walls? You flash an apologetic smile and rush inside. The wooden door closes with a grating creak and you fumble to the first available seat. There's a few coughs and shuffles and eventually the Liturgy begins. Your eyes wander until they find a clear window, so you entertain yourself with the sights outside. It's not like you understand the words of whatever is currently happening, and you're not religious to begin with. 

"How long is this going to take?" you groan internally and switch your focus to your hands, intertwined and resting in your lap. The monotonous chants cause your eyelids to feel heavy and they gradually lower themselves until all you see is black. It's okay, you're not sleeping. It's just a short nap, until...huh...the voices of the singing men diffuse as if distorted by distance and now everything is quiet. 

"Took you long enough." 

You jolt awake. You turn your head to check if whoever is sitting next to you has just spoken, but the room is suddenly empty. You jump from your seat and the thud of your feet hitting the stone floor creates a cavernous echo that sends a shiver down your spine. Ah, could it be that you're dreaming? The candles of the chandelier flicker, as if startled by a breeze, and abruptly go out. 

"I don't like waiting. Especially for mere humans like you."

The same voice as before reverberates through the chamber. It's deep and jarring, sounding almost unnatural. You don't like it. You tilt your head, afraid to find the source of speech but too curious nonetheless. It's a person dressed like a nun. For a brief second you relax your shoulders, assuming it's one of the people living here. But after one step ahead the figure becomes vaguely illuminated, and you can discern the features bearing on this creature's face. Blood drains from your face and you can feel the bile pooling at the back of your throat. A blasphemous deformity, oozing with blight and evil. From within the hollow, dark sockets, two yellow orbs glisten with raw malice. You realize you've held your breath until now as your lungs contract in a pitiful attempt to pump more oxygen. The movement brings back your senses and your flight instincts kick in. You immediately sprint for the door and use your elbow to slam it open, nearly collapsing to the ground. Your eyes squint under the flash of bright light. 

As you pant for air you notice you're back outside. There's people taking photos and talking cheerfully, and inside the church your group seems to have gathered before the iconostasis, listening attentively to a hearty discourse from your guide. The liturgy ended. What on Earth did you just witness? Before you can ponder the event, you feel a tug at your sleeve. It's an old lady, short and comically hunched. She's dressed all in black, with a head covering that hides most of her face, though you can still see the deep wrinkles that cross her features. 

"Oh? Sorry, I don't speak-"

"L-am văzut și eu. Diavolul, maică. Aici nu mai e demult casa Domnului. Pleacă cât mai poți, am să mă rog pentru tine." 

Her voice is shaky and she seems in distress. She strokes your arm once before limping away hastily. You blink and spend a moment trying to collect your thoughts. There's no one else nearby to ask for a translation, so you can only hope she finds help somewhere else. You return to the group and hope you won't have to deal with any other adventures. 

"This is the annex. You can still see some details in the arches." Your guide points around the pillars and mossy brick patches. You take out your phone for some photos and your arms tremble slightly. 

"It's suddenly very cold here, don't you think so?" you remark to your neighbor. 

"Really? I'm quite literally sweating right now" they respond, baffled.

"It's a shaded area, that's probably why."

"Or you're just that excited to see me again."

Your eyes widen. It's the voice. You blink, and you find yourself in the empty church once more. No, no, no, this isn't happening. No. You're dreaming. This is an absurdity. Some hallucination of sorts. You try the door handle, except this time it's locked. 

"It's not often I become interested in a mortal. In fact, this is the only time."

The nun is sitting on a bench, hands together in a praying motion. There's a mocking grin on its face. 

"Maddening, truly. Deplorable, disgraceful, outrageous. Humiliation would await me if they suspected my intentions with a perishable being like you."

"Who the hell are you?" you interrupt the erratic monologue. The nun stands up and locks eyes with you, instantly making you nauseous. 

"The Sixty-second Spirit, President Mighty and Great. His Office is to give True Answers of Hidden Treasures, and to tell where Serpents may be seen. The which he will bring unto the Exorciser without any Force or Strength being by him employed. He governeth 38 Legions of Spirits."

"What?"

"Valac." the creature extends a hand, as if expecting a handshake. "At least that's how they introduce me in the Lesser Key of Solomon." The fingers spread out and you feel a gravitational force pull you closer. It chuckles.

The cold fingers sink into your back and feel like claws digging your flesh. You let out a scream of protest and try to push away without success. It hurts. The touch burns your skin and spreads out like a wicked plague. What would this fiend even want from you? You search your mind for potential meanings and explanations. Truth be told, however, you're not well-versed in theological fantasies. 

"You can't just possess someone's body. I won't accept it. You don't have my permission."

The creature erupts in hysterical laughter and you feel your knees weaken at the sharp, grotesque teeth that creep their way out. Everything about it is vile, scandalous. Unholy.

"If you want to call it like that...Then sure. But for this kind of possession I don't need your input, I'm afraid."

Your limp body is picked up and sloppily thrown over the altar table. The impact of the hard surface against your stomach causes you to gasp. You try to turn your head and look behind, but the large, clawed hand locks around your neck and keeps you in place. You can only glance ahead. You can sense your garments being ripped apart with one swift move and shudder at the unexpected contact with the cold air on your bare body. The creature's other hand slides over your forms before stopping on your bottom, adjusting it. The realization sinks in and you begin to panic. Is this the time to say a prayer? You don't know any. 

"Our Father..." you mumble, trying to remember the continuation. 

"Go on. I'm sure He'd love to hear from you while you're being fucked on His altar. Send Him my regards."

He forces your hips upwards, exposing your intimacy. Without any further delay he thrusts his member in, painfully stretching your entrance around it. Tears well up in your eyes at the sudden discomfort. The iconostasis in front of you blurs and sways with each violent plunge into your frail body. 

"Oh, God" you sob.

"God ends here."

[lovefromray]

Heaven knows i’m miserable now 🍂

@sarcastic-cookie wanted to be tagged so!!

More jeremy appearances..

Tw ; death discussed..murder discussed… murder..suicide mentioned..Manipulation?

The cold air hits you almost instantly, almost as instantly as the thoughts of murdering your mom and step dad swarm your head. Causing you to shakily take a breath and slide up , back against the pillows as you move to sit up, watching as the outside fog pools into your room..your window was wide open…you could have sworn you’d shut it.. You shake it off, maybe your mom opened it before she left to go shopping or maybe Alan had before going about his moving duties…? It didn’t matter..what mattered now as the fact you were alone…home alone with these new..horrible, disgusting and….somewhat interesting thoughts .

You could murder your mom and step dad…you could get away with it..it wouldn’t be hard to cover up either..no one knew you here , they didn’t know your family ; no neighbours had introduced themselves, your mother kept to herself when shopping..even back home so it’s not like she’d be making any friends here…and Alan hadn’t started work yet..he was just setting up the garage…a quiet place…sound proof too.. That’s how the kid before had murdered his father…luring him into the garage and asking him to help him with some wood work project before turning the electric saw on and ramming it into-

You snap out it , gulping as the thoughts spin around your head, causing the colour to drain from your face and..well..your entire body to shake..? not with fear but with interest..? you could actually get away with murder.

“You look awful today…did you sleep well.?” A voice whispers to you..but you’re too in your little murder trance to even notice that the voice doesn’t belong to your mom or Alan.

“y-yeah..i slept fine…” You mumble back , eyes stuck as you zone back into the world. Snapping back up and towards the voice…you gasp out , eyes stuck on the pale, thin, ghost like boy. Watching as he laughs and moves closer , putting his hands up dismissingly

“not gonna hurt you..” He hums out , smirking as he chuckles , “just wanted to check on you…see how you’re settling in..to..my room.” He stares , eyes stuck on you the same way a wild dog stares down at a helpless little rabbit.

“i…uh..-“

“what do i want? is that your pretty little mind is wondering ? hm?..” He laughs , moving to kick a box out of his way , it flies against the nearest wall causing him to flex his wrists before he jumps to sit on the bed…perching on the edge as he smirks at you again, laughing, “oh well…you know..kinda want you out…it’s not like i’ve been so obvious with it..!” He sarcastically states, you move to slide away.

His hand shoots up, forcing your body back down, “not so fast…i was just about to convince you to kill your stepdad..don’t ruin this for me, pretty…” He laughs , evil shining deep into his pretty brown eyes . His hand drops from its ghost trance , he moves closer .

You open your mouth to speak only for him to roll his eyes , his expression no longer happy or even cocky…he was bored, almost tense by how you raced to speak and leave .

You stare at him , “convince me?” You scoff , glaring at him, disgust and..well shock playing on your face since..this was the psycho who’d murdered his parents in the house…who was now a ghost? who was now…sitting so politely onto your bed..

“yeah..? come on..it’d be fun…” He laughs out , “just do what i did…get him alone -“

“alone in the garage…show him my wood work project i need help with and..”

“drive the electric saw right into his skull…and don’t stop until he’s limp and bleeding out..” He finishes your interruption , laughing loudly as he rolls onto the bed , evil radiating from him as he continues to laugh at his father’s demise and his own actions . He sits back up once he realises you’re not the slightest impressed or even…laughing with him. You were scared, you had every right to be…he was trying to convince you to murder your step dad.

You stare at him, quickly moving away from the bed, moving like some sort of prey..worried he’ll attack you or even stop you with his powers. He sits up, watching as you scramble off the bed and over to the window , clearly panting as you try convince yourself you were still hallucinating.

He rolls his eyes , moving over to his old records and record player , bored of your behaviour and now trying to play a song…one of his comfort songs..maybe one he played before he butchered his parents . He looks back over at you before sliding open the record player , placing the vinyl inside before playing it . Putting the sleeve back on the table , slinking next to you as he scoffs at you.

The music hits your eyes..you’d heard the song before The smiths ; Back to the old house . It’s distracting..it’s only on a low volume but it’s loud enough to overwhelm you in this situation. Your eyes snap downwards, over to Alan who’s not messing around in the yard with power tools, obviously aiming to cut down the treehouse himself.

“he’s gonna kill himself….” Jeremy laughs, his hand ghosting over your shoulder before he pulls at your hair , not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to pull your head towards him, your hand shoot’s up to dismiss him only causing him to laugh at you as he now messes with the strand .

“Get off..!” You mumble at him

“i will…if you kill him.”

“i’m not gonna kill him.”

“you should.”

“why?”

“so you leave my house ? let me go about my ghost business and…actually..” He smirks , pulling you along with him as he grabs a book ; the handbook for the recently deceased…

He flicks through it , pulling your hair so you can read it with him, he smirks before pointing to a page , “murder him…sacrifice him so i can swap with him…i can come back to life..and..we…pretty girl…can murder your mom together..!”

