#everett x fem!reader

[boybandposter]

[Headcanons]

⤷𐙚 featuring: Everett 🤍

⤷𐙚 there is a sections for NSFW ‼️ Nothing detailed/explicit but there is implied sex and preferences.

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- I feel like due to his past regarding Ophelia, he has a hard time trusting people and letting them become anything closer than an acquaintance. Despite being a caring individual, he doesn’t want to experience another betrayal.

- Everett’s love language is gift-giving. As a staunch believer in “actions speak louder than words”, he’d much rather show than tell. Although his disability can make it a bit tough, Everett is determined to make sure the people he loves know that he cares.

- If Everett catches feelings for you, he’s in denial. Him? Like someone else romantically? Never. Everett would avoid you at times, but he’d subconsciously seek out your company anyway.

- If When he confesses to you, he’s blubbering like an idiot. He was already so quiet and the few words he had were long gone from his thoughts. A bright pink would stain his cheeks after admitting his feelings, and would quietly ask for a kiss (What a gentleman).

- He asked if he could be your boyfriend instead of the other way around. In his eyes, it’s a privilege and blessing to be with you. After all, you’re taking in a broken man, physically and mentally. In all honesty, he’s shocked that you even said yes (even though you were crushing on him hard).

- If you like to bake, he’s head-over-heels. It’s one of the few things he truly enjoys, and if he could simply bake with you all day he would. His favorite is to bake cupcakes and watch you decorate them. If he can, he’ll purposefully wipe some flour onto his cheek— he’s planned it perfectly. You’ll tell him he has something on his face, he’ll act oblivious, then you’ll wipe it off with an endearing smile.

- With his job in the Esper Union, it makes it hard for him to find the time and energy to do things with you. On his night shifts, he’ll shuffle into your shared apartment and immediately make his way to your room. Even if Everett is about to pass out, he’ll always make sure to give a lingering kiss on your cheek. Whispering apologies and sweet nothings into your ear before changing and climbing into bed with you.

- You have a favorite flower? Well, Everett will make sure to buy you a fresh bouquet every week with a small note filled with his love and signature. He always feels his cheeks turn pink when he opens his phone to a text from you, thanking him as usual and telling him how much you love him. His coworkers often catch him rubbing his face with his hand to try and calm himself down after getting praise from you.

NSFW

- Everett’s a bottom. Let’s make this clear; after his past trauma, he wants nothing more than to be taken care of by his woman. He never really knew it, but then again he never saw himself in a relationship.

- Please praise him, he goes crazy when you talk to him and give him little words of encouragement. The first time you called him a “good boy”, he immediately folded and quietly begged to hear you say it again.

- If you were to ask him to top you, he wouldn’t ever say no. Everett only has two positions if he’s topping— missionary and mating. And by the gods was he gentle. Slow, deep, and even strokes as he quietly pants against the skin of your neck, small bites here and there. Everett feels awful every time he leaves a mark and profusely apologizes when he sees the small bruises along your hips and the small bites left along your shoulders and collarbone.

- Aftercare, aftercare, aftercare. Everett would have to be out of his mind if he didn’t take care of his beautiful girlfriend after she worked so hard for him. He’s gentle in bed and outside of it. He’ll always clean you up (with a little help from you due to his limitations) and make you some dinner. Once you’re asleep, he’ll take a little extra time to clean up where he can, just for a little extra time with you in the morning.

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⤷𐙚 authors note: erm. Yeah, IDK IVE NEVER REALLY WRITTEN NSFW BYE. 🙁

[georgiapeach30513]

Much Too Fast, Part 5

Summary: it's time for everyone to talk

Pairings: Curtis X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, Curtis and Tati arguing, flashing, sexual tension/frustration, skinny dipping, wet/dry humping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And say please,” Poet slams her hands on the high chair, screeching, and you shake your head no. “Poe, you have got to say please,” your voice is still so soft, but the sweet baby slams her hands on the high chair, screaming out no.

“Poet!” Poet looks at Tati, puckering out her bottom lip, looking up at you sympathetically. Tati’s patience with Poet was virtually nonexistent, “I am tired, and I don’t want to listen to this screaming!” Poet lifts her hands up, making grabby hands up at you. Big drops of tears hug her lash line, and she softly whispers please. You didn’t want her to say please because of screaming. But you will hold her when she needs comforting.

Tati massages her temples. Circling her fingers over and over the area, paying you no mind, so you pull Poet out of her high chair. Shushing her as you bounce her around. The rules never seem to make sense when Tati is here. She wants Poet to learn to be independent, but when she’s here she just wants her daughter to be appeased as long as she’s quiet. Whatever it takes to keep her from making noise.

“Tati?”

“What?” You hold Poet even tighter at her mom’s harsh word. She never looks at you; just stays preoccupied with nursing her tender head.

“Can I ask you a question?” A question made things seem mild. You had so many questions to ask her, and none of which involved her daughter. You second guess this conversation because it truly wasn’t any of your business, but Curtis had made it your business. Over and over again he has made it your business because he is too persistent and needy, and dammit, you’re cracking.

Her arms slam on the table, and she glares at you. Her beady perfectly lines eyes bore holes into yours for daring to try and talk to her. For someone who’s head hurts, she’s being painfully noisy with that slap on the wood. She looks so irritated that you’re talking to her that you nearly change your mind. “Are you wanting a raise or something?”

“No.”

“No? Hmm, well, fine, I’ll give you a raise,” now she massages the bridge of her nose, ignoring you yet again. So you clear your throat, “What is it now?”

“My questions,” she moves her hand from her nose, glaring at you again. Clearly multiple questions isn’t something she wants to entertain. “I’m sorry, it’s just one question,” why did you fear her? Was it because she held a lot in her hands? “Umm, it’s probably none of my business.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t ask it. Grace, can you just spit it out. I really don’t have time for this. I have a headache, and I’m tired, and ready to take a nap,” that’s what she’s always doing here. You’re aware that you’re the nanny, but who was the mother?

“I’m very confused with yours and Curtis’ dynamics and relationship.”

Tati snorts, shaking her head. Her manicured fingers roll over the table before she looks at them like she’s bored. “That isn’t a question. But I should have figured. My husband is a very traditionally attractive man. But he’s stunted,” what a weird fucking thing to say about that man that spends more time with her daughter than she does. “I know there’s a lot of things about him that you may find attractive, but you deserve better.”

That took a turn. She didn’t know that you knew about her not even finding Curtis attractive sexually. She didn’t know that you knew that she had another life with a woman. You almost have a feeling she’s in love with that woman, and you’re falling for Curtis, but didn’t feel comfortable with this predicament. You didn’t want to share, you wanted him all to yourself. And Poet.

“No, I don’t love that man,” rude. There’s something that sits so grossly in your stomach about ‘that man’. That is the father of her beautiful daughter. And one she didn’t spend much time with. One that was tapping on your arm, and smiling up at you. “Curtis and I have never even been in love. This was a mistake. I got to go,” she pushes her chair back, standing abruptly before those stilettos click out of the kitchen.

There had to be some form of warmth that she possessed at some point for Curtis to have been friends with her. But now all you see is stress, and disdain for her life here at this house. Bitterness always coats her face and actions. She slams the door behind her, and Poet looks up at you gasping with a smile before she throws both hands up, “Yay!”

“You’re rotten, you know that?”

“Yep. Uh!” She looks out the back door, and to the pool. She loves swimming and spending the days outside. She’d swim in her float or your arms all day. Tati didn’t give you any clear indications on where you were with things. She didn’t give much at all other than she wasn’t in love, and Curtis wasn’t worth the time for you. And you didn’t believe that at all. You see how he loves his daughter, and know he has so much more love to give to a partner.

There is a part of you that wants to take Tati’s advice because this is a complete mess. It’s a disaster area. But you know what you feel when you’re with him. You know the way he looks at you, and smiles at you. And you love his daughter. This is all much too fast, and you didn’t know how to slam the breaks on it, but maybe you weren’t meant to.

Tati gave you absolutely no answers other than she didn’t love Curtis. She might not have told you that they didn’t have sex, but judging by her answers, you doubt she does anything with Curtis. But…dammit, you feel so conflicted. An ache sits in your stomach because you are too attached. You want him, and Poet, and want to go on a date, and not be hidden out here while she galivants around the world with her girlfriend. You want to be proud to be with Curtis.

“Poe Poe, if you eat your breakfast, we can go swimming, okay?”

“Tay,” she makes her sweet grabby hands for her plate, and you place her back in the high chair. “Pes!” she’s learning manners, and that’s more than you can say for her horny dad or hateful mother.

Tati’s car is in the garage. Your car is here. And there’s a very cute distinctive giggle coming from the pool. His kryptonite. And now you’ve brought his daughter into it. He sighs, walking out of the garage and to the back of the house. Stopping at the fence to stare at you slightly splashing Poet just to make her giggle.

Her chunky little legs kick about, causing her tube to spin around, and then you pick her up out of the tube. You lift her above your head, fully standing up out of water, and his mouth falls open. Poet giggles down at you, as streams of water flow down your curves. You’re too sexy to be holding his daughter.

And then you squat back down into the water, taking Poet with you, and she splashes around. Continuing to giggle, and smile up at you. She crashes her mouth into you kissing your jawline. Having a time of her life in the dreaded pool. The bane of his existence. This is bad. Great, and amazing. But bad. Too many feelings and emotions course through his bloodstream. Warmth and passionate heat.

He looks down at his pants, taking a deep breath, and telling himself that he would really like to join in the family swimming time, so he needs to calm down. Inhale and exhale. Relax, and get your fucking mind out of the gutter. Who knew he had a goddamn breeding kink because all he can think about is enjoying fucking a baby into you. Not accidentally, but pumping you full of him every night until it stuck. He’s a disgusting man.

Once he’s centered himself, he slings the gate open, and Poet screams at him, “Dada!”

“Hey, baby. Do you mind if I change and come swim with you and Grace?”

“Yay!”

“I was wondering when you were going to come inside the gate, instead of lingering out there watching us,” his tongue slowly exits his mouth, and he traces his luscious bottom lip with it. Pulling the lip back in his mouth where he bites on it. Smirking and shrugging while walking to his bedroom. “He’s a menace,” a fucking menace that makes you squeeze your thighs together, and regulate your breathing because you’re holding a baby, and can’t do anything about the need to touch and rub on him.

Poet giggles, blowing raspberries and points all over the pool. Telling you, in her way, where she wants to swim to. You ferry her around the pool, letting her splash along the way. The happiest baby you’ve ever met, and when she playfully gasps, and looks towards her dad’s room, that smile gets even bigger.

Curtis and his hairy tits jog to the diving board, and he dives it. Swimming under water towards you, and you back away, “Dada go?” Poet looks at the dark figure that travels in the water, until he pops up right in front of her face. He grabs onto your hips, keeping you in place, and she begs for him to hold her. “Dada!”

“Hey, baby girl. Come ‘ere,” reaching for her he makes sure to give your side more than too much of a touch. He skims his hands from your hips up your side, and you bite back a whimper. That devilish grin pops up as he stares so intently at you. “What have you and Grace been doing today? Just being water babies?” She smiles, laughing up at him.

“You got home early.”

“I liked what I was coming home to,” silence. You can’t respond to that without sounding like a twittering school girl, or a hateful bitch. He sure knows how to lay things on thick, and it just makes you weak. In an alternative life, you can imagine him coming home, and being all excited while you playfully flirt, and still have fun with the kids. You can see him smacking your ass playfully, while the kids are too busy to see their parents are setting up the long foreplay for the night.

Having hours of buildup, until each and every one of the kids are asleep, and Curtis and you lock the door, and have fun with each other’s bodies. It seems so easy, and yet this situation is a mess. Tati at least let you know that there aren't any lingering feelings with Curtis.

“I spoke with your wife today,” you begin. Curtis dips his mouth underwater, pretending to play with Poet, but he’s watching you. Too much. “She confirmed about not having any feelings. But she didn’t seem to think too highly of you, and that makes me confused.”

“Probably because I wasn’t enough to make her straight, because being attracted to women is who she is, and it’s easier to blame other people than accept that, and there’s no one at fault here. Tati being in love with a woman shouldn’t hurt anyone. The issue is that it has stalled me from moving on with you. It’s not fair to Monica either. It’s not fair to Poe because this baby knows that while her mom wouldn’t hurt her, she doesn’t want to be a full time part of her life. And I don’t think she enjoys her very much,” you can confirm that. But he already knows.

You wade the water. Making circles around his body, and he spins right along with you. Looking between you and Poet. “I’m crazy, but this feels right. Playing in the pool with my two favorite girls. Staring at your nipples poking through your bathing suit.”

“Curtis!” the bastard laughs as you circle your hands over your chest. “You are holding a baby.”

“She can’t really talk now.”

“Is all our conversations going to end up in the perverted realm of things?” Is there more than this burning desire to just fuck each other? Or is the need to have each other shadowing anything else?

“No,” you raise your eyebrows in a challenge. “No, but I think sex should be fun. I think that life is too serious, and why can’t I shamelessly flirt with a girl I find attractive?” That’s not flirting, and he knows it. That is being a horny devil.

“I don’t want that serious of a relationship with someone. I’ve done the five star restaurants, and the dinners with family and it’s this big ordeal. I don’t want that. I want to have fun. I want to be able to joke with you,” that boyish grin fades a moment. “This house is beautiful, and perfect in its way, but I don’t need this. I do like this pool.”

“Do you?” You couldn’t tell he liked it at all…

“Yeah,” his voice is menacingly low. And you feel it right to your core. You wade further away from him. Keeping your hands low in the water. It’s wrong, and you know it is. But sometimes a little teasing never hurt anyone. Poet is paying attention too much attention to her dad’s beard. That beautiful face of hair. A face that you would like to ride, and instead you’re going to rub one out alone. Again.

You grab a side of the gusset of your panties, moving it to the side. But you think twice about it, and pull it back to cover yourself. Had he not had that sweet baby in his arms, you would have asked him to look under the water. He makes you want to sin in too many ways.

“It’s hard to try and figure out what is acceptable when there’s a baby between us. But you can try that again tonight. When you meet me out here after Poet’s put to bed,” he stalks towards the shallow end of the pool. Backing you up. Up. And up, until you collapse on the stairs. “I’d really like to see what I’ve been missing. Without touching that is.”

“On one condition,” your voice is so hoarse, and you try to keep some decency. You’re too weak when it comes ot him.

“Anything.”

“You talk to Tati tonight. She can’t hold your feelings hostage forever. And I don’t want to wait on you forever. I’m greedy and I want you right now.”

Poet splashes and splashes, reaching towards you before Curtis relinquishes her into your arms. “What if…what if I talk to her, and she doesn’t like my ultimatum? Because I think she knows.”

“Knows what?” You know what time it is. If Tati is going to be here, she’s already here, and about to have her takeout delivered. She could already be walking to the door. Maybe she’s peeked outside the window, wondering what the noise was. Right now you didn’t care. You’re willing to break all the rules for just a kiss. Just a chance of normalcy for a moment.

You know exactly what he’s talking about as he gets closer. Looming over you with that giant stature, and ignoring Poet pulling down your top and exposing yourself. Curtis puts his nose right on yours, and you forget how to breathe. Have to focus on the rise and fall of his chest because you’re breathing is irregular.

“She knows I’m finally falling for someone. She knows that this has been a slow road, because she knows normally, I just fuck and move on. That’s why she chose me,” he pulls your top to cover your body again. “She thought I’d never ask for a divorce.”

You swallow deeply. Ignoring the door closing. He wanted to get caught, so he can have a discussion with her. “So are you asking for a divorce?”

“You said I have to if I want to be with you,” Curtis stands up, reaching for his daughter, and you hand her off. Letting him walk out of the pool. “And I want to actually try something real for once, so I want to be with you.”

You let out a long breath. Watching as he walks into his room with Poet. Surely going to dry both of them off, and dress so they can join Tati for dinner. Your chest heaves as you let the intensity of that moment wash over you. It leaves you in such a weird spot because Tati is your employer. And here you just were ready to flash her husband your cunt, while he held her daughter. You are losing all self control and self respect for yourself.

Curtis is making you crazy. Imagining that you and him were a normal couple that didn’t start off as a stranger fucking you within an inch of your life. What were you doing? You were risking everything. All of your morals. Ready to throw everything away for him. For this. To make this thing work. What the fuck? How was Tati even going to respond to that?

Whether you’re the one with Curtis or — you hate to think about it being someone else, but either way, it wasn’t fair. He deserves the chance at someone more than sex. And he’s somehow chosen you, and it makes you lightheaded. You’re horny and pent up as fuck. But you like him. Like his daughter, and in order for this to work, you do need to show some decorum and just wait.

Sighing, you get up out of the pool yourself. You need food. Probably alcohol. But definitely food. And to fuck yourself, so you’re not so fucking horny when you meet Curtis at the pool when the lights go outside. That pool is an aphrodisiac. You get in it and you need body parts touching. Ugh! Why is this so hard to not be such a slut with him? You’re horny. You’re just horny. It has nothing to do with actually having feelings for him.

Nope. Not you. Food. Come. Alcohol. Make yourself come again? How many times would it take so you’re not ready to jump on top of Curtis and ride him like your life depended on it? Alcohol. Just a little, not a lot. You can do this. You and Curtis were going to talk, and see where this goes. That’s all. That’s absolutely all you were going to do. Yep.

Curtis’ fingers roll on the table, and he looks at Poet. Then at the table. Then his Chinese takeout. Then his chopsticks. Then back to Poet. Everywhere but his ‘wife’. And Tati just glares at him. Chewing her food slowly, and being too aggressive with the chopsticks.

Watching the coward as he blatantly ignores her. After the conversation with you this morning, she could tell you wanted to fuck her husband. And judging by the two of you in the pool, he wanted to fuck you, too. Asshole. How dare he dishonor the marriage like that. He didn’t care about how it made her look. He just needs to get his dick wet.

She knows she’s being ridiculous, and Curtis knows about Monica. He’s met Monica. Actually likes her. But he is sneaking behind her back. He’s probably snuck right into that pool house, and fucked you already. Walking around, and pretending that he’s never touched you. Jerk. He’s such a pig headed man.

She lays her chopsticks on the side of her bowl, places her elbows on the table, and then rests her chin on her arms. That sickeningly sweet business smile spreads over her face, but lacks any warmth. “How long have you been fucking the nanny?”

Curtis doesn’t look away from Poet at first. He gives her another bite of food before his attention goes back to Tati, “Let’s not do this in front of our daughter.”

“Oh, I know she’s our daughter. I carried her for nine fucking months, because you couldn’t pull out properly.”

“And now you fuck Monica.”

“And you’re fucking that girl!” Tati’s voice is shrill as she losing control, but Curtis’ remains collected.

“Do not call her a girl! And, no. I’m not fucking her. I have fucked her,” Tati gasps, causing Curtis’ eyes to roll in the back of her head. “Yes, Tati, it was before I even knew her. It was supposed to be a one night stand with a girl that picked me up on the side of the road.”

“You’re lucky to be alive! Poet could have lost her father, and then…”

“You’d have to actually be a mother?” Her hand slams on the table, and Curtis stands up quickly when Poet’s lip puckers out, “We’re done with this conversation since you can’t be an adult.”

“You’re cheating on me!” He chuckles, pulling Poet out of her high chair, and he holds her close to him. Letting her lay her head against his chest.

“No, I’m not. We’re not together. Just legally, and I’m — I’m filing. I’ve been patient, Tat, but you’re living a life, and I’m not. I’ve met an amazing woman, and we can’t even move forward because of this shame of a marriage. We were always supposed to be friends. Things went way too far, and now we’ve even lost our friendship. We’re roommates that share a child.”

Tati worries her lip, something she only did during deep thought, so it gives Curtis enough reason to sit down. She’s at least considering his words. He waits on her to work through everything, as long as she wasn’t raising her voice and causing Poet distress, he could be here. He reaches over to his daughter’s plate, grabbing her something to nibble on. He smiles at her, as she gnaws on her dinner..

“Tater tot.”

“Don’t call me that,” her voice is short, but it doesn’t raise, and her eyes linger on the immaculate table. “I thought we had a deal?” Tati being an only child is used to having things her way. Everything always worked out for her.

“That I stay married to you forever, when a woman that I may be in love with can never be my wife? You thought I was forever going to be slut, so that’s why you thought this stupid agreement would work forever. How does Monica feel about being your dirty secret?”

“I love her,” the confidence Tati exudes disappears, and her shoulders slump. He sounds just like Monica.

“Not enough. You roam around the world on your little vacations, but she doesn’t go to family dinners. She doesn’t have a relationship with Poet, and I told her she should,” Tati’s nose scrunches up, shaking her head no. “Can you at least say it?” She shakes her head no faster. Covering her eyes with her hand. “Tati. Just tell me, and we can move forward. Your therapist said you have to admit it.”

“I sound like a terrible person,” no, right now she sounds like a terrible person. Curtis wouldn’t hold those words against her.

“It’s only terrible if we continue this dance. I can take care of her,” Tati whispers something, but Curtis doesn’t hear her. “Tati, say it. Step one.”

“I love her in my way.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“I have never thought you would.”

“Does,” Tati sniffles, looking up at Curtis instead of the table. Glancing at her daughter with a smile, “Does she want kids?”

“I’ve never really asked. I think so,” he knows you do. You’re a perfect mom, and you deserve a child’s firsts.

“You know I can’t just tell my parents?” Curtis shrugs. He didn’t care what she told her parents, he wanted her to tell him. “You know, that your life will forever be altered?”

“It’s been that way since she was born,” Curtis made all the changes in having a child, while she didn’t make any.

“I don’t want to be a mom,” relief floods over her body, and tears break through her polished veneer. She’s been living a lie, and didn’t know how to stop it from spiraling. Gulping, she wipes at her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “I’ve got to go.”

“Tati?”

“Just…I don’t care, just don’t go flaunting her around town. And I won’t sign my rights over until you’re married to someone I approve of. You can have sole custody like we discussed. But…I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready. I’m going over to Monica’s. Have the fucking house,” her heels start to click out the door, but Curtis clears his throat.

“I’ll give you two weeks,” Her mouth drops open. She isn’t usd to negotiations, especially with him. He always gave her what she wanted. “I’m done waiting, Tati. Poet will be one in three weeks. You’re not doing anyone any favors by avoiding talking to your parents. And if they have a problem with who you truly are in love with, that’s on them. You will always have me and Poet, and you can be aunt Tati.”

Curtis senses her frustration. Can tell that she is irritated, but she smiles. Her smile actually reaches her eyes, and the warmth he loved about her shines through. She really didn’t want to be a mom. “I don’t want Poet to know about you. I mean who you are to her.”

“That’s fine. I — I had my tubes tied anyways. I didn’t — she’s not a mistake, but I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. It’s not in me. Do you hate me?” He shakes his head no, and Tati sighs. “Don’t make her hate me. Either of them. I was ugly this morning.”

“And then you ran away.”

“It’s what I do best with this situation. But I don’t run from Monica. I run to her,” Curtis silently thanks her. He knows it’s been a long time, and hard work with her therapist to say all of that. Everything she said, all that she admitted to.

“I’m proud of you, Tater Tot.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Tati smiles as she walks towards the front door. Leaving a house that was never her home. Leaving a marriage that she never wanted, a daughter she loved, but didn’t need. A daughter that she is okay to step back and not raise. Give up all that responsibility to Curtis and whatever woman he chose as Poet’s mom. And she’d sign everything away. Let his wife adopt her and Poet become hers.

And for once, she’s not running away. She’s finally going home.

The house is eerily quiet. Even in the pool house, the only thing you hear is your racing heart. Having to look into the mirror to see if you can see it beating out of your chest. Thankfully, it isn’t, but your chest heaves with bated anticipation. Wrapping a towel around your body, you sit and wait like a fool in love. With the blinds open, you stare at the lit up pool, waiting. You won’t be the first one out there, even if you’re staring into that water like it can answer your questions.

You have bared enough of yourself recently, and will soon physically do that, but you need Curtis to be the one to lose control this time. Need him to tell you what you deserve to hear. At nine o’clock on the dot Curtis emerges from his bedroom. He looks towards the pool house, before going to the diving board, and diving in.

He comes up on the other end of the pool, and sits at the table. Resting his elbows on the tile before holding his head in contemplation. Water drips down his face, and you want to lick him clean. No. No. One thing at a time. And with how you’re dressed, you’re already going to cause him to have a heart attack. Deep breaths.

You step out of the pool house, but his head remains in his palms. You walk right up to the steps, and drop your towel. Making your way into the pool too slowly. Your chest is fully submerged when Curtis lifts up. His mouth in that crooked cocky smirk when he wiggles two fingers to you. Beckoning you to come closer, and you shake your head no.

“Earlier today you were trying to show me your pussy, and now you won’t let me see your naked body?” His head tilts to the side. He’s always an observant one, especially when it comes to your body.

“It was inappropriate at the time,” he nods his head as he slides out of the chair, “You stay over there,” if he comes any closer, you’ll be begging him to lift you onto his cock.

“Why?”

“If you want me closer to you, tell me how the conversation with Tati went,” Curtis sighs. He settles back into the chair, and faces towards you. His hands slide up and down his thighs, and his legs spread ever so slightly. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. She’s fighting a lot. But I told her essentially I didn’t care, and gave her a time frame of two weeks, and I’m filing for divorce,” you take a step closer, staying squatted in the pool. “Put your arms down,” you shake your head no again, and he playfully growls.

“She left,” another step forward. “She’s going to stay at Monica’s tonight. You know when we bought this house, she jokingly said that if we ever divorced, she knew I would keep Poet, so I could just have it. She’ll give me full custody. But I need to be honest with you, so if you please give me a little peek,” he’s cheeky. Like showing yourself is going to make this any better.

You drop both arms from around your chest, and Curtis gets even more comfortable. Leaning back in the chair. “Stand up,” you shake your head no again. He wanted a little peek. “You’re frustrating tonight.”

“And you’re admitting to needing to see my tits to tell me this?”

“Yes. It relaxes me,” at least he’s honest. You stand up out of the water. Streams of water fall over your breasts, dripping down your hardened nipples before you dip back into the water. “You are a tease. Go up the stairs, and spread your legs.”

“The only person that will be spreading my legs will be you,” he palms his crotch, groaning. “Curtis,” you warn. He could have it all. Well. Maybe. Maybe not tonight.

