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hiddenreamers · 1 month ago

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I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

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ciderjacks · 6 months ago

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ok I mentioned this earlier and people were sort of confused but I’m gonna try to explain why I think the long AND short lifespan issues were resolved by the end of dungeon meshi. WARNING: DUNMESHI SPOILERS AHEAD

Part 1: the lifespans aren’t natural

ok so I’m gonna start with that no I don’t think Marcille got her wish, at least not the way she wanted. Marcille wanted to bend the rules of nature so everyone would live an unnaturally long time. However, the lifespans that the races in dungeon meshi have (besides tall-men, but I’ll get to that later) are also not natural. They only had those lifespans because the winged lion was maintaining that lifespan for their race.

You can see at least 3 different races here that are asking for different life spans, what they’re asking for lines up with what the lifespans are.

the dwarf asked for immortality, the elf asked specifically for a thousand year life, the half foot heard this and said that was too long, and to make it shorter. The only ones who didn’t ask for a lifespan alteration were the (would be) tall-men. The lifespans aren’t natural, they’re caused by the demons magic…

part 2: so what of the demons magic?

This is I think the most explicit statement, that the demons magic, every wish the demon granted, is lost. This includes lifespans, one of the oldest wishes it granted. And I wanna highlight one thing she says specifically. “We have the luxury of time”. I don’t think that means a long life, I think it means the opposite. The narrative regards these lifespans as unnatural, destructive and soul sucking. The immortal townspeople are cursed, time doesn’t matter to them, and so they have no desires, or drive to continue. This is depicted by them finding food flavourless.

and when they no longer have immortality look at how they think of food. That is the luxury of time, not to avoid it, but to experience it. This is what the “long-lived” races must learn in the absence of the demon, now lacking the extra hundreds of years the demon had gifted them. That’s why it’s important that Marcille didn’t get her wish the way she wanted, because she wanted everyone to live forever. And speaking of Marcille’s wish.

She says she’s learned to embrace death, and not because of anything the demon did. She wanted to live forever with her friends, she didn’t want to confront death. With the demons magic gone, she no longer has the extra thousand years. She’s learning to accept her friends mortality, yes, but she’s also learning to accept her own.

part 3: the theme of accepting death

Like I said earlier, Marcille is afraid of death. So is Delgal/Yaad. The end of the story resolves their acceptance around death and dying. As much as Marcille wanted everyone else to live, there’s a reason she decided everyone should just live a thousand years. She doesn’t want to sacrifice her own lifespan, she wants infinite time with the people she loves. In the aftermath of the winged lion, she instead gets a much shorter amount of time. Delgal/Yaad is similar, in that he feared death. He says he was afraid of dying and losing everything, but now he’s ok with that reality, because the reality of an extended or eternal life was much worse.

part 4: the curse of living and the curse of living too long

To desire is to eat is to live. Our most primal instincts. The long lived races, while not immortal and desire-less, had an unnatural amount of time on their hands. They were able to forego their humanity because they’d been gifted all the time they wanted, which lead to fighting and oppression of the short lived races (which is why it’s important for Laios to be the king, even though the elves and dwarves have lost the demons magic. Their mindset at that point in time, is of people with too much time on their hands.)

When Falin speaks to the demon, stripped of all his desire, he describes living as cruel. From his perspective, humans have a limited time and a constant desire, sorrow and anxiety pressing at them. Yet, Falin says it’s delicious. The fear inherent to living is natural, it’s what makes life interesting, and so it’s thematically important that the magic allowing certain races to avoid this reality isn’t maintained. Marcille’s wish was based in truth, it was how she went about it that was wrong.

Part 5: the end of the racial power dynamic

Obviously the races and cultures are still different, they were different before the winged lion began granting wishes, and will remain different, however what the narrative tells us again and again is that the lifespans are equivalent to a power structure. Elves and dwarves are at the top, because they were granted long lives. This power structure is explicitly not natural, it’s not how the races should be, Ryoko Kui emphasizes this several times. So given this, I think it’s really important that at the end, when the demons magic is gone, all the races become one unit. There is no more power structure, is what this implies. One of humanities oldest desires, the desire to live eternally, is undone.