“i am not killing my step dad and i am not…helping you come back to life so you can go on another murder spree..!!” You gasp at him, which causes him to groan out of anger , throwing the book down on your bed before grabbing a fist full of your hair and pushing you back towards the window .

“you don’t even like him…!” He scoffs before his eyes return to Alan..alan who’s now..messing around with an axe ..

Alan who’s now…too weak to handle the axe..Alan who’s now fallen over , the axe stuck in the tree before it drops from a branch, falling before it hits his flesh…a wet squelch cutting through the air , bones crunching as the axe finds its way comfortably sunk into his neck, slicing it as his head rolls and hits the path below. Causing you to scream out , shaking your head as you quickly rush to grab your phone .

Jeremy laughs , “wow…guess we don’t even need to kill him-“

You’re quick to call the cops…screaming about Alan killing himself .

——————-

You return home after the local cops had interrogated you. Slowly slumping into the house , your weeping mother behind you. Her cries echoing through the house , tainting each room and..well filling the house with an incurable sadness. You look over to her, now hunched over the kitchen counter , stood right next to the..- no no this wasn’t about the ghosts you could see..this was about your mom. Her hands gripping the wine glass as she messily pours the wine bottle into the glass. You sigh out before pushing up stairs .

Blinking a couple of times, your eyes stung from all the lights and well…the image of Alan’s dead body . You sigh out before a familiar chuckle fills the small room

“there she is…!!!!” Before you can even speak, an arm snakes around your waist , lips ghosting against your ear , “hi..” He whispers against you, you don’t push him off. You don’t even speak, too traumatised to move . Almost slumping into him as he pushes you onto the bed, his free hand running through your hair

���look at you..huh…”He whispers against your ear, nuzzling into you as he practically cuddles you, “i’ll leave you alone if you sacrifice someone for me..!” He almost sings into your ear, chuckling but stopping once you don’t even respond .

He rolls his eyes, “you didn’t even like him.”

That snaps you out of it, your eyes dart back towards him as you try move away, almost crying .

“sh sh sh…pretty baby..poor baby..hm..” He whispers, cradling you as he cuddles more into you, “aw..poor baby can’t handle a little death…the death of a dickhead she didn’t even like..god you’re pathetic..” He laughs again before rolling his eyes , “fine fine..maybe you should just kill yourself if you’re gonna be so pathetic , huh? join me that way..?” Your eyes scan him for a moment before you push him off, watching as he scrambles up. He quickly disappears, leaving you to cry and sink lower into the bed as you hide under the covers; Jeremy’s words echoing through your mind once again .

[hexxedghost]

NikPrice Holiday Threadfic

I hit 200 followers and bluesky and did a NikPrice threadfic as a celebration, figured I'd post it here. I will expand on it and post it to ao3 at some point, but y'all get this for now. (Inspired this art of Nik in a Hawaiian shirt by @nekrosmos that lives with me always)

The holiday had been a great idea, honestly.

They'd all earned a bit of R&R after the shitshow of a year. Some sun, sand and relaxation, lazy drinks by the pool and good company. 

Except that hadn't worked out.

A hotel a few streets over had flooded. Not a big deal.

Until the convention it had been hosting had every attendee spill over to the hotel they'd picked. From relaxing holiday to surviving the madhouse within hours.

And they'd only just landed.

The lobby was packed with people, a wall of bodies they had to battle through to get to the front counter.

John was already looking forward to hiding in the hotel room and just drinking away the rest of the day, and from the white-knuckle grip Kate had on her luggage, he wouldn't be drinking alone.

When Kate had given their booking number, the receptionist had frowned at their screen in confusion.

They'd politely told them to wait as they made a call, and John could swear he felt Kate's blood pressure rise. There'd already been a cock-up with the flights, so Jen and Nikolai wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow. It wasn't doing wonders for her mood.

The receptionist turned back to them, a sheepish expression on their face, as they apologised for the mix-up. Apparently, in the chaos, their booking had been cancelled.

He can't see Kate's expression from where he's standing, but judging by the way the blood drains out of the receptionist face, he can guess she isn't happy.

To avoid potential bloodshed, he manages to coax Kate down the street to a bar, where she angrily stabs at her phone.

"For fuck's sake." she tosses it down on the table and picks up her drink angrily, most of the wine drained in a single swallow.

"Okay," she says, "I have back ups. We are going to relax if it kills me."

"Might if you don't calm down." he murmurs into his beer, unable to stop the smile at the daggers she glares at him.

"Shut up, John." she mutters.

It takes a few phone calls, and abandoning the beach idea, but at least they have somewhere to stay that isn't infested with tourists and loud screaming children.

It's a cabin, further up river. Jen and Nikolai had managed to change flights and were already there, while John and Kate endured a crowded train ride that left them sore and tired.

But at least they'd made it, finally, with no bloodshed.

The cabin is what some magazine would call 'quaint' or 'rustic'. It's set amongst a forest, with a jetty leading onto the lake. There's even a small dinghy docked at the end.

Against all odds, John feels his shoulder might be beginning to relax.

------

The sun is setting now.

Nikolai had cooked, signing along to the radio while Jen kept them plied with drinks. They've all since collapsed on the couch, the music softly playing in the background, gentle with the fading light.

"Another?" Nik is already handing him the glass, ice clunking amongst the amber liquid.

"Cheers." he raises the glass in toast before taking a sip, savouring the pleasant burn.  

Kate is cradling the cocktail with the kind of care most would reserve for their firstborn, and judging by the flush on her cheeks, she's well and truly drunk.

"Wish we'd managed to beach house." she says wistfully, staring into the distance.

"Beach house? You wanted beach house?" Nik teases, falling into the seat next to John, the long line of his thigh warm against John's.

"I'm a beach party girl." Kate deadpans, Jen giggling into her shoulder.

They eventually head to bed, Kate declaring the night was over after Jen and Nik had drunkenly screamed their way through another verse of Queen.

John falls facefirst into the pillow, limbs lax and limber with drink and tries not to think about the memory warmth of a hand on his knee lingering.  

When he opens his eyes, there's sunlight filtering through the blinds. His mouth is tacky and his head aches a bit, but a brew and some food should put him right.

Nik's in the kitchen, apparently none the worse for wear as he bustles around humming softly, moving aside so John can make a coffee.

"The other two?" he asks, stirring sugar into his cup.

"Sleeping still. I am thinking they want a quiet day." Nik says, pushing a plate of food towards him.  

"Ta." he says, not one to turn down a free meal.

"What's plan for today then?"

John thinks it over, gaze drifting outside.

"Might go fishing. Boat's there." John pauses, glancing over at Nik "You could come along, if you want. S'not for everyone."

Nik beams at him.  "I would like that."

-------

It takes a quick trip into town for some gear, but the boat's serviceable. There's a slight breeze, the lake waters rippling.

It's not quite the beach vibes they'd wanted for a holiday. Although that hasn't stopped Nikolai.

"What're you wearing?" John sighs, setting the rods down in the boat.

"I am holiday, I am dressing for occasion." Nik says, holding out his arms to show off the eye searingly bright Hawaiian shirt

Price rolls his eyes, but can't help but smile as Nikolai saunters down the pier like a model on a catwalk. Behind him, Kate has shuffled out of the cabin, clearly hungover with sunglasses crooked on her face.

He gives a wave and laughs as she just flips him off and collapses into a chair.  

"Don't drown." he hears her call out.

------

They'd brought beer with them, sitting back and cracking the cans open once they out on the water, lines dangling in the water.

Nik, sneaky bastard, had apparently decided more beach vibes were needed as he stuck a shitty cocktail umbrella into the can.

"You've not got a coconut in there too?" John asks, nudging him as he laughs. "Sadly they did not have any." he chuckles, before looking to John seriously, "I did check." "Course you did, you bleeder." John settles back, tucking his hat forward to block out the worst of the sun,

"Suppose it's not quite the summer holiday we'd wanted." he sighs. "It is sunny at least." Nik says squinting at the bright sunshine beating down of them. "We could have gone to France or Spain for that." John gripes.

"My French is not very good." "My Spanish is worse." John counters.

They enjoy the silence, occasionally reeling in a line. Nik is muttering angrily as he fails to get a worm on the hook for the fifth time. John takes pity on him. "You don't like fishing, do you?" he asks, as he threads the hook through tossing the line back out into the water.

"I have never fished before. I do not think I am very good at it." Nik sighs, taking a drink.

Price shakes his head, "S'alright. Not about being good at it. Just relaxing with company really." "I like the company." Nik says earnestly. Price clears his throat.

"Should hope so, you put up with me enough." he coughs, prepping his own line and casting. "I am enjoying myself just fine." Nik insists.

"Bit rubbish though. We could have done something you liked." John insists.

He feels a bit guilty about it, if he's honest.

Kate had endured one fishing trip with him before telling him that as much as she valued their friendship, if he ever put her on a boat again, she'd hold him underwater until the bubbles stopped. Nik wouldn't threaten him. He'd be more likely to just smile and endure it, which come to think of it, he might be.

"John." Nik says gently, breaking him out of his thoughts, "I am where I want to be." "Stuck with me on a lake?" he looks at Nik doubtfully. "And very happy about it." Nik counters readily, grinning. John nudges him with his shoulder, and they let the conversation drop, a comfortable silence enveloping them. They finish most of the beer, Price settling back and tipping his hat forward. "Might have a kip for a bit." John murmurs, eyelids already heavy. Nik hums. The sunshine and the liquor in his veins has made him pleasantly warm, and he drifts off the sounds of the water lapping against the edge of the boat.

--------

The sun is low in the sky, peeking through the trees when he wakes up. "Christ, how long was I asleep?" he glances down to see Nik snoring at the other end of the boat. He rolls his eyes fondly, nudging Nik with his foot. "Rise and shine, Nik"

Nikolai grumbles, curling in on himself in a way that doesn't melt John's heart in his chest. He shakes him by the shoulder. Nik snorts, looking around before blinking up at him sleepily "Oh, your skin" Nik frowns, gesturing to John's arms "Eh?" As he looks down, he sees what Nik is talking about.

Angry red sunburn covers his arms. John sigh, at least his hat had spared him the worst of it. In his defence, he thought he'd had enough sunblock on. "Can't get any worse at least." he says. The clouds above them choose that moment to open and unleash a torrential downpour. "Fuck." John mutters

Nik meets his very unimpressed look with a grin. "You should know better, Captain" he teases. "Shut it you, help me get the lines in." -------- They're a few meters from the dock when the boat tips over. John bursts through the water, yelling in frustration.