“Tati doesn’t want to be a mom, and I will gladly take that off her hands. But…I don’t date to have someone in my life. I date for someone to be in hers, too, and maybe eventually, no time soon, adoption. I usually don’t date. In fact, I told Tati that’s why she went along with whatever childish game this was. Because she never saw me settling down. She thought I was always going to be fucking women at their places.”

“Theirs?” You cock up an eyebrow. Of course Curtis would be into casual sex. He slept with you after knowing you for a couple of hours. But keeping things at their places, keeps them away from his home. His safe space.

“I never bring women into my life. And I’m just a dick in theirs. I didn’t care to be more than that. Because I don’t want to share my daughter with them. Stand up all the way,” you do without hesitation, but keep your arms around your chest, “Now walk closer to me, I need to see you better,” you do. It’s not a slow crawl, it’s a normal speed. But the time just drags on as his eyes roam over your drenched body.

He stands, meeting you halfway, and his hands grab onto your hips. Sliding back behind your back as he pulls you closer, and presses your body against his. Your skin lights on fire at the feeling of his body against yours. All hard lines, and even harder cock pressing against you, and wanting to be free, “And yet, I don’t mind sharing Poet with you.”

“This is too soon,” is it? Is it too soon? Or are you too scared?

“I know, and I still can’t stop it. I don’t know how. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be casual with you. I never saw Tati making this place her home, and she won’t be pretending to anymore. But I need to know if you see yourself becoming Poet’s mother in the future. Tati wants to be an aunt, so…” dizzy. There’s no other word than that. Whiplash maybe. But you don’t want it to be.

Yours and Curtis’ relationship has been teasing, and slightly sexual. Ultimatums about the future, but this is for real. This is the future for a little girl. “What if I don’t want that?”

“Then give me this one night, and I’ll back away. Poet needs a mother, and it’s not Tati. I’m not saying you need to adopt her tomorrow. I’m saying she doesn’t talk much, she knows you more than her mother. Her mother is nothing but an entity to her, but you are the woman that takes care of her. I already see her preferring you over her mom. And I want you, but I need you to eventually want her. Or at least see you wanting to be her mother.”

Wiggling your arms off your chest, you sink a hand low, and cup his bulge. “Do you always get horny thinking about a future with me?”

“Everything about you makes me horny. Thinking about you pregnant, seeing you make supper, watching you sneak to Poet’s room to kiss her goodnight, watching you watching me. Everything you do is sexual to me.”

You back his body up to the chair, pushing him down onto the seat before you climb in his lap. Straddling his body while you grind on him. His cock throbs on your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than for him to sink into you. But if you’re to take things slow, you need to just get this pent up energy out, “We’re not teenagers.”

“And we’re taking this slow,” you mewl. Staring at Curtis through your lashes.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not about us anymore, is it?” He groans again. Letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he looks at the stars. Staring at you was like staring at a dream that he can’t make a reality, “Was it ever about just us?”

“That night in the hotel I was not thinking about my daughter as I was fucking you, no.”

“You never thought you’d see me again?” It’s something you’ve pondered many times. Because you never thought you’d see him again. Even if he left his card. He was to be a cock for pleasure that night. And now you see a relationship.

He sits up, shaking his head no. His eyes move over your body as you work his aching cock. This clearly isn’t enough for him, and sex right now seems rushing. But you need something. You’re dying inside. You need him, but your relationship thus far has been built on forbidden romance and sex.

“And now I can’t imagine not seeing you again,” you move faster, undulating your hips with so much enthusiasm. Writhing over him, and he’s mesmerized. It’s like a beautiful little dance that you do just for him. A private performance only for his eyes. A girl he knows has this filthy streak, but you are the perfect balance of lady and freak.

You are his perfect match. A friend, a lover, a fucking porn star with the way you’re moaning, the possible mom to his daughter, his best friend, his everything. A mate for him in all walks of life. Getting off on dry humping him in the pool and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Well…he has been inside you, but this sexiness is different.

You’re frustrated, so you use him. “The tension is clouding our judgment, we — we — we need this.”

“Aw, is my little saving Grace getting off on this?” You nod your head yes, moving fast. “There’s a good girl. Ride me like you own me,” you move hard and fast over him. Leaning forward to nip and kiss on his neck. Taking out your frustrations on his freckled sensitive skin. “Because you do.”

You bite on his neck delicately, and give him a hard suck, while he bucks up his hips, meeting you while he blows his load into the water. Your movements slow until you’re just panting on top of him. “You know you do. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“So now what?”

“You can take me on a date on your bike. You’re the father, so you’re going to have to figure out a babysitter,” you move away from his neck, and smile at him. His eyes freely roam over your heaving chest. With a smirk, you lean back. Practically laying back on his legs so you spread your own, “You can look, but you can’t touch just yet.”

“But she’s swollen,” he says looking into the water. “And she’s blurry,” he starts to lift up your bottom half, but you sit up straight, shaking a finger in his face. “That’s not fair!”

“Proper date. And then we’ll see how I feel about something more serious with you.”

“You want it,” he teases as you saunter towards the stairs of the pool. You bend over to pick your towel up, but don’t wrap it around you before walking towards the pool house. “Can you sleep in the bed with me?”

“Find us a sitter first!” You scream over your shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from him. Almost impossible to tell him no, while you’re dying to let him take you where he wants to go. You want him. You want everything that comes with him, but this is moving too fast.

Right?

You pace back and forth in your pool house, wrapping the towel around your body because you seem so cold. Your house feels miles away from him now. Any distance between you and Curtis feels too far away. He’s leaving her. He’s leaving his wife. You have spent months avoiding the thing and person you want, and it’s him. It’s a life with him and his daughter. It’s crazy. Absurd, and still you’re walking towards the door. Holding your hand over the handle, and then freezing.

Is it worth the risk now? Have you tortured yourself and waited long enough?

You have. Jerking the door open, you stand transfixed in the doorway, staring up at the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He couldn’t wait either. Meeting you at your door because he was needy for more. His azure eyes look more soft than predatory, “I don’t want to be too forward, but I don’t want you in the pool house. You seem so…”

”Far away?” He nods, holding his hand up for you to take. Glancing down, you grab the appendage, and pull him close to your chest.

“But I’m not fucking you. Poet will probably wake up in about twenty minutes. And I think you’re right, date first. But until the date, can you just sleep in the bed with me?”

He’s walking backwards, pulling you towards his own bedroom. “Can we do no sex?”

“Sweetheart, my cock has been aching to get back inside of you for months, what’s one more night? Or a few days? It’ll be what it’ll have to be, but I can’t have you away from me anymore. And we could get in a quickie, but the next time I’m inside of you, I’m going to take such sweet precious time. Because I know what it’s like to have to live without that sweet cunt, and now, I know what the woman is like.”

It’d have to wait. You’d have to wait. You’ve made it this far. He was worth it. A crazy night of picking up a man on the side of the road has led you to this incredible man with the sweetest daughter, and the possibility of forever.

“I think we’ll manage until our date. Should I warn you I sleep naked?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re keeping those tits, and that ass covered, or I’m sucking on something until Poet wakes up.”

“Wanna bet?” You squeal, dropping his hand before running towards his door. Curtis rolls his eyes before chasing you. A playfully little romp around the yard to get out any extra annoying butterflies.

“I’m sucking or eating something if you sleep naked, you make your choice.”

“We’re sleeping!”

“Then all of that,” his hands sway over your body, “Has got to be covered,” you were only teasing. But seeing him having fun about sex sends a divine feeling of comfort all over your body. Sex shouldn’t just sweep you off your feet, it should be fun, playful, and wet, and passionate, but still fun.

“Deal. After the first date, I’m sleeping naked.”

“And I’ll fuck you asleep, and fuck you in your sleep,” he winks, walking into the room before you, “Come on, my lady. Let’s cuddle until the baby awakes. No touching. Just cuddling,” you can do that. And you look forward to it. All night. Every night.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@slowdownbeforeyouregretit @rogersbarber @evelineangel66 @steviebbboi

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

4k fic recommendations

thank you all so so much for 4000 followers! truly, that's wild! unfortunately I don't have the time right now to do the usual fun, big celebration, but I do have time to scrounge up some fics I've been loving lately/just ones that are on my mind, show them a little bit of love. other then that, I hope you all are having a wonderful morning, afternoon or night, sending you all a bunch of smooches in the form of recommending some fun reads ♡

the bodyguard by @chvoswxtch (bodyguard!frank castle x reader, series, still ongoing)

I love this series. every time a new part comes out I genuinely get so excited! I also low-key feel so spoiled because I know court and she tells me a bunch of secrets about things she wants to play with in this story... love you court. thank you for blessing us with this amazing AU.

why are you scared? by @onsunnyside (stepbrother!curtis everett x innocent!reader)

yes, this was a halloween fic but I still think about it to this day. I only have one question for you, do you like somno? are you a little somno hoe? if so, might I recommend this nasty little piece of fiction because DAMN! like all of sonny's works, this is just the purest of filth and we love that here. (also her life has been pretty busy lately, so I just hope she's okay. hope you're okay, darling. miss seeing your beautiful little stories on this mess of a website)

your head is so numb (that nervous breath you try to hide) by @oncasette (eddie munson x reader)

best friends to lovers is actually something that can be so personal. I gobble that shit up every time. (also just hey roma. get over here, let me give you a lil smooch♡)

reader being like a little crow blurb by @appocalipse (eddie munson x reader)

idk what to tell you, this is actually just the cutest ♡

this blurb by @solarluvs (peter parker x clumsy!reader)

PETER AND CLUMSY!READER! THIS IS THE KIND OF ROMCOM I NEED IN MY LIFE!!!!

sirius doesn't want you to leave for work by @bruisedboys (sirius black x reader)

in this house, we worship adorable little domestic tales like this.

[punemy-spotted]

Sixteen Tons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Muscle and Blood

Pairing: Miner!Curtis Everett x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, Discussion of death, graphic depiction of someone bleeding out, 1890s coal mining town aesthetic in the modern day, strong pro-union opinions, Pentecostal Christianity, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Cosmic Horror, See future chapter warnings for additional tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The world melts away, rots into dirt and decay, and as a garden grows untended, you find your gifts crowding out the rest of your life.

We all know that the only light in the deep dark is a paycheck. So hush. Count your blessings, boy. Roof over your head, food on the table, diesel and grease, work boots on the porch, crippled back, crumbling joints, and silence. Company and even union, tuck you in, shut you up, and leave you to rot. And God damn it, you’d better be grateful. - Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 3: The Covenant

Notes: This fic also serves as a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, in that the reader is technically the daughter of Pastor and Ma Rogers, but uses a pseudonym outside of the home she grew up in. The song referenced in this chapter is No Glory, by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. They're wonderful, so check them out!

At the time of publishing this chapter, the Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley is still ongoing! Please come by and check it out as we celebrate spooky season all year ‘round!

Also, in this house we support Unions.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

‘Course, everything dies, eventually. Much as you loathed sittin’ through your daddy’s sermons, you knew the truth in ‘em — death is a prize every livin’ being, regardless of sapience or the desire to be, ought to aspire for.

Death is the gift of all gifts, your daddy would proclaim from his bone-and-antler pulpit, the final gesture of our loving Lord and Savior — an’ of course, you, your sisters, your momma, your daddy and a few others your daddy claimed were kinfolk on his side were just… all the guides meant to introduce all manner of worldly beings too blind t’understand just how precious that kind of oblivion was to the glory of that final, permanent end.

Still.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Curtis Everett is going to die in your kitchen, his own pickaxe embedded in his chest, the final desperate pumps of his pierced heart pouring blood all over that pretty linoleum you didn’t actually like keepin’ in your kitchen an’ probably would tear up after you came to terms with never feelin’ like you could scrub away the remnants of him.

You watch it play out before you like you’ve done plenty of times before, the course of Curtis Everett’s life written in scars yet t’be earned, bruises waitin’ to bloom on flesh that has known little more than the danger an’ dread of coal dust for as long as you have known him.

You also watch him sittin’ in your clinic, for once not complainin’ as you finish cleaning and re-wrappin’ the thankfully not festering burn he’d been dutifully lettin’ you treat — per your own professional orders — for the past week-and-a-half, Looks like it’s healin’ nicely, but it’ll probably scar.

It’s not the first scar he’s earned in Snowpiercer, but it’s certainly not goin’ to be the last. You’ve been countin’ down the months — and injuries — to that particular worry for a while. The ones you can help him avoid — the ones he listens to you about — you warn against, and the ones he can’t escape, you patch up. The same as you would anyone in Snowpiercer, bein’ the company’s own doctor as you are.

Your momma’d scold you up, down an’ sideways if she knew what you were doin’, interferin’ with the predestined path of men as you watched ‘em struggle, suffer, an’ eventually succumb. But your momma wasn’t here to know, an’ ever if she was, your momma’d never be able to understand just what sorta poison of a gift it was she’d saddled you with.

Death is a Rogers daughter’s birthright, even if they themselves were more often than not denied the majesty of its truest gift. You were not born into this life to die, but to be a guardian of it, to guide the walkin’ dead makin’ their way beyond the borders of that ol’Holler you’d been born in through the trials of judgment an’ that precious, ultimate verdict.

You were not, your momma woulda reminded, voice sharp as the trowel she always kept at her side, garden bloomin’ by her stern hand, meant to shield ‘em from the pains of life — an’ the lessons to be gleaned from ‘em!

Anythin’ you want me to do with it? Curtis Everett’s question breaks you out of your bitterness, reminds you of the more pressin’ responsibilities you chose. You turn to watch him, lookin’ at him as if you might just need a moment to remember the exact instructions you ought to give for his wound care.

Except that’s not what you give, is it?

‘Stead, you look over Curtis Everett’s work-weary expression, the quest dread in his eyes at the prospect of needin’ to manage yet one more thing, one more purchase at the Company Store, one more burden to bear, Just come by every evenin’. I’ll keep the coal dust outta them wrappin’s for you.

You know full well you’ll need to work late t’take care of it — an’ t’clean the coal dust outta your clinic — but it’s better you than him.

Least, that’s what you tell yourself, as Curtis Everett’s shoulder relax, relief floodin’ those work-weathered features you’ve almost started memorizing by this time, makin’ the sleep you will almost certainly lose tomorrow and the remainder of this week worth it.

It must always be worth it.

By the time you leave your clinic, barrin’ the doors for  the night, even the moon’s started its settin’, leaving the town in near-pitch darkness. You might’ve — if you were young an’ naïve enough — equated the darkness around you to a mineshaft, if mineshafts still had the privilege of fresh air to reward you for breathin’.

Not on Company Time.

Wiser folk than you might’ve considered stayin’ indoors ‘til sunup. Maybe even considered the merits of puttin’ a cot in your office to avoid havin’ to brave the deep woods durin’ the Witchin’ Hour, everyone more than aware of what sorta shadows lurked beyond the borders of a sad little minin’ town — an’ what sorta shadows would encroach upon those borders the moment they got the chance.

You… ain’t got much time t’think about that now though, not when you catch sight of the figure lurkin’ by the road, the only path there is t’ween your two worlds — the Clinic and the House. Everett?

There he is, hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat, lurkin’ by the lone streetlamp Pierce an’ Rumlow’d finally seen fit to install in this part of town, after you’d spent about four years complainin’. Too late to be walkin’ back alone, Doctor, he tells you, almost sheepishly, expression invisible in the darkness — and yet you know exactly how his lips have curved into a half-smile you might’ve been quick to return had you seen it in the daytime, Figured I’d walk you back up as thanks for stayin’  late for me.

You can’t help yourself, really — you smile at him right back, the corners of your mouth tickin’ up despite the cruelty playin’ out before your eyes, at least until you remember yourself an’ blink away the vision, If I kept the same hours as you pit boys, nobody’d be gettin’ patched up. Now you best not be tellin’ me you were lurkin’ out here in the pitch dark an’ cold waitin’ for me t’finish my notes and close up, Curtis Everett.

Maybe you ought not have put words in his mouth — or taken ‘em out, as the case may be — as he shrugs at you and flashes you a grin you cannot see but are certain of, Then I won’t, Doctor.

An’ with that, he starts off back down the road, towards the lights still spillin’ from the windows of your boarding house, hummin’ some ol’ work song you only halfway knew the words too. An’ you watch him go on for longer than you should, takin’ in the sight of his silhouette slowly becomin’ part of the gloom.

You catch up soon enough, keepin’ up with his long, languid strides as if by some miracle, your own steps quick and harried. There are moments you wonder how a man like Curtis Everett — always managin’ to tower over everyone in the room, includin’ Superintendent Wilford an’ that lady Minister Mason he’d installed over at  the Tabernacle of the Iron Gospel — ever really managed to fit in the mines this whole sad sack of a town was built around.

Shouldn’t have stayed out waitin’ for me, you scold with a good-natured ribbin’, not really meaning to chastise… but worry instead, You’ll’ve missed dinner call, Everett.

So’ve you, Doctor, he counters, the burr of laughter in his voice makin’ you roll your eyes an’ put on a scowl you barely mean — mostly cuz you hate feelin’ so outwitted, but no one dare make you admit it.

I’m allowed to be late, I own the place, you argue right back, a rebuttal that earns you another low chuckle, a sound you’re only used to hearin’ from Curtis on rare occasion — earnin’ you a burn of pride in your chest at hearing it now.

You really ought not do this, you know. But here you are, comfortable in the cold silence of the deep night, hands jammed into your coat pockets, walkin’ alongside Curtis Everett with all the calm an’ ease of dear friends.

Glancing at him. Looking without lookin’, pretendin’ you don’t know what you’ll see when you—

You know better, is the bottom line. You know you ought to know better — hell, you know your momma taught you better.

In the corner of your vision, Curtis Everett bleeds his last on your linoleum floor.

In front of you? Curtis Everett hums a work song an’ walks with you through the gloom, right up to the gold-light gleam of your doorstep an’ into your kitchen, the ghosts of the future fadin’ into an approaching dawn.

An’ maybe that’s enough.

Company House — its true name barely in use by you or your boarders, halfway for your own protection an’ halfways cuz it’s just easier — is a handsome-enough structure, nothin’ like that ramblin’ greenhouse you’d sprouted in, a bloom in your momma’s garden.

No. Company House — name lost an’ purpose found — on the other hand, is yours. All yours.

A loomin’ thing, the house cuts through the nighttime gloom like a lighthouse, every window on its main story burstin’ with light. Built on a hill overlookin’ the town proper, it served as home an’ hearth for any miner ineligible for the pretty pre-built housin’ developments south of the mine, where Pierce & Rumlow… rewarded those willin’ to produce more bodies to throw into that gapin’ wound the combine’d carved into the mountainside with such luxuries as driveways, fences, mortgages, an’ obligations.

It was just the way you liked it. Home for the lonely an’ the friendless — least that’s how it sounded in town, if someone dared ask Minister Mason about the mountain fortress an’ the ‘Godless Heathens’ inhabitin’ it. The Iron Gospel she preached ran on the blood an’ bones of its congregation, on family an’ obligation, on ties that bind whole generations to the mine.

A Gospel that had no room for the wholly different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. On brotherhood an’ union, on wantin’ somethin’ better that the paltry concessions afforded by minders with plenty of money t’provide more. You knew it then from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on your arm, keepin’ you from losin’ your footing on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — I can get Ed to take care of that tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubbling outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life.

Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt.

You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife and children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands.

Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom.

Tonight’s union meeting is just about comin’ to a close when you and Curtis walk in, a cracked joke derailing whatever Gilliam’s supposed agenda had left to cover. You’re late, the old man half-scolds, room hushed by his disappointment as all eyes turn to you and the union leader you know you’re already being accused of distracting.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Ignoring the raised voices that begin in your wake — and unwilling to get between two men in the middle of a union dispute — you make yourself proper scarce, disappearing into the kitchen. Between running the clinic and  the house, you’re run halfway ragged, but you do cheer quietly upon seeing two foil-covered plates sitting in the fridge — Yona keeps true to her eternal word, making sure nobody goes hungry if she’s got the time and the ingredients.

The sound of someone entering the kitchen while you’re putting plates in the warmer don’t surprise you much — someone was bound to follow you into this place eventually — but you don’t turn around, not immediately.

Not ‘til Curtis Everett clears his throat, Thought I smelled food.

You sure  you ain’t part bloodhound, smellin’ it all the way out there?

There. Another burr of laughter, low in his throat, and another burn of pride.

They calm down out there? You wave your hand toward the general direction of the parlor, noting the distinct lack of raised voices now that the warmer’s stopped beepin’ at you.

It’s my fault — should’ve told ‘em I’d be late.

They worried?

He’s quiet at that, the silence sittin’ heavy on both your shoulders while you move around the kitchen some more, collectin’ utensils and glancin’ back at him occasionally, waiting.

Finally — Gilliam’s steppin’ down. Nobody wants the job — company’s made sure of that.

You set the platter in front of him, to quiet thanks, He still want you to take over?

He don’t need to answer. You see it again, written all over his face — someone’s gotta do it.

The rest of the meal is… quiet. Heavy. Uncomfortable. A silence neither of you are willin’ to break, coupled with glances neither of you are willin’ to admit to, brows furrowed and thoughts elsewhere. Barely tasting the food, just glad to have something to busy your mouths with, ‘stead of trying to hold a conversation neither party wants t’have or worse — trying to change the fuckin’ subject, with both your minds trapped on the things you’d rather not think about.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Everything dies, eventually. You rationalize it between bites, teeth on tongue to keep the scream of it all held in your chest. Everything dies, including Curtis Everett. Including Gilliam — whose death you’ve pre-emptively forgiven certain parties for. Including Yona — whose hands will evidence endless adventures before she lays down for that final rest, satisfied an’ satisfying. Everything dies. Includin’ Curtis Everett.

Curtis Everett, who will take on the work. Who, in three weeks’ time, will be back in your clinic, bullet in his shoulder an’ strike unbroken. Company infuriated.

One injury closer.

You open your mouth, about to do the unthinkable, disappointment and poisoned bloom — everythin’ dies, but Curtis Everett deserves to choose — when the music finally registers with you both.

Music. And singing. And laughter.

The kitchen door slams open hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard, Yona’s wild presence in the doorway, Come on!

No explanation. No answers. You’ll have t’see it to know it.

Curtis glances back at you, brow raised an’ hackles too. Better make sure they’re behavin’ out there, is all you give in response to it, on your feet in a flash, empty dishes in hand.

He lingers, eyes on you. Imposes his will with his presence, You need help with the dishes?

Let him stay.

You don’t.

S’two plates an’ a couple mugs. I’ll be fine — you go, keep an eye on ‘em for me.

He’s so fast — behind you in a flash. How does a man so tall an’ so full of presence move so fast?

Got no time  for answering that, not when his hand’s on your shoulder and you’re glancin’ back at him without thinkin’, waiting. Come out there when you’re done or Yona’ll never let either of us hear the end of it.

An’ neither will I, is what he doesn’t say. Not aloud, at least, stepping back only when you nod.

It don’t stop you from hearin’ it though, playin’ on loop in your mind all the way through dishes, through cleanin’ up your kitchen, through makin’ good on your word an’ takin’ that cautious walk to your parlor, where the sound of stompin’ boots joins in with the chorus of voices pouring outta your record player, blessedly drownin’ out all manner of conscious thought.

Take me down to that red dirt road Where all them white tails, white tails roam

The parlor is abuzz with life, a hive of movement as you take in rearranged furniture an’ the slowly climbin’ beat of stomping boots coupled with clapping hands, ring of bodies circlin’ the room, all watching Tanya — up from the General Store like always, on behalf of the widows this town left behind — in her valiant attempt to tutor Edgar in the complexities an’ social conventions of a good ol’ fashioned barn dance.

I don’t belong in a big coal town Can’t hear my Lord in all that sound

You almost manage t’become part of that ring of onlookers, slippin’ past the disapproval ruining Gilliam’s face, but turns out no one escapes Curtis Everet, work-hardened fingers winding around your wrist an’ pulling you back, Thought I was gonna have t’come rescue you from the sink, and now there’s no getting away, nor are you feelin’ quite so keen on it anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Wanna show ‘em how it’s done, Doctor?

You dance, Everett? Since when? And since when did Curtis Everett become capable of smiling so sweet he just might fool you into saying yes?

Hell — what gave him the right?

Well I’ve had my fill, of concrete floor Where all them highways, them highways grow

You don’t get a chance to ask too many questions of him, not when he’s pullin’ your fool self right into the center of that cleared floor, sayin’ somethin’ about secrets you barely catch before he’s turnin’ you about an’ you gotta start paying some fucking attention.

There ain’t no glory None that I see None to compare Your love for me

‘Course, you’ve danced before — your daddy might’ve been a fire an’ brimstone preacher up at that bone an’ antler pulpit but he wasn’t a fool — but barn dances an’ church revivals don’t do shit t’prepare you for the rush, for the easy pressure of Curtis Everett’s hands on you, for the peal of laughter that pours outta your throat before you get a chance to think about it the moment he spins you out an’ catches you back with entirely too much ease.

He surprises you and doesn’t at the same time, sure hands and steady feet, both of you catching on to the rhythm quickly as the rest of the room drums the beat, a cacophony of work boots strikin’ the floor in a steady pattern, You gonna answer my question properly, Everett, you accuse him and he pulls you closer, smile on your face betrayin’ any anger you might be feigning.

I’m full of surprises, Doctor.

My days are few, my time is near But I know God will take my fear

He keeps his hands respectful, holdin’ one of your high and keepin’ the other at the small of your back, but there’s nothin’ either of you can — or want to, you’re startin’ to realize — do about the closeness, about the way you can’t stop looking up at him and the stormclouds in his eyes, like you’re seeing them for the first time. Really seeing them, that is.

It’s somethin’. Hypnotic.

The chorus turns into a loop, a rising swell of voices joinin’ your thudding heartbeat, lips parting to ask another question, make another joke, feel that burr of laughter against your chest, feel hands fallin’ from the glory of God to meet a different kinda worship, feel fingers curl into his coat like a lifeline.

He holds your cheek. He draws you in.

His mouth slides over yours like an invitation, your lips parting like an acceptance, like forgetting, like surrender. The music does not slow, but you do, fallin’ into the languid ease of hungry breathlessness, like you could find answers in the sweep of a tongue against yours, in the tightening of his grip on your back, in the wall of him around you.

Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me

[cevansbrat0007]

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[boybandposter]

[One Shot: Somethin’ Stupid]

⤷𐙚 featuring: Everett 🤍

⤷𐙚 prompt: the song “Somethin’ Stupid” - Nancy and Frank Sinatra

⤷𐙚 word count: 2.0k

₊♡₊˚ 🪻・₊✧

The snow always seemed to amaze Everett every time he saw it fall from the sky. Whether by great force or a gentle flow, it was mesmerizing. But there was always a competitor for his attention. And it was you. Everything you did felt as though it were from a movie scene and your words from a perfectly written script.

He considered himself lucky to even be considered a friend after how poorly he had treated you at first. Ignoring you for days on end, pushing you away at any given opportunity, and wishing the worst for you until he finally realized he was the problem. The day you finally broke past his barriers was the day he healed, slowly but surely. But what pained him the most was how irrevocably smitten he was with you. To Everett, being ‘friends’ wasn’t enough for him. You were the one he thought of at the end of the day, with your comforting texts and a smile. Gods, he loved you so much that it made his stomach flip.

Everett was more than content to keep your relationship platonic— mostly out of fear and uncertainty. He was far from perfect physically and emotionally, and he knew it. Although he knew of all your struggles and heartaches, none of those felt like flaws to him. They only made it more endearing in his eyes, and he wished he could simply take away your insecurities and problems.

Everett sighed as he stared at his reflection in his mirror. And to his dismay, it was the same disappointment every morning. His hand rested against the rim of his sink, his eyes scanning over his missing limb. Maybe if he wasn’t like this, it would be easier to work up the confidence to ask to be your boyfriend. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he began getting ready for the day. He showered and got dressed, placing his cloak over the right side of his body with a bitter shake of his head. He wasn’t sure why he felt so resentful of it lately after living with this burden for years.

The small comfort the day provided was that the two of you were going out for a walk in the freshly fallen snow, admittedly something he had been looking forward to since he heard the weather report. It was an unspoken tradition the two of you shared, and he wouldn’t trade it for all the riches of the earth. The two of you would meet at a nearby park in Gyrate, walk for a few miles (with you on his left, just in case anything happened), he would listen to every word you said, and then you two would part for the day.

After leaving his house, Everett maintained a quick pace to ensure he would beat you there. Out of habit of course, not because he wanted to see you walk up to him. That would be silly, wouldn’t it?

Once he arrived, he impatiently patiently waited for you to show up. And there you were, approaching him with a warm grin and a hug. Anyone would’ve instantly noticed the way he melted under your touch and the smile that spread across his pale features. Once you let go, he cleared his throat to collect himself a bit before extending his arm. “Shall we?” He asked you in a gentle voice, much like the other times he speaks to you. Ever since you two became friends, he’s never once raised his voice against you. And he would make sure to keep it that way after his previous mistakes.

You nodded curtly and interlocked your arm with his own. The quiet morning was soothing and held a specific charm of its own. You admired the wildflowers peeking through the early winter snow and the birds that cuddled against one another to keep warm. You hadn’t even noticed your lack of movement until Everett glanced at you silently, “What’s going on in that brain of yours, y/n?”

“I was just thinking— well, I was watching the birds.” You said as you stared up at the two small creatures. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt so envious of the birds. But they were only animals, so it shouldn’t have mattered.

Everett shifted his weight, hardly sparing a glance at the birds. Instead, his gaze was focused on the small details of your face, from the curve of your nose to the soft pursing of your lips. “They remind me of something I dream about.” Everett’s words were concise as he continued to tug you along the trail. The birds chirped from behind you and you spared them a fleeting glance from over your shoulder.

Quiet words of teasing came from your lips, and mentions of the previous day from Everett. An hour of aimless walking brought them back to the spot where they had originally met, and his pace had slowed subconsciously. Suddenly an idea crossed his mind, but the thought of it made his stomach do flips. But he really couldn’t handle this any longer— he had to confess today. Everett cleared his throat abruptly, “Hey, do you want me to walk you home? I don’t have anything else for today and I want to make sure you’re safe.”

You stared up into his eyes, the violet hue capturing your attention as it had many times before. The way he carefully leaned over you made your heart skip a beat, making your breath hitch. “Why would I even say no?” You raised an eyebrow and giggled, “You don’t even have to ask me, okay?”

His eyes softened and he nodded softly, humming in response. He knew he would fumble over his words if he tried speaking, so he gave up. Even as you two walked towards your apartment, your words replayed in his mind over and over. Something about the air between you two felt so different this time, but you didn’t have the slightest idea why. Everett wasn’t super talkative in the first place, but this time felt a little different. All he did was look at you, over and over. Was there something on your face? No, he would’ve told you. Your hair? Your makeup? Your mind wracked over any possible answer, and you soon found yourself at your doorstep.

You quietly picked at your gloves as you waited for him to say anything at all. It made you wonder why he wanted to escort you home if he wasn’t going to say anything. Just as you opened your mouth to tell him goodbye, Everett gently hushed you. “I’m sorry y/n. I just… please wait.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “Wait for what? Is something wrong?” All your past worries melted away as genuine concern laced your voice. You’ve never heard him sound so… distressed. He sounded as though he would pass out at any given moment, but his eyes were resolute as always. Your eyes watched his fist clench and relax periodically before his eyes flicked down to yours. “Y/n, what would you do if I said ‘I love you’?” Everett wanted to bite his tongue in shame and immediately felt the sting of regret. Everett shook his head as he began muttering something incoherent to your ears.

And you? You would say you were shocked, but you weren’t expecting those words to come from Everett. The tips of your ears burned out of the sudden nervousness that filled your thoughts. But I’m the back of your mind, something screamed at you to ramble about your feelings to him. And yet nothing came from your slacked jaw, and you watched Everett’s gaze falter.

“I’m sorry, I— I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget what I said.” Everett turned quickly and was about to walk away before you grabbed his arm desperately. He stopped in his tracks and yet refused to look at you.

“Wait, I’m not upset,” Your voice felt weak as you managed to speak, “I just… it caught me off guard.”

“I really should go. I’m sorry for bothering you y/n.”

Everett broke out of your grip and stepped away from your doorstep. His words nearly made your heart break, but you were determined to get him to listen to you. “I would say it back.”

The world itself went still, even the birds' songs were quiet to your ears. One could’ve truly heard a pin drop, and you’ve never once believed it to be true. Your heart thudded underneath your chest as you waited for a reaction. Anything would be better than the deafening silence.

Everett came to an immediate halt after your response. Had he heard you right..? He turned to face you with furrowed brows, “Are you—“

“Yes. Everett I… I love you.”

Everett stiffened and felt his pale skin flush from the tips of his ears to the end of his nose. Why on earth was she being so forward with him all of a sudden? His heart rate must’ve doubled within seconds and his head was spinning like crazy. He took a few tentative steps in your direction, his broad frame shadowing over you. Without thinking, his hand ghosted over your coat until it reached your face.

His hand lingered just above the skin of your cheek, hesitating to make the slightest contact. His fingers grazed your jaw softly, matching the look in his eye. “Forgive me…” Everett’s words were but a whisper, his soft breath brushed against your lips.

Before you could ask why he was asking for forgiveness, he gently kissed you without warning. You immediately melted into his touch, with your hands pressing against his chest to steady the both of you. Even though he didn’t want to stop, Everett pulled away from the kiss. He felt so embarrassed that he couldn’t even look you in the eye. Had he just done that?

“Just so you know,” You spoke up, your voice grabbing his attention, “I forgive you. And I’ll forgive you a thousand times over if that’s what it takes to get a kiss.”

Your words must’ve given him another dose of courage because he finally held your gaze for longer than a few seconds. It frustrated him that he couldn’t speak up, but at this rate, he was going to pass out. His vigorously nodded his head and held your hand with his own.

The feeling of his calloused palm soothed you, and it just felt so right. Everything about this felt as though the stars themselves were aligning in your favor. Everett traced his thumb over the back of your hand before lifting it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you, y/n. But I’ll ask you officially, I promise. So please, wait for me. Okay?”

You smiled warmly and nodded, your heart fluttering in your chest. This felt completely surreal, but you somehow managed to keep your composure. “I’ve waited long enough, I think I can wait just a little longer Everett.”

“Then you’ll meet me tomorrow night at 7? I’ll pick you up from your apartment, and wear something nice. N-not that you don’t look nice all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he faltered on his words, and you shut him up by placing a peck on his lips. “Don’t be late.”

₊♡₊˚ 🪻・₊✧

⤷𐙚 author’s note: the amount of time this took me was frustrating— I thought I had the idea down but I flopped— I’ll get to pt2 eventually ! Idk when or how to script pt2 but it feels unfulfilled without it

[georgiapeach30513]

Much Too Fast, Part 1

Summary:  Spotting Curtis Everett broke down on the side of the road, you just had to pick him up.  Didn’t you?

Pairings:  Curtis Everett X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, hitchhiking, drinking, PIV sex, dry humping, fingering, squirting, mentions of oral sex, early indications of a D/s relationship, cheating (?), 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  5K

Series Masterlist

A/N:  this is 100% one of @tis-thedamn-season​ brain.  Not going to lie...I love it!

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

Looking at the clock in your car you sigh.  Getting closer to your destination every mile.  Putting more and more space between you and the place you used to call home.  This was the perfect opportunity to start a new life.  You weren’t even running from anything, you just wanted to see more.  Wanted to do more.  Moving to a new state, a bigger city, and to a possible beautiful home.

There were still so many doubts.  So many what if’s, but you were young.  Your parents told you that you needed to take the chances you were given.  Live life, and experience new things.  More than the little podunk town on the opposite side of the United States.  The east coast was going to give you more opportunities that is something you were sure of.  That you were positive.

The current hope you had was to make it to your last hotel before the rain started.  And then the last couple of hours to Boston.  One more sleep, and you would be there.  You needed to stay awake.  Stay alert, and hope for the best.

Curtis on the other hand is annoyed.  No service, and broke down on the side of the road.  The rumble of thunder makes him even more irritated.  He had just a few more hours on his mini road trip, and he would be home.  And then this stupid old car broke down.  He should have known better.  A mechanic taking a stupid dumb car.  Out in the middle of nowhere, with no fucking cell service.  

He couldn’t even remember why he needed to take this trip every year.  And in the predicament he’s in currently it just pisses him off.  He leans on the hood of the car, hoping that someone will see him stranded.  The chances were low.  He knew he was probably going to be staying the night in the backseat.  He was tired.  He was agitated.

You squint your eyes in the distance, seeing a figure leaning onto a car.  This is just like how every horror movie starts.  But you feel the need to pull over.  Slowing your Mini Cooper down, but staying on the road.  It was a small two lane road, and you hadn’t seen a car on here for miles.  

“Hey, uh…woah,” the man that approaches your car backs up quickly.  “Sorry, I know this is going to sound lame and dumb, but you’re a young girl out here alone, and I don’t want you to feel that I’m trying to take advantage of you or chop you up for…this isn’t making you feel better is it?” 

“No.  Not at all,” what he was saying didn’t make you feel better, but how he was saying it did.  “Are you having car trouble or do you normally just lean against your car hoping for someone to chop up?” 

“Ah, you caught me,” he leans over, trying to get a good view of you, but still standing far enough away.  “Although, my getaway car’s transmission went out.  There’s no cell service here.  Can’t even call my partner to come tow this damn car.”

“Your partner?” Curtis watches as your arm starts to relax a bit more.  The grip on your steering wheel loosens up.  

“Yeah, we own a garage together.”

“Imagine that, a mechanic with car trouble,” Curtis gives you a chuckle, stepping closer to your car.  “Not much of a mechanic are you?” His arms rest on your open window, and against your better judgment, you still don’t tense up.  “What are you doing out here?” 

“I go on a road trip for about two weeks every year.  I was almost home.  Heading to Newton.”

“Me, too,” Curtis’ eyes drift up and down your front.  He tries to make himself not look too much like a predator who had found its next prey, but you seriously were a gem.  Out here all alone, in your tiny little car, loaded up with piles of shit.  This car was too small for how much you had in here.

“Newton’s a few hours away, and it’s getting late.”

“Oh, I’ve got a hotel about twenty minutes up the road.  Um…do you need a ride?  I’m sure that they have a phone there.  Seeing how there’s no service.”

“Uh, did your daddy not teach you not to pick up strangers?” Of course he did, but somehow this handsome stranger was making you feel comfortable.

“Should I be scared?” 

“Of me?  No, but isn’t that what a killer would tell you?  I seriously mean you no harm, but I am questioning your judgment here.  You got pepper spray or anything?” Nodding your head, you dig around in your cup holder holding it up.  “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?”

“You’re not making me feel better about this now.  But the GPS does say the hotel is just up the road, less than an hour to go.  Hand me your keys,” Curtis freely hands the car keys to you, and you stuff them in your doors pocket, unlocking the car, and letting Curtis clumsily get in.

Finally putting into perspective how long his legs are.  Cramping them up, and sitting uncomfortably beside you.  An adorable little giggle escapes your mouth, and he turns to glare at you, “You think this is funny?  Why in the world do you have this tiny little car?” 

“It’s adorable,” him squished up in the passenger seat was really adorable.

“It is useless for more than one person.  Where are you driving from?  Oh my god, how was this even comfortable?  This is terrible.  Please tell me this isn’t your only car.  If my daughter ever asks for one of these it’s not just a no, it’s a hell no,” the fact he was already talking about a future daughter oddly makes you tremble.  “What is the purpose of these cars?” 

“Some of us don’t have legs that go on for days.  You know, I didn’t even get your name?” 

“It’s Curtis.  And you are?” You quickly give him your name, and he shakes his head no, “You should be called Grace.”

“Why is that?” 

“Because, you and this tiny little car are my saving Grace.  Does she even get over fifty?” 

“Yes.  The bags of clothes in the back aren’t helping your space.  Your seat isn’t as far back as it could be.  Beggars can’t be choosers though.  I’m from Washington state by the way.  Why do you go on a road trip every year?” 

Curtis is constantly adjusting his seating.  Knees up higher than was normal, and pressing up against the dash of the car.  Twenty minutes wasn’t a long drive.  He could do this.  “Uh, just to get away.  Life can come at you fast.  Mine didn’t exactly turn out the way I wanted it to.  Without getting too into anything, I helped a friend out.  We got ourselves stuck, drifted, and somehow remained friends, and we make it work.  We have to.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

“Please don’t,” Curtis looks out his window, appearing as if something was bothering him, but you didn’t want to pry.  If he wanted to tell you more he could.  But you know he won’t.  “So New England?” Finally he looks towards you, and you gulp.  Gripping tighter to the steering wheel.  Oddly trying to rub your thighs together.  He was handsome.  Too attractive.

“Yeah, sometimes you get tired of the same thing.”

“What’s a pretty girl like you, driving all the way out here for?  I’m assuming you’ve got something lined up?” His deep blue eyes coast up and down your body, noticing every tiny movement in you make with a smirk.  “Is there something wrong?” 

“No.  No, I uh — yeah, I’ve got something.  Gotta meet with them, and would uh have a place to um…to live.”

“Hmm, you’re just breaking all kinds of rules, huh?” You glance back over to Curtis, and he was still eyeing you like his prey.  His legs spread as much as they could, but in this tiny car, he couldn’t get the effect he was wanting.  He didn’t have to try to make you want him.  You wanted him.

“What?” 

Curtis chuckles, wiping his thumb and middle fingers on the sides of his beard.  You reach towards the air conditioner, turning it up.  “You picked me up, and the way you’re talking…are they putting you up in a house?” 

“Yeah.  What…what do you do in Newton?” Something had to change.  The topics had to go to something else besides you.  It was getting more difficult to drive and pay attention.  

“I told you, I’m a mechanic.  Gotta garage with my buddy, Jax.  We stay busy.  Blue collar work.  Beats the traveling bullshit.  I don’t get it.  Traveling for work.  Traveling because you want a vacation.  On your own.”

“Did you just get off a two week road trip?” 

He turns to look at you, that devilish grin still there, “I like you.”

“Why?” 

“Called me out on my own bullshit quickly.  A lot of people won’t do that.  They say I’m too argumentative.  I’m not.  I’m blunt, there’s a difference.  Isn’t that the damn hotel?” 

“Yeah,” you respond.  Turning into the hotel and the gravel crunches under your tires, and you hate that this is it.  Curtis was about to make a call, and get something worked out, and this would be it.  You grab your backpack, and walk in with Curtis.  

He allows you to check in before stepping up to the counter, “I need a room for the night.”

“I’m sorry, sir, we have no more vacancies.”

“There’s…can I just — I guess hang out in your lobby then.  I gotta call someone in the morning to help with my car, and…”

“I’m sorry, sir, no loitering.  Have a good evening,” she walks off, and goes back to her seat.  Picking up her phone, and letting Curtis know that the conversation was over.

“Just my luck.  Damn.  Thanks, here let me get you some money.  I’ll…hell, I don’t know, start walking.”

“It’s two in the morning,” biting at your lip, you know this is the most bizarre and ridiculous thing you have ever done.  He was nice.  He was hot as fuck.  And you were terrified.  Not of him, but of moving here.  Moving away from what you knew and into the unknown.  All the warnings you push back in your mind.  You had made it this far, and he hadn’t killed you.

“I know, darling.  I’ve been in worse places.”

“No, I mean…I’ve got a second bed,” Curtis cocks his brow up at you, and you slowly exhale.  It was okay.  You needed something random and fun tonight.  Needed to get out of your head, and Curtis looked like just the man.  And the worst he could say was no, and you would never see him again.

“Hey, it’s fine.  You’ve done plenty for me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Then let me rephrase it; would you like to come up to my room for a drink? There’s a mini bar.”

“You’re testing fate?”

“I see a sexy man with nowhere else to go tonight.  And I want a drink with him.  There’s two beds,” he gives you a bow, and you start walking towards the elevators.  Everything's in slow motion.  Down to the roaming eyes of Curtis.  Licking his lips as he stares at you, and you are quaking.  

“C’mere,” he whispers when the elevator door closes, and you walk over to him.  His thumb brushes over your cheek gently.  Looking into your eyes as he traces your pouting lips, “You’re shaking.  I won’t hurt you, and I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.  There’s two beds, remember?” 

“I want to use one.”

“Then breathe,” the ding of the elevator has his hand drifting down your front, and grabbing your hand.  Starting to lead the way to the room.  “Key?” You hand him the key, and take your final breath.  You invited him.

The second the door closes, your hand glides up his chest, settling behind his neck, “No mini bar?” 

“Oh, that’s right,” he sighs when you step away from him, going to the bar to get two small bottles of liquor, “Tito’s or Jack Daniels?” 

“I’ll take my chances with Jack.  Join me on the bed?” He plops down, and taps on the bed.  Waiting on you to join him before lifting up his bottle, “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” you copy, drinking the vodka in one sip.  The little bit of alcohol was giving you a bit more of a confidence boost.  Looking up at him as you listen to him start to tell some story.  

You lean more into him, trying to listen to his words, but it is just static.  Curtis looks down at his lap, and his raspy voice moans.  You check to see what he was staring at, and your hand is palming him over his jeans on it’s own accord, “Is this okay?” You ask him with a pout.  Had you read all the signs wrong?  He knew what you were talking about, right?

“I knew exactly where this was going when you asked me for a drink.”

“Oh,” you start to move your hand, but Curtis grabs yours with his own mitt sized hand.  Placing it back over his swollen jeans, and starts your motions again.  “I don’t normally do this.”

“Me neither.  So lets for tonight, toss aside those pesky feelings telling us not to give into our primal needs as humans.  We’ve both been checking each other out tonight, so let’s act on those needs.  Okay?” You nod your head at him, adding a bit more pressure to your movement, “Why now?” He asks, groaning as he leans back on the bed.  Watching you enjoy his hardening member.

“I don’t want to be the person I was in Washington.  I want to have fun.  Be spontaneous.”

“Mmm,” his hips start rocking into the air with your movements.  When you start to undo his zippe, he tugs at your leg, guiding you to straddle him.  His giant sized hands rub up your thighs and to your ass, coaxing you to start grinding on him.

“So picking up men on the side of the road isn’t a normal thing?” 

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head with a smirk.  Getting more into the movements, and you pull off your shirt.  Reaching behind you to undo your bra, you let it fall to the floor as Curtis starts groping your tits.

“Well isn’t today my lucky day?”  Sitting up in bed, he pulls you closer to him.  Peppering kisses along your jaw, and creating a trail all the way to your mouth, and you whimper into him.  His length was right at your core, and he was throbbing.  Just as needy as you.  “You know what you’re doing.”

“Curtis,” you whine as your hips gyrate over him.  Making a mess of his pants already.  It had been awhile since you had sex.  He had his thick fingers gripping the spears of your ass, and pressing you harder on him.  “Do…do you…” you can hardly speak from the kisses he was continuing to assault you with.

“I always carry protection, don’t worry.”

“Curtis, you’re hard.”

“And you’re wet.  What are you going to do about it?” He gives both your nipples a quick pinch, and your movements pick up.  Riding on top of him like your life depended on it.

“I wanna come.”

“Just like this, little lady?” 

“Uh huh,” biting at your lip, you pout at him as you move.

“Then make yourself come.  Enjoy yourself.  I’m not a little boy, I can hold off,” he lets out a guttural moan when you circle your hips over him.  Guiding his hands to your tits, wanting him to play with you while you get off.  

You are soaked, and so close.  Right there.  Hands on his shoulders as your desperately rub one out over him.  Fire courses through your veins, and your movement stutters as the sweetest pleasure races through your veins.

“Thatta, girl,” reaching into his pocket, he pulls a packet out, and reads the expiration date, “Still good,” you crash your lips into his.  Hands rubbing over him before pushing off his jacket, while he yanks your jeans open.  

He flips you over onto the bed, and stands up.  Watching as you struggle to tug your jeans off, but Curtis reaches towards them, yanking both the jeans and panties off at once, hissing when you spread your legs apart.

“Good fucking, girl,” he walks out of his jeans, his cock making his boxer briefs look uncomfortably crowded.  He gives you a wink when he pulls his underwear down.  A thick and heavy cock springs up, and you yip, your legs starting to close.

“You changing your mind already?” 

“No,” you wanted him.  Wanted this.  But that cock was thick.  Almost able to envision the severe stretch he was going to give you.

“You can take it.  And if not, I can make it fit.  We can stop any time, okay?” You nod your head, trying to steady your breathing, “I need your words.  I need to know that you can stop me if you want to stop.”

“Yes.  We can stop at any time,” Curtis pops the packet in his mouth, giving the foil a tear.  His lithe fingers place the rubber on his tip, and he starts to roll it on.  Pressing his knee on the bed, he gives your leg a jerk down the bed, before his wide body kneels between your thighs.

Spitting on his Hanford before roaming his fingers through your folds, “You are drenched.  When did you first get wet?”

“Well…”

“It wouldn’t have been in the car, would it?  I saw you moving your legs,” he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt while his palm stimulates your clit, “Oh my god.  What a tight little pussy we have here.  You hear that?” He pumps his fingers into you more vigorously.  Your wet heat was making the most vulgar and loud squelching sounds.

“You are a sloppy, little one.  Did I make you that wet?  Oh god, you need to be fucked good and hard, don’t you?” 

“Yes, please,” you beg.  It had been too long.  Almost two years.  One bad breakup had turned you away from men, but now he had you turning into a big slut.  His cock forgotten as he tries to ruin you.  Sex before was all about your boyfriend.  Curtis wanted your pleasure first.  “Please, Curtis.”

“She’s polite, too.  Oh, fuck, she’s a juicy one.  Mmm, I already feel you squeezing me.  Come on.  Uhh, come on,” his fingers curl, and he sets off at an earth shattering speed.  You try to close your thighs when you can’t take anymore, but Curtis shoves them back apart.  “Come on.  Give it to me.  When you come, I’ll fuck you.  You can do it.  Come for me.  You're so close.”

Your hands grab onto the comforter, and you grit your teeth, not wanting to be too loud.  And when you squirt onto his thighs, he keeps pumping.  “There ya go!  There’s a good fucking girl.  Just like that.”

“Oh fuck.’

“That’s what I’m going to do,” getting closer to you, he slaps his cock over your clit, “You still want this?” 

“Yes, please.”

“She is well behaved,” your mouth goes slack as Curtis pushes through your entrance.  Slowly splitting you open as you whimper.  “Holy shit.  My god, you’re a tight little thing.”

“Don’t stop,” you plead as he slows his motion.  “All the way, please,” Curtis continues his journey into your body.  Not stopping until he slides all the way in.  You lift off the bed, staring at where the two of you connect.  “What are you doing?” 

“I’m giving your cunt a moment to stretch, little lady.  You okay?” You furrow your brows, biting your lip as you nod.  “You never had a big dick like this?” 

“It’s like a fucking traffic cone,” Curtis’ eyes close as he chuckles at you.  

“A traffic cone?” 

“It’s so much bigger at the base.  How…how did you get it in there?” 

“And looka here,” his hand rubs over a bump on your stomach, “You feel me all the way in your belly, huh?  That right there is where I’m at.  So you want this traffic cone to fuck you?”

“My god, yes!” 

“Mmm,” his hands rub up and down your thighs.  Giving the tops of your legs the sweetest little tickles before sliding to the backside of your knees.  Lifting your legs before slamming them on the bed beside your body.  Keeping you good and spread so he can watch himself spear into you.

His thrusts are slow and deliberate.  Drawing himself all the way out before plunging back in.  Your hands hold onto his wrists, and you make the most beautiful desperate sounds.  Scratching down his forearms when he picks up his speed.  It felt as if he was pounding his entire weight into you.  Bouncing you further up the bed.

He would love to see you riding his cock, but your pitiful little whimpers and whines of his name have him addicted.  You are reactive.  He gets to see your tits rock with the pounds into you.  He didn’t do this shit.  And after the year he had, it was what he needed.  He needed this warmth.  He hadn’t felt more alone and all while he was with someone, and you were just what he needed.

He hadn’t felt this wanted in a while.  Sex was treated as more of a chore.  Not this desperate need to get off.  It hadn’t been exciting.  It was predictable.  It was when she needed it.  But you are receiving every bit of him.  With the way you are pouting at him, and keeping your eyes only on him, he knows he could have you doing whatever he wanted you to.

Completely into a submissive role, and you didn’t even know him.  “Curtis!” Your whispered screams are giving him life.  The walls of your cunt flutter around him making him completely weak.  He wanted to keep you around.  Newton wasn’t too big.  But just one night was never going to be enough. 

“Curtis!”  Whining out his name as your head tilts back.  

“You keep…keep squeezing me like that, and I’m not — not going to last,” he pants out.  He had never felt someone react like this.  “Let go, little darling.  Let go for me.”