Ryoko Kui wanted to show that the racism and the power structures weren’t logical, and they weren’t natural, and now the people will have to navigate without those, without differences of lifespan, and without the ability to push away death.

part 6: conclusion

“Surely your kind exists for no reason but to starve” = “you exist for no reason but to die”

as Laios literally consumes life force itself, destroying the demon and destroying its magic. After he does this, the races are portrayed as one unit. The elves say that while magic isn’t gone, the demon’s and what came with it is, and that things will be different from thereon-out.

magic will continue to exist, but its been effectively reset, or unraveled, by the death of the demon.

the ability to live hundreds of years is lost, and while the winged lion, an eternal creature, thinks of this as a curse, to humans it’s a secret blessing. The impact of time is what keeps us going.

The structures set up by the ancient lifespan wishes are also undone. No race should get to live longer than any other, humans shouldn’t have unnatural structures like that. It disrupts the natural flow of living. Thats the resolution to the lifespan issue. Not “Marcille has to accept that she’s going to live an unnaturally long life”, but “Marcille has to accept that no one should have that much time, including her”. That’s why I think the lifespan issue is resolved when the demon dies. Thanks for reading, if you managed to read all of this.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #media analysis #dunmeshi analysis

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lovinglokilaufeyson · 5 months ago

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Five Minutes - L.L.

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not Proofread, Smut, Oblivious!Reader, Reader in Denial, Horny!Loki, Loki's use of magic, Intern!Reader, Dubcon (if you squint), Threesome (technically), Mutual Pining

Wordcount: 2,009

Summary: Loki has it bad for you. Having recently graduated from college, Tony Stark recruited you to work for him in his lab. A certain tall, dark and mysterious god takes a quick liking to you. He loves teasing you, and it's very clear that he wants you. To everyone but you, of course. Loki begins to use his magic to strip you of your defenses, but how will you respond?

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this little imagine I wrote up! As always, thank you all for your support on all of my other stories, I appreciate every single one of you! Without further ado, some fresh Loki smut.

The Avengers compound amazed you. There was so much to see, and Tony Stark had become somewhat of a father figure for you. He was very encouraging and for the most part, you were enjoying your start at the tower. You felt like the Avengers were like your family now. Natasha, Thor, and Steve were all like older siblings to you. Thor's brother Loki, however, had made several advances towards you. You always felt that he was teasing or that he wouldn't be interested in someone like you. You were a mere mortal, and although you were intelligent, Loki was a god.

However, he was a god who knew what and who he wanted. And he had his eyes set on you. The team didn't completely trust Loki yet. So, whenever they found themselves on a mission and you were stuck working in the lab, Loki always seemed to make his way up there to see you. On a typical day, he was always hiding in the library. But whenever you were in the lab alone, he was there to find you. Today was one of those days.

Loki also loved to comment on your lab gear, as he thought it was adorable. Your goggles, lab coat, your face shield. It was just simply adorable. So, when he spotted you in the lab, doing some experiments, he internally grinned. He opened up the glass door leading inside, and immediately you glanced up at him. "Oh darling, why can't you just be mine already?" You giggled, but avoided the question. "Loki, how many times have I told you that you need to be in proper lab attire to be in the lab? It is far too danger-" Loki shushed you by placing his index finger over your lips.

"And how many times have I told you I'm a god, love?" You glared up into his eyes. "That doesn't mean you're immortal from chemical burns, Loki."

"Aren't you bored up here?" He asked you suddenly. "No, thank you for asking. I'm quite entertained by what I'm doing here."

"So that means you don't want me to tear those clothes off of you?" Loki proposed. "I- I- um-" You stuttered, clearly flustered by his question. He shushed you again with his index finger. You blushed, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm working."

"You can't just take a little fifteen minute break?" He pondered. You went to speak, before he spoke again. "Actually, we both know it'd turn into much longer than that." He winked, and your cheeks turned into an even deeper red hue.