Between the sound of raindrops pelting his hat, he can hear Nik's bright laughter. "What's funny?" Price shouts over the rain. "All of it, no?" comes the reply over his shoulder. He turns and gets a splash of water to the face. "Fuck off." he says, splashing back. There's a moment they lock eyes the challenge mirrored in his gaze. Kate finds them giggling like idiots, shoving water at each other. "What the fuck are you two doing?"

"Fishing." Nik says proudly, sending John into another fit of hysterics, the sheer fucking ridiculousness of the situation finally breaking him.

"Just get inside." Kate says, rolling her eyes.

-------

Later on, John is now realising just how badly he got sunburned. He groans into the pillow, his skin feeling tender and too tight on his body. "You're very stupid sometimes" Kate says, putting a whisky beside him. "My hero." he groans. "Oh hush, you big baby. it's sunburn. You've complained less with bullet wounds." Kate chides, turning to him with her hand on the door handle. "You gonna live until morning?" "No." "That's the spirit." she says nonchalantly, moving down the hallway. John thinks he can hear murmurs but he doesn't care enough to listen. He's too busy feeling sorry for himself. The footsteps reapproach. "I'm not dying, Kate." he grumbles, rolling his eyes. "Glad to hear it." Nik says, closing the door gently behind him. John leans up to look at him and immediately hisses at the pressure on his arms.

"Figured you went to bed already." he says, trying to settle back in a position that doesn't leave him in pain.

"I am." Nik says moving towards the bed. John frowns confused. "What you doing here then?" he asks, tracking Nik as he moves around the room. "Sleeping?" "Not in your room?"

Nik sounds amused when he sighs. "It's a two bedroom cabin, John."

John blinks. He hadn't actually given it much thought the first night. He'd been drunk and tired and just fallen into bed. But-

"Where'd you sleep then?" he asks.

"Couch. But my back is old, this seems more comfortable, no?"

Nik seems to consider something for a moment, looking a little unsure of himself as he says, "If you are not comfortable, I can-"

"No, it's fine. Just-" John breaks off, suddenly unable to meet Nik's eyes "Hadn't thought about it." he finishes lamely.

They sit there awkwardly for a moment.

Nik passes over a tube. "For your arms. Jen said it would help."

It's some kind of moisturiser with 100% natural aloe vera, apparently. He clicks open the tube and gives it a sniff. It's not unpleasant, oddly reminding him of the smell of clean laundry and rain.

It's stickier than he anticipated, though, as he massages it into his forearms.

Price sucks air through his teeth as he twists to get the back of his biceps. The angle is awkward and pulls at the skin, which even with the cooling lotion feel too heated and tight.

"Let me." Nik offers, holding out a hand. Price shakes his head.

"I got it." he insists. Nik shrugs and leans back.

He doesn't 'got it'. After stubbornly trying to shift his shoulder forward only to feel further irritation, he growls and offers the tube out for Nik.

Nik, to his credit, doesn't laugh at him. Just nudges him forward to get a better angle.

John jumps at the first touch of cold cream, Nik murmuring an apology before focusing on the task at hand. Given the size and general way Nik carries himself, his hands are surprisingly gentle.

The thought makes John's stomach twist in a way that he doesn't particularly want to examine too closely

It maybe takes all of a minute, but it feels like an eternity before he hears the click of the cap being closed. He lets out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, jumping when Nik pats him on the shoulder.

“Helped?" he asks, raising his eyebrows while John shrugs back into his shirt.

"Yeah, ta." his throat feels tight. His skin feels flushed, wholly unrelated to the sunburn coating his arms. The bed shifts as Nik gets up and busies himself in the bathroom.

Wanting to prevent another awkward conversation, and desperate to ignore that melting feeling in his chest, John makes the very mature decision to avoid the entire thing and just go to sleep.

It nearly works.

The bed dips under Nik's weight as he settles in, snuggling under the blanket before idly asking if John was awake.

John feigns sleep and after a few minutes, he hears Nik's breathing deepen and even out, interrupted by the occasional snore.

Sleep is illusive though, and instead his eyes track the shafts of moonlight shift on the wall, as his mind refuses to settle.

There'd been an awkwardness between him and Nik as of late. Which he desperately wants to fix. They'd had an easy, close friendship for years. But now there were sudden stumbles in their conversations. John could never anticipate them, thrown off every time by the sudden surge of emotions that he couldn't seem to identify.

It left his stomach in knots, blood rushing under his skin and palms sweating. Like he was anxious, but there shouldn't be any reason as to why. He trusted Nik, hell he might trust Nik more than Kate and that was saying something.

It wasn't fear, or caution. But it made him feel skittish in a way that unsettled him. And part of him, didn't want to deal with it. Instead, shoving the emotions away, and desperately trying to steer them back towards normal. Though, he often ends up throwing them further off course, over correcting and stumbling over words.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he burrows into the pillow, hissing again at his arms brushing the cotton.

Maybe he'd talk to Kate about it.

She might at least knock enough sense into him to get him back on track. Stop him putting his foot in his mouth at every opportunity.

--------

Kate has that thousand yard stare she usually gets when he talks about Nik.

"You're very stupid sometimes, John." she says eventually, taking a long sip from her cocktail.

"Bit early innit?" he nods to the mimosa

"I'm. On. Holiday" she says, flicking drops from the glass at him with each word. Price flinches away, but smiles warmly at her. It's nice to see her more playful side, normally hidden under the sturdy persona of competence and intellect.

Though a lot of that is due to Jen, who's very presence seems to immediately thaw Kate's icy exterior. Jen is dancing away in the kitchen, singing off-key to the radio as she washes the dishes.

Kate glances over and smiles in a way that makes Price feel like he's intruding. Like a secret, kept hidden, soft and warm lighting her eyes from within.

He smiles into his coffee.

"Glad you're happy, Kate." he says softly. Kate looks over to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You could be too, you know?" she says coolly, but the shine in her eyes lingers as she glance towards the kitchen.

"I am happy." he argues, frowning. Kate gets that look again, eyes faraway before they focus back on him, intently.

"I used to think I was happy to. But it wasn't happiness. Not really."

"What was it?"

"Status quo." she says simply. "Nothing lost, nothing gained. Until Jen." she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "When I met her. I realised that what I'd called happy…it couldn't even compare. Like stepping into the sun after only having a candle to light your way."

She idly draws patterns with the on the table, condensation having slipped down the edge of the glass. "You deserve the sun, John."

"Reckon I had my fair share yesterday." he jokes, gesturing to his arms. She rolls her eyes and flicks another drop at him.

There's the sound of footsteps as Nik shuffles into the room behind them, jaw cracking from a yawn.

"Morning." he says sleepily, eyes still heavy lidded.

"Sleep alright?" John asks, turning back with an elbow over the back of the chair. Which he regrets immediately as the sunburn stings.

"Suffering still, Captain?" Nik teases, pausing on his trek to the kitchen.

He's in agony.

"I'm fine." he smiles, even if it feels a little forced. Nik doesn't call him out on it.

When John turns back, Kate is giving him a very searching look.

"What?" he asks.

She just sighs and pats his hand. "Try enjoy the weather, John." she murmurs, going back to her drink.

-------

There's a nice restaurant in the nearby town. It's got good ratings, the food is apparently a local speciality and the drinks are cheap. It sounds like a good night. That John definitely can't take part in.

Over the course of the day, the skin on his arms had gone from a shiny red to angry and peeling. He feels disgusting and grumpy, patience wearing thin at the constant tug and pull of flaking skin.

Now that night had fallen, he'd set himself on the deck out back with a supply of whisky,   deciding he'd earned it after the annoyance of the day.

He can hear the click of high heels in the kitchen, Jen most likely, as she peeks around the door.

"You sure you won't come along?" she calls out. He can hear Kate and Nik speaking from further in the house, words muffled by the walls.

"Nah, I'm good here. Not the best company right now. Reckon I'll turn in early." he smiles, toasting her with his drink.

Jen smiles softly, walking over and dropping a kiss onto his head before calling goodbye as she headed back inside.

Price settles back, gazing at the night sky above him. This far from the city, he can make out some constellations.

The breeze off the lake is cool in the night air as it brushes over him. The amber liquid in his glass delicately swishes against the ice as he eagerly welcomes the smoky heat over his tongue.

For a moment, he closes his eyes and just lets himself exist for a moment. His nerves are still raw, irritated from the pain and constant push and pull of his mind trying to untangle his thoughts.

Kate's words ring in his mind. Was he happy? If he was really honest with himself. He was proud of his accomplishments, grateful for those close to him, his squad, his friends.

He was lonely, though. They'd attended Gaz's wedding last year, and the space beside him had felt emptier than normal. It felt more pronounced when he caught Ghost and Soap being drawn to each other like magnets, like they were the only ones in the room. With Kate and Jen, he wished he had that kind of warm, gentle joy they shared.

Which brought the trail of his thoughts back to Nikolai. The sudden choking awkwardness, the moments he didn't know where to step in case he lost his footing on the precarious edge he found himself perched on.

Kate said it was like having a candle before seeing the sun. He didn't know how to fix that. There was no sun at night.

"John?"

"Christ!" he jumps, knocking the glass over as he spins to look where Nik is sheepishly peeking around the door.

"I did call out, you didn't respond." Nik moves over, settling in the chair next to him.

"Didn't hear." John says, hand over his heart where it's doing it's best to beat out of his chest.

"Didn't mean to scare you." Nik apologises, pouring a fresh whisky after righting the glass.

"You don't scare me," he says without thinking, mind still tangled in the weeds of his thoughts.  Nik looks over to him, tilting his head.

"I should hope not." he murmurs, still staring at him with that odd look in his eyes. "You sure you're okay?" he reaches forward, gently touching John's hand, mindful of the angry skin at his wrist.

"M'fine, Nik."

That clench deep in his guts is back again as he feels callused, warm skin against his own fingers.  He feels torn between pulling away or turning his hand over to trace the lines on Nik's palm.

"Thought you were going to dinner." he asks instead.

"I thought I should stay." Nik hesitates, and draws his hand back as though something has just occurred to him, "Although I am now realising perhaps you wanted to be alone?"

"No, it's...don't mind the company." he urges. He doesn't mind, truthfully, he just can't imagine he's good company right now. Still turning over Kate's question in his mind.

"Are you happy?" John finds himself asking suddenly. Nik's eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting it. Neither had John, truthfully, it had just spilled out of him. Nik seems to consider it for a while, his hand shifting so the skin brushes against John's.

"Yes, I would say so. I am on holiday, in a nice cabin with good company." he breathes deeply, staring up at the sky scattered with stars. "I am where I want to be."

The urge to turn his hand, to capture those broad fingers between his own, is strong, but there's still that little dissenting voice at the back of John's mind. That wonders if there's not something better, someone Nik would be better off spending time with than his sorry self.