Your pussy quivers, and legs tremble as the hardest orgasm he has ever witnessed from a woman flows through your body.  You clench around him, and his forehead collapses on your shoulder.  Letting your pussy milk him dry.  Hugging every part of him perfect, convulsing around him so hard that he didn’t have to fuck you.  Your walls make sure every drip of his spend fills up the condom, and he can only deeply breathe on you.

“That.  Was.  Incredible.  You breathing?” 

“Barely,” you choke out.  “How many condoms do you have?” 

“Sorry.  I just got the one.  Whew,” he sits back up in the bed, and slowly pulls out of you.  Your cream coated his length so thickly.  “My god.  Oh my god.  I didn’t want to leave you.”

Leaving your legs spread, your eyes start to drift closed.  He figures you have been driving for a long time.  You look so peaceful, comfortable.  Letting your gaping hole be fully visible for him to gaze at.  When he starts to lay on the other bed, you jolt up, “Sleep in this bed.”

“There’s two beds.”

“Then we’ll sleep in that one.  This one is messy,” Curtis shakes his head with a smile.  Pulling the blankets down in the other bed before picking you up bridal style. 

“Fine, you twisted my arm.  I need you to have at least panties on.  Where’s a clean pair?” 

“Backpack,” he pulls on his own underwear before bringing your backpack over to you.  “Where are you going?” 

“You need water.  Panties.  Then sleep.”

“Okay,” you even shimmy your shoulders.  It didn’t take much to make you happy.  He definitely wanted to see you again.  Maybe start from the beginning and take you out on a date.  Spend some time together before he tells you about his complicated life.  But for tonight, he was just going to lay down beside you.  

Sending a text to Jax, he crawls in the bed with you.  He didn’t know why you are so comfortable, but holding a soft woman for the night isn’t something he was going to complain about.  He was just going to let you sleep.  Rest.  Tomorrow was a new day.

Pulling into the beautiful home, you crumple up that piece of paper, and toss it into the floorboard.  You knew it was too good to be true, and are slightly annoyed for getting your hopes up.  He was a man that you picked up on the side of the road, and had the best sex of your life.  Curtis was generous enough to leave his number on the pad of paper at the hotel, but you woke up alone.  Nothing was stolen, so you are thankful for that, and that you are still alive.

And now it was back to the reason why you were here.  A ridiculously large house, and what waits inside.  They had to be rich.  A well dressed woman, holding a baby, swings the door open wide.  Her arm flails around as she waves to you, “Oh my gosh!  I was so scared that you wouldn’t come, and you are early.  Come on, please.  Hey,” she gives you a strong handshake, and then makes her baby wave to you.  

“Ah!!  I’m so glad to finally meet you.  I’m Tati, and this sweet, beautiful, perfect, and angelic little thing is Poet.  But she will also go by Poe.  Poe, can you say hey,” the baby babbles a bit, but a hey does come out.  “So, I know this kind of a last minute thing.  We gotta wait on my…husband.  I’m having to fly out unexpectedly.  Oh, but don’t think that you have to definitely take the job.  My parents said they can help.  He’s taking the day off.  Uh, so first things first, if you say yes, you will have the pool house.  It’s a fully functioning house.  I don’t travel too often, but a fair amount.  The times that I do, at night, her daddy will have her.”

“Dada,” Poet whispers.  She giggles a bit before hiding her face on her mom’s shoulder.  Slowly peeking over at you grinning, and you give her a sweet smile.

“Obviously the whole house you will have access to.  Poet’s room is downstairs.  Your background check is impeccable, you’re up to date with your immunizations, speak French.  Honestly on paper you’re perfect, so I’m expecting you to have some flaws somewhere.  Anyways, ahh!  Sweet girl, guess who is here?” She looks out the window, smiling down at her adorable baby.

“Dada!  Aye!” 

“Yay!!  Daddy is going to be with you all day today.  How exciting!”

“Aye!” She claps her hands.  Her mouth moving with no words.  She was a daddy’s girl.

You turn towards the door with Tati, and your heart drops.  In walks the sexiest man that you have ever met.  The man that you could still feel all over you.  The man that had left you early in the morning, leaving you alone.  The man who was your possible employer’s husband.

“Curtis, I hate to do this.  But I got called out at the last minute.  You know.  Anyways, thank you for taking the day off.  I’ll be back in two days.  If you decide you want the job, Curtis can give you all the lock codes.  I left a list of Poe’s medicine’s and allergies on the fridge.  Emergency numbers on the hall calendar.  There’s a book with all the main contact numbers on it, but Curtis can show you everything else.  Eeee!! I hope you decide to stay.  Poe can’t quit looking at you.  I think that she likes you.  Anyways, bye my sweet angel.  Ah, you’re such a saving grace.  Thank you so much.  Bye.”

She gives Curtis a kiss to his cheek before grabbing her suitcase by the door.  Continuing to blow kisses to her baby as she walks out, and you and Curtis are left staring awkwardly at one another.

“Dadadadada.”

“I’m her daddy.”

“Mhmmm,” that much was obvious.  What wasn’t obvious was that he was married as he was fucking into you last night.  You even gave him in the middle of the night head, and he fingered you back to sleep.

“Oh, so we’re going to be like that now?  I had you saying please all night last night.”

“Ugh,” this was a bad idea.  Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.  Nothing was going to be different here.  It was always going to be the same.

“Can you at least let me explain?  You gotta.  Look at this beautiful girl.  Poet Isabella, can you tell Grace, please?” 

“Peas,” she whispers, her chunky little legs kicking around.

“You can’t say no to that.  When you said please, didn’t I listen?” He might have listened, but he left out that he was married.  He was fucking married to your maybe employer.  He was married, and he was inside of you.

“This…this is very different and you know,” he shrugs his shoulders.  Walking over to a fenced in area, and he sits his daughter down.  His eyes looking at her, completely ignoring you.  “Fine.  Explain.”

“What happened to those manners?” Oh, he was an asshole.  You didn’t have to listen to this.  Didn’t have to put up with this, and then he purposefully places his left hand where you can see it, and you sit down on the couch.

“Please, explain.”

“Thatta girl.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​  

[treasure444]

This was so sweet!!!

The way he demanded to know why she went back in, and then softened gradually *EEEEEEP*

I'm obsessed with this!!!

Light It Up

Pairing: Firefighter!Curtis Everett x Female Reader Summary: Curtis doesn't expect to meet someone like you when he puts out a fire. Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Building fire, most likely inaccurate info regarding firefighters (I tried), a bit of grumpy and sunshine, Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I wasn't able to get all 4 birthday stories done, but I hope you lovelies enjoy the ones I plan to share. Here's 2 of 2! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer and @ghotifishreads as well for letting me scream about this. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Curtis closed his eyes as he relaxed in his cot, blocking out the snores of some of the other squad members. His shift was almost over and it had been fairly quiet. Between testing and inspecting gear equipment and exercising, he managed to get a couple of short naps in to fight off any fatigue. Overall, it was a good day.

Didn't save a life today, but still a good one.

He loved his job. While he understood why some enjoyed the structure of an office or 9-to-5 job, it wasn't for him and never would be. He was a man of action. Being a firefighter was his way of giving back to the community and being part of something bigger than himself. He hoped to become a lieutenant in the near future.

Just when he thought he should get up to study, the alarm rang out.

Time to go to work.

He sprang to get into his gear, his body on autopilot as the other squad members got up and did the same. The small rush of adrenaline hit as he put his boots on before he reminded himself to think clearly. Someone out there was depending on him. Though he wasn't a lieutenant yet, he felt a responsibility for his squad, too. He couldn't let them down.

"No hot date tonight, Curtis?" Jake teased as he got in the truck, Sam and Joaquin hiding their smiles as they followed. All military veterans and good men.

"Fuck off, Jensen," he replied with no heat behind it. Jake was one of the goofier squad members, but the man was strong, dependable, and had a sense of duty. He was also great with kids. "No date talk. We have a job to do."

Truthfully, Curtis couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. He did remember his last girlfriend said his heart was as cold as the blue of his eyes and as black as his buzzed hair. All because he asked to reschedule a date night since he had to pick up an extra shift. He hadn't put in much effort after that to search for the one.

It was a bit lonely, if he was honest with himself. He didn't have a fancy home, but he did work hard to build his from the ground up and took pride in it. While he had a dangerous job and couldn't predict what tomorrow would look like, he could offer safety, loyalty, and trust for his partner. Was that enough by today's standards?

Focus.

Smoke filled the air above a small apartment building as they rounded the corner. There weren't any connecting buildings, but people already gathered on the street to see what was going on as they parked. They had to get anyone inside out safely and contain the fire.

We may not salvage the building since it's a small and older structure, but we can save the tenants.

"I'm guessing at least two apartments on the lowest level, Everett," he heard through his mic as he got out of the truck. "You check the first door. Jensen, you take the second door. Wilson and Torres, you check the second level."

As Curtis and the others made their way toward the main entrance, you stumbled out of the building with a slight cough. You had what looked like an animal in your arms as you tried to move out of their way. Before you could, you stumbled off the step, his arms shooting out to catch you before you hit the pavement.

"Easy. I've got you," he said through his helmet, steadying you as you blinked. Looking into your eyes was like a punch in the gut, but he didn't have time to stare and exchange pleasantries. "Was there anyone else in there with you?"

"Not in my apartment," you answered with a headshake.

One of the EMTs that arrived on the scene rushed over to get you. As reluctant as Curtis was to hand you over, and he wasn't sure why, he had a job to do and had no choice but to move forward. The smoke hit him hard as he made his way to the first door on the lower level, testing it before he busted it in and followed the room's edges to search the place. By the time Jensen searched the second apartment, the fire had torn through most of the first floor and it wouldn't take long for it to consume the rest of the structure.

You're lucky you got out when you did.

"First floor clear," he yelled into his headset.

Sam and Joaquin found a couple of teenagers who hadn't paid attention to the building fire alarm. "Second floor clear."

Once they searched the third floor and everyone was out safely, the crew worked to extinguish the flames. People of varying ages stared at the structure in a mixture of shock and sadness. Everyone was safe. But where were you?

Why am I concerned?

"Hey!" He called out as he went to the ambulance, taking his helmet and mask off. He didn't recognize the medic. Maybe he was new. "Where's the young woman who ran out when we arrived? She had a bright colored shirt on? Is she okay?"

"Over there," the EMT replied, nodding to where you sat alone on a small patch of grass. "Listen to this. She said she got out before the fire began to spread, but she ran back in before we arrived."

Hearing that set something off inside of Curtis. Maybe the adrenaline was still there and fueled his own inner fire. "She did what?!"

"She ran back into the building, but she's okay. Pupils reactive. No obvious indication of smoke inhalation. No burns. It's a miracle she doesn't have a single one on her. Must have some sort of luck on her side," the EMT said, carefully fitting an older gentleman with a mask. "Wouldn't let me put a mask on her though, even when I insisted. Kept pushing it away and told me to take care of everyone else. I'd like to check her out again, just to be on the safe side."

Yeah. Check her out.

Curtis wasn't sure where the small surge of jealousy came from. "I'll go talk to her," he offered, stripping off part of his gear and coat before he approached you.

You had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a surprisingly calm expression on your face as you lifted your head. There was a chance you were in shock. Or maybe you were contemplating your life choices for going back into a place that was on fire.

"Miss, can you hear me?" he asked, crouching down to meet your gaze. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said with a long, hard blink. You looked a little lost, but okay. "Did he send you over? You don't need to make a fuss over me. Really."

"I'm glad you're okay," he sighed in relief when your voice came through crystal clear, no obvious signs of smoke in your lungs like the medic said. "Now can you tell me what the hell you were thinking running back into a burning building?!"

You sat up a little straighter with wide eyes. "I had to go back in. You don’t understand!"

"Understand what?!" He asked, doing his best not to get agitated. "What is so important that you ran back into fire?"

"My neighbor ran out without grabbing her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and I couldn't leave him there. She loves him. He's all she has."

This beautiful woman did not just say "cat". And I did not just think she's beautiful.

"You risked your life for a cat?!" He asked louder than he intended. "What the hell were you thinking?! You're lucky you weren't killed."

You tilted your head, not at all phased by him raising his voice. "Don't you risk your life every time you go into a fire?"

"Yeah. Because I'm a FIREMAN. That's what I'm supposed to do," he argued, irritated that you asked such a question.

"Well, I’m a cat lover!" You huffed, holding your chin higher like you dared him to argue.

Oh, I have so many things I want to say.

Curtis was tempted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you hard enough to knock some sense into you. Didn't you know how quickly a fire could spread? The heat alone could've killed you. That was without you inhaling any of the thick, toxic smoke that filled the area as the flames raged out of control.

"Miss, I'm asking as nicely as possible: Are you insane?"

Your eyes crinkled before you giggled, the happy sound foreign in such a terrible situation. Then again, people responded to traumatizing events in different ways. "I might be a little. Have you ever done male modeling?" You questioned.

Heat rose to Curtis's cheeks that had nothing to do with the fire aftermath. Something was wrong with you. There had to be. People he saved didn't hit on him. Some of the other guys were on the receiving end of that, but not him. Apparently, he was too gruff and grumpy.

"You're really pretty," you mused when he didn't answer you.

Pretty. You called me pretty.

"…I think you should go to the hospital."

"Why? I feel fine."

"Smoke inhalation. A hit to the head. I really don't know how else to explain your behavior."

Besides the fact that you clearly have no sense of self preservation and need someone to look out for you.

"I feel fine. You're just really pretty," you smiled, reaching out toward his cheek. "Even with ash on your face, you're gorgeous. And you're huge."

He grabbed your wrist before you touched him, careful not to harm you. "No one calls me pretty," he said, thankful none of the others were close enough to hear you. That was the last thing he needed to deal with. Though he was a little flattered.

Just a little.

"What do people call you, Sir?" You asked, innocently batting your eyelashes.

Your neighbor, complete with the large, fluffy cat you rescued in her arms interrupted before Curtis could give you an answer or dwell on your doe eyed expression. "Thank you for saving Mr. Whiskers," she said, sniffling as she held the ball of fur closer. "I don't know what I would do without him."

You shrugged with a smile, like a blazing inferno hadn't destroyed part of, if not all of, your building. "It was nothing. I just did what anyone else would do."

No. Most people wouldn't risk their lives for a cat who doesn't belong to them.

He fixed you with the sternest gaze he could muster when the older lady walked away. "You put yourself in unnecessary danger, Miss. You're not trained for that and it isn't your job to be the hero," he said, hoping you'd never encounter a situation like this in the future.

Your lower lip wobbled and he worried you'd burst into tears. Maybe his demeanor wasn't the kindest in the moment, but he didn't want to make you cry. "I know it isn't my job, but I wanted to help."

Curtis deflated a little, but was still fired up. "Your job is to take care of yourself," he said, jabbing a finger in the direction of your neighbor. "How do you think she would've felt if you didn't make it out? Or your loved ones?"

"But I did make it out," you said in a small voice.

He almost ran a hand over his face. You made it out unscathed, but how much of that was luck? He wouldn't admit it, but it was impressive what you did. But what about your safety?

Who takes care of you?

"Miss, is there anyone I can call for you? Family? A partner?" He asked, done with lecturing you. "You won't be able to stay here."

"My family doesn't live close by and I don't have a partner," you answered, pulling the blanket tighter around you. He wasn't sure why he was relieved that you didn't have a partner and he didn't want to examine that further tonight. "I'll figure something out."

"I'd feel better knowing you have a place to stay," he said, his tone gentler than before.

Grief filled your eyes when you looked past him. "Is everything gone?" You asked.

Curtis was never one for getting attached to possessions as he never had a lot growing up. But the weight of losing cherished memories and homes was heavy for many. By helping your neighbor, you most likely didn't grab anything for yourself.

"Chances are everything in your apartment is probably gone," he answered, not wanting to lie to you. He placed a gloved hand on your arm, knowing it wouldn't do much to comfort you when a tear fell. Still, he had to try. "But like you said, you made it out. That's the most important thing."

"Yeah," you smiled sadly, shocking him by pushing yourself up off the ground and wiping your eyes. "Well, thank you for getting everyone out. You're a hero."

"Just doing my job," Curtis said, your gentle praise meaningful. Though he had a feeling you were deflecting and his instincts weren't usually wrong. "Do you have a place to stay?" He pressed as he stood to his full height.

You looked at the ground as you shook your head. "Not really. I moved here recently for work and don't really know anyone, besides my neighbor. It's okay though. I'll stay in a hotel until I figure something out."

His heart sank. He couldn't imagine moving to a new place just to lose it in a flash. "But relief service can help-"

"I'll have the EMT give me the all clear again, if it makes you feel better," you said, stunning him by throwing your arms around him. Even through the smoke, he caught the scent of your sweet perfume. "I appreciate you checking on me personally, Sir."

"Curtis," he said, your brows furrowed as you stepped back. "My name is Curtis."

You smiled and gave him your name before you headed to the ambulance, leaving him to stare after you.

"Jensen!" He yelled, his teammate still in full gear as he trotted over. "Punch me in the face."

"…Is this a test?" He asked, slowly removing his helmet. "I mean. I can punch you. That's not the problem. But why would I punch you? Did you do something wrong?"

"Because I'm worried about her. She ran back inside to save her neighbor's cat."

Jake looked in your direction before he smiled at Curtis, who glared in return. "Really? Why would I punch you for worrying about her?"

"Because it's stupid."

Curtis didn't understand. You were a stranger. He knew nothing about you. So why did he feel the need to look out for you?

Maybe I should have my own head examined.

"I think it's kind of sweet. Romantic. You must think she's cute at least if you're telling me to hit you."

That's why it's stupid.

"She said she's staying in a hotel," Curtis said. How long would you do that? When would you find a place to live?

"She should contact relief service," Jake said, bumping his shoulder. "Hey! Didn't you just fix up your guest room? Offer it to her."

Curtis looked at Jake like he had grown a second head. "Why would I do that?" he asked.

"Isn't that what heroes do? They meet the heroine and sweep her off her feet during her time of need?" Jake asked, rolling his eyes when Curtis grunted. "Maybe just give her your number. Let her know she has a friend if she needs one? You know grief may hit later and who better than to help?"

"Maybe I'll give her my number. Maybe."

"And offer her your room," Jake added, stepping back just in time to avoid Curtis shoving him away.

One step at a time.

Sneaking a look at you in the back of the ambulance, Curtis couldn't believe he was contemplating what Jake suggested. It was crazy. But seeing your tiny smile, something about it pushed at his inner wall. You intrigued him. And his last failed connection was wrong. He didn't have a cold heart.

He'd prove it.

This was actually going to be Ari when the idea first formed, but Curtis seemed like a better fit. Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[d4yl1ghts]

stuck

mark sloan x shy, fem!reader

summary: you and mark get to know each other when you get stuck in an elevator

A/N- i feel like he would love star wars (not as much as bailey tho)? but this gives me such katniss and peeta vibes

-

You read the files that Doctor Shepherd had given you to take a look through because he thought his new patient may have some sort of problem with their heart and cardiology was your specialty. You were currently in the elevator, heading up to find an empty room to study your new case when the elevator suddenly came to a halt. Confusedly you glanced around and noticed Mark Sloan, the world’s number one man-whore was the only other person there.

He glanced up from his papers and made eye contact with you. “What happened?”, he questioned with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. This was the first time you’d heard him so nervous. “I think the elevator just broke.”, you sighed as the realisation just set in once you said it out loud. He huffed to himself. “Hopefully they’ll be able to fix it soon, I have a surgery in an hour.”, he stated, checking the time on his watch.

“Might as well get comfortable.”, he added as he fixed himself on the floor and placed his files beside him. You copied his actions and sat opposite him. “So, what case have you got there?”, he asked you, striking conversation. “Oh, just a new case Derek wanted me to check up on. What about you?”, you awkwardly asked as your cheeks blazed. “Just some boring charts of burn victims, I have to reconstruct their faces, arms and legs.”, he said. “Oh, lovely.”, you replied sarcastically.

You stared at the wall of the lift and zoned out into your own thoughts. It must have been around five minutes of silence before Mark started speaking again: “If we’re gonna be here for a while then we may as well get to know each other.”, he said, looking into your eyes. It wasn’t a bad idea, there was nothing else you could really do.

“Tell me three random facts about yourself. I’ll go first: I used to live in New York (I’m sure you’ve heard about that), my middle name is Everett and I love the Star Wars movies.”

“Uhm… this is actually hard to think about, hold on.”, you said, embarrassed. He chuckled slightly. “Okay, I hate posh restaurants, I also love the Star Wars movies and I have a pet cat named Jack.”

“Cool, why do you hate posh restaurants though?”, he questioned as he turned to you with amusement in his eyes. “They’re just so intimidating and I just generally don’t like the vibe of the, do you know what I mean? Also, they’re so overpriced like you could find some cosy place that sells nicer food for way cheaper.”, you said passionately. You did not like posh restaurants at all. “I get what you’re coming from to be honest. I always preferred a cute and little cafe opposed to a fancy restaurant.”, he reasoned.

“If I ever ask you out on a date, I guess I’ll know where to take you.”, he flirted which left your cheeks on fire, well that’s what it felt like anyway. “I’m not surprised everyone calls you a man-whore.”, you said as you ignored what he previously said. “That’s not my proudest nickname.”, he responded. “I want to change my nickname, I don’t want to be known as that anymore. I don’t want loads of hook-ups and flings, I want a real relationship.”

He gazed at you. “I swear we’re having a whole confession session here. Oh my God, it rhymed.”, he laughed to himself. You laughed along with him, he was pretty funny and cute. If you looked past his reputation, he was a nice guy.

After another fifteen minutes of talking and joking, firefighters had arrived and gotten the two of you out of the elevator. “Hey, Y/N, do you wanna hang out one day? Not in an elevator, of course.”, he asked you, almost anxiously as he awaited a response. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“I promise I won’t take you to a posh restaurant.”, he added as he walked away and charmingly smirked at you. You laughed to yourself and waved him off. “We can work out a date.”

[hirukochan]

Stood-up

A Severus Snape x fem!reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: Your former professor saves you from embarrassment when your blind date doesn't show up to the fancy restaurant you were meant to meet at.

Warnings: Smut, Loss of virginity, virgin reader

Wordcount: 5007

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

You did not expect life after Hogwarts to be…this. Whatever this is. Boring. That much is certain. You finished school five years ago with good grades and that was it. You celebrated your graduation with your friends who were already gushing about their future careers and their dream jobs, and you had nothing to offer to the conversation. You didn’t know what you wanted to do after school. And five years later you still don’t know.

You wanted to move out of your parents’ house and so you went to interviews for any job you thought yourself decently qualified for. You ended up working in a depressing little second hand bookshop in Diagon Alley. The owner, some rich fuck that doesn’t even live in London, pays you well to take care of anything that needs taking care of because the shop belonged to his wife’s grandfather, and she can’t bear separating with it. 

You also get to live rent-free in the one-room flat above the store. You have a kitchen, a bed and a bathroom and no controlling boss looming over your every move. Life is…good. It’s ok, nothing groundbreaking, but how many people get that? How realistic is an action filled, thrilling life actually?

Your friends seem content with life as it is and so you try to be content as well. 

In reality you feel lost.

You have looked into universities, but you aren’t sure if you’d be good enough and the fear of failing holds you back. Besides, what would you even study? In school charms had been your favourite, but was that because of the subject or your teacher? Professor Flitwick had made each class a delight to be in.

You shove the thoughts away, focusing on finishing up closing the store. A friend has set up a blind-date for you. Some guy she works with at the Ministry. She has gushed about him endlessly and you are sure were she not in a relationship herself - she would totally try to date him. 

That is a recipe for disaster, but you want to indulge your friend or perhaps just make her shut up and so you go along.

You lock up the shop and hurry upstairs to shower, change and put on some makeup. An hour later you are standing outside the shop, mentally preparing for the apparition. You are certain you’ll never get used to it.

Pleasant, classical music floods the street as you open the door to the wizarding restaurant and bar in central London. This is already outside your comfort zone. Too fancy and too full. Are you underdressed? Are you overdressed? Shit, what if he isn’t here yet?

“Reservation for Everett.” You say to the hostess who swishes her wand and looks through the list of reservations.

“This way, madam. Your partner is not here yet.” Shit. Of course, he wouldn’t be. You are early. Way too early. Pathetic, desperate early.

The hostess shows you to your table and you smile kindly as you sit down. A waiter hurries over to you and asks for your drink order.

“Wine. Red, please.” The waiter is gone before you can finish your sentence. A glass of wine floats to your table shortly after. You let your eyes wander over the room as you take small sips. A few couples sit at the tables, some more stand at the bar, chatting with each other.

You wait.

And wait.

Three glasses later you know you got stood up. You try to fight the tears stinging in your eyes and dig through your purse for some money to pay for the drinks and scurry out of the restaurant as fast as possible. 

How pathetic! Hot shame spreads through your chest, your guts twist at the mere thought of getting up and leaving. Your feet don’t work. They simply won’t respond to your command. With all your willpower you stifle a sob in your throat. This is your last straw.

All the disappointment over life after Hogwarts, the loneliness, being lost and left behind by the golden opportunities your future had promised you - and now not even your date could bother to show up! You didn’t even want to meet him. Prick!

“Ms. (L/N)?” You flinch. That voice. You are sure that voice would give you war-like flashbacks for the rest of your life. Running through corridors at night, blood pounding in your ears, already feeling safe as the entrance to your common room approaches just to be violently stopped by those words.

You turn and meet the dark eyes of your former professor for potions. 

Severus Snape has not changed in the five years since you last saw him. The same hooked nose, same pale skin. Black greasy hair falling into his face. The long black robes hiding every inch of his skin.

“P-professor Snape.” You reply, because you have to say something. His eyes wander over you, clearly made up for a date and then twitch to the empty seat across from you. They narrow as they see the three empty glasses and the slight redness of your eyes. Without saying anything he slips into the seat across from you.

“Two glasses of whatever the lady has been drinking.” He says as he grabs a waiter by the arm. He gestures towards the glasses. “And get rid of these. What kind of service is this?” The waiter apologises profusely and hurries away quickly. 

You stare at Snape in bewilderment. He is sitting across from you. He saw you got stood up and sat down. And he ordered drinks. 

He is looking at you. Say something. Anything. Shit shit shit.

“I was supposed to meet someone.” You say, cursing how meek you sound. You look away and try to subtly wipe the corner of your eye where a stubborn little tear tries very hard to run down your cheek. You know if you allow that one to pass your lashes, there is no holding back the rest.