"Okay, doll. I'll leave you be. For now..." The god left your presence, and suddenly you felt a longing in your chest for him. You did like Loki. A lot. But you felt that his teasing you must be completely silly and only due to the fact that he was completely and entirely out of your league.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

The next time you saw Loki was when the Avengers returned from their mission later that day. Tony called a post-mission meeting in the team room to talk about strengths and weaknesses of the team and how improvements could be made.

You sat down with your cup of water, ready to talk with everyone about how the mission had gone. Everyone was alive, so the conversation was promising. In addition, no one ended up in the medical wing of the tower. Therefore, the meeting was to take place in the conference room in mere minutes. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, yourself, Loki, and several others sat among a large table.

Tony began with an overview of the mission, and although you tried your best to pay attention, you couldn't help but zone out unexpectedly several different times. You went for your glass of water, taking a small sip.

However, Loki had other plans. He formulated that a combination of your white blouse and water would be a delightfully - nearly lethal - one. With a flick of his hand, the water slipped out of the glass and onto the fabric that now coated your chest. The fabric that once hung loose, complimenting the shape of your breasts now completely surrounded them, and Loki loved the sight. You cursed to yourself, then got up and retreated to your room to change. Everyone understood why.

Loki, being his mischievous self, created a clone of himself to watch upon the meeting, while the other followed you to your bedroom.

"Darling, are you alright?" Loki knocked on your door with little to no hesitation. "Yes, Loki! I'm alright. Thank you for asking. Just getting changed!" In an instant, Loki transported himself into your room. Your white, lacy bra exposed to him, along with your tight black pencil skirt leaving little to the imagination. You gasped.

"I wouldn't mind helping you get undressed..." Loki spoke, shocking you. Your heart started to beat faster and faster. "I- um- we have a meeting to attend, Loki." Although you had always sensed Loki's teasing towards you, it was always your understanding that all it was was teasing. Nothing more. But this - this was different. He was standing in front of you now, seeing more than most men ever had. Recognizing just how much you were exposed to the god, you attempted to fold your arms across your chest, which he immediately pulled back down to the side.

"Don't hide yourself from me, darling." Loki's voice was soft, yet stern. You gazed up at him, your innocent doe eyes doing more to him than you could ever imagine. Loki felt himself hardening more, if at all possible. "Let's make a deal, Y/N L/N. If I can get your precious mortal form to cum in 5 minutes or less, then you become mine."

You stood still for a moment, like a deer in headlights, completely shocked from his words. If you were honest, you had no idea that Loki even knew your last name. "I- I-" you started, unable to pursue words any longer. "Do we have a deal?" Loki spoke, more confidently than ever. "What do you mean I become yours?" You almost snapped at him, suddenly becoming somewhat agitated by the pressure of Loki's presence. "Your delicious physical form will be mine, your mind, your heart, all of it."

"So a slave?" "No, not a slave. I worship you too much. I just want you." You looked perplexed for a moment. "But why?" "Darling, shh. Your questions are terribly incessant. So, do we have a deal?"

"I would like to adjust the terms slightly. If - and I mean if - you can make me cum in 5 minutes, you can take me out on a date. Being a piece of property just really does not appeal to me in the slightest." In all honesty, you did not anticipate Loki taking your bid for a mere date. "Darling, I do not view you as property, not at all. However, I will accept your offer for this 'date.'"

And with that, Loki placed his lips firmly on yours. Slightly in shock, you pulled away for a mere moment. "Ah ah ah, we need a timer." You pulled out your phone, setting a timer for 5 minutes. He planted a kiss on you once more, wasting absolutely no time stripping you of your skirt, bra, and panties. 4m 53s.

He pushed you onto the bed, magically ridding himself of his own clothes as well. With the snap of his fingers, his clothes were removed, the green dust dissolved and they quickly dissipated, revealing his brilliant body underneath. 4m 47s.

His cock stood at attention, its length prominent. Certainly larger than you had taken previously. You had begun to doubt the possibility of Loki even being able to fit inside of you. Before you could question it further, you felt Loki’s heated breath on your labia, his fingers parting it slightly so he could coax forward your clitoris towards his tongue.