"Not enjoying a good meal in town?" He can't help it, the need to check, to push, to try to remind Nik of the options he has.

"The food would be pleasant, yes. But I'd rather spend the time with you."

"You- Oh." he swallows, tongue suddenly feeling thick and useless in his mouth. "You came out here to spend time with me."

"That was in doubt?"

John doesn't know what to say, instead taking a long pull from his drink to try to loosen his tongue.

"That was in doubt." Nik repeats, but not a question this time. He leans forward, "Have I done something to upset you?"

"No, no!" John is quick to reassure him, that swooping feeling of being on the wrong foot is back with a vengeance. He scrambles to put it right, hating that he can hear the barest hint of hurt in Nik's voice. "Just...been thinking.  "I just - There are better things to spend your time on, right?"

"No." Nik response is sudden, John turning to look at him. There's a conviction in his eyes, a solid, unwavering truth glinting in the dark. John holds it, but still feels confusion drawing his eyebrows down.

"I mean, we're not young men anymore, Nik." he tries, trying to summon the words to get to the heart of what he means. That Nik deserves the world, deserves happiness, Nik deserves the sun.

"You're right. We don't have time for waiting." Nik says softly. John nods, and pulls his hands away.

"Kate was telling me to be happy. Thought maybe someone should tell you, that you deserve that too. More than what you've got now." he mumbles around the glass, staring out at the dark water.

"To have a happiness to share with someone?" Nik rumbles beside him.

"Yeah." he feels relieved, he's gotten that across at least. Even if the snare in his thoughts still won't unravel, it feels like he's at least made sure Nik can be happy. Even if it does feel like his stomach is going to drop out of him. "I wanna meet them first. Make sure they're worth your time."

"I do have someone in mind. " Nik murmurs. John turns to him, surprised. He recovers quickly, nudging him with an elbow before grunting at the sudden chafing on his skin., muttering angrily.   

"What are they like?" he asks, settling back and picking up his drink.

"Well, " Nik rubs at his chin. "They're very stubborn. Annoyingly so. But, it makes them dedicated to things they believe in."

"Suppose, still sounds like a pain in the bollocks."

Nik chuckles at that. "Yes, true. But i find it quite charming."

John shifts a bit. His gut clenching oddly. He clears his throat.  "S'at all about them then?"

"Sometimes they can miss the point." Nik sighs.

John laughs at that, "Reckon you need someone that can put 2 and 2 together."

Nik hums in agreement. "Hints don't work either."

John sets his glass down, the ice clinking with the motion. "They sound like a pillock." he says.  Nik barks out a laugh at that.

"Da. But I find it endearing, even if it is frustrating."

John rests his chin on his hand. It hurts, not just the sunburn, but hearing Nik talk about this person he hadn't known existed. That he's clearly interested in, wants more from. It feels like losing something, he realises. Something he isn't sure he realised how badly he wanted until it was already slipping away from him.

As much as the realisation leaves him reeling, there's a stronger truth beneath it, that he wouldn't let anything stand in the way of: Nik deserves to be happy.

"Why haven't you told 'em then?" he asks, looking at his feet where they're splayed out in front of them, slumping in his chair.

"I'm trying to." Nik says, also looking down at his feet.

Price nudges him, trying to lighten the mood. "Not gonna manage that wasting the night with me." he smiles.

Nik stares at him blankly, running his hand through his hair and sighing in irritation.

"You really are an idiot." he says simply. Before John can put together what he said to set him off, Nik tugs him forward by his collar and kisses him.

John had thought about kissing Nik before. In brief moments before his mind snapped shut and pushed the idea away as something he didn't deserve.

He'd thought it would be different from his past, that he'd have to learn. That it would feel strange with someone else taking the reins, that it would be aggressive and claiming.

But it's not. It's at odds with itself. The thumb stroking along his jaw is firm but gentle. The night air has further chilled around them, but Nik radiates heat. It makes John think of summer and the way light strikes off windows, golden and bright. It feels like the sun.

Nik's teeth scrape against his lip, he tastes like the whisky they'd been sharing, like smoke over water. He can feel the rumble deep in Nik's chest, the heavy weight of an arm around his waist and his head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

It leaves him reeling, unable to do much, unable to reciprocate as his mind runs over the conversation that led them to this point. The person Nik had been talking about. The sunlight shining bright in the middle of the night that Kate said felt like happiness.

Nik pulls away, resting his forehead against John's shoulder, while he's left struck dumb and blinking.

"Oh."

"You're very stupid sometimes." Nik says to his collarbone.

"Been told that a lot lately." John mumbles. His face is radiating heat, not just from the sunburn but the sudden flush that's overtaken him. His hands feel shaky as his heart thunders in his chest.

Nik just waits.

"I don't take hints." he says to the top of Nik's head.

"Nyet. But it is endearing."

John huffs, Nik's hair ruffling with the air. They sit there for a moment, Price trying to find a position that doesn't irritate his arms before Nik captures his hand and holds it instead, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"How long were you going to wait?" John asks, looking down at him. Nik rests his chin on his chest, slumped over him. It can't be comfortable but he doesn't think there's a force on Earth that could move Nik from where he is.

"As long as needed." he says, voice warm and eyes soft. John feels his cheeks heat again and looks off to the side, grumbling as he can feel Nik chuckle.  There feels like there's something Nik isn't saying. John thinks he knows though.

"Kate?" John guesses. Nik stills for a moment, nodding with a sigh.  

"Da. Threatened to castrate me if I didn't do something about it. She said you would not realise."

"That all she said?" John asks, unable to stop the smile.

"She may have also mentioned the cabin is cheaper than the therapy from seeing us dance around each other." he pauses, "And that if we didn't sort this out by the end of the week it was remote enough to hide the bodies."

"Lake is deep enough for that." John muses.

"Mhmm." Nik agrees, the vibrations settling into John's ribs. He glances down at where their hands are joined, and slides his thumb along the ridge of Nik's hand, before tugging it upward.

Nik looks up confused.

"C'mon. Can't be comfortable down there." John tugs on his hand again, and gets them to their feet, knees cracking. Nik pulls him, hand spanning over John's jaw as he kisses him again. This time, it feels like John has both feet on the ground. No missteps or stumbling, instead knowing the path to take.

"I like being able to do that now." Nik beams at him. John scoffs, but feels a boyish grin that refuses to shift from his face.

"Shut up, you."

-------

When they wake up the next morning, Kate is giving them a smug look above her coffee cup and Jen giggles somewhere in the kitchen.

Nik's hand is warm in his under the table and his eyes are bright whenever they catch each other's gaze.

He goes to help Jen in the kitchen with the dishes, Kate leans forward, tapping John on the hand.

"Are you happy, John?"

He steals a piece of bacon off her plate, winking at her as he chews.

"You were right." he gives her hand a squeeze, "It's like finding the sun."

~End~

[stareiiez]

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 --- three.

simon ( ghost ) riley x female reader.

content : dark?? ghost. fingering. orgasming. voyeurism. modern settings. mentions of stalking. obsession. drinking. sex. female genitals. unhealthy attachments. violence. blood. implied death. blood. smut in later chapters. dark topics. this is just my version of haunting adeline but for ghost. adult cis female reader. MDNI. 3.9k words.

note: FINALLY we get to the beginning of the juicy bits. Rip Graves. I never liked him anyways :o. reblogs and notes are always loved and appreciated!

The number of times you were right, was very slim to none. You were right about hot tea being nothing but assaulting to your tastebuds the few times you tried to give the drink a chance. You were right about how stupid politics, and the government were just how they chanted about making your country amazing and equal again. You were right about how hot cocoa and hot chocolate were two different drinks. One was hot milk and cocoa powder, while the latter involved actual chocolate being involved in the process of making the delicious beverage. You were lastly right about seeing Graves again. Manifestation and crossing your fingers had nothing on your ability to predict that you'd manage to get the man into your home and sitting across from you.

A cooling mug of bitter coffee sat in the curve of his palm while he laughed over the details again about the night he first saw you at the club. Thanks to the help of a flirty intoxicated Izzy, she left yours as well as her and Veronica's numbers written on a liquor-damp piece of receipt paper for Graves' boys to fight over who could have whom for late-night hookups if they so wanted. Graves had called you during your lunch break at work, somehow he had known in the universe that you were thinking about him to take the time to call. You never answered unknown numbers, but this time you had. Your cheeks flushed when you heard his drawl over the phone's speaker. His tone sends your heart to flutter in its trapped cage of your ribs. Your coworkers must have thought you were weird for smiling and giggling like a schoolgirl who was talking to their quarterback crush over the phone for the first time.

You two had chatted about the hour break you had during lunch. Your three-day-old takeout leftovers were left untouched in favor of flirting with the man and trying to work out a day and time to have him come over for a cup of coffee as an excuse to catch up on the missing details of the rest of the night. The sound of idle laughter filled your home's warm living room/kitchen area. You covered your giggles with your coffee mug while Graves went into detail about how he found his friends' clothes missing after Izzy and Veronica had convinced them to skinny dip in the pool of the Air B&B the boys were staying in for however long. Their clothes were hidden among the crooks and crannies of the house while the boys played drunk Marco Polo in the pool temp water.

Veronica and Izzy had soon left them after that, miraculously striding out of the home just as Graves had been dropped off by his Uber. He graciously bought them both a ride home, none the wiser to the panicked voices of his friends outside in their rented pool. "I've never seen anything quite as pale as the White Sands in New Mexico than Ox's bare ass streaking through the place trying to find his clothes. " Graves laughed over your small giggles the image had brought both of you.

Comfortable silence lingered between you two as you both sipped from differing tastes of coffee. His eyes never left you, nor did they hide the way they watched your throat move as you swallowed a mouth full of overly sweet coffee and cream.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I never asked my guest." Graves' eyebrows rose when you set your mug down, a change in your expression caught his attention. You were now standing. Coffee mug drained to bitter grounds and sugar granules. The stain of your lipstick imprinting on deep green ceramic. "If he wanted a tour of my home, you've been here for an hour but your story was so funny I didn't want to interrupt. "

Pretty blues swept over your small place. A lofted house isn't much to get lost in, but there was more to just a chic-looking home in the middle of nowhere. What's he got to lose? A pretty woman taking him on adventures that would give him excuses to have his hands on you so you don't stray away. Count him in. "Alright, darlin'. " The harsh push of his velvet-lined barstool squeaked against the floorboards when he stood to rise as well. An arm extended in such a gentleman-like way, offering it out to you. As if he wasn't charming enough for someone you've known for a night and one day.