“I gathered.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes still roaming over you. Instantly you feel like you are back in the dungeons of Hogwarts, trying your best to brew a potion while he stares at you, waiting for the moment you fail. You swallow hard as the familiar nervousness of being around Snape takes over.

“A boyfriend?”

“N-no. A friend set it up- never met him.”

“What do you do these days?” You blush. You were afraid he might ask that.

“I-I run a little b-bookshop in Diagon Alley…sir.” The ‘sir’ slips out before you can stop it. A smirk tucks at the corners of his mouth at the sound of it but dies instantly.

“A bookshop? And you’re happy with that?” You shrug. You aren’t, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You cling to your glass. This is worse than getting stood up and humiliated. Infinitely worse. Snape leans over the table, his dark eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“I am not going to bite you. Unless-” You tense. Is he flirting? Merlin’s beard- You feel heat rise to your face and stare down at the wine in your hands. “I apologise. This is inappropriate and you clearly wish to be as far away from me as possible. I’ll leave you to it.” Snape says, an edge of self-loathing sneaking into his voice. He digs through his pocket and puts down a few coins on the table.

“Stay-” You have no idea how you manage to force the word out of your constricting throat but there it is. Out in the open. 

Snape stares at you in disbelief. You take a shaky, deep breath and look up to meet his intense gaze.

“Stay.” You repeat, firmer this time. That expression flashes through his eyes again and after a moment of hesitation he settles down.

“U-unless I am keeping you from meeting someone. I-” You hadn’t considered why he might be here. Shit, is he on a date? And instead of that he took pity on you? Does Snape date? 

He chuckles. The sound as foreign to your ears as kindness or praise from him. It goes straight to your core, and you gulp as you are violently tossed back into your old crush. That is the last thing you need now! 

Imagining him doing all sorts of things to you during class was bad enough already - mainly because it really messed with your grade - but imagining them now that you are no longer his student, no longer sixteen- You blush even more as you realise that - in theory - you could do these things now. 

It has been five years since you graduated, sure it is a bit weird maybe, but entirely allowed. You have not been in contact with him since graduation. He has made no inappropriate comment to you while you were his student ever- in fact he barely ever talked to you.

You feel Snape’s hot gaze burn through your skull. It’s almost like he knows. Which is entirely impossible. Or is it? He has the uncanny ability to know when students are planning mischief behind his back and such things as reading minds isn’t at all a ridiculous idea to wizards- shit.

Snape’s lips curl as you stare at him.

“Oh, yes.” His smooth voice says in your head. “I know. I know all the little fantasies you have been coming up with for years.” The colour vanishes from your face. You take a big gulp of your wine, downing the entire thing in one go to aid your suddenly parched throat. Snape swirls the wine in his glass, never taking his eyes off you.

“A-and is that some-something you’d…you’d want?” You ask. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, your insides clench almost uncomfortably. You have no idea where you take the bravery from to say it out loud. 

His grin grows, his eyes darken, snapping down to the neckline of your dress. In one smooth movement he gets up and holds his hand out to you.

This is it.

The one opportunity you’d get.

You take his hand. 

Your skin tingles where it touches him and a giddy feeling spreads through you. 

You are going to sleep with your Potions professor. Former professor. Dark, unapproachable, cruel Snape. The man you have been fantasising about since 6th grade. The man that terrifies you as much as he intrigues you.

Together you leave the restaurant. He guides you towards an abandoned alley and lets go of your hand to snake his arm around your waist.

“Hold on tight.” He whispers in his ear. You can feel his breath on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine. You take a shaky breath and put your arms around his waist. You are swept up in his scent, musky and herbal. It clouds your mind instantly and you bite your tongue so you don’t inhale deeper just so it can flood your senses more. His magic wraps around you and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the apparition to pass. You can feel the chuckle rumble through Snape’s chest before you hear it.

“Still no fan?” 

“No.” You reply breathless and separate from him. He holds onto your waist, eyeing you as though he expects you to collapse. Right- You did. During Apparition training in your 7th year, you lost consciousness after your first successful attempt. He was one of the teachers overseeing the training. 

You blush as the memory of how embarrassed you felt waking up in his arms, your whole year watching, resurfaces in your mind. You clear your throat and look around. You’re in Diagon Alley, not far away from the bookshop. You dig through your pocket and get out the key as you walk towards it. 

You are going to have sex. 

You are going to have sex with Snape. He’s walking right behind you. Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel.

“This is it.” You say and close the door behind you. Your flat looks terribly small with Snape standing in it. 

“Do you still want me to stay?”

“Yes. I’m just-”

“Yes?” He steps closer.

“You intimidate me.”

“Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?”

“Good.” You reply breathlessly. Your mind is already foggy just from him standing so close to you. His eyes roam over your face, as though he is determined to enter all its details to his memory. Your heart beats impossibly fast in your chest, smashing against your ribcage so hard you wonder whether Snape can hear it. He leans down, inky hair falling into his face, stealing your view of the room around you. 

Your insides clench and scream for him to kiss you. Finally kiss you. You bite your bottom lip to stop its pathetic quivering. His scent floods your senses and briefly renders your mind nonexistent. 

Snape runs his fingertips over your arm, starting at your wrist and drawing goosebumps across your naked skin, all the way up to your shoulder. Your breath hitches and you barely manage to withstand the urge to hold onto him.

“You’d have to take this off first.” He says, quiet, calm. His voice sends a shiver through your body. He drags his fingers over your shoulder to your neck. He takes the zipper and slowly pulls it down, the sound resounds in your room loud like thunder. 

He barely touches your skin when he peels the straps off your shoulder and gently tugs the dress down and over your hips. It pools around your feet on the ground.

Snape takes a step back and takes in your body. You aren’t wearing a bra, you own none that would have looked good with the dress and stand in front of him only in a pair of black lace knickers.

His eyes remain as unreadable as they always are. He seems to assess your body with the same impartiality as he used to look at your potions. You shiver, cold air swirling around your heated skin, goosebumps spread across your skin and your nipples harden. Your face is burning hot though, and you barely resist the impulse of covering yourself with your arms.

Just when you begin to think this is some cruel joke, he is playing on you to embarrass you, he closes the distance between you two - too fast for your mind to catch up. He grabs your waist and smashes your body against his. His lips crash against your collarbone, his teeth graze your skin.

You gasp and sink your hands into his hair, marvelling at how soft it feels. He kisses your skin, sucks and nibbles. White hot lust seeps into your skin from the saliva he spreads across it. 

He holds your waist in his surprisingly strong arms and attacks your chest, worshipping every inch of you as though you are some ancient artefact promising prosperity and luck to loyal devotees. He groans against you, and you join with a moan of yourself, arching your back, offering your chest up to him. He accepts without hesitation, with enthusiasm even. Snape licks broad, firm strokes over your exposed breast, roughly kneading the other with his hand.

His thorough attention is dizzying. Blood pounds in your ears and waves upon waves of merciless pleasure course through you, twisting your vocal cords into the strangest of sounds you have never heard yourself make.

“Are you a virgin?” He groans against your skin.

“Y-yes-” He stops, dead in his tracks. Slowly his head tilts back, his gaze snapping in on yours.

“Yes?” Hunger flashes through his eyes and he licks his lips. “How the fuck are you still a virgin?” You blush more fiercely if that is even possible. Your shrug and drops your hands to his shoulders.

“Um- nobody was ever interested in me like that.”

“You’re what? Twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two.”

“And nobody ever touched your gorgeous fucking body?” He sounds baffled, like your words are the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.

“Touched, yes…snogging at parties in the common room and such, but-” Your voice trails off. 

“You are telling me.” He says, his voice growing to untamed deep turmoil of unabashed desire and feral lust. “Nobody ever sucked on these dainty, splendid nipples?” As if to emphasise his words he closes his lips around one, holding it between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it. You whimper. Your legs shake under the weight of your own body, and you cling to his shoulders. His eyes never leave you, the weight of them heavy on you, buzzing on your skin. You throw your head back, moaning like you’ve never moaned before.

He chuckles, the vibration of it ripples through the tissue of your breast and sinks deep into your body, melting into your bones. He kisses his way back up to your collarbone and neck.

“Fools. Every single one of them that did not realise what they are missing out on.” He gently sucks on the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. He steers you backwards until your calves meet the frame of your bed and you allow your body to fall back.

Snape kicks his shoes off and slips out of his cloak before he follows you, crawling over the bed, up your body like a predator about to devour his prey. A shiver rushes through you at that thought. Yes- you want him to devour you, to worship you, to ruin you and build you back up. He braces his arms against the mattress on either side of your head.

“And you still want me to stay?” The words fall into the space between your bodies, filled with heat and want, desire and fear, buzzing with anticipation. His eyes are softer somehow, less intense, but not less hungry. They tell you how much he wants you, craves you but also tell you he’d stop. You just need to say the word and he will leave. Without shaming you, without a cruel word or ounce of disappointment. 

“Yes.”

“You want to give this first experience to me? Of all people?”

“I’ve always wanted it to be you.” Snape groans and closes his eyes. His head drops, coming to rest against your shoulder, nestling to the crook of your neck.

“Do you have any idea-” He is breathing heavy, clenching his fists in your sheets, his body one large, tensed muscle. “-what you do to me?” Before you can answer he grabs one of your hands and brings it down. He presses it against his upper thigh where his cock is very hard, straining against its confines. You gasp at which Snape smirks. He rolls his hips against your hand.

“It’s big…” You whisper, more fear mixing in with your burning arousal.

“You can take it.” He leans down. His lips brush over your cheek. “I’ll make sure of it.” His breath dances over the shell of your ear, prickling. As soon as it passes your skin feels terribly cold, like it’s never going to be warm ever again just to be replaced by burning heat. Snape drags the tip of his tongue across the shell of your ear and back down to close his lips around your earlobe.

The whimper that falls from your lips at that is more of a high pitched squeak and finally, finally he kisses you. His lips are soft like silk and warm, reminding you of a mug of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks in winter. 

You sigh and move your lips with his, threading your fingers through his hair. Despite the way he has been acting so far, he kisses you passionately, almost slow, but no less thorough. 

Severus Snape is nothing if not thorough. 

And he intends to savour you.

You part your lips for him, eager to move this along, eager to feel him and the pleasure he can bring you, but when it comes to actually deepening the kiss you hesitate. Snape senses your nervousness and takes over the decision making from you. The tip of his tongue meets yours and he slides it slowly over your own, easing you into the kiss and coaxing a small moan from you. 

You relax against him and surrender yourself to his touch once more. You have never been kissed like this. With want and need, with passion and hunger. He maps out your mouth as though he is trying to dissect a potion he has never seen into its separate components. 

His hands run over your body, your sides and stomach to your thighs. You whine at his touch and muscles twitch under your skin as if to reach out to his calloused fingers. The wool of his frock rubs against your skin when he moves. You reach out to work on the endless row of buttons but are rather abruptly interrupted by his fingers against your cunt. 

A surprised, shuddering gasp escapes you and your fingers tense against his chest. Snape chuckles into the kiss, never once stopping his assault on your mouth. Playful he circles your entrance, gathering you slick and spreading it to your clit. You cling to his shoulders and push your head back into the pillows. Pressure builds deep in your cunt, and you need him to ease it- need him to- to-

“Ahh-” You cry out and dig your nails into Snape’s shoulders. Your own fingers never felt that fucking good.

“Are we enjoying ourself?” Snape teases, watching the pleasure drunk expression on your face.

“Mhh…Snape-” You buck your hips into his hand. “Please- fuck me-”

“Patience, dear. I told you I would make sure you can take me.” He teases your entrance with a finger, coating it in your slick and then gently pushes inside you. “I will fuck you. I will fuck you so well nobody will ever compare to me, but first I’ll stretch this virgin cunt because as you so eloquently put it - It’s big.”

“There was this rumour back in school-” You murmur, blissful pleasure clouding your mind and rendering it utterly useless. “-that- that….oohhh-”

“That I’m a virgin?” He smirks. He pumps his finger inside you, curling it and pressing upwards slightly and a flash of searing pleasure explodes inside your cunt, and you squirm under him, rolling your hips into his touch to get more more more. “Does it feel like I am? Like I’ve never touched a woman?”

“Snape-”

“Dear, believe me, I know your body better than you.” You want to get offended by that statement. What a man thing to say but then Snape does something with his finger, twisting and curling at the same time or something else, interrupting your thoughts harshly with another mind-blowing ripple of pleasure. 

Snape adds a second finger, stretching you carefully and kissing you the entire time, then a third. You are hot all over. Sweat clings to you like a second layer of skin. You are shivering from unfulfilled need and the steadily building pressure deep in your cunt just outside of Snape’s reach.

It builds and builds, beyond anything you were ever able to do to yourself and you have no idea how it keeps building and where all this pressure goes because the thought of it all staying confined in you is absurd!

You whine at the loss of his touch and buck your hips in a futile attempt of stopping his fingers from leaving you. Snape looks very fucking smug, but you are to wound up and needy to even care. 

He watches you squirm, your slickness dripping off his fingers. He traces your lips with his ring finger, spreading your own arousal over them. You are too far gone to really care. Your tongue darts out and licks your lips clean, accepting his finger into your mouth. You suck his fingers clean, one after another, Snape’s dark eyes never leaving you.

“What a good girl.” He coos. His voice rolls over your skin and sinks into your body, causing your insides to clench. 

You watch Snape undo the rest of the buttons and toss the black frock away. He opens his belt, the quiet clink of the buckle echoes in your mind. You’re about to see Snape’s prick. Snape just fingered you. You’ve been kissing Snape! 

Your heart beats faster, like a hummingbird forced to forever fly on the spot in a too small cage. Anticipation takes your breath away and impossibly so, more slickness rushes to your entrance. Every second he takes to open his trousers feels like another fire being lit on your skin. 

He slides a hand in his pants and now you are sure he is doing it to see you squirm because who moves that slow?

You let out an impatient whine and squirm, bucking your hips to grind against him.

“So impatient.” He chuckles and finally, finally frees his prick. 

It’s big is a pretty accurate description, you don't know what Snape has against your eloquence. Jesus fuck, is another option but you doubt Snape would find that more eloquent.

His plush, purple cockhead is already leaking pre-cum. Snape mutters an incantation, you recognise as a contraception spell, before aligning himself with you.

“Don’t worry, dear.” He coos. “I’ll be gentle. Just relax.” You try. You really try, but Snape has your nerve endings running in circles, screaming, while on fire. Stop, drop and roll is not an option that they can think of, mainly because thinking is quite difficult when on fire. 

He pushes against you, and you tense further. Snape rubs your thigh, and you take a deep breath and try to relax your muscles. Slowly, inch after thick inch Snape enters you. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead from the strain of going slow. Inch after inch of your tight channel is mercilessly forced to yield to his girth, stretching you open with a small sting. 

Snape grunts and sinks into you to the hilt, sacking above you to give you time to adjust and also catch his breath.

You are so bloody full. How he isn’t ripping you open is a miracle to you. Your knuckles are white from holding onto his arms. The muscles in your thighs quiver. You give tentatively rolls of your hips, earning a low groan from Snape another wave of deep pleasure.

“You’re breathing really hard.” He mutters into your ear. “I like that - keep working so hard for me, dear.” Snape’s thrusts are long and controlled, massaging your inner walls and hitting just the right spots. You are reduced to a pathetic, needy moaning puddle of bliss and want. 

Snape isn’t doing too much better. His breathing is heavy and loud right next to your ear which drives you deeper and deeper into your trance-like state of ecstatic bliss. His rhythm falters more than once and his groans take on an animalistic edge. 

“So tight.” He grunts and drives back into you. “Just for me-”

“Snape!”

“That’s right. Saved yourself for me, didn’t you, dear?”

“Idiot.” You laugh against his jaw.

“No need to play shy - you can tell me.” Snape smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” He snaps his hips forward, hitting that spot with more force than before and your breath gets stuck in your throat. You tense and convulse, somehow simultaneously. Snape grunts when you clench around him and your inner walls spasm.

“Keep coming- keep fucking coming for me!” He reaches between your bodies and rubs your clit. A violent wave of pleasure smacks you right in the face and you scream in pleasure. Snape whispers reverent praise and fucks you through your release, coming shortly after with a long groan inside you.

Sweaty, sticky and spent you collapse on the bed, both trying to catch your breath. Snape runs his hand over your thigh absentmindedly. His cum slowly leaks out of you. Your eyelids are heavy. A heavy blanket of bliss and contentment settles over you.

“Thank you.” You whisper into the silence of your flat.

“Whatever for?” He chuckles next to you.

“It was nice.” You shrug.

“Well, I should be thanking you for even letting me touch you.”

“Let’s thank each other.”

“Fine.” You stay there a while longer, but eventually Snape disentangles himself from you and gets up to get dressed.

Lying on your side with your sheets pulled up to cover your still shaking body you watch him.

“You know-” He says but stops himself, a frown appearing on his face. “A career isn’t the only thing to measure how accomplished or fulfilled one’s life is. Your friends might think their jobs are great now, but in ten, twenty years they’ll realise they have never lived a day in their life. This job…” He looks around the flat. “It seems pretty comfortable to me. It seems to give you the freedom to do whatever you want. Create art or music, write, research or go to university. You can do whatever you want - fuck what other people think. Not everybody dreams of labour.”

“What if I’m not good enough?” Snape fastens his cloak. He looks up. His eyes seem heavy with a burden you can’t quite understand. The corner of his mouth twitches and perhaps for the first time in the years you have known him you see him smile.

“I think you can achieve anything you put your mind to. And either way. How will you know if you never try? The day will come you’ll regret having allowed your fear to hold you back.” His cloak billows behind him when he turns to leave. His hand already on the doorknob he stops.

“I hope you find happiness.”

“I hope you find happiness too, Professor.”

“For some of us it’s too late.” And with those words he disappears into the darkness of the night.

Three weeks later Albus Dumbledore is murdered by Severus Snape.

| Part 2 |

[ramp-it-up]

This is practically perfect in every way! 😍

strawberries & cream ♡

Curtis Everett x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Written for @buckysbirdie 's Birthday Bash Writing Challenge! So, I used @tinabelcherseroticfriendfiction 's great idea of using d6s & d20s to choose a prompt and I got:

🍨 Paper Bowl: Chris Evans characters outside of the MCU

🍦 Make Your Own (AU)

🥥 First date

🍐 Person A saves Person B’s day

🍊 Picnic

🥝 A catches B singing while doing chores/cooking/ whatever

words: ~800

warnings: a jealous (and a bit possesive) Curtis, mentions of sex (p in v, unprotected, creampie), mostly fluff but it's not a Curtis Everett fic if he doesn't mildly threaten someone 🥰 lol

a/n: Happy Bday Birdie! 🥳💖 This was super fun!! (I might do another one since this one came to me so fast lol)

a/n: unbeta'd & edited by me. moodboard by me. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't :)

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

You decided on having a picnic for your first date together. A picnic. Curtis doesn't know if he's ever been on a picnic before.

He's nervously watching from afar, wringing his black beanie in his hands as he stands by the park entrance. You're not too far away. Curtis assumes you picked the spot so he could find you easily when he got there. He wants to run to you but he's calculating all the ways he could screw this up and it's holding him back.

You look too perfect to be real. Sitting on a blanket by the lakeside, peeling and cutting up fruit you brought in a cute wicker basket, and singing. Humming the parts of the song you forgot the words to and singing to yourself like some kind of fairy tale princess.

There's no way an angel like you agreed to go on a date with a grease monkey like him. He barely leaves the garage, he doesn't know how to date. It's a miracle he even saw you in that bar. That you gave him the time of day.

Curtis is a giant in every sense of the word, but he feels like he's light as air when you look at him, breathe near him. He makes up his mind then, that he can't leave you alone. So he's walking, no, floating towards you on a cloud he never wants to come down from.

That is until he sees another man approach you. Some asshole jogging in place in stupidly short running shorts with his shirt off is asking for your number and Curtis sees red. It's only the first date. Why is he like this? He doesn't own you, he's being ridiculous. But the man's eyes drop to the neckline of your pretty floral sundress and your ample curves contained within and Curtis doesn't care anymore if he makes a fool of himself in front of you, he can't let this happen.

"No, I'm waiting for my boyfriend actually."

Those words nearly freeze him in place. He's desperate to hear you claim him as yours over and over again.

Your voice is loud, carrying over the water on purpose so anyone nearby might know how uncomfortable you're being made to feel.

The prick's about to say something in response but he's cut off by Curtis' massive paw clamping down on his shoulder.

"The lady said no, pal. Beat it."

You light up when you hear Curtis' low, growling voice and when your eyes meet, Curtis almost forgets himself. Right, intimidating. Have to be intimidating.

"Did you hear me? I said move."

The man sputters in indignation as he's pushed off down the path by Curtis. "Hey! Get your hands off me, buddy!"

"I'm not your buddy, pal."

Curtis grinds those words through his teeth and you have to jump up and grab his arm to stop him from following after the quickly back pedalling man.

"Curtis, it's okay. I'm okay."

Your hand on his bearded cheek seems to snap him back to reality and his gaze softens on you.

"Sorry, angel. Didn't like him coming on to you like that. Can't even sit in the park without some dick for brains trying to check you out."

You laugh at his poor, jealous pout and rest your head on his chest, your arms wrapping around his thick midsection with a tight squeeze.

"My hero. I should've told him I've still got some of you leaking out of me from last night. Think that would've shut him up?"

You lift your head, biting your lower lip to hold back a smile when you feel a groan rumble through his broad chest. Sure enough Curtis has the same heated gaze pointed at you that he had at the bar last night. The last time he had that look on his face he was taking you back to his place so he could worship every inch of you and keep you so stuffed full of him you thought you might burst.

But he promised, in a sleepy half-drunk haze, that he would go on a real date with you. Anything you wanted he'd be there. And here he was, as promised, about to lay with you in the grass to eat fruit and talk and do whatever other adorable first date stuff you wanted to do.

Your heart and your pussy are having palpitations at the thought of just what this man is willing to do for you. But for now you appease the best with a chaste kiss to his lips and he settles. 

Curtis takes a deep breath and sits on the laid out blanket, pulling you down with him. With your back to his chest, sitting between his legs and resting against him like he's some great oak tree, you think this might be the best first date you've ever had.

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝕸𝖞 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕾𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖁𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟹 - 𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 ~ 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚍'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚡 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜.

Word Count: ~2.1k

Relationship: werewolf!Curtis Everett x fem!reader

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected p in v sex, f receiving oral sex, outdoor sex, unrealistic ability to take an entire monster dick), established relationship, SMUT! 18+ ONLY!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all of my latest fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Curtis smiled at your back when he heard you humming while you washed the dishes, putting the rest of your meal in the fridge before coming to stand behind you and press his chest against your back. He could practically hear you smiling when he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin against the top of your head, kissing your hair and breathing in your scent as he watched the sun start to set.

He was more anxious than he had ever been in his entire life, already feeling that itchiness under his skin that accompanied his change. For the past few months he’d managed to convince you he was sick during the period of his shifting, but he was in love with you, he wanted to share every part of his life with you. And that meant he had to tell you his biggest secret.

“What’s wrong, puppy?” Your smile was warm and full of love when you looked at him over your shoulder, winding your fingers through his on your waist when he sighed heavily. “You’ve been quiet all evening. Or, more quiet than usual.”

“Don’t tease, petal.” Curtis bent down to bite your ear as he growled playfully, squeezing you tighter when you rolled your ass back against his dick and screwing his eyes closed as he tried to stay focused on the task at hand. “I have something I need to show you, outside.”

“Ooh, what is it?” You laughed in that lovely way he adored when he just shook his head at you, letting him pull you along by your hand and still beaming at him. “A surprise? This had better be good.”

“Oh it’s… it’s something.” He drew you close and kissed you tenderly, groaning when he felt you whine into his mouth and resting his forehead against yours. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mmhm… wait!” You pouted and huffed when he separated from you fully to go stand in the center of the clearing in front of his cabin, wanting to follow him but staying when he held up his hand. Then he started to take his shirt off and it’s not like you could pout about that, grinning and playing with the edge of your skirt as you thought about burying your face in his chest hair. “Are we gonna do it outdoors?”

“I don’t…” He chewed on his lip while he started to slide his jeans and boxer briefs down his thighs, blushing slightly as he kicked them away and thought about where he was hoping tonight might go. “We’ll see.”

“Well we’d better be doing something, you know how worked up I get when you’re naked.” The first sliver of the moon peeked over the horizon and Curtis winced, making you frown when he crouched over and dug his fingers into the soft earth. “Puppy… Curtis, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise. It looks a lot worse than it is.” He groaned when he felt the first crack of his ribs, lifting his gaze to yours and letting you see that his eyes now shone gold. “Don’t freak out, and whatever you do, don’t run. Promise me, baby girl?”

“Okay…” You were definitely freaking out, but you tried not to show it, even though all you wanted was to go to him and hold him when his body bent unnaturally and he groaned.

Curtis seemed to shimmer, his muscles rippling and changing as his limbs started growing longer and more thick with thick brown hair sprouting from every inch of his skin. His chest puffed out and his stomach grew taut as his nails extended into claws, sharp and black and ready to tear through the flesh of his prey. When his face elongated his teeth sharpened and turned into fangs, dripping saliva as his tongue lolled in his mouth. As the moon kept rising he kept growing, getting bigger and stronger before your eyes until he was standing at ten feet tall and you had to crane your neck to look up at him.

You were frozen to the spot once he was fully transformed, standing there with your mouth hanging open as you tried to come to terms with everything you just saw. Your boyfriend was a werewolf. A very large, very… attractive werewolf? Did this make you a weirdo? It was difficult to try to think about the nuances when you suddenly noticed that his cock had also grown prodigiously. You didn’t think it was possible for him to get any bigger, but dear god. Like… the possibility of you being able to take the whole thing was basically none. So why were you clenching? And his fur just looked so soft, just begging for you to run your fingers through. All in all, you were very confused.

“Curtis…” you flinched when he suddenly sank to all fours and prowled towards you, but you remembered him telling you not to run, plus your feet were still basically glued in place. “Puppy…”

Oh, his tail started wagging when you called him that, and it was hard to be freaked out when your puppy turned out to be a puppy for real. A large, sexy puppy. He finally reached you and started sniffing your hair, sneezing affectionately when you giggled as his warm breath blew against your skin. Then he nosed your hair aside so he could smell your neck, and the way he growled made your entire body vibrate as he kept circling you. He smelled like the wild, like musk and sex and feral energy. It was driving you insane. Suddenly you were pinned to the ground, gasping when Curtis licked the side of your neck and used his claws to shred your dress and panties.