He brought his mouth to sit around your clit, suckling lightly as he got you warmed up. Similarly, he brought his fingers to massage your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. Suddenly, a magical green aura flashed, and a second Loki was upon you, taking your lips in his, twisting his tongue amongst yours, and almost most importantly, bringing your wrists up to hold in restraint above your head. 4m 32s.

Your heat became considerably wetter, especially now that there were two Lokis playing with you. You moaned, which was mostly absorbed by Loki’s mouth, which was still toying with yours. You felt your nipples get pinched, at this point you weren’t sure by which Loki. You just knew pleasure, and that you were writhing with it, overwhelmingly so.

You felt a teasing finger prod your entrance, almost beckoning you forward to beg for Loki’s member. However, you were distracted enough by the gentle kisses that were being placed on your lips, that you didn’t want to pull away from aside from the ever so slight breath that was needed for your pleasure to continue. Loki’s tongue continued to swirl around your clit teasingly, as your canal spasmed around his finger. 4m 15s.

You felt Loki’s lips release from yours, while you still felt the pressure from the other Loki lower. You let out a brief moan, making eye contact with the Loki above. “Good girl. Let me hear your beautiful sounds, darling.” 3m 57s.

“You’re quite wet down here, my love. How would you like to feel your God inside of you?” The other Loki spoke from below, while simultaneously continuing to play with your clit and inside of you. You nodded feverishly, desperate to feel more than just Loki’s fingers in you. “Say it, my love.” “Please, Loki. Please.”

“With pleasure, darling.” 3m 28s. The other Loki who was kissing you disappeared into green dust, as the first stood up. “I prefer this part to be more intimate, just the two of us.”

Suddenly, Loki’s tip prodded against your opening, he took his time swirling around it before gently pressing inwards. You let out a moan as his tip entered you, pressing against your walls. His girth was certainly more than anyone you had been with previously. He is a god, after all. “Fuck,” you cursed.

Loki tsked. “Be a good girl for me” he slid inside of you with a sudden movement, fully penetrating you. 2m 45s.

“Oh my god” you moaned. “That’s right, your god.” 2m 22s.

Loki brought your legs to his shoulders, thrusting steadily inside of you as he kissed your lips. You had never felt this much pleasure in your life. You groaned out as Loki released your lips from his. “Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“So, so good” you moaned, his pulsating inside of you more and more consistent, more intense with every stroke. “You’re so good for me, love.”

Your legs shaking with pleasure as Loki continued his persistent pounding of your canal. 1m 57s.

“I’m-” you stuttered, Loki hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath as warmth built inside of your stomach. “You’re what, darling?” Loki questioned teasingly, knowing you barely had it in you to answer. 1m 34s.

“I’m gonna- oh my god.”

“You’re gonna what, love?”

“Cu-cum.”

“Cum with me, darling. Now.” 1m 2s.

You felt Loki’s hot fluids coat your insides, as your pleasure brought you to the most incredible orgasm of your life. Loki, staying inside of you, brought his mouth to yours to continue his delicate, yet intense, displays of affection. “Looks like I got about a minute to spare, my lady. So when’s that date?”

Loki slid out of you, landing next to you on the bed where he could snuggle in close to you.

“Well, let’s count out today, I won’t be able to walk until at least tomorrow.” Loki placed kisses on your cheek and jawline as he held you close.

“We’ll stay here until then, my love.”

#loki fluff #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #dom loki #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki drabble #mcu loki #loki marvel #loki mcu #marvel loki #loki x y/n #loki x female reader smut

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mehiwilldoitlater · 2 months ago

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please my dear author , please!!!!! I'm begging you, Give me satisfaction with your story, please😭❤️...

May i've a reaquest headcannon for, wife s/o x sun wukong,They both are always together and fight together, even die together 😭... Please my dear author, you are my only hope .

(btw, s/o is good at healing magic, she even fights using magic)

How funny and how ironic, Wukong thought, to be held in his last moments in the arms of the sword brother that once he had tò defeat in battle.