His muscles were strong against your smooth skin when you wrapped your arm around him. Ignoring the flush threatening to surface on your cheeks from the smell of his cologne teasing your nose, you guided him to the backdoors of your home. French doors opened to greet you with the interior of your large greenhouse. Your aunt sure had a green thumb in her youth, and nothing was more convenient than having nature practically share doors with her. In honor and overwhelming gratitude you had for her giving this house to you, you decided to take up the art of gardening and plant caring. You weren't the best at it. Then again you just moved in and you only started with little seedlings of seasonal flowers and already potted house plants. Veggies and fruits were another challenge you'll learn after you can manage to not overwater or uproot your aloe vera plants for the third time in a month.

Outdoor paper lanterns cascaded in swoops over both of your heads. It cast a warm, soothing glow that contrasted your evening's dark, rainy gloom. Rain splashed down on the thick glass of the greenhouse; only achieving a cozier feel to your little slice of nurtured nature. Plush loveseats of dark and white colors decorated the corners of the space and openly invited you two to sit down and chat more with one another. Thankfully, Graves had better ideas and had plopped himself down into the dark green loveseat. He practically sunk into rich velvet, as he dragged you by the arm you linked with his, downwards. You didn't have the chance to protest or even outright gasp when your back collided with the strong contours of his chest.

"It's lovely. " Graves' hummed into the curve of your ear. His blue eyes fell from the stoic gold lanterns above you, to now the curve of your neck. He couldn't help the temptation of leaning in to place his lips against sweet-smelling skin. "But. I have something lovelier." His voice husks out, words muffling into whispers against the back of your neck.

Ample kisses, slow and steady cause rows of pinks and reds to bloom along the thin skin. His large hands settle on their rightful place on your hips. Just like those nights ago, they decide to squeeze and paint beautiful bruises under the fabric of your short skirt. He's a multi-tasking pro for letting his mouth ravage the curves and bends of your neck with his hot tongue and lips; while his hands decide to paw and knead the more tender flesh of your inner thighs. His large palms cover your thighs so nicely enough, that they ward away the chill of the falling rain outside solid glass windows.

Your head falls back onto the curve of his right shoulder. The angle is a little uncomfortable and hard to get used to, but it's so worth it when he licks a wet stripe down the slope of your exposed throat. Your breath hitches. Cheeks flush a cherry red when you feel his lips curve against your wet skin from your reaction. Sure, thinking about picking up where you last left off wasn't in your mind when you decided to invite him over. You couldn't even begin to predict how a simple chat over coffee, would lead to those rough hands pushing your skirt up enough to let the smooth planes of your panty-covered mound. Both the forest's and Graves' hungry eyes soaked in the black satin underwear you wore. Thank god for doing laundry before he came over, or else he would have seen the crustiest pieces of fabric that were held together with two pieces of thread and a wish. The storm outside had taken the chance to have thunder drown out the deep bellow of a groan from Graves' throat at the sight. All for him. Only for him in this moment, and by God was he glad he didn't decide to go fuck some other chick than follow through with your plans today. He was so lucky.

So lucky in fact that his luck happened to attract another lucky individual to this show you and him were putting on together. You really should consider where you were and who could be potentially watching you getting your panties ripped off of your thighs and tossed in some random direction.

The fold of Simon's hood shrouded his face in black shadows, but it didn't obscure the sight of those thighs parting at the large palm that encompassed your clothed cunt. Hidden lips curved into an amused smirk when he watched you start to hump the stranger's hand. His fingers tingled at how your pretty spine curved upwards, lips parted in silent moans that he would burn down cities just to hear on repeat. Such a pretty thing you are, letting yourself be touched in ways that only looked like soft-core porn compared to what images were running through his fucked mind right now.

The grass squished under his boots, imprints of his soles pressing the greenery into perfect evidence that he was watching. It wasn't hard to find you if you were to find these footsteps later when you're doing your yoga outside in the afternoons on sunnier days. It's not hard to run through every single female owner of your type of branded red car. He found the name and credit card information that you used to buy your vehicle too pleasantly quickly. Child's play as Alejandro liked to say with bright white teeth and brown eyes winking in mischief. He knew your age, your blood type, your eye color, home address, date of birth, fuck even what size of bras you like to wear. It's especially easier to have someone hack streetlight cameras, and every building that owns security cameras, to watch your car drive through empty city streets to get home. Fewer cameras, and less technology surrounding your dusty roads home. He's a man with connections, thank the stars for the 141 and Alejandro's buddies. He'd kiss the man on the mouth with ruddy tongue and all if it meant getting to watch you get off for his eyes every single night.

The humidity in your greenhouse seemed to kick up a notch when your cunt made the filthiest noises against the grooves of Graves' palm. Your breaths were storm clouds of lust and babble of pleas that rained down over your heads. Your moans were thunderous claps of straight energy that made your ears ring and muscles string taut with arousal that pooled warmly in your stomach. Graves' touch was the strike of lightning hitting dry trees in your barren forest. His fingers were electricity that curled through sopping folds to press against your G-spot and alight you with hot flames that crackled and popped under your skin. It was everything that led to a disastrous wildfire that overtook your body and made your legs snap wider when you burned hotter and hotter in his hands. Your body danced and wriggled under his strong grip. Graves was the idiotic man that made this wildfire of yours worse, he was the one to pour gasoline on your inferno when his thumb rubbed hurried circles to your clit and watch you fall apart in crackling embers of charred wood and soot when your body couldn't handle its heat any longer.

The evidence of Graves' arousal rubbed against the swell of your bare ass. Rough denim chaffing silky skin a blushed pink. He wasn't giving you much of a break to let your thoughts become coherent. The sight of his slick-covered index and middle finger scooping up your sweet essence and shoving them in his mouth only encouraged the aching thrum in your belly to begin all over again. You could taste yourself on his tongue when greedy hands wrapped around the back of his neck, and you forced his head to bend down to sloppily kiss you over your shoulder. Tongues swapped spit and remaining salty tangy slick that stained Graves' tastebuds happily. It wasn't even qualified as what your kisses were at this point. It was heavy petting of flicking tongues and hungry moans into the hot caverns of your mouths'.

Between the heavy petting and Graves' shameless rutting against your ass. One of your hands crept behind and between your writhing bodies to fumble blindly with his zipper. His moving hips aided in his zipper pulling down. The release of pressure made Graves groan out in relief, his head falling back with a sigh; allowing your spit-covered lips to press wet kisses along the column of his throat as best as you could at this angle.

Just as your hips had lifted to allow yourself to finally spin around and pull Graves' jeans off his legs; a loud bang echoed over your lustful activities and the thunderstorm outside. It sounded like someone or something had made an impact with the curved glass of your greenhouse. Whatever it was, it was heavy and had enough force to send both of your gazes to the direction of where the noise came from. Graves stood up from his loveseat, eyes still shiny with desire. Jeans threatening to fall around his ankles comically. "Probably a stupid deer. Things run into your damn headlights if you drive fast enough." His voice drawled out to the back of your head. Too nonchalant compared to you. You would jump at any loud noise or shadow if it was too scary-looking.

Blame it on the realistic horror movies that get put out nowadays for your fear and paranoia. "You sure? It doesn't sound like it was a deer. We'd hear it scream or cry in pain." Your head whipped around to look up at him. Shoulders taut once more like they had been when you were alone in your car and found that flower in your passenger seat.

A snort left the man. A shit-eating grin threatening to overtake kiss bruised lips. He found this hilarious. Much to your annoyance, he was going to patronize you like you were some kid afraid that there were monsters in your closet and under your bed. You could tell the next words he'd utter would turn your mood sour in an instant.

"Awh, lil darlin' afraid of a big bad buck?" You were right. "You want me to check it out, sweetheart?" Yes. No. Yes. Maybe? You've got to be overreacting, right?

Your round eyes and shallow breathing were much of an answer to him than if your pretty mouth had opened and half begged half whispered for him to go see if some brain-dead animal had rammed its thick cranium into your glass window and killed itself willingly. A shake of his head and a small breathy chuckle left his lungs. He fixed his pants with an amused sigh. "Suit yourself, darlin'. Wait right here. Won't be long."

His steps thudded out of your greenhouse, and back into your home. You could hear your front door opening and closing. You could hear the muffled stamping of his boots walking down the couple steps of your front porch. It was so quiet if you had the will and ability to, you could hear the crunch of dirt and gravel crunching under Graves' soles. Instead, you were deafened by the trickling of rain and the occasional clap of soft thunder that rumbled in the distance. You stood there, waiting and listening. Two minutes went by. Then another minute passed. Then another; and another; and another. Five minutes, you stood there. Skirtless, with your slick cool in your goosebump-flecked skin. Graves wouldn't take that long to walk around your property, right? He's not an idiot to go wandering into your forest at night and lose himself in the thick canopy of branches and pine needles. He was just going to go around the side of your home and check out the perimeter of your greenhouse. It doesn't take five minutes to do that. You would know, you've done that a couple of times in the past to embrace the outdoors on your yoga mat.

Hastily you bent over to collect your discarded panties and skirt. Heart skipping a beat here and there while you got dressed. The uncomfortable stick of your panties to your lower lips made you shiver in more than just fear for your sanity. You were becoming too aware of how alone you were and how long Graves had been gone. You swallowed, fists clenching at your sides. Damp palms being creased in half-moons from your fingernails while you turned your head to gaze outside to the dreary moonlight night. Your mouth opened, nerves steeling for your voice to call out to Graves.

What didn't come out of your parted lips wasn't Graves' name in a questioning manner, however; but a scream that was ripped from your shaking lungs when lightning ripped seams through the sky and illuminated the very large handprint spotted with watery crimson that stained your glass wall temporarily. The quick flash of bright light had you screaming for something far different than what you wanted to be screaming for that night. Awash tiny rivers of red and the imprint of a stranger's bare hand had been more than a sign to ditch waiting around for Graves to show up. Your heart had leaped into your constricted throat as you bolted into your living room. The door separating your home and the greenhouse was slammed behind your body. It was hard enough to rattle the frame and the wall of your house.

Sweaty fingers fumbled blindly in the dark of your home to turn the lock on the door. Your breaths were harsh and coming out faster and faster. In some fucked sense, you wanted to scream out in the open that you were right once again. You were always right. You were scared out of your god damned mind, on the verge of having a panic attack but you were right. Graves was out there. Maybe that was his handprint on your glass and some animal had decided to hurt him for making fun of it. Maybe it wasn't an animal.