“What… what are you… puppy…”

When he nipped at your shoulder your pussy fluttered so hard your toes curled, shutting your mouth and letting him press you into the dirt as he began trailing his wet nose down the length of your spine. He couldn’t speak in this form, but it was like you could hear his thoughts and feelings, possessive and affectionate words like ‘mine’, ‘love’, ‘mate’ as he grunted and chuffed against your skin. His clawed hands dug into the soft cheeks of your ass as they spread them apart, making you whimper and spread your legs for him when he nosed at your quivering holes.

Curtis’s claws sunk into your skin while he lapped and nibbled at your pussy and asshole, growling at the taste of you and the way you gasped and moaned for him. Every single part of you was so sweet, and it was all his. The noises you made while he covered his face in your scent made his already hard cock throb almost painfully, a low growl making his lips curl while he nudged at your asshole with his snout. Once he was satisfied he dragged his nose up the length of your spine, nipping at the back of your neck as he let go of your hips so he could brace his hands on either side of your head while he prepared to mount you.

You buried your fingers in the earth when he pushed his now massive cock inside your quivering pussy, your scream getting caught in your throat and coming out a garbled moan when he didn’t bother going slow and just slammed into you. Your cunt fluttered wildly at the intrusion, clenching so hard it was like you were trying to push him out of you while he started to fuck you at a savage pace. Apparently your concerns about not being able to take all of him were unfounded, judging by the fact that his balls were smacking against your sensitive clit at the end of each of his vicious thrusts. All of a sudden your eyes were rolling back in your head and your scream finally broke free, your pussy squirting wildly until Curtis’s fur was soaked in your sweet scent.

Curtis watched you writhe beneath him with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, his hips still moving at a pace that was sure to leave bruises on the insides of your thighs. You were so beautiful, and you were his. There was no one else in the world for him, the fact that you didn’t run screaming when you saw him had cemented in his mind that you were his lifelong mate. He knew that he would never let anything happen to you as long as he lived. When you screwed your eyes closed after he hit you particularly deep he grunted, licking your cheek and nuzzling your hair until you opened your eyes with a slightly lopsided smile.

“Hi puppy… oh fuck.” You bit your lip and whimpered when he ground into you, your arms giving out when another incredible orgasm overtook you so all you could do was spasm weakly. “Oh my god… oh, it’s so good, I love you so much.”

As soon as you said it Curtis threw his head back and howled, somehow managing to move his hips even faster while you yelped at the ferocity of his affections. His cock started to swell as he neared his end, stretching your pussy to its limits and making you arch your back as you gasped at the sensation. He had to fight the urge to bite your neck, he was so lost in the pleasure he felt at knowing you belonged to him. But he managed to hold himself back, burying his face on the crook of your neck and growling when his balls pulled up tight to his body.

When he exploded inside you you saw stars, desperately sucking down air when he pumped his cum deep inside you and his knot swelled to lock him inside you. Another orgasm took you while he howled and slowed the movements of his hips, your body shaking weakly as you let out a quiet mewl. Once he had finished howling in ecstasy he bent back down to rub his face against your neck and shoulder, all of his weight resting on his enormous arms so he didn’t crush you. He was panting heavily and when you looked up at him he almost appeared dazed, his tongue lolling out of his mouth while he whined softly.

His massive body kept you caged in while you both basked in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking, sweat slicking down Curtis’s fur and covering your body in a thin sheen as you fought to catch your breath. You were absolutely fuckdrunk, whining and moaning quietly while your pussy kept fluttering around Curtis’s monstrous cock. Whatever had just happened was somewhere on the scale between ‘utterly life changing’ and ‘my brain can’t handle this so it broke’. But then you looked up into your puppy’s golden eyes and he rubbed his wet nose against yours and all you knew was that he made you happy. Getting fucked until you lost your mind was just a bonus.

When Curtis woke up the next morning he groaned, feeling a dull ache in his core that he wasn’t sure about. Then he sat up and looked down at himself and it was fairly obvious what had happened. His cock was still half hard and shiny with a mix of your juices and his cum. He was at least relieved there wasn’t any blood on his body, or the taste of it in his mouth, but he still wanted to make sure you were alright.

“Petal?” Curtis smiled when he looked to the side and saw you sprawled out next to him, your bare chest rising and falling slowly while you let out those cute little snores you insisted didn’t exist. He nudged you when you only grumbled for him, rolling you over and kissing your face until you opened your eyes with a groan. “Hi there little flower. How you feeling?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Curtis.” You scrunched up your face when he snorted and bent down to kiss your forehead, breathing deeply and whining at how sore you were. “I’m gonna have to start working out if we’re gonna do this every month. You’re carrying me back to the cabin, puppy. God, my thighs and ass are chafed, and I’m pretty sure you fucked me in at least one poison ivy bush. Don’t pout at me, it was worth it. But you’re waiting on me hand and foot for the rest of the day.”

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Be still my foolish heart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 10

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, angst (resolution at end), discussion about money and struggling financially, continuing sexual thoughts, MINORS DNI, sad matt (as if that needs a warning)

a/n: Sorry for the sporadic posting everyone, the past few weeks months, years have been crazy. Here is the resolution for the spicy angst in chapter 9! I hope you all enjoy.

w/c: 6k

Running your thumb over the crease you’d inadvertently made in the page, you worried your bottom lip as you tried to press it flat beneath the pad of your finger. This book was a rental and you could NOT afford to pay for it if it wasn't returned in pristine condition. Bills had been piling up this semester. In itself, being broke wasn't a new problem. Your inability to cope with said bills, however, very much was.

You'd been treading the poverty line since you'd left for Columbia. School was expensive, your mom wasn't there to buy groceries, and the company managing your gas bill had increased their rates, meaning your previous budget was worthless.  The high cost of heating, combined with the fact that your dad was once again flaking on his contributions to your mom's rising medical debt... It was adding up.

Sure, it was stressful. Money was the biggest cause of your anxiety most days, with your difficult curriculum following closely behind. But you'd been coping well enough.

Until your subconscious decided to pile more weight onto your already struggling psyche.

The image of Matt's pompous smirk hovering over you had been haunting you all week. Every time you closed your eyes, his deep rasp rumbled in your ears–praising you for your tenacity, your performance. Even days later, the thought was thrilling. And that made you feel unbelievably guilty.

Though nothing had actually happened between you and Matt, your brain was determined to brand you as an adulterer. Any time you heard from Everett, even if it was just a text, your stomach rolled with intense regret. You felt dirty and ashamed. For needing the thought of another man to get you off, for mentally cheating on Evs while being beneath him, and for exploiting your friendship with Matt by crafting this sinful image of him. 

You’d unintentionally dragged your boyfriend onto the emotional rollercoaster you were stuck on, swerving between desperate lust and distant tension without a warning. One day, you’d need to be on top of him, lips locked, and the next you couldn’t stand being within ten feet of each other. After a week of continuous flip-flopping, Everett had reached his limit, telling you sternly to figure out what you wanted before teasing him further. The brief argument only added to the embarrassment you’d been wading in. 

Sighing roughly, you pinched the bridge of your nose. Humiliation bubbled in your stomach, churning around your day-to-day anxiety. Your brain felt like it was being slapped around like a tennis ball, jumping between various reasons to spiral. You had no money. You were going to flunk out of school. You were unable to hold a relationship. You'd never be satisfied in love.

Groaning, you rubbed at your temples, the pads of your fingers flickering as your pulse pushed at them. You needed to fucking study, which seemed impossible when your brain would not shut up.

“Doin' ok there, bug?”

The familiar voice startled a shriek from you, your hands flying to grab the counter as you nearly toppled out of your seat. Wide eyes flying up from your textbook, you felt heat rush to your cheeks when you saw Foggy standing there. Foggy's brows were raised, an amused smile directed at your frazzled state.

“Jesus Christ, Fog. You're gonna give me a heart attack one day.” You grumbled, shaking off the lingering fear and smoothing your clothes in an attempt to regain your dignity.

“You sure that day isn't today?” The blond asked innocently, eyes twinkling with the jest.

Huffing, you raised the heavy text you'd been pretending to read, hiding behind it as you muttered, “Shut up.”

Foggy cackled, striding behind the counter and hopping onto a stool. “What’s so interesting? You clearly didn't hear me come in.”

“This stupid Contracts assignment.” You huffed, absently running your thumb over the corner again. “I can’t get through it and, trust me, I’ve tried.” 

“Hamer v. Sidway?” Foggy clarified. When you nodded, a sly grin slid over his face. “Well, wouldn’t you be lucky to have a certain handsome friend who has already digested that opinion! If only you were in a study group with him…” 

You shook your head as Foggy tapped chin thoughtfully, a smile breaking through your stony expression despite yourself. “Oh are we disbanding the 3 Musketeers? I wasn’t notified.” 

“You missed the public hearing.” Foggy shrugged, sighing with exaggerated weariness. “With no opposing testimony, the vote was unanimous.” 

“Mr. Nelson, you aren’t suggesting that I missed 10 days worth of public notice, are you?” You raised an eyebrow, tension rolling off your shoulders in Foggy’s presence. “Because I’d have to live under a rock to overlook those signs in my most frequented areas.” 

“Oh woe is me!” Foggy crooned mournfully. “Losing my beloved Musketeers to a default judgment.”

“Your Musketeers?” You scoffed out a laugh. 

“Well, as the founder of our little band of misfits–” Foggy puffed out his chest, barely stifling his grin as you protested incredulously. 

“Excuse you!” Crossing your arms, you forced a scowl onto your face as Foggy giggled beside you. “The 3 Musketeers of Columbia will go down in history as nothing short of a team effort. Mark my words, Franklin: if you so much as insinuate–” 

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Foggy’s laughter was infectious. “Ok, ok! I concede. This ruse was a test of your loyalty, my fair lady. One that you’ve passed excellently, I might add.” 

“A test of my loyalty? I’m not the one trying to break up the crew, Fog.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your smile most definitely undermining your ability to look threatening.

Averting his gaze as his expression softened a bit, Foggy kicked his feet like a child on a swing, scuffing them lightly on the ground at the low point of their respective arc. “Fair enough. It just…you haven’t been around this week. Thought maybe you’d found better people to study with.” All humor had drained from his face, his brow slightly pinched with anxiety as he continued to avoid eye contact. 

Frowning in lieu of a response, you stood from your seat at the counter, snatching Foggy in a bear hug. Relievingly he chuckled, leaning into the embrace. Resting your chin on his beanie-clad head, you squeezed him tightly. ‘Listen here, Nelson. You and Matt mean too much to me for me to even consider replacing you as study group co-founders. Not to mention that 99% of the other students here don’t hold a candle to the pair of you in any respect.” 

Releasing your friend from your hold, you dragged the empty stool closer. Your shoulders brushed Foggy’s as you plopped back on top of the chair. “I promise, Fog. I’m not leaving the group.” Your voice was grave as you made the vow, the seriousness apparently escaping the man next to you who, of course, laughed. 

“Christ, bug, you make it sound like we’re a middle school band on the verge of collapse.” 

“And what if we are, Fog?” You threw a hand over your chest dramatically. “You know your heart ain’t in it anymore. And Matt’s kazoo work hasn’t been the same since the tour.” Breaking off into a forced voice crack, you chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling when Foggy snorted. 

“Ok, Matt would never step foot into a room with a kazoo in it, let alone select it as his instrument of choice.” He grimaced, no doubt imagining the assault of a kazoo on his roommate’s delicate senses. 

“Well you’re lead vocals and I’m tambourine, so he doesn’t have many other options.” You explained, no longer hiding your grin as Foggy cackled. 

“I’m vocals!? Ugh, we’re DOOMED!” He groaned, running a hand over his throat as if it was sore from imaginary over-exertion. 

“Are we? I’ve heard legends of the Siren deep in the showers of Jay Hall.” You smirked as his jaw dropped.

“Oh that little–Doesn’t he know that making false promises is, like, unholy or something?” Foggy scoffed with embarrassed frustration. “I should’ve known he’d tell you. He can’t keep anything from you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the reference to your and Matt’s close relationship. Your brain began to spiral as you remembered the image of his smile hovering above you. 

“Hey, I'm not actually mad, bug. It’s alright.” Foggy elbowed you, studying your face. 

Nodding uneasily, you gave a weak chuckle. “I know, Fog. Sorry.” 

“Did Matt do something stupid? Is that why you haven’t been around?” Foggy asked, turning his body to face you as his concern piqued. 

“No!” You squeaked out in a rush, shaking your head furiously. “No, he didn’t do anything, Fog. I’ve just been stressed about school and my mom and stuff. I’ll make more of an effort to tell you guys when I need space, ok?” 

The long-haired man didn’t seem to fully buy the excuse, but he swiveled back towards the counter. “Mmmhmm. Sounds plausible, but you know you can always come to me if something happens, right?” 

There was clearly more to that promise than he was trying to let on, but you were too frazzled to decipher what the hidden meaning was. “Course, Fog. You too. With me, I mean.” 

Knocking his shoulder against yours, Foggy’s nose crinkled as he smiled. “I know, jitterbug. Now stop worrying over me. My ego will get too big.”

Snorting at the thought, you linked your arm with his. “I’m going to ignore the slightly insulting nickname in favor of asking you how it went with Marcia the other day.”

“Marci, not Marcia. And it was AWESOME!” Foggy squealed, face lighting up as he began recounting his evening with her the weekend before.

Homework entirely forgotten, you were enraptured as Foggy animatedly walked you through his eventful evening with his bombshell classmate. Ignoring the fact that he was certainly embellishing the story for your benefit, but he'd clearly had a good time.

Just as he began to narrate how the night eventually ended, your phone buzzed.

“Saved by the bell!” You shuddered comically, smirking when Foggy scoffed in offense. Flipping open your phone, you tried not to cackle in Jen's ear as Foggy pouted beside you. “Hey Jen, what's up?”

“Did you see the email?” Glossing over pleasantries, Jen was obviously annoyed, sparking a rush of worry in your gut.

“Um, no? What happened?” You frowned, chewing the inside of your cheek as your brain began to spiral over the numerous mistakes you could've made that would result in a pissed off roommate.

“Our building won't have heat for the rest of the month.” She grumbled, definitely rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

“The rest of the MONTH? You're fucking kidding.” Anxiety quickly turning to shared frustration, you held up a finger when Foggy looked at you quizzically.

Your building was ancient and the baseboard heaters were probably older than you, which meant they'd stood no chance against the bitter New York weather this winter. The heat had sporadically given out over the past few months, resulting in half hearted promises from the owner about new systems being installed–so this news wasn't necessarily surprising, but that didn't mean you wanted to deal with it.

“Super wanted us to know so we could 'make the necessary arrangements'. Piece of shit.” She sulked.

“Fuck, Jen, what are we gonna do? I can't afford a space heater.” Scrubbing a hand over your face, the resilient debt-induced panic that had faded to the back of your mind reared its mangey head.

“Well, good news and bad news. Good news is Oscar's parents are willing to loan us a pair that they have in their garage so we won't need to buy or rent any.” She trailed off, clearly not excited about the latter half of the plan.

“C'mon Jen, break it to me.” You huffed, not at all willing to let her ignore the less fortunate piece of the situation. If you wanted to prevent your impending nervous breakdown for another few weeks, you'd need to act on this issue immediately.

“Wewon'tbeabletograbthemuntilaftertheconference.” She muttered in a rush.

Drawing in a breath to extend your waning patience, you asked again. “Jen, in English please.”

An uneasy groan came across the line before she clarified. “We won't be able to grab the space heaters until after the conference.”

Shit. That was bad news. Most, if not all, of Columbia's 3Ls were at the Tri-State Justice Conference in New Jersey until Friday—three days from now.

“I'm sorry, but we both need the attendance credit and—” Jen explained, sounding like she was about to cry.

“Hey, it's ok, babes. I'll figure it out. Don't worry, ok? Just enjoy the conference as much as you can and I'll find a place to stay.”

“I'm really sorry, I—” She stammered.

“I promise I'll be ok.” Your throat felt tight, your efforts to stave off a breakdown over this clearly failing. ”I'll talk to you soon.“

Hanging up the phone, you dropped your head into your hands, digging your fingers into the bridge of your nose in an attempt to collect yourself.

Hesitantly, Foggy called your name. “Everything ok?”

“Uh, not really...but when is it ever?” You chuckled bitterly, your words muffled by your palms.

Two arms wound around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug that mirrored the one you'd given Fog earlier. Your face met his sturdy shoulder, and it took every ounce of your resolve to not let yourself dissolve into tears.

“What happened, bug?” Foggy asked, holding you tightly as you inhaled shakily.

“Apparently our heat went out. Again. And, uh, I don't really know what to do, Fog.” You admitted, craning your neck to look at him. “Everett, Jen, and Oscar are all out of town and I–”

“You can stay in our room.” Foggy stated simply, as if it was the obvious solution to the problem. “We don't have much, but we DO have heat.”

“Fog, you don't have to–” You protested, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“I know I don't have to, I want to! It'll be a study group sleepover!!” He rubbed a circle into your back before taking his seat once more.

And that was that. The long-haired boy had already turned back to the book he’d pulled out while you were on the phone, considering the matter resolved. Sitting there dumb founded, you stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to yell “Psych!” and leave you to sort your own shit out. But he didn’t.

“Do Frodo and Sam kinda give you a gay vibe?” He asked suddenly, jarring you out of your anxious stance.

“What?” You blinked, trying to process the jump to a completely different topic while you were still thinking about a sleepover in Matt and Foggy’s shared room.

Giving a shrug, Foggy turned the page. “I mean, they’re soulmates for sure. But sometimes it seems like Tolkien did not mean for it to be platonic, ya know?” Glancing up at you with a grin, he giggled. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Fog,” You chuckled in exasperation, shaking your head at his unfailing positivity.

“What?” Raising the book as he threw his arms up, Foggy’s smirk made you laugh harder. “See this is precisely why you need to sleepover. Matt never finds me this funny.”

“You were serious about that?” You asked hesitantly, fisting the cuff of your sweater sleeve in one hand, toying with a loose thread along its edge.

“Uh, yah? Why?” Foggy snorted, still reading and no doubt hosting a heated internal debate over one or more hobbits’ sexualities.

“I mean..I dunno, wouldn’t that be…weird?” Heat was clawing at your face, your insecurities making you cringe sheepishly.

“Ah, I suppose I’ve neglected to consider all the facts.” Sticking a folded gum wrapper in the joint of his book, he let the cover flap shut, crossing his arms as he pondered. “You are a girl, and the latest studies suggest a correlation between your gender and high levels of 'cooties'.”

Expression utterly serious, you couldn't help but dissolve into giggles as Foggy tapped a finger on his chin in deep contemplation. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“I'm not sure I do. Unless you DO in fact have cooties. In which case Matt and I would need to draft a contract to distribute liability in the event that we CATCH your cooties.”

“You know what,” You laughed. “Let's all be honest about who is catching 'cooties' from who. I have fantastic hygiene, counselor.”

“You're right. It's Murdock we need to worry about.”

Looking at each other solemnly, you and Foggy broke at the same time, cackling over the ridiculous notion.

“Of course I was serious, dude!“ Foggy kicked your shin lightly as you wiped a tear from your cheek. ”Did you really think I was just going to let you freeze to death? That Matt would allow that to happen?”

“No,” You murmured, tucking the toes of your sneakers behind the legs of your stool. “I guess not.”

Mouth squishing to one side with his skepticism, Foggy leaned closer to your hunched form. “In case I am not making myself clear, let me lay it out for you, jitterbug. Neither Matt nor I would ever object to you staying over if you wanted to, let alone needed to for your own safety. We care about you and we would never jeopardize a fellow Musketeer.”

Nodding bashfully, you linked your pinkies together, dropping them into your lap. “Ok. Thanks, Fog.”

“Anytime, bug. How much longer are you chained to this counter?” He frowned at the offending furniture with distaste, laying a palm over his stomach. “I'm getting hungry.”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at the clock behind you. “About another hour. But you are more than welcome to venture out for a meal before that. Only one of us is contractually obligated to be here.”

“NO MAN LEFT BEHIND” Foggy declared, saluting you before turning back to his book diligently.

Biting your cheek to stifle a grin, you turned back to your own homework, grateful for the two men keeping you sane as your life crumbled into chaos.

Swallowing as your throat constricted with nerves, your knuckles hovered an inch away from the nicked wooden door. Your adrenaline-soaked subconscious was buzzing, telling every cell to enter “flight” mode, but your feet felt glued to the dingy carpet.

What are you so afraid of? You chastised yourself. It's just Fog and Matt. Not like you're about to have open heart surgery or something.

Tilting your entire body forward until your knuckles brushed the surface of the door, you'd barely made a sound before it opened, revealing a confused Matt and a beaming Foggy.

Greeting you simultaneously, Matt's perplexed tone didn't match his roommate's joyful one in the slightest. “Are you ok?”

Despite being evidently baffled, Matt ushered you into the room.

“Um, yes? Why…” Looking to Foggy questioningly, you watched as the long-haired boy grimaced apologetically. “Ah, I see someone did not fill you in on the situation.”

“I forgot!” Foggy smiled sheepishly.

Exhaling with a frustrated huff, you shifted from foot to foot as the ball of nervous energy fueling you tumbled around your body. “Um, my building has no heat for the rest of the week so Foggy said I could stay here? But if that's not ok with you–” You took a small pace backwards, giving you the option to completely eject from the situation, but Matt carefully reached for your arm.

His fingers brushed over your wrist, gently clasping around your arm. At his cautious touch, the air flew out of your lungs, your eyes widening as they focused on his face. Lips turned down ever so slightly, his brow was furrowed with his classic Matt Murdock concern. Whether you'd given yourself a papercut or received news of your mother's recurrence, Matt's worry and desire to fix whatever he could was etched deeply in his expression.

“Of course that's ok, sweetheart. The heat's out again? Did they say they were going to replace the baseboards?” As he asked his follow-up questions, his free hand came up to cup your other elbow, until he was practically cradling you in his arms.

Sighing, you didn't fight him as his grip tightened, morphing into a full body embrace. Hands spread over your back, Matt's chin landed over your head like it belonged there. Anxiety fading, you shrugged against him with a bitter laugh. “Sure, but they say that every time.”

Planting a kiss against your hairline, and coincidentally reigniting the swarm of murderous butterflies in your stomach, Matt withdrew his arms and stepped aside to wave you into the room. His mouth was still curved into a frown, the wheels in his head clearly turning as you set down your backpack and hopped onto Foggy's mattress.

“Thank god you're here, bug. I desperately need someone to read through my legal writing assignment. She only drops the two lowest and I need a decent grade in this class.” Foggy rummaged through his bag, yanking out a few pages filled with illegible handwriting and margin doodles, dropping them in your lap.

With a giggle, you made a show of copying Foggy's movements, dropping the assignment back into his possession. “Yah, sorry bud but you're going to need to read that to me if you want my help.”

“Oh come on, my handwriting isn't THAT bad.” Foggy protested, squinting at the essay.

“It might not be the worst print in the world, but I'm not a grade school teacher. I'm not practiced at–” You explained, smiling innocently as Foggy grew more affronted by the accusation.

“Woah, woah, woah, GRADE school–”

“Ok, you're right, 7th grade maybe?” You shrugged, laughing as the blond shoved you in response. The two of you were grinning at each other when Matt's question burst out of him.

“Have you complained to the board of health? Or the HPD?”

Meeting Foggy's gaze, you both blinked owlishly before turning to face Matt. The dark-haired boy was staring blankly at the pair of you, his face flitting between dark concern and pure fury.

“What?” You asked, eyes drawn to Matt's fists as they flexed at his sides.

“About the heat. It's..it's not safe for your landlord to be leaving his tenants without heat. Not when it's this cold.”

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy interrupted placatingly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. ”That's why she's here, remember? Problem solved.“

“Until it goes out again next month.” Matt growled.

Squeezing Foggy's leg, you shot him a knowing look. “Matt, I'll call HPD tomorrow when they open. Promise. You can sit with me to listen, if you'd like.”

Pursing his lips, Matt considered the suggestion. With a weary exhale, he nodded, his fingers sliding out of their rigid curls. “Ok.”

“Right, well, now that we've settled that, let's listen to Foggy read his essay aloud—since neither of us will be able to look it over otherwise.”

Grumbling, Foggy flopped onto his stomach, resolutely ignoring your chuckles as he cleared his throat. “Prepare to be dazzled—”

As much as you wanted to help your friend out with his assignment, Foggy’s words flew into one ear and out the other, briefly tapping your brain like a small steel sphere on a pinball bumper. Once you'd seemingly put his mind at ease, Matt had joined the two of you on the opposite side of the room, Snuggling in close and sandwiching you between the pair of men.

On any other day, the position would be comforting. Your limbs cloaked with their combined body heat, their soothing voices overriding the anxious buzzing in your brain. Today, the invisible swarm of bees in your skull only became more enraged. You felt trapped, cornered by your friends and your own tattered feelings.

Matt's shoulder flanked yours, his body pressed in so tightly to you that the thin hairs on your cheeks and neck fluttered with his every exhale. A small vibration in your pocket pushed you over the edge. Had Everett finally responded to your apology? Was he still upset? How could you accept his forgiveness when you were practically sitting in Matt's lap?

Shifting your weight uncomfortably, you tried to keep yourself separate from Matt, digging your shoulder into the wall rather than leaning it against his chest. Another buzz from your pocket had you gritting your teeth. It was too much, it was all too much. Foggy was talking so loud and the temperature of this room was stifling and how on earth could he sleep in these sheets–they must have the thread count of a fast food napkin.

Choking in a breath, you dove off the bed. “It sounds great so far, bubs. I have to check my phone real quick, someone is calling me.” Nearly toppling over in your haste to escape the room, the door shook as it closed roughly against its frame. Shakily pulling your phone from your jeans, you opened it, trying to get your breathing under control. It was like you'd been shoved underwater with a dwindling oxygen tank–given the sudden atmospheric pressure and your inability to take a full breath.

One text was from your father, reminding you to pay the most recent medical bill. I'll get right on that. You rolled your eyes, deleting the message.

The other message was from Everett. Your body went rigid as you read his name, your finger inching towards the button that would open it up, revealing whatever he'd sent you. As the screen flashed, pixels shifting to spell out the five words he'd deemed important enough to send, your heart momentarily stopped.