His breath reduced by a raspy whisper, his chest now covered in blood by the wound... eh, come to think of it, he didn't feel any pain now, just numbness.

His hears, then, grasped One of the many breaths there, one that, like him, was reaching their last moments. He could recognize that breath between thousands, and then he sensed a feeling of dread. He wanted to reach her. The bull sensed his desire and obliged.

In a pool of blood, a feminine body lay. Her chest covered in arrows, her once white hanfu now in a Splendid Crimson shade. The eyes of the monkey gleam from the sad view.

A bride, even in her last moments. His bride, his wife, his everything.

You were his, and he was yours, and so the sage wanted to be until the end.

The bull was able to lay him down next to you, a small moment of peace on the battlefield.

You two really did a lot together?

///

You were mere servants for one of the seven fairies, a body between many. You never asked for something more, you never asked to be different, and you never asked to be noticed by anyone. Too much trouble, you always thought.

But you were different. Despite your humble position, you were born with abilities that, even amongst many immortals, were quite rare. Healing powers, a sacred ability that just a few could learn but were born with? You were special, but you just hoped for a humble life.

But even in the celestial realm, nothing can just stay the same.

You first saw him when he was ordered to the Jade Emperor. Hiding behind some officials and other servants, the first thing that caught you was his manners. He wasn't a bride; he was just treating the most important being in the world like some random people. You should be shocked, but... It's nice? You wondered what kind of person was the new keeper of the horses...

///

"Master Wukong Is Amazing!"

"Since he's the one who's taking care of the celestial steed, all of the beasts are in great shape!"

Wukong was always someone who loved the praise and the compliments, but something was quite off. It was true, he was the best keeper that the Celestial stables everything had, but he had noticed something a little strange.

Sometimes, maybe by accidents or by distraction of the owner, one of the horses came back injured or with some small wounds. He had always done his best to take care of them, of course, and the next day the same wound was soon gone. More than anyone, he was supposed to be happy or proud by this, but he knew something was playing a trick on him. Surely, another one would have believed that it was the same horse that had such an ability like that, or everything that stables themselves, but why then call for someone to take care of the horses if there was something like that?

One day, he finally knew the answer.

When the day was almost over and the Night Patrol deity started to prepare for his work, Wukong wanted to check on the horses and remembered that one of them seemed quite unwell after a bad day with its owner.

When he reached the stables, he seemed quite pleased to find the door unlocked, especially since he knew that all of his helpers had left for the night. He noticed there the light of a small lantern, and there he decided to move. Taking the form of a fly, he started to buzz in the direction of the light, and what he saw left him pleased.

"Poor one, did they mistreat you, uh?"

Your voice seemed so kind and gentle; the horse was immediately putty in your hands. Sitting on an overturned bucket, you gently caressed its snout and Maine, coercing it to give you its injured leg.

"I know what it means; don't worry, I'll treat you right away."

And, under the incredulous eyes of the Great Sage, a dim light started to shine in your hand, and, by just caressing it, the wound was good and gone!

"There, all done!" You said happily, keepnon caressing the horse, "Now you look good as new!"

The Great Sage couldn't control himself; you had picked up his curiosity like nothing before! Like a bolt, he immediately took back his true form and started you and the horse.

"Easy horse, brother!" He esclaimed, calming the beast, "Do not scare the precious one!"

You feel a sense of panic. You were caught, red-handed, in the celestial stables tending the horses that weren't even your own duty, by the keeper himself. You kneel before him, your face in the dirt, hoping to appeal to his kindness.

"Forgive me, master! I didn't intend to do any harm! I just wanted to cure these poor creatures! Please don't report me! I beg you!"

He looked at you with quite the interest, bent down to touch your head, laughing a little.

"Come now, precious one! I'm not in need of this kind of guidance! I punish who's wrong me, not who does good!"

You raised your head a little, your forhead dry from the mud of the pavement.

"You...you won't?"

"Not as long as you're going to share with me that trick of yours, precious one!"