Your mind screamed logic and facts. It couldn't have been an animal. Animals that were killed were noisy to some degree. They would snarl or cry out before attacking their prey. It would have made Graves scream in pain if he got bit or ripped apart in the jaws of some bobcat or wolf if they even have those where you live. If the forest surrounding your home was even home to such dangerous creatures that stalked around your home every night. It had to be something human. Someone was out there. A homeless man crazed on drugs and was able to hurt some innocent person for the money in their wallet just to score a new high. Maybe a serial killer who got off on killing vulnerable people who were out in the dredges between night and evening; just waiting to bury their blade into their victim's throat and hack away till they were lifeless and bloody on the ground.

You spun around on your heel, pressing your spine against the sturdy wood of the door. Something to help you ground your senses and coax the terrified screams that were clogged in your esophagus. The back of your head thunked back, your eyes squeezed shut. Just breathe. You can focus on trying to breathe even if there was some knife-wielding maniac perusing around your estate just waiting for you to be dumb enough to go after Graves in hopes of finding him. You weren't stupid, sure a little dumb at times, but not stupid enough to die like every annoying side character in a slasher movie.

Inhale. Exhale. Tick tick tick goes the clock hanging above your head.

Inhale. Exhale. Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump goes your heartbeat that slows microscopically. Good, progress.

Inhale. Exhale. Open your eyes and look around to find the cellphone you left on the counter next to your coffee cup so the cops can come and save you.

Inhale. Exhale. Feel your entire face go white and mouth open in silent screams when you find a lone red peony placed right on top of your phone screen. Your stomach twisted in knots over and over again till everything in your gut curdled. Next thing you knew, you were vomiting in your kitchen sink from adrenaline and fear. A slurry of coffee and lunch and breakfast painted the sterling silver tub.

This isn't happening. There's no way that this could be happening to you. Some sick freak that not only broke into your car but now your house and could have hurt Graves just to leave behind flowers for you isn't possible. Yet the chill of the now-becoming night air only confirms your delusions into a sick reality. Your head turns over your shoulder, not bothering to rinse your mouth out. The whites of your eyes threaten to pop out of your skull when you see the front door is wide open. Blooming constellations and the expanse of your dirt road greet your bulging eyes. Again, does your heart race ever faster, the color and feeling in your entire body threatening to drain at a rapid state that leaves you uncoordinated.

With legs equivalent to jelly, you cross the expanse of your small home. Eyes trained on the young night sky that taunts you with its ever-calm presence. Even if your world is starting to crumble and fall into ruin, the sky and gentle breeze in the air remain ever the same as always. You told yourself you wouldn't be the dumb blonde that wanders out and gets killed by the crazy slasher in movies, but yet you find yourself standing in the open doorway. Your eyes can't focus on staring in one place for long. Always flicking in every direction at the smallest of noises that nature makes. Your ears strain for the crunch of footsteps that are somewhat human. Your fluctuating pupils fought to try and find the silhouette of a man out in the growing shadows between the thick bark of the trees. Still, you could find nothing of the sort, no crazy killer. No dead body of Graves strung up in a taunting manner there to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

However, what you did find when your head had tilted down just enough, was a crudely carved ' S ' in the painted black steps of your front porch. The ragged edges and points of the single letter tarnished your quickly dissolving sanity, your home, and your plans for the rest of the night. The single letter stared up at you for just a second later. That was until you turned tail and retreated into your home, the front door slamming shut behind you, so you could finally call the cops.

[pablitogavii]

Vacation Mornings

Summary: What does it look like when you get to spend mornings together when pablo is on vacation <33

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: none just pure fluff <33

You woke up first so you turned around in Pablo's arms smiling at his peaceful sleepy face knowing just how much he needs sleep after the draining season he had.

When you look at him, he was only your Pablo, an 18 years old sleeping baby, but then you remember all of his achievements and how he has to spend most of his year being the professional player.

When he finally had a break, you wanted him to rest up and recover as much as possible so you decided to let him sleep in for as long as he wants to in the next month.

Your hand touch his face gently careful not to wake him up as you slowly start leaving kisses to his cheeks, then his neck and chest getting a little too much into it. You heard his giggles looking up feeling guilty for actually waking him up but he didn't seem to mind.

"Mmm I love vacation mornings..." he said and you blush moving up and kissing his lips lovingly as he pulled you on top of hi deepening the kiss and holding you tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry I woke you up cariño.." you say but he shook his head kissing your lips again while his hands went through your curls down your back slowly.

"I could never complain being woken up by your kisses anjo..if only I can always wake up like this" he said sighing and you smiled touching his face and pecking his lips.

"Then I am going to wake you up like this every morning during this vacation.." you said and he smiled nodding his head before you kissed some more.

"Y/n! Should I wear this dress?" Aurora just rushed into the bedroom and Pablo jumped putting the blanket over you on top of him instinctively although you weren't even naked.

"Don't you know how to knock!?" Pablo said and you giggled when Aurora flipped him off and walked to show you the pictures of the dress she was talking about. It looked very nice on her and you said she should wear it.

"Oh and I knew you weren't naked since for the first time there was no noises and I could sleep!" Aurora said before rushing to the door as Pablo threw a small pillow at her.

"I love staying at home for vacation with you but maybe we start locking that door preciosa.." he said and you giggled nodding your head kissing him again.

"This is where we left off, isn't it cariño??" you said and he smiled kissing you again this time with a bit more strength and you moaned quietly.

"Mhmm..morning besitos..I'm going to get hooked on them" he said and you smiled into the kiss nodding your head before laying down on his chest and just cuddling up some more until it's the time to start your day.

When you walked downstairs finally meeting his family already done with the breakfast, you walked up to Belen who giggled at her sleepy son who saw searching for a cup to make himself coffee.

"So grumpy in the morning..like his papa" Belen said and you chuckled walking up to Pablo taking the cup and telling him you'll take it and he should go eat something.

"Te amo princesa..graciass" he said like a whiny child and you giggle nodding your head as he pecked your lips and sit down with his dad to eat some breakfast. You asked Sr. Gavi if he wanted coffee but he politely declined saying he already had his earlier.

"Made you and me some oats, hermanita" Aurora gave me the bowl and I sent her a kiss before finishing Pablo's coffee while munching on it and then bringing it to him kissing the side of his head.

He took it smiling and pulling me to sit on his leg which I obliged as we talked to his dad while finishing our breakfast. He kissed my shoulder softly before sipping on his coffee and finishing his breakfast.

"You kids want to have a pool day today??" Belen said and Aurora nodded at the same time as me while Pablo whined but seeing how excited I was about her he also agreed.

"You're lucky yo te amo muchisimo princesa!" he said and you giggled nodding your head and kissing his lips before you both went upstairs to change into some swimsuits and have another amaizng day on vacation together <33

I know it's short but I really like this idea of Pablo being grumpy in the morning hehe <33

[bunnyunderthebed]

i'm so tense i can't even pick music to listen to while we drive. you're next to me, flashing me concerned looks and grabbing my hand now and again but it's little help. clenching my jaw and breathing deep keeps me from breaking, polite small talk with strangers keeps me distracted. i hate feeling like this, like i'm going to explode any minute now. all i want to do is go home, curl up in your lap, and stop existing.

you tell me i need to let it go, that you're here for me, but you don't know what this is. it's not a pool you can drain in an afternoon, it's an ocean you'll drown in if i let it carry you away. time has taught me how to float over waves and bottle riptides, all i have to do is hold firm and fill the cracks in the dam when they appear.

it's to your benefit too, you know. you get to enjoy a rare moment of silence from a usually chatty bunny, like a little vacation from dealing with me and my neediness. you can admit it, i won't hold it against you. this is how pretty much everyone feels about me, how it's always been. i'm better in small doses; eat too much and you'll get sick of me.

[19ndonboy]

i don’t know anything - mason mount

words: 2.2k

A/N: feeling really self-conscious about this, i wasn’t sure about posting it but here we go! i hope you’ll like it and feedback is really appreciated, thank you <3

you and mason have been friends for months. you two met at a common friend’s party. you would always joke about how it was one of the most boring parties you ever went to until this brown haired man showed up in front of you, with a defeated look on his face asking for help to save him from a random girl following him everywhere he went.

and at this time, he probably thought of it as a conversation that would last for five minutes until that girl got bored of him. but what was supposed to be like a polite gathering full of thank yous ended up as you two laying on deckchairs by the pool laughing out loud, capturing other people’s attention there and then.

reece watching you from afar with a grin on his face. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for this to, somehow, happen during his party. although mason had made friends up north and he was accommodating well to his new life in manchester, reece knew his friend needed someone outside the football’s world to speak to. and his mind went directly on you.

to him, you were a bubble of joy, always finding the good words to give comfort to your loved ones when they needed it, making them laugh to the point their stomach hurts and never missing an opportunity to banter. and this was all mason was asking for after going through rough times for the past year.

and so after this party, what happened was you and mason meeting up in cafés, at parks or in the comfort of your homes. and if you couldn’t see each other, you would call for hours with one of you always falling asleep on the other end of the phone, most of the time it being mason after his long draining training sessions.

at some point, you even found yourself in the stands at old trafford, with a red shirt on your back with his name on it, cheering for him. and you wouldn’t strew roses at your feet as he made it where he is by himself but no one could deny how him having you in his life helped him a lot career wise. he was back to his inner self on the green rectangle and you think you could kill just to see his cheshire cat smile after his games.

with you learning about his love for football and his job, this is how he found himself at a work party your company had organized and for which you had begged him to come with you. he wasn’t really hard to convince but as he loved to play with you, he took his sweet time giving you his positive answer, having made up his mind about it just after you asked but you couldn’t know that.

you were wearing a long blue silk dress with an open back and mason was wearing black pants with a white shirt, with the first buttons open. you two would make the perfect pair, some of your colleagues not missing an opportunity to whisper to you how good of a couple you two would make.

another comment you would wave off. they’d often tease you about the smile you’d have on your face for the rest of the day after a text from mason asking you to pass by his house after work as he missed you. they didn’t have to be the smartests to know you had catched feelings for your handsome friend.

but to your defense, no one could resist his silly jokes. and his arm around your shoulders while you were deep in a conversation with friends. and his hand on your small back when you would make your way into a club. and his eyes always on you at a party. and his never ending jokes just to see little wrinkles appear around your eyes. yeah, no one could resist.

you had been at this party for two hours now but the only thing you wanted to do was to leave. maybe bringing him here was a bad idea after all. well, that’s what you thought when you turned around to see him talking with one of your colleagues you weren’t deeply fond of, rebecca. surely nothing was interesting enough for him to have all his attention on her and her shrill laugh.

you tried your best not to let it affect you but as her hand was resting on his arm, you couldn’t take it anymore and you feigned not feeling good and went to them to ask mason to go home. you were well aware of how pathetic and childish this was. but you hated how sick to your stomach it made you feel to see them going along so well, with him paying no attention to you since she went up to him.

and as if the night couldn’t get worse, on the way home, he couldn’t stop but gush over how pretty and funny rebecca was for the whole ride. you were pretty sure you could hear something break into you when he confessed that he wanted to see her again. could he not see how every word that left his mouth hurt you a little bit more? no of course, he couldn’t, it’s not like he even knew about how you felt about him.

he left you home and with a small goodnight and a smile that looked like a grimace, you quickly made your way to bed to forget about this night, hoping that nothing would come out of it.

but maybe you hadn’t prayed enough. because as you were arriving at work two weeks later, rebecca was the first person to run to you. for what seemed like the hundredth time since the party, and you already know what she was going to talk about, but still, you weren’t expecting this.