Talk when I’m back.

Nothing else. No indication of how angry he was, what the talk would be about, if you would still be together in a week. Fuck.

Behind you, the door creaked open, a worried Foggy appearing from the shadows. ”Everything ok?“

”Yep!” You squeaked, snapping your phone shut with a force that made you grimace. “All good.”

Sending your friend a smile that you hoped looked more honest than it felt, you shuffled back into the room, sensing that the energy had changed. “Sorry, just Everett and my dad bothering me.”

In your absence, Matt had returned to his bed. His posture was gracefully straight, a book lying across his lap beneath his fingers. If his stance hadn't clued you into his mood, the lenses now propped on the bridge of his nose had. Something was up, but you weren't in any state to handle both of your emotions right now. Foggy gave a weak smile, hopping back onto his bed.

“Matt pointed out that you might not want to think about homework all night. I actually rented some movies on my way home! I was thinking we could watch one.”

“That sounds fun, Fog. Matt are you–”

“No.” His answer was curt, pitched low. He must've sensed your surprise because the edges of his expression immediately softened. “I have a headache. Don't want to spoil the fun.”

“I'm sorry! We probably aren't helping. Did you want us to go to the lounge?” You asked, fingers grasping for your bag in case you needed to switch locations.

“No need. I'll put my headphones on if I need to.” Matt's lips flickered with the barest hint of a smile before settling back into the neutral expression he'd originally had on.

“Let us know if you change your mind, buddy.” Foggy chirped, opening his laptop. “Ok, bug. Take your pick.”

With a wave of one hand, Foggy displayed three DVD cases as if they were a winning poker hand. “We've got: National Treasure, Happy Feet, and The Ring.”

“What an eclectic bunch.” You snorted. “Scary movie first, Nick Cage last. We'll scream, cry, and laugh in that order.”

“Genius. She's a genius!” Foggy remarked, cracking the first plastic sleeve open. “This girl is going places, Murdock.”

Matt smirked, but said nothing, his fingers still dancing over the raised dots on the pages.

Lying on his side, one ear turned out to the rest of the room, Matt's own skin prickled sympathetically as you rolled over on the grimy carpet–each plastic fiber screeching as it dragged across your skin. The sound made him cringe, far too similar to fingernails on a chalkboard.

It was late. You and Foggy had indeed made it through all three movies, only pausing to run to the bathroom and the corner market for more snacks. Matt couldn't help but feel like he was intruding, eavesdropping on a sweet moment between friends and existing where he wasn't welcome. While Foggy was glued to his computer screen, your attention was sporadic, heart rate spiking whenever he so much as shifted on his bed.

You were paying more mind to him than the entertainment you were pretending to enjoy. Which was irritatingly amusing given how little you'd wanted to do with him recently. Something deep inside him was crying out in warning, telling him just how close you were to slipping through his fingers and disappearing forever. But how could he steady his grip when every pump of his heart had you spooking like a prey animal.

The rustling of fabric from your body on the floor nettled at his conscience. Your breathing was shallow, your vocal chords emitting small aggravated groans that should've been imperceptible, if Matt was a lucky man. Inches away from his bed, you were writhing in discomfort, lying awake just as he was—unlike Foggy who was snoring away, dead to the world. That couldn't be helping your frustration, it sure wasn't doing him any favors.

The tiniest of sighs slipped through your lips, wafting the scent of salt into his space. Frowning in concern, he set aside the pity party he'd been throwing himself and swallowed his nerves.

“Can't sleep?” His voice was barely a whisper, but you startled anyway, shooting up into a seated position.

“Christ, Matt.” You chuckled feebly.

“Language.” He joked, lips curving as you laughed again.

“Forgive me, Saint Matthew. I was taken by surprise. Thought you might be that little girl from the ring coming to get me.”

“Is my voice that feminine?“ He wrinkled his nose, feeling a bubble of pride when your heartbeat began to slow, his distractions working for now.

“No, but when you're expecting a ghost, everything seems ghastly.” You shuddered.

A jumble of words sat at the tip of his tongue, an accusation he needed to make if he wanted to get any rest tonight. It was as though you were expecting it, aware you'd done something wrong. Awaiting your punishment without a word.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor, you know. My mattress won't bite.” Avoiding confrontation for as long as he could, he attempted for another quip. Unfortunately, you'd picked up on his barely concealed aggravation, if your flinch was any indication.

Huffing out a laugh, you craned your neck to face him. “I know, Matt. But I'm not going to put you out like that. You didn't even know I was coming.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your heat?” He couldn't stop himself. He needed to know. He needed to understand why you were pushing him away.

“I mean, I only found out this afternoon–”

“I could’ve helped you report them.” He explained, still thoroughly confused.

“You still can!” Your muscles creaked as your arms tightened around your shins, instinctively defending yourself from his questioning.

“You just..showed up. And I had no idea what had happened.” His voice sounded hollow, even to him.

“I figured Fog would ask you, I'm sorry.” That was truthful, but it still didn't answer anything.

“So you're still avoiding me, then.” Your breath was cut short, fingers digging into your flesh. His own body was eerily still, trying to hold the immense guilt he'd been feeling back until the conversation was over. Until he knew what he'd done.

“Matt, I'm not—”

“No? Then why does it feel like you're trying to constantly escape me?” Snapping his mouth shut before his words revealed just how hurt he really was, he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“What are you—”

“When I hugged you earlier, you went all stiff. You’re clearly upset about something on your phone, but you refuse to tell me about it. And you keep calling me 'Matt'.” His throat constricted, fists clenching around his blankets.

“That's your name–” You reasoned desperately, but your heart gave you away. He wasn't crazy. It was deliberate.

“Not to you!” He hissed. Sitting up slowly, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to force the pain in his skull to subside. “You always..you used to call me Matty or trouble or bubs. Recently, I've just been Matt. I just..please tell me what I did so I can fix it?”

“Matt,” You sounded mournful. Defensive stance abandoned, you crept closer to his bed, falling into a sloppy heap beside him, still on the floor. “Trouble, you didn't do anything. I've been jumpy and in my head recently because of my own shit, not because of you.”

The steady thump of your pulse echoed in his ears. It didn't waver. Not once.

Blinking rapidly, Matt shoved his hands against his face again, this time to rub away the tears forming before you could see them.

Reaching one hand up, you brushed a knuckle against his rightmost calf. “I'm so sorry that I hurt you. It was not intentional. I care about you so much and I...” You trailed off, drawing in a ragged breath before speaking again. “I care about you. I always will.”

“I care about you too.” Tangling your hand with his, Matt ducked his head, feeling incredibly exposed. “You scared me.”

“I'm sorry.” There it was again. The consistent beat of your heart. Even as the patter of rain. He squeezed your fingers.

“I know.” Trailing a thumb over the back of your hand, he felt another icy current of fear in his veins. “And I’m serious about reporting your building. We can always host you but what if you get snowed in or something? If you’re stuck there with no heat..I don’t want that to happen to you, bug. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Grabbing his bed frame with your free hand, you hauled yourself up and onto his mattress, collapsing into his open arms. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I've already forgiven you. But I just needed you to know that it matters. That you matter.”

“Fuck, trouble. You're gonna make me cry harder than that stupid bird movie.” You laughed, the puffs of air tickling his neck as they left your lungs.

“That one did seem especially sad.” He hummed.

“Don't know why they had to rip my fuckin' heart out. Seems a little unnecessary.” You scoffed, body slowly melting against him as he rubbed circles over your back.

“Definitely unnecessary.” He agreed, loosening his grip on you. “You should get some sleep before classes tomorrow.”

He started to unwind from you, intending to take your place on the floor, but you caught his waist with your arms, tipping you both onto the mattress. “If I'm not sleeping on the floor, neither are you, bubba.”

With a single hand, you grabbed the spare blanket off the floor, moving away from him as you bundled yourself up, a happy exhale tumbling out of you as you relaxed into the cocoon. Though you seemed to have worked through whatever mental block had existed before, Matt wasn't quite convinced.

“Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You wouldn't.” Was your sleepy response. “Besides, if that little bitch crawls out of Foggy's computer screen, she can take you first.”

A startled laugh escaped him and he shook his head. “Sure she can, bug. Sleep well.”

“You too, Matty.”

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @yarrystyleeza @cometenthusiast @harleycao

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Chris Evans Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Chris Evans works, arranged by character and type of work.

Series

Don’t Take My Sunshine Away (possibly on hiatus)

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing) - Lloyd is a minor character.

Challenges

Pretty As A Picture - Explicit - Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader - What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Requests

Power Play: After Hours - Explicit - Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader - What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

A Duke and His Duchess - Explicit - Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader - The night takes a dark turn when you are harassed at the club, but Lloyd comes to your rescue.

Headcanons

Family, Quirks/Hobbies, Sleep

What happens when the reader starts dressing to match Lloyd?

Interesting quirk (an ask I submitted to stargazingfangirl18)

Events

Daddy Dearest | Lloyd Hansen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

One-Shots

Oxytocin - Explicit - Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC - At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington.

One-Shots

Don’t Take Your Eyes Off It - Explicit - Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader - It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Requests

No Good Deeds - Explicit - Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader - Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Events

Do It For Daddy | Jake Jensen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

One-Shots

Sweet Redemption - Explicit - Dennis Baker x Female!Reader - You move into the neighborhood and meet Dennis Baker, a man in the middle of a divorce. Trying to keep yourself honest, you keep him at a distance. But you’re drawn together after a mishap online. Will it end sweetly or on a sour note?

Headcanons

“Don’t run from me” Dennis x Wifey (facesitting)

Brunch with the family (slice of life)

Late night on the beach with Wifey

Ass worship

Nicknames and height

Panty sniffing?

Running into the ex-wife in the grocery store

Dennis comforting Wifey after a long, stressful day

how Dennis finds out that Wifey is pregnant

Dennis' zodiac sign

Does Dennis' wife like to be spanked during sex?

Is Dennis a horndog?

What are Dennis and Wifey's love languages?

Do Dennis and Wifey share nudes?

Drabbles

Dennis tells you about his and his ex-wife's fight on the day you met

Dennis comforts Wifey after her day doesn't go as planned (slice of life)

Dennis being the most capable father and husband (slice of life)

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Steve Rogers (Avengers films)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Nick Gant (PUSH)

Jake Jensen (The Losers)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

Dennis Baker (DENNIS)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR CHRIS

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[ladylaviniya]

This was SO DANG HOT AND CRAZY and I'm sobbing because fuck the last few paragraphs have me so badly on the edge of my seat. I cant find part 2 and this fic was written in 2022 🥺 😭 FUCK I NEED THAT HATE GANGBANG IN THE PUMPKIN PATCH MAZE. I think I'm gonna need to reread this fic because every bit is so damn good!

The spice was so hot and tangy, I need some milk to calm me down. It's so heart palpitating.

³¹.⍭ 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SOFT DARK themes and elements, cheating, revenge, obsessive/possessive behaviour, jealousy, competition, size difference: all 6’7-6’9, manhandling, manipulation, coercion. SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON: they’re all wearing the same mask & reader doesn’t know who it is, oral (m & f), balls sucking, fingering (f), dirty talk, chase kink, daddy kink, p*ssyjob, size kink, spit kink, choking, p*ssy spanking, exhibitionism (public sex), degradation, dumbification, ruined kink, overstimulation, squirting, creampie.

𝗪/𝗖 | 8.23K

𝗔/𝗡 | happy Halloween !! hope you all had a spooky day, here is my last fic for spicy October, a finale with all our fave daddies. enjoy !! all mistakes are my own.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭��𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“That was the money from my grandfather's will.” 

Curtis snorts, “as if you don’t have the cash to spare.” 

Ransom’s glare hardens, “It’s from my dead grandfather—I mean, my murdered grandfather. Am I not allowed to be upset that she stole money from my grandfather who was murdered in cold blood?”

“It isn’t stealing if you voluntarily spent it on her.” The other burnet countered, “I assume money is the only way you know how to show affection. Mommy and daddy didn’t know how to deal with you so they filled that emotional void with money, and you continue it in all your relationships. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

“At least I know my parents, orphan.”

Ari tunes them out, staring out the wide window into the night. The howling winds sway the forest surrounding the Thrombey mansion and the shadows bleed through the glass, covering him from head to toe in the same shade as his profound emptiness.

Three years. Three fucking years of his life gone to waste. 

Every time he blinks, he sees you from senior year. The beautiful, popular, high-achieving student who never looked his way, although he tried hundreds of times to get your attention. From playing his heart out on the football field when you were in the crowd, attempting—and failing—to be your partner for projects in classes you shared, and volunteering to help for events that you were organizing, one of those being your senior prom. The theme was an extravagant masquerade ball, strange for a year of rambunctious teenagers, but perfect for the elite private school. 

The venue was decorated in hues of vermillion, gold and grey, with speckles of white from the feathers and clear-beaded arrangements in the middle of each table. Sheer fabric and ribbon hung from the ceiling, draped low to mimic the magical atmosphere. Fairy lights glimmered alongside sparkling chandeliers, illuminating the ballroom in a warm yellow glow. Red roses, gold plates and vintage-styled candelabras sat atop black tablecloths and complemented the metallic chairs. 

During the few weeks of setting up the venue, his friends consistently poked fun because he was whipped for a girl he’s never spoken to. 

He broke that shameful streak the day before prom, and until today, that was the stupidest he’s ever felt. 

“Oh, I don’t have a date.” You answered after he asked what colours you and your date were going to wear. 

Ari’s face twisted in disbelief and utter confusion. The revelation scattered every organized thought, making him a total fool. “Why the fuck not?”

He’ll never forget the stunned expression on your face. 

“I mean—you’re really fucking pretty.” The words flew out like a swarm of wild bees, dancing in front of his horrified eyes, taunting him. 

You burst out laughing, throwing your head back and nearly toppling over one of the tables. “Well thanks, I’ve been asked a couple of times but none of them are my type. They’re all meatheads.” You finally caught your breath, soft giggles tumbling from your glossed lips. “Like the football team, ugh, just a bunch below-average, tit-brained idiots.”

Ari frowned deeply, “I’m on the football team.” He was positive you knew that, hell, you’ve organized fundraisers for the sports department. 

You grinned, “I know. But you’re actually cute when you’re dumb, way above average.” You patted his broad shoulder and walked away, the short uniform skirt swaying with each step. 

Ari remembers standing there like a moron before finally bolting after you. He caught up to you in the parking lot and asked you right then and there, almost dropping to his knees to beg when you took a second too long to answer. But you said yes, smiling so sweetly he could’ve died. 

“—the same day. The same fucking day! That has to be a record!” Curtis snarls, pointing a finger at Ransom, “and you were on a date too, so you can’t say shit about cheating, jackass.”

The playboy moves his hand with two fingers, nonchalantly shrugging. “I found someone I wanted to spend the night with, is that a crime?”

Curtis gritted his teeth, his shoulders rigid under his leather jacket, “I won her a ginormous bear and fingered her in the photo booth, and she was already fucking two other guys!”

“Dating. She was dating two other guys.” 

“Same shit!”

All this time, the second boyfriend has remained silent. Steve stares at his lock screen, a blurry photograph of the two of you the morning after a date at the pier. You’re half asleep but he wanted to commemorate the most perfect night of his life. 

He was convinced that he was the lead in a romantic film, and it all bloomed from his awful first impression. 

“Will you ever actually talk to me? Or will you just continue to stare at me from across the shop?” You smiled down at him, your skin glowing in the morning sun. “Here, you look like a cupcake kind of guy.”

A red velvet cupcake is placed in front of him, right next to his hand which had his pencil in a death grip. He quickly releases his hold and stares blankly at you, stunned and bewitched because he’s never seen you this close. Heavenly is the way he’d describe your features, each curve and dip of your face is burned into his brain from his endless sketches but at this moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. 

Since that day, he believed in love at first sight. Now? It’s up for debate. 

“Sit. I mean, please sit. Only if you want obviously.” He covers his red cheeks, not even bothering to shut his sketchbook. You already saw the dozens of drawings of you from various angles, all sprawled across the pages like they belonged there. “You know what? Never mind, I’ll go. I’m  sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 

He was going to leave, pack up his things haphazardly and dash out of the coffee shop before embarrassment ate him alive, but you called him back. 

“I’ll stay, but only if you show me what else is in there.”

And he did, shyly at first but as the minutes dragged into hours, he got more confident and gave you detailed explanations of each piece. He rambled on and on about a sketch that took up two pages, it was an elderly couple watching the sunset on the beach, the waves crashing in the background as their heavily detailed silhouettes were in the foreground. He spoke as if he knew them when he was only a mere bystander to their love story. 

“I saw them almost every day that summer. On that same bench and holding hands.” He sipped his cold coffee, never breaking eye contact with you, “They’ve probably watched tons of sunsets in their lifetime, but it’s cute, y’know? That they still do… soft things like that.”

Steve was a nice guy. He was recklessly kind, tutored people in his class, and always helped his coach with pregame preparations. He donates all his old clothes and always asks owners before petting their dogs. 

If he was so good, why did bad things happen to him? Was it his fault? 

He kept pushing you to meet his family. In his defence, you’ve been dating for two years and he talks about you nonstop, his parents have been begging to meet the girl who has their son’s heart, and praised him for finding the one so early on. 

It’s a shame that the one was never his to begin with. 

The worst part of all of this wasn’t the cheating—well, it was, but the other worse part was your blatant dismissal for taking the next step in your relationship. You’ve met their families, you were very close with Ari’s and met Curtis’ and Ransom’s who you’ve only been dating for less than a year. 

What was so different about his? 

“Cheap fucking slut.” Ransom mutters. “She’s so greedy that she needs four cocks.” 

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Steve frowns, “She’s still my girlfriend.” 

Curtis bites his tongue and swallows whatever snide remark was on the verge of spilling out. As much as it hurt, he knew where they were both coming from. He hated your guts, yet the masochist part of himself admired your bulletproof nerve and capability, and the other much softer part was still madly in love with you. 

He prided himself in being observant, reading people like open books and anticipating their words and actions so that he was always prepared—that’s why he knows how to push Ransom’s buttons. It didn’t take a genius to notice how stuck up and spoiled the brat was. He couldn’t believe how you put up with him. 

How you got away with this for so long was a wonder. Whether it was by sheer luck or cautious scheming, you played them all like puppets, pulling their strings however you pleased for the grand production. The success came with applause and satisfaction, it boosted your ego and made them into fools. 

Don’t even get him started on your fucking friends who probably worshipped you for your stellar performance, praising you for dancing on their hearts with false innocence. Curtis has met them and only now he can recall the mischievous twinkle in their eyes, he would bet that they downgraded him to a pathetic nickname like boyfriend number three. 

He would’ve noticed something sooner if you didn’t have him pussy drunk every time he saw you. He’ll admit it—he’s whipped. 

You may be a good-for-nothing cheater, but you were his fucking pornstar. 

He supposes that’s the thing about pornstars, they surely got around. 

Curtis wouldn’t openly admit it to the rest of the guys—his girlfriend’s other boyfriends—but if you called him right now and asked him to come over, he’d be on his motorcycle in the blink of an eye. You were a twisted, disgustingly hot mastermind who could spit in his face and choke him, and yet, he’d still dick you down. He was into that freaky shit anyway. 

Of course, as much as he pretended, he wasn’t all tough. Under that steel demeanour, he’s aching, battered with betrayal and fears of inadequacy. 

Grey clouds loomed over that island of self-doubt, a place all four of them have since sailed to and made home, sharing their confusion, anger and grief. 

All of this mess started from simple curiosity. Ari recognized a little lacy thing in one of his fraternity brothers’ rooms, and lo and behold, it was your panties, the same ones he bought you a few months prior. 

“Oh, oops. My girl left those in my pocket.” Curtis chuckles and waltzes in, dropping his skateboard by the closet. He’s wearing that signature black beanie and carrying that smell of cigarettes and mint gum. “She’s so cheeky, huh?”

Ari doesn’t acknowledge him at first. His fingers feel around the fabric before hooking in a hole by the band, and then his heart stops. 

The other brunet watches strangely, “Uh, can I have those back?”

Perhaps any other person in a fit of confused rage would’ve wrapped their hands around Curtis’ throat, but Ari didn’t. He’s caught off guard when Ransom walks by and pops his head in, his blue eyes locking on the purple lace with blue bows. 

“Where did you get those?”

Those five words erupted an argument that shook the walls. Curses were spat and accusations were pointed every which way until the world decided that three out of four wasn’t enough.  

Steve was on his way home when he heard the shouts from a few houses down. 

He burst into the bedroom with wide eyes and was welcomed by his friends arguing and tearing crumbled lace from each other’s hands. Then, the universe works its magic again and the sheer fabric lands on the floor a few feet away from him. 

His gaze drops and he cocks his head to the side, but that puzzlement swiftly fuses into disbelief that shakes him to the core. The air falls to an ear-splitting silence as realization dawns, freezing them all where they stand. 

The first to speak is Ransom, he lets out a boisterous laugh. “What a little cock hungry bitch. Well played, I’ll say, well played.” 

After everyone calmed down and Steve stopped crying and dry heaving, they made the journey to Ransom’s mansion for the sake of privacy, who knows what their other fraternity brothers would think? They’d pity them, but no one would understand their circumstances. No, that gracious gift was split between the four of them. 

“So, who gets to have her?” All eyes fall on Steve, the 6’8 figure hunched in a small chair and clutching a pillow to his chest. 

Me—is spoken in all their heads. Fury, greed and vengeance don’t mix well with love. 

“I had her before you.” Curtis says to Ransom and reclines on the leather couch, stretching lazily, “Did I forget to mention she sucked my dick that night? Oh… and you kissed her too, huh?” He smirks, “I don’t know about you but I’d rather not know my parents than know what a stranger’s dick tastes like.”

Ransom clenches his jaw, “You poor cunt—”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girl you ditched that day is still into you. Call her up and see how that goes, trust fund baby.” 

“If we’re going with whoever had her first…” Steve trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He cried when he found out about your unfaithfulness, and he cried on the way to the mansion and already excused himself a few times to cry in the bathroom, yet he was seconds away from crying again. “Then i-it’s you.” 

Six blue eyes pool with hesitance, then tentatively land on the tallest frat boy. 

Ari’s wounds run the deepest, piercing through his skin that you’ve marked with your lips and hands. You’ve branded him, traced your name on his chest as you two talked mindlessly about the future, where you see yourself after graduating from that pretentious university halfway across the world. 

It wasn’t the distance. If it was, why did you date three other guys from the same city as him?

“Has she contacted any of you? While you two were arguing, she tried calling me.” He stares down at the missed call. The candid contact photo glares back, it was from your last birthday just before you blew out your candles. A surprise party he planned for you. 

Everyone checks their phones. 

“She just cancelled our date.” Ransom grits his teeth, glaring at the screen with your adorable yet revolting apology. 

I promise I’ll make it up to you, daddy! I have a huge project coming up but I’ll miss you! Please don’t forget about me :(

“Ours too. Apparently, she has a project.” Curtis itches to call you right now and give you a piece of his mind but he’d rather see your face when your castle of lies crumbles to the ground. 

You were always so pretty when you were helpless and ruined. 

Steve’s phone is the last to chime. He gulps nervously and flips it over with a furrow between his brows. “She wants me to visit her next week.” 

“Fucking bitch.” Ransom growls, throwing his phone across the room, it dents the wall with a loud thump. Everyone would be taken aback if he hadn’t broken four glasses already. 

“I—uh, what do I say? Do I make up an excuse that I can’t go?”

Ari uncrosses his arms, blinking slowly. He was calm and it was terrifying considering how furious he should be. He knew you first, he fell for you first, he had you first, yet he was as peaceful as a boat on a gentle stream. “You don’t want to see her?”

Steve slumps over in a big hunk of muscle trapped in a too-small t-shirt. For someone usually happy and energetic, it was comical to see the new star player of the football team so defeated. Millions of bodychecks and tackles couldn’t amount to the gut-wrenching aches and emptiness, and Ari was the only one who understood that too. 

He still wasn’t over the fact that he’s been playing on the same team as the guy who was fucking his girlfriend—their girlfriend?

“Of course I do. I love her.” 

Steve was soft, to say the least, everyone knew that when they saw him walk into the fraternity house with a wide smile and a tray of freshly baked cookies, “I wanted to make a good impression and my ma says food is the best way to do it,” he said in a Brooklyn accent, “can’t have my frat brothers hating me, that’d be a shitshow.” 

Hate wouldn’t be the word they’d use, but they weren’t completely comfortable with each other like before. 

What are the chances that all your boyfriends enroll in the same college and join the same fraternity at the same time, even when all of them were attending different schools the previous year?

Fate was probably fed up with your deceitfulness. 

“You’ll invite her here and we’ll all have her.” Ari decides, his dark eyebrows knitted tightly, “we’ll share. That means, the two of you get along or get out—”

“—this is my house.”

“I didn’t fucking ask.” He snaps, “If this is going to work, we’ll have to get along, or at least pretend to. And at the end of the night, no one loses, no one wins, but she gets what she deserves.” 

For the hundredth time, Steve looks down at your hand in his. Your freshly manicured hand contrasts with his black gloves, and the glitter nail polish matches the dainty diamond on your ring finger, the one he bought you for your one year anniversary. You got him a chain necklace that he’s never taken off and with his bubbling nerves, it feels like the silver is burning through his skin.

“You okay, baby?”

As always and regardless of the conditions, he swoons at your lovely voice. Oh, he was neck-deep in his desire, trapped and made into a damn clown, yet his heart still sang for you. 

“Yeah, doll. Are you?”

You grin and kiss his cheek with your glossed lips. “I’m perfect, daddy.” You’re happy that Steve begged you to come home instead of flying him to you. 

This was your first time visiting his new college and elite university parties were nothing like the ones in the city. They lacked closeness and freedom since everyone was concerned about wrong angles or nasty rumours. Here, people just wanted to dress up, have fun, and celebrate Halloween on rented-out property in an old farmhouse. 

“I’ll get you another drink.” Steve pats your hip and you scoot off his lap, occupying the free spot on the couch. He asks around for other refills and turns to you, tilting your chin up with his finger, “You want something to eat too?”

“No thanks, do you want me to come?”

Steve snorts, brushing you off with a claim of chivalry. You watch him walk away and ignore that little voice of guilt, the hushed dejected calls of three other names. They didn’t matter right now, you were with Steve and thinking about them any longer put all of your relationships at risk. 