“oh my god, oh my god y/n” she screamed. too engrossed in what you were doing on your computer, you didn’t pay much attention to her words until “mason invited me out tonight”. great. yes, this was great. no, this wasn’t great. you felt your heart getting heavier by the minutes you spent thinking about how their date could turn out tonight.

what if something came out of it? what if he really liked her after? what if she was the one for him? you would have to be happy for him, no? yes, maybe you were going too ahead of yourself and the only thing you could do is watch what happens anyway.

later that day, you went home to find yourself on your sofa wallowing in self-pity with mason on the other side of your phone, getting ready for the night.

“earth to jack, hello? come on y/n you’re supposed to help me with that! you’re the one who knows her. i want to impress her.” if only he knew, he didn’t have to do anything to impress me, you thought.

“i don’t even know her that much, we barely talk.” you muttered but he didn’t even pay attention to what you were saying, hesitating on the choice of shirt to go well with his grey jeans.

and what turned into one date became nights in at mason’s house, him cooking her his signature pasta dish, the one you loved so much. but this might not be the one thing that made you feel like someone is pulling at your heartstrings from morning to night. no, what made you feel like you were slowly but surely losing yourself in a deep hole was how he would barely call you anymore and give you his free time. but again, maybe it was better than having to hear him gush about her for hours as if she hung up the moon.

could he not see you were the one for him? what did she have that you don’t? maybe it was her hair that was always soft and shiny when yours would get in your way with the breeze. maybe it was her posture that would always have everyone’s eyes on her when yours looked like you’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders for years. maybe it was her kindness that made everyone go to her when you had your grumpy days.

as you were torturing yourself with these questions for weeks, you knew you wouldn’t have them answered and so, you did what was best for you. they were getting closer every day and as they did, you vanished from mason’s life.

no more dinners at his – if they even happened still, no more movie parties, no more late night drives, no more picnics outdoors, no more calls while doing the most mundane things. no more you and him.

and you wish there was but as of now, nothing could mend your broken heart as you saw him doing so well without you. doubts creeping in your head when you heard rebecca nattering about how he arrived at her place with her favorite flowers in his hand last night. pathetic. this was the only right way to describe you.

and although, your friends would never admit it to you because they know how much you hate when people feel pity for you, they couldn’t bear to see you like that. eating ice cream on your sofa at 4pm watching love, rosie for the hundredth time.

so, as good friends – that’s what they would describe themselves as – they took you out for drinks and you couldn’t thank them enough for getting you out of your house. and as silly as it sounds, it helped you.

you started to go out again, you enjoyed drinking your coffee in a park, you got yourself new clothes and a fresh haircut, you met new people. and you didn’t hear about mason in weeks or months, you didn’t know anymore. but that was until he showed up at your house, uninvited.

you opened the door in a rush, thinking it was your date, noah. someone you met in a grocery store. he had come up to you hoping to receive some advices on a recipe and it ended up with you two talking for 30 minutes between shelves. numbers exchanged, he texted you the following day, asking you out.

you felt like you were back in high school while getting ready, hoping he would find you pretty in your little black dress. but as mason was standing in front of you, his eyes wandering on your body, you were stupidly hoping he would too. until you mentally slapped your face, remembering rebecca is the one he gushes over, without so much as an effort from her side.

“where are you going?” he asked. no hello, no greetings, nothing.

“why would you want to know? what are you doing here?” it was so obvious that you didn’t want him here and this realization made him feel so uneasy.

he was about to talk, words close to coming out of his mouth until he was stopped by the doorbell. you didn’t look him straight in the eyes, nerves engulfing your body as you made your way to the door to meet noah. sure, he was looking good but you noticed how he didn’t have dimples that would usually make you weak to the knees, like mason’s.

“hi y/n, you look gorgeous” he went to kiss your cheek when he noticed mason’s presence behind you. he went to greet him, mason shaking his hand, his body stiff as he connected the dots between your outfit and this guy.

so many questions were spinning around in his head. who is he? when did you meet? how did you meet? is it your first date together? do you like him? he couldn’t stop them. lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize you were calling his name for two minutes now.

“mh mason we- we’re going to leave… i’m sorry, what were you here for?” but he brushed you off and with a sigh, he left without saying a word. why did he feel like he had a lump in his throat on the way home, blinking away the tears as hard as he could when the only thing he wanted to do was to ask the traffic lights if it will be alright. they wouldn’t know, he thought.

days passed by and you didn’t hear back from mason since this night. you could ask rebecca if he was okay but you felt nauseous just at the thought of getting news from her.

little did you know he also wanted to know how you were, which got him in the position he is right now. waiting by his car, parked in front of your workplace.

you were finally here. with a smile on your face when you took your eyes off your phone. his heart beating so hard until it fell in the void, he was here. and you were making your way to him, not mason. “fuck” he groaned in misery. and that’s when it hit him. he was so stupid he didn’t realize he fell for you until you slipped through his fingers, now giving your heart to another man.

he should’ve known. he should’ve been there before.

tag: @10vnderhaze @mountymase @fallinforerling

[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.1 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.3k) pro-hero shouto, we're talkin late 20s early 30s-ish, this independent bachelor turned begrudging father figure fic was almost certainly inspired by buddy daddies, pure fluff, sho is about to make a new bff who happens to be 5 years old much to everyone's surprise

YOU ARE HERE - p.2 - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

It’s not that Shouto wouldn’t make a good parent. Quite the opposite really. It’s just that after his tumultuous upbringing, he’s more at peace with the idea of spending his adulthood independently. He’s a bit awkward with kids anyway. Doesn’t know how to talk to them. The idea of having one toddling along behind him 24/7 makes him kinda itchy and uncomfortable, like when sweaters are made with synthetic material and get put through the dryer.

His friends often tell him he’ll probably change his mind as he gets older. His family does too. But he keeps getting older and his stance stays the same. Fuyumi gets married and starts having kids first. Natsuo and his partner eventually adopt as well after trying for a few years. Denki elopes on a trip abroad and has three kids before their graduating class has even hit 25. Kirishima is next. Momo. Sero. Slowly, everyone Shouto knows is settling down and getting married and starting families.

And he just… doesn’t want that.

“‘Scuse me.”

Shouto is staring at a puddle in the middle of the street one afternoon, lost in his thoughts. It’s just stopped raining, and everything around him on the city street is soaked as the water slowly pools and slithers away into the storm drains. His phone is in his hand, open to where Uraraka has just sent a text to the old class 1-A group chat to announce she’s having her second baby.

Shouto turns towards the sound that interrupted his swirling thoughts, and a pair of wide eyes gazes up at him from roughly thigh-height. 

“Yes?” the man asks, polite but a bit clipped, as he stares down warily at the child by his feet.

The kid probably wants a picture, he realizes. Even out of his Pro Hero suit he’s still fairly recognizable, and it’s a common occurrence. He’s got a baseball cap and mask on today though, and really hadn’t wanted to be spotted.

“Uhhh, uhmm…” the kid stammers, tugging at the hem of their little yellow rain jacket.

Shouto sighs a little.

“Do you want a pho-“

“Littering is bad!”

The child’s hands are balled up into determined little fists at their sides, their eyes squeezed closed like they mustered all their strength to say the words.

And Shouto is… speechless.

“Uh,” he falters, uncertain what the hell is even happening. “Yeah?”

The kid's eyes open again, and this time they look more resolved than they had a moment prior. Less friendly, too.

“So why’d you LITTER?”

People walking by on the sidewalk are starting to stare now, and Shouto gets that itchy, uncomfortable sensation that he hates as he feels the prickle of their eyes on him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks the child nervously, tugging his cap down a little further over his face.

The kid puffs out their cheeks indignantly.

“You dropped this garbage on the ground back there.” Clutched in the child’s tiny fist is a slip of paper—a receipt, Shouto quickly surmises. His receipt from the shop he’d just visited, which must have fallen from his pocket when he’d pulled out his phone. The little gremlin waves it around accusatorially. “And you didn’t pick it up! That’s littering.”

Shouto crouches down to meet the kid at eye-level, hoping that, if nothing else, it will stop raising its voice if he gets a bit closer.

“That was an accident,” Shouto tries to explain—tries to deescalate the situation—but the look on the child’s face doesn’t soften in the slightest. The worst part about all of this is that Shouto does actually need that receipt. He eyes it for a moment, contemplating his next move, and then he sighs. “Can I have that back?”

“No,” the kid answers immediately. “Littering is a crime and this is my eminence.”

“Your what?” the man asks flatly.

“My eminence,” the kid replies, turning their nose up at him like he’s the one being foolish.

Shouto blinks blankly at the knee-high pain in his ass.

“Nao! Nao!”

A startled, frantic voice makes Shouto’s head turn on instinct—the panic igniting a sense, an alertness, that’s been long-engrained in him.

He spots you down the road, an umbrella in your hand and a flustered but relieved look on your face, racing towards him.

Him? 

Shouto is confused for a moment, until he remembers he’s not alone.

“Mama!” the present bane of Shouto’s existence melts into something unrecognizable to the thorn they’d been in his side only a moment prior—their tone sweet and excited when they spot you jogging over.

“Nao-chan,” you breathe, falling to your knees on the sidewalk and wrapping your arms around their little yellow-raincoat clad body, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Mama, I caught a criminal!” the child, who Shouto can only assume is named Nao, says excitedly as they point an eager finger in his direction.

You turn and face Shouto with a startled look on your face.

This day is really not going his way.

Your cautious eyes scan Shouto for a moment, understandably wary considering your child just proudly labelled him a criminal, but he sees a flicker of recognition kindling behind your gaze that melts away your initial look of mistrust. Begrudgingly, he reaches up and loops a finger under the edge of his mask, tugging it down to his chin to reveal his face.

Your lips part, then close again.

“Nao-chan, I think you made a mistake,” you say softly to the child tucked against your side.

“Nuh-uh, Mama! I caught him littering and I got eminence!” 

“Evidence, baby,” you correct the child gently.

“Yeah, that!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, looking vaguely mortified, and huff out a little laugh.

“I’m so sorry,” you say to Shouto, an apologetic grimace on your face, “he’s been obsessed with the recycling hero lately. It’s all he talks about.”

Shouto eyes the child, the boy, at your side. He’s familiar with Reductro, the Recycling Hero, but only vaguely. He’s been working with the education branch of the Hero Commission for the past few years, teaching kids to minimize their waste and promote taking care of the environment, and the two have met in passing a few times through work and the like. Shouto had no idea he had these kind of die-hard fans.

“You like Reductro?” Shouto asks the kid curiously.

The little boy’s face lights up.

“He’s the best!”

“What’s so cool about him?” Shouto asks, genuinely interested.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!” The little boys eyes sparkle as he replies. “He took a gillion plastic bags out of the bay last year!”

Shouto purses his lips. that is pretty cool.

“Nao, give the nice hero back his receipt now, please,” you urge your son, seemingly eager to end this ordeal amicably. 

The little boy squints up at Shouto’s face, shuffling a bit closer. “You’re a hero?” he asks skeptically.

Shouto nods. “I’m Pro Hero Shouto.”

The little boy’s jaw gapes, and Shouto feels a little swell of smugness in his chest. He’s the number three hero after all, the kid must have heard of him.

“Do you know Reductro?”

The swell of his hubris deflates immediately. 

A few more words are exchanged as Nao—Naoyuki, age 5, likes Pro Hero Reductro and dislikes broccoli, as Shouto comes soon to learn—returns his misplaced receipt and you apologize again for your son’s overzealousness. With a few polite bows and one last apology for good measure, the three of you part ways—Naoyuki’s little rain boots thumping along the sidewalk as the two of you depart hand-in-hand.

Shouto looks down at the paper in his palm after you’re gone, unable to shake the foreign feeling that’s crept over him, and curled itself into his chest underneath his ribs. He clasps his fingers around the troublesome receipt and shoves his hand into his coat pocket as he sets off in the direction of his apartment.

He keeps the little slip of paper tightly in his grip the entire way home.

[smuttysabina]

A Pervert Bred by Perverts only Breeds more Perverts

(EU x Male Reader, 1800 words) Tags: Cumplay, perversity, anal, double penetration, blowjobs, frotting, even more cum, moral degeneration

EU has a thing with perverts. With thing representing a rather complicated love-hate relationship that feeds upon itself. Because you see, EU is herself a pervert, a degenerate girl who loves nothing more than pushing boundaries of polite sex. And considering that for an idol, "polite sex" is already a rather loose idea, this indicates that EU is into some truly deviant activities. But engaging in sexual acts that would make even Mia raise an eyebrow is a rather embarrassing thing; especially when the fans who are into such things are rarely the cream of the crop. While every idol is expected to bear with the... ordeal of pleasing their less savory fans, it's viewed as a touch depraved to actively enjoy it. So EU pretends to loath her humiliating experiences, verbally abusing her fans like an annoyed brat, while her body urges them on. Other idols would be disgusted by fans rubbing filthy, smelly cocks all over their faces, but she gleefully licks and plays with them until she milks out their chunky loads. In short, EU is simply a pervert, eager to engage in the most foul activities with anyone. Disappointingly for her, you are looking for something much more mundane...

The end of an Everglow fan orgy is more akin to a disaster zone than a conventional love-making event. While not rivalling the catastrophic tableau that fiercer 4th Generation groups like Itzy or Le Sserafim leave behind, it is still an impressive sight. There is generally a pool of mixed sex fluids filling the room, in some places several inches deep, with those too exhausted by their love-making strewn about, until overworked staff members can retrieve them. The girls themselves are usually adequately sated by that late hour, relaxing lazily upon heaped pillows as the last remaining fans drain themselves into Everglow. Late as always, you arrive with a hurried manner and heavy balls. Sihyeon is already snoring, as grimacing staff members towel the worst of the mess off of her; Yiren catnaps nearby, occasionally bestirring herself to snack upon some grapes as she slowly forces the night's semen out of her pussy. Mia is assisting some of the last remaining fans in the exertions, sandwiched between their sweaty bodies she happily drains the remaining dregs of their balls. Aisha meanwhile is busy felching an enormous quantity of jizz out of Onda's pussy, who moans and clutches at Aisha's head as she orgasms messily. Which leaves EU as the only member of Everglow who seems actively interested in such a late arrival.

EU gives you a beguiling smile as you approach, her adorable face entirely at odds with her current condition. Her petite body is slathered with sweat and semen, her eyes bloodshot from the sheer quantity of cum plastered onto her face. Her long straight hair is matted and snarled, though bizarrely enough her much stained beret is still in place; seemingly cemented to her hair with dried jizz. EU stands up to greet you, her tiny hands already exploring your manhood even as she enquires after your... tastes. Then she glances past you and her eyes widen slightly in delight, it seems like you're going to have to share her tonight after all... You are joined by several other fans, in various degrees of hygiene and grooming, crowding around the perverted idol. Who falls back to her knees in welcome as she is surrounded by throbbing, smelly cocks; EU is already panting with excitement. She nuzzles each in turn as her face is smothered in sweaty dick-flesh, lapping lustfully at her fans perverted cocks. Her warm wet tongue artfully plies its frenzied course amidst your twitching dicks, her agile hands joining in on the fun as well. EU rubs your swollen cockheads together, slurping on them, making sure each of your members get to know the others. You moan as the sensation of smooth skin sliding against your own cock, as EU lubricates the frotting with her moist mouth.

Then one of your compatriots has had enough of such lascivious teasing, hauling EU up into the air, and lowering her onto his throbbing cock. She squeaks in insincere outrage, how dare you dirty perverts use her petite body like a cheap fleshlight! But the loud squelching noises coming from her sopping pussy easily tell you how she really feels. So the group of you pass EU around like well, a cheap fleshlight, every fan using her for a few good hard pumps before handing her off to the next one. When its your turn you slide her easily down onto you, and she takes a particular delight in seeing how much your enjoying your time with her. See, isn't sharing fun? Then you regrettably hoist her off of your cock, giving her to guy beside you, your cock lonely in the cold air outside of EU's warmth. This pattern continues for several cycles, as each of you edge yourselves using this perverse idol's slutty hole; until at last, someone creampies her. EU hisses in disgust, how dare they fill her with their filthy seed, as she orgasms wetly. This signaled a further descent into debauchery.

Now all of EU's holes are to be put to use, as the next fan slides their cock into her cum filled pussy, you stick your dick into her much tighter asshole. She gasps in indignation, how dare you violate her tender ass with your thick, meaty cock... EU clenches tight around your shaft as you thrust in time with your partner, the both of you groaning as your edged cocks rapidly approach orgasm. The three of you shudder in sympathy as you cum together, your built up load spewing into EU's guts, even as her pussy is flood with cum once more. You lower her to her feet, and she looks back it you with a sleazy smirk, coyly running her tiny hand down your shaft. Then EU is getting pulled the floor, where she mounts another fan on the fluid-stained carpet. She vigorously rides her partner, while she takes two more in her nimble hands, taking turns sucking them off. You stroke yourself as you watch her bounce, her belly bulging slightly with every motion; EU giggling with delight as one of the fans jizzes all over her face. The other one busts in her mouth, making her throat bob as she drinks their smelly semen with glee. Her final partner reaches their climax soon after, unloading themselves into her as she slows down to enjoy the pleasure of having a dick cum in her.

Now bereft of a sex partner, EU pouts on her knees, until you shove your dirty cock into her face. She beams up at you, now she's really going to take her time satisfying you... She studiously pampers your cock, kissing and sucking every inch even as she insults you for "forcing" her to clean such a filthy dick. EU takes you in her mouth, all the way down to your balls where she licks at them even as her eyes start to fill with tears and her face turns red for want of air. She pulls off of your cock, gasping, before latching onto your balls, roiling them with her tongue as she strokes you. After she is finished mauling your sack, EU moves down to your taint, lavishing it with affection until she reaches your ass. Her hot tongue invades your hole, rimming it as she coils around you to get the deepest angle. By the time she is done violating your butt, you are shuddering with unwholesome pleasure at the exotic thrill of her acts. EU smiles indulgently as you slap your cock against her face, patiently inquiring how you would like to fuck her. Since that's what you're going to do right, you're going to stick that lewd cock back into her aren't you?

With strength born from passion, EU guides you down into the filth with her, kissing and massaging you amongst the stained pillows. Licking her lips, she grinds against your rigid cock, smearing it with the jizz that dribbles continuously out of her well-used hole. What, you thought you would have a choice pervert? EU could tell that you wanted to get ridden, she noticed how excited you got watching her getting filled up by all that sticky cum... No need to be shy, just admit it, you want to fuck the sloppy seconds out of EU's vulgar cunt! Groaning, you haul the haul the teasing slut atop you forwards, before slamming her back down onto your now fully erect manhood. She squeals in delighted outrage, you really stuck your deviant dick back inside of her cum-filled hole, you naughty boy! EU's slimy insides caress your cock, forcing out bubbles of turgid semen as she tries to tighten herself around your cock. The viscous mess burbles around your crotch, sticking to both of you as you rut like animals in heat. EU stares deep into your eyes as you plow her, urging you on with breathy whispers, her perky nipples firmly erect. Then a look of confusion crosses her face, and you feel something pressing against where your shaft enters EU's cunt. Something hot and hard slowly slides in along side you, pushing into her petite pussy until it is fully inside. Evidently another fan had a second wind as well...

EU moans unashamedly like a cheap whore as her hole is violated by both of your cocks. Her sopping cunt squeezes your dicks tight against one another, lubricating your thrusts with a mixture of cum and juices. Your dicks rub against each other as you and the other fan both fuck EU as hard as you can, your smooth shafts contrasting exquisitely with the clammy folds of her pussy. The sensation is unlike any you have felt before, and you feel your balls quickly rising to the occasion. EU meanwhile is flushed with arousal, whispering perverse and lascivious things to you as she gets fucked. Then something hot and syrupy spews all over your shaft, and you realize that your partner had just cum on your dick. You groan mightily as you soon follow suit, your seed erupting into EU's already creampied cunt. Who orgasms spectacularly, collapsing onto your chest even as she intimately insults the both of you. With a wet squelch, the other fan pulls out, leaving the you and EU gasping and heaving for breath against one another.

Eu smiles proudly down at you, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss; as her pussy belches jizz out of its loosened hole. See, aren't things so much better down her in the filth? Once you've tried it, its impossible to go back to having normal sex; now you have so satiate your depraved urges just like EU does. Congratulations, you're a pervert now!

Let's do even more deviant stuff next time...