You love them all, but in different ways. There were different things to love about each of them, distinct qualities to admire, and little habits to remember. You were diligent with everything, that’s why you’ve gotten away with it for so long. 

You grew up quite spoiled, always getting whatever you want from your parents who never used the word no. It was all on a shiny silver platter, from prized jewelry to new wardrobes, fancy cars and luxurious vacations. That part of you never grew up, you still wanted it all and got it—just like how you wanted four men and got them. They weren’t disposable to you, no, they were the loves of your life. You valued them, but obviously not enough to respect their trust and the sanctity of your relationship. 

When Steve returns, you don’t waste any time. Your body presses against his and your lips trail down his neck, gently pushing the hood off his blond head, “I’ve missed you, daddy. Haven’t you missed me too?”

Steve has since gotten over his heartbreak and nerves. It took a bit of liquid courage and some direction from Ari, but he was ready. No longer a sad, pouting puppy but a vengeful beast, smelling out your lies like a fresh kill. It’s that deep-seated hunger which spurs him on, prompting him to pull you to the dance floor for a few songs. He yearns to feel your body against his, your irresistible warmth, and that magnetic force that pulled him to you two years ago. 

You turn around in his hold, slowly grinding against his thigh. “I did what you asked…” You trail off, bringing his hand under your tutu. It isn’t out of character for you to be so forward, but it catches you off guard when he gropes your flesh. His fingers trace over the plug through your nylon tights and lace leotard. “Did I do good, daddy?”

“So good, baby.” His voice drops low, rumbling in his chest, his hard bulge rubs against your hip. “You always do so good for me.” 

You were his best girl, his pretty doll who couldn’t do any wrong. He’d do anything you asked, bend over backwards to fulfill your any wish but that would change tonight. It was time for you to be stretched thin for his demands and satisfy his needs. 

“I want to feel your mouth on me.” 

Under any other circumstances, Steve would have felt embarrassed for saying that aloud, but all those worries fly out the window when your eyes twinkle and you nod obediently, truly the whore that Curtis said you were—well, he actually called you a fuckhole.

Steve wrongfully thought your body was his for the past two years, but at this moment, he chose to believe you were wholly his. 

“You okay, sweet girl?”

You nod eagerly with your mouth locked around one of his balls, your tongue traces the seam before suckling. You’re so messy and struggle to take his full sack, slobbering filthily as saliva dribbles onto your pristine costume. 

His gaze locks on your face, your cheeks are wet and hot with tears, and his spit hangs out the corner of your swollen lips. Your tongue swipes out for it before licking up his leaky cock, following the protruding veins to the fat tip. 

“You like when I stroke your cock, daddy?” 

“Yeah, baby. Go deeper, you’ve done it before.” His neck tenses when you gag on his cock, fisting what couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

The music vibrates throughout the house, the loud conversations flowing in from under the bathroom door, but you didn’t care, not even with your sore knees pressing into the cold tiles, or your feather headpiece jostling with every bob. 

His heavy weight on your tongue and his taste filling your mouth sends tingles through your body, but you force your hand away from your throbbing cunt. This was for Steve, your sweet, loving and fucking hot boyfriend Steve.  

“So pretty down there, doing so good for me.” Steve pants heavily, guiding you to kiss up and down his pulsating length. The mushroom head is enveloped between your lips and you lick his slit. You’re usually a tease, but Steve has different things in mind. 

He secures a hand behind your head and pushes down until his tip hits the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing, but it’s futile with his massive length violating your airways, hammering deep and rough. You choke around his girth, saliva spills down your chin, and tears pool in your eyes but you’re determined to bring him to that precipice. You take whatever he gives—from more spit on your face to brutal thrusts. 

He forces you down further and rocks his hips, fucking your mouth like he hated you. “Look up at me, wanna see my pretty girl sucking my cock.” 

You preen under his words, blinking up at him as tears stream down your face. Wet, garbled noises fill the small bathroom as you cling to his hips over his tattered robe, piercing the thin fabric with your nails. 

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl. Take daddy’s cock,” like the dumb whore you are. A stupid slut who isn’t content with only one man but needs several to suck dry—you’ve stolen it all, their time, money, and love. You didn’t deserve his cum right now, but Steve was too fucking soft. 

He growls your name, pumping your mouth full of his hot seed. There’s so much that some seeps through the corners of your lips, following in the lines of your spit and tears, deliciously ruining your makeup. He forces you to stay there, filled to the brim and choking on his cum. After what felt like hours, he lets you pull off. You immediately swallow his seed and lick the sensitive tip for any rogue droplets, peppering messy kisses up the flushed flesh. 

He helps you stand and rubs your cheek, smearing the spit, cum and tears into your skin. You moan and dip down, suckling his fingers and slowly lifting your dress. In the mirror, he sees your ass through the paper-thin nylon and sheer white leotard, and that plug snugly in your puckered hole. 

The reflection only emphasizes the differences, you clad in a blinding, pure white against his black robe, glittering and feathery while he was dark and looming. The similarities are only visible to him, two people playing pretend. He thinks you should win an award for your performance. 

You’re smaller than him, and so much weaker. He could pick you up and fuck you senseless against the wall, make your whines pour out for everyone to hear. 

“Wanna see it, daddy? I did it for you.”

He does, but his phone vibrates on the counter. 

Ransom: Time’s up. We don’t have all night.

It physically hurts to push you away. “In a bit, sweet girl. Let’s go enjoy the party, okay?”

The night goes on, party songs blare through the old farmhouse, rattling the old walls and windows. It’s safe to say you were momentarily satisfied after blowing Steve, the night was still young and you had all weekend to jump his bones before you left the city. 

You found a group of people to chat with, easily joining their conversations. They were interested in your private school life, so you entertained them with stories of your strict years in ironed uniforms from your early childhood to university career but unlike them, you had zero knowledge about Greek life. 

Apparently, there were a few fraternities on campus, “your boyfriend is in one, didn’t he tell you?”

“Uh, no. He didn’t.” 

You almost forgot which boyfriend you were here with until one of them asked where Steve went, and Halloween night must bring magic because just as they asked, your date popped up from the backdoor. He headed straight for you and tugged you away by your arm, not bothering to greet your new friends. 

You giggle, already tipsy from your first few drinks. “Where’d you run off to?”

He doesn’t respond and drags you outside, weaving through the bodies crowding the back porch illuminated by fairy lights. The crisp air fills your lungs, tainted with smoke, but it’s refreshing after being in a stuffy house all night. 

You apologize to the few people you bump into, blindly stumbling after your boyfriend. He’s practically body-checking people out of the way and hauling you like dead weight. He’s so rough that your bag slips from your wrist. “Steve, my purse!” 

Ransom huffs and spins around to grab your bag before continuing his trek to the woods, slowing down for your sake. This time, you follow easily, slightly inebriated and giddy, not questioning a thing—even though Steve was acting very different tonight, you were excited about anything else he had in store. 

The darkness grows the deeper you walk, the light from the farmland property swallowed by the vast abyss. You make out the shapes of the trees and your boyfriend in the muted moonlight, although your dress is still bright, especially the rhinestones glimmering across your body. 

“I wish we matched costumes… I need my prince.” You flirt, “I am a princess after all.” 

The irony almost makes him laugh. You dressed as an untouched white swan, a cursed princess. There was no purity within you, the bleached tulle and feathers on your body were nothing but a mockery for delicacy and heartache. 

“We could’ve been the cutest couple here! But you just wanted to hide under that robe. Are you scared I’m gonna find some marks that aren’t from me?”

Your teasing is cut short when he pins you against a thick tree, your back slams into the jagged bark and the back of your head throbs dully. Stars cloud your vision and you almost don’t notice when he drops to his knees between your legs. “What the hell—Steve!” With his head under your tutu, he makes quick work of tearing off his mask. The ghostly disguise falls to the forest floor face up, the horrid expression glaring at you. 

You try to pull up your dress but he bats your hands away, quickly distracting you with a flat tongue up your clothed cunt. You gasp and your thighs tremble when his wet muscle flicks against your clit, his saliva and your slick soaking through the white lace. 

“W-Wait, right now? I, fuck.” Your back arches when he bites your thigh. 

The silent night is interrupted by an awful tear. Your nylon tights meet the same fate as your lace leotard, torn to bits by his wild hands. 

“Daddy, uhm, I don’t—” Your voice breaks into a moan when his thick fingers slide to the hilt and he harshly sucks your clit. He doesn’t work you up to it, no, he starts like a starved man. He fucks you with two fingers, nudging the plug with his other hand while dining on your button. He latches onto the nub, massaging the nerves with his tongue as your pussy clenches around his digits, sucking him in. 

He’s so rough and sloppy, making out with your cunt and hungrily slurping up your juices, disgracing the surrounding nature with the lewd noises and his guttural groans. Acting as if he hasn’t touched you in a lifetime.  

Ransom briefly considers fucking up the whole plan just to see you properly. He misses your pretty face, your messy cunt and weepy hole, he feels you dripping but he would do anything to see your creaminess coating his fingers, just like his pinky ring. 

The tree bark digs into your back as he hoists you higher. His spit splatters against you before his teeth drag along your clit and he nibbles mockingly. He soothes any aches with his tongue, trailing down your slit to lick into your hole. You whimper when hard slaps land on your nub, and he isn’t as kind this time around and rubs it roughly, bullying your sensitive button with his skilled fingers. 

“Uh! D-Don’t stop, daddy. Please don’t stop.” You pant, already on edge from your previous escapade in the bathroom. You wondered why he didn’t touch you then, and now you’re thankful you waited. Your body has a mind of its own and rocks against his clean-shaven face, fucking yourself on his tongue. He hums against you, either with some degrading comment or praise, you didn’t care. 

You fist his hair under your tutu, legs quivering as he replaces his wet muscle with his digits, pumping knuckle deep. His fingers hit that rough patch with every thrust, forcing your juices out and into his awaiting mouth, racing you toward that edge of euphoria. 

His faint curses go muffled as you convulse, your thighs lock around his head, trapping him against your pussy. You cry out his name, so close to your high that you can taste it—sweet, addictive and full of relief, but you’re yanked from that delight when he pulls back. 

The cold rushes against your wet folds, making you whine from the abrupt loss of his wet warmth. Your concerns die in your throat when he puts on his mask, wiping his fingers on his robe. Your weak legs drop to the ground as he leans back and tilts his head, studying you behind the plastic face. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, the tightness unravelling within your stomach. “Why—Why’d you stop?”

All he does is laugh and stand up, dusting off his knees casually. You call out his name and in confusion, watch him turn around and walk back to the house, leaving you in the forest alone, soaked, and fucking high and dry. 

At the sight of that familiar mask, you duck and turn the other way. Your drink is almost done so you toss it in the trash and sway through bumping bodies, ignoring the heavy footsteps that are somehow louder than the bass. 

Were you avoiding him? Yes, but with his tall stature, he could easily spot you above the crowd and that limited your hiding spots. 

He deserved it for leaving you out there like a sacrificial lamb. What would’ve happened if you had been shitfaced drunk? You’d probably pass out on the ground and freeze to death, and he’d be responsible for it, the dumb fucking jerk! If he abandoned you out there now, there was no telling if you’d find your way back to the house because tonight, you found out that more drinks go well with holding grudges. 

You scream when your whole world is flipped upside down, and instantly recognize that stupid tattered robe, “Everyone can see my ass, jerk!”

Curtis snorts, you’ve probably fucked everyone in this room already and showing them your ass should be the least of your worries. 

You’re set on your feet in a dark corner of the packed living room, the strobe lights flash across the heads of partygoers, and the music booms loudly, drilling some pop song into your head. He pulls you flush against his chest, crushing your tutu between your bodies.  

“Get off me, asshole.” You try to wiggle free, but he’s too strong and big, he doesn’t even flinch when you stomp on his foot. “Ugh, I said get off!” You squirm when his hand slips between your thighs, meeting your bare cunt. “Steve!”

A sharp spank lands on your pussy, making your legs go numb but he holds you up with one arm, rubbing torturously slow circles on your swollen nub. With the booming music and the alcohol flowing through your system, you don’t register the different voice in your ear. 

“That isn’t what you call me.” 

You shiver, the warmth radiates off his body, luring you with his presence. You’re still wet and so sticky that your slick has smeared to your inner thighs, right where his fingers are tracing now. His touch ignites that fire again, all too effortlessly making you into a needy mess. 

In the flickers of red, he can see every thought leave your head. Dumb little girl. You thought you could hide from him? 

Curtis’ reaches in the slit of his robe to unbuckle his belt, and you’re too preoccupied with riding his fingers. His cock slides between your soaked, ruined folds, replacing his hand as he prods at your soppy hole. You go slack as he rocks slowly but never strays too far, letting you feel every inch.

“D-Daddy, oh!” You snap your jaw shut, “what are you—”

“Hush, you don’t want people to catch us, right?” He asks, thrusting forward until he nudges your puffy button, rubbing the sensitive nerves with the tip. He groans lowly, Ransom really bullied you down there.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your thoughts jumbling together from the overstimulation. “We—We shouldn’t, daddy…” Your voice fades when his hand wraps around your throat, his rough fingers digging into your skin and he forces you to face the crowd.

“None of them know who you really are, huh? What you really are?”

If anyone looked over, they’d instantly know what was going on. It was obvious from your blissed-out expression and his rocking hips, your weak hands grasping at his forearm as he squeezed harder. 

The oxygen goes thin as your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly and soon he’s your only support. His beefy arm pins you to his chest, keeping you from falling over as he thrusts into your weepy folds, the bulbous tip catching on your hole but never penetrating. 

If he could, he’d spit in your mouth, make you gag on his saliva until it dribbled down your chin. He wants the whole world to know what a slut you are, and how needy you get for cock that you’ll let him use you just feet away from other people. 

Curtis knows you love the risk. He knew that the moment he met you—because you kissed him in the photo booth and slipped his hand up your skirt, begging in your soft voice for him to touch you. 

Your lips part with a silent moan. He can’t resist slipping two fingers into your mouth, reminiscing when you sucked his dick that very same day and swallowed everything he gave you. Fucking cockslut. There were times when you dropped to your knees under his desk and rubbed over his clothed cock until he let you suck him off. You loved when he used you and when he was mean, acting like a damn bully instead of your loving boyfriend. You wanted to be degraded, ruined and downgraded to a cocksleeve, and that’s why you were his fucking pornstar. 

He still has that photo strip of you smiling, all fucked out and dumb with spit, tears and cum on your face. Your very first picture together and you didn’t even know his last name at the time. 

“Pl-Please let me come this time, daddy.” You plead, weakly meeting his thrusts. 

This time?

Curtis holds back a huff, of course, Ransom would tease the hell out of you. No wonder you’re so pathetic right now, not even thinking straight as he takes you apart on his girth. The partygoers couldn’t see his face, but they could see yours, and how stupid you looked getting fucked in the corner of the room. 

“You gonna come for me and cover daddy’s cock in your cream?” He asks, “Come in front of all these people, show ‘em what a fucking whore you are.”

If you weren’t so dazed, you would’ve realized that Steve has never called you a whore, he barely used slut either. Preferring to call you his sweet baby, his pretty doll, his girl, as he took you apart with suffocating love, those long fingers and his monstrous cock. 

Your high topples over and you cling to his arm, victim to the wave of bittersweet relief. Your orgasm coats his length, claiming him as it streams down your legs, seeping into your tights. You’re so lost in the pleasure and unable to contain your loud pitiful mewl, drawing a few drunken gazes. 

Curtis crowds you, blocking their eyes and presses you into the wall. He grips his cock, slapping the head against your pulsating clit before drawing back, the tip barely pops in before his seed spurts out, filling you up. Some escapes and the thick white cum follows in the trails of your squirt, and the feeling of being owned almost gets you worked up again. 

You can’t hear much with the blood rushing through your head, but you make out a few words: “bathroom” and “clean yourself up.” 

“W-Wait, we’re goin’ too far…” You slur, clutching the fresh seventh or eighth drink that your boyfriend shoved into your hand. Your previous one spilt all over the floor when he hauled you out of the bathroom. You barely finished cleaning yourself up before he barged in. “It’s your fault I was a mess, daddy… You can’t be mad at me.” 

He doesn’t speak or falter, his purposeful strides so long that you flounder after him. 

“Where are we,” you hiccup, “going?” When faced with no response, you dig your feet into the ground, but your ballet flats are useless in the dry, crumbling dirt. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” 

He stops suddenly and you squeak, bumping into his broad back. Punch—or whatever it was—spills out of the cup splashing onto your white dress, staining the tulle and feathers a bright scarlet. 

“Ugh, Steve! Look what you did!”

He turns around, cocking his head like you were a child throwing a tantrum. 

Your feeble attempts at cleaning the mess only make it worse and spread the vibrant red. “I really liked this costume, and now look… It’s like I was stabbed.” You pout, the alcohol making you a little emotional. “Y-You ruined it! And I-I felt so pretty today—” 

He wraps you in his arms, cooing softly while rubbing your back. You drunkenly cling to his warm body, feeling his muscles under the hooded robe. 

“Let’s stand here for a bit… you gave me a lot of drinks.” You nuzzle into his chest, brushing off the difference of his cologne. Cold night air brushes along your nylon-clad legs, fluttering the delicate mesh of the tutu. You’ve lost some rhinestones as the night went on, but nothing a little hot glue couldn’t fix. “You’ve never done public stuff like that, Stevie. You’re usually so private about us.” 

He shrugs, the booming music is distant but the heavy bass still pounds in your ears. 

“You don’t wanna admit it? C’mon, I won’t tell.” You flutter your lashes, a trick that always works. “I’m into it too, and how you caught me off guard only makes it better.” 

Through blurry vision, you spot a guest house a few ways away. The lights are off, the driveway is empty, and an idea pops into your head. “We could have some real fun, daddy. Don’t you wanna have fun with me?”

This time he hums and drags his hands down your back, gripping your waist. He yanks you close, pushing an oof from your throat. 

“You’re never so rough either.” His bulge presses against your front and you nearly drop to your knees right then and there. “Do you wanna keep the mask on?”

He nods, the lifeless black eyes and dramatically opened mouth absorbing any light, contrasting with the ghostly white face. He’s looming like a shadow the size of a mountain, intimidating you by merely looking at you with a dead gaze as daunting as the creepy fictional character. 

You thought Steve didn’t like horror movies. 

You lean up to kiss him, but he spins you around so quickly that you almost fall over. Tall corn stalks and various pumpkins sit on hay bales under an archway forebodingly lit by lanterns. 

You giggle, “Ooh! You wanna race to see who finds the exit first? I’ll have you know, I’m quite the pro. I go whenever they have one at the pumpkin patch!”

Ari fucking knows that because it’s one of your traditions. You two go every year and get hot chocolate and fresh pie, then head to the corn maze for your annual competition. As always, you get a head start and he pretends to get lost so you have to find a way out together, and he’ll try—and fail—to fool around with you. Your excuse? “There are families here!”

As if you hadn’t begged him to fuck you in the closet when you were visiting his family for spring break. He had to gag you with your panties, you were so needy and pleading for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you stupid just doors away from his parents. 

You wanted to be caught that day, and right now he wished he let you walk out with his cum on your face. Perhaps then, you’d be filled with humiliation just like the four of them. 

He wanted you to think you got away with it, that you’re still the queen and they’re stupid pawns to your game. Just so he can watch the despair wash over your face, the broken pride will fall from your lips in half-assed apologies. 

You’ll cry and beg for forgiveness, for mercy, but they won’t give it to you. No, they want you to suffer, wallow in distraught—just as Odette did when Siegfried swore to love another. 

He watches you run off, your loud inebriated laughter flowing into the open air, joyous and free, the complete opposite of what you’ll be when the clock strikes midnight. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees three other hooded figures emerge from the forest. One by one, their stark white masks are bathed in the moonlight, screaming or crying or both. He sets your purse by the entrance after taking your cell phone, and only then does he enter the maze. 

It isn’t long until he catches up to you, following the fallen feathers from your costume like breadcrumbs. 

You’re leaning against the haystack wall, flashing him a mischievous smile. Your hands drag down your body, teasingly pulling down the front of your dress to expose your cleavage. 

He steps towards you, craving the heat of your skin. He wants to know just how much the other guys ruined you, but you duck under his arm and race deeper into the maze, giggling madly. 

“Gotta be faster than that, daddy!”

The further you go, the darker it gets. Everything looks the same, all varying in shades of green but you try to not get distracted, sugary sweet victory is hot on your mind. You slow down and listen for heavy feet on the grass, but all you hear are crickets and the gentle wind. 

You scream when thick arms wrap around your waist, heaving you high into the air and pinning you against a haystack. Built arms hook under your thighs as his hips slip snugly between your thighs, brushing your overworked core. 

You laugh, “this is like the movie! What does she say?” You think for a moment, “No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!” You burst into laughter, playfully kicking your feet, “now the stain makes… uh… sense! It makes sense!” 

The shadows cloud over his masked face, making him look sadder or more scared. Horrified would fit the best, but your drunken head couldn’t find the word. 

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” 

All blood drains from your face and fills your heart, sinking it straight to hell and taking your carefree smile with it. 

“What? You don’t miss me?” His deep voice slices through the silence, “Oh, or do you miss someone else more?” From each turn enter three more figures, matching black robes clad over their shoulders with the hoods pulled down, accentuating their stark white disguises. 

He flips up his mask, making you nauseous in a single motion. “Happy Halloween, bunny.” His long hair frames his pale face and his eyes gleam with cruel amusement as a twisted grin plays on his pink lips. 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 

“Poor girl, did you lose your voice?” Number three. 

“That’s a shame, I love hearing you scream.” Number four.

The rest of the men remove their masks and your eyes drift over each of them. The sick glee drips off their faces and entwine with ferocious hunger. They surrounded you like predators to prey, the reapers to bring you to your inescapable fate—and they were ecstatic about it. 

Number two doesn’t look as happy as Curtis and Ransom, in fact, his expression was unreadable. He was quiet and cold, not only with his schooled features, but he didn’t speak like the rest of them. 

When Steve got quiet, he was terrifying because you didn’t know what to expect. You could only imagine the things going through his head, your sweet, loving, baker boyfriend had a dark side, one that you’ve only seen a handful of times if some guy hit on you. 

He always managed to leave the scene before things got too intense, but you feared this wasn’t one of those times. 

“N-No…”

“No? Did you miss me the most then?” Ari asks mockingly, blue eyes drawn low, “you loved me first, so you must love me the most too.”

You can’t feel the tears streaming down your numb cheeks but you know they’re there, and that’s only confirmed when Ari wipes one with his thumb, and sucks it into his mouth. Your salty misery is his favourite taste but it isn’t enough, all four of them want your ultimate destruction. 

“Cry all you want, bunny. Karma doesn’t give a shit if you’re sad or scared.” Oh but they wanted you to be petrified, “You reap what you sow—and for you, sweetheart, it’s time to bite the bullet.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: did someone say a hate fucking gangbang? Bc that’s what’s going to happen. we're starting no nut November with nuts, but oops !! p.s. the date for the next part is on the fic masterlist.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! check out the rest of my kinktober masterlist for my other spooky slutty fics !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[munsons-hellfire]

About Me & Masterlist

18+ mdni (you will be blocked)

skye. 25. she/her. writer. movie fanatic. book lover. music. horror. marvel. stranger things. scream. a court of thorns and roses. shatter me. divider credit: saradika

updates will be monday, wednesday, and friday every other week.

find other information here.

emoji system: fluff - 🫧, angst - 🥀, smut - ❤️‍🔥, dark themes - ☠️

MASTERLIST (Updated: 03/30/24)

CASSIAN

Chaos (Ongoing | Original Character: Evangeline Nightbane | Playlist | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Lost (Ongoing | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Part 1, Part 2 (Coming Soon)

AZRIEL

My Love Will Never Die (Ongoing | Original Character: Circe Archeron | Playlist | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Intro Summary: Circe Archeron, Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Broken (Kallias!Sister Reader)

Untitled (Coming Soon)

You're Losing Me (Ongoing | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Part 1, Part 2 (Coming Soon)

The Last Time (Coming Soon)

RHYSAND

You're Losing Me (Ongoing | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Part 1, Part 2 (Coming Soon)

ERIS VANSERRA

My Love Will Never Die (Ongoing | Original Character: Circe Archeron | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Intro Summary: Circe Archeron, Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

The Power of Emotions (Ongoing | Archeron!Reader | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Happiness In The Heart 🫧🥀

Ice & Fire (Coming Soon | Archeron!Reader)

Untitled (Coming Soon | Rhysand!Sister Reader)

LUCIEN VANSERRA

Chaos (Ongoing | Original Character: Evangeline Nightbane | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Untitled (Coming Soon)

The Last Time (Coming Soon)

How Did It End?

TAMLIN

Life Eternal 🫧🥀

Untitled (Coming Soon)

HELION

We're Just Friends 🫧🥀

Discovery of Memories (Ongoing | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Part 1, Part 2 (TBA)

POLY!BAT BOYS

Forever Together (Ongoing | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

POLY!FEYSAND

How Did It End?

EDDIE MUNSON

The Dark Paradise (Ongoing | Biker!EM x Teacher!Reader | Playlist | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Ruin My Life (Ongoing | Older!Rockstar!EM x Pop Star!Reader | Playlist | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Chapter 1, Chapter 2

A Curse (Fem!Harrington!Reader) 🫧🥀

I Always Knew 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥

Runaway Bride (Coming Soon)

STEVE HARRINGTON

Season Of The Witch (Ongoing | Witch!Reader | Playlist | 🫧🥀☠️) - Act 1: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 | Act 2: To Be Announced

STEDDIE

Broken Hearts Can Be Mended (Ongoing | Writer!Reader | Playlist | 🫧🥀❤️‍🔥☠️) - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

PEDRO PASCAL

Debut (Completed) - Part 1, Part 2 🫧🥀

JOSEPH QUINN

Fall Into Me 🫧🥀☠️

ROBBIE MERCER

All Your Fault (Platonic!Robbie Mercer) 🥀☠️

STEVE ROGERS

It All Fell Down 🫧🥀

EVERETT ROSS

Forbidden 🫧🥀

CIA!Avenger Reader Headcanons 🫧🥀

JANE FOSTER

Reunited In Valhalla 🫧🥀

JJ MAYBANK

Mutual Feelings (Fem!Character) 🫧🥀

KATE DENALI

Human/Vampire!Reader Headcanons

Untiled Human!Reader Series (Coming Soon)

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