"My Lord, I'm not precious at all! I'm just a servant."

"Tell me your name; even if you'll be precious to me!"

"I'm Y/N, master; I work under the Seven Fairies, daighters of the Jade Emperor. And...my powers are just my powers; I was born with them."

"Oh, a servant?!" He seemed indignant by your statement, "How can it be?! Such powers are for gods and immortals! Not for servants and cleaners! They had made a mistake with your position!"

"Oh, no, master! I'm where I wanted to be! I do not care for my position; I just enjoy my life as it is."

He pondered, Little, what a strange little thing you were. Such amazing powers, and yet so humble?! So interesting, very much indeed! He circled you a few times, causing you to emit a few giggles, even if you tried to keep them in your mouth.

"Say, do you like these horses?"

"Yes, master! Quite Indeed!"

"Then! Come to me every day at this same time! I want to know you better!"

///

And so you kept your promise. Every day, after your choirs, you were welcomed in his own palace, treated like an equal. Sometimes you've dined, sometimes you've just drunk tea, but every time talking with him seems so natural. You showed interest in his home, to the point that he wanted you to pay a visit there with him next time.

He loved having you around; you've never looked him down, always so modest and kind. You were truly a precious one to him! He never loses a chance to greate you, even in front of the other servants and celestials.

And so rumors started to spread.

The Bimawen found a friend in the Seven Fairies servant. The girl likes to spend time with horses and monkeys, they said. Some even complained that you smelled of animals.

Once, one of the seven sisters even forced you to take a bath and tò not touch anything until you were completely cleaned. It was so humiliating.

But you decide not to tell anything to the Bimawen, afraid of some reaction. And yet, something still happened.

One incautious immortal had decided that he needed to provoke the monkey and reveal his true position in the heavens! You were sure he was aware of it. Instead, they decided not to inform him! He was furious! He destroyed the stables and fled away from Heaven.

He had one regret: leave you there alongside those foolish arrogants! But he could not force you, not someone like you.

So imagine his surprise when the youngest monkey proclaimed to have captured an immortal, only to come to him withbyour in their grasp!

"Y/n?!" He screamed, reaching you with a jump and taking you in a bone-crashing hug. "My precious! Why are you here?! Did you finally decide to come and green my children?!"

"Oh Wukong," you caressed his head. "The Celestial Palace is enraged! They want to capture you! They're sending an army here!"

He laughed, finally setting you down, caressing your delicate hand.

"Old Wukong is not afraid of them; I'll let them regret having provoked the Great Sage equal to Heaven!"

And while you wondered when the battle could begin, he showed you his kingdom. A land with no palaces, no rules, only swore brothers and sisters that believed in each other's strength and power. They were equal in each eye, and all of them were ready to fight for each other. It felt right...

Sun Wukong had shown you to everyone with pride, calling you his precious one, the one that can heal with her hands. And even if he loved to braga about you to everyone, he had always shown respect and never forced you around. He wanted to praise you like he should, but he wanted you happy.

It was the first time in his life.

///

"My precious... I wonder...do any of those morsels up there ever tried to court you before?" He lay on the ground, enjoying your scratch on his head.

"Not at all, my Lord. They never looked me at all, and since I know you, they avoided me."

"It feels me with pride then! That I'm the only one that had the chance and the right to court you properly!"

"You...courting me, my lord?" Your cheeks took a crimson shade, embarrassed but yet intrigued.

"But...why me? Of all the matches, why me?"

"Because you had made something that a few had done, you had intrigued me." His hand taking yours, covering them in kisses, "so say yes, bye mine forever. Let's live in peace!"

And so, with a kiss on his lips, you accepted.

///

He did keep his promise; he defeated the immortals that had been sent to capture him. He forced him to find a new strategy, giving him what he wanted!

And most definitely, he decided to have you have his own. His wife, his precious wife, was the only one that he really cared to have by his side.

You wanted to be more—not for everyone to acknowledge you, but for him. Rakshasi had you as her disciple. She taught you, and she was able to unlock your true potential. And he knew, and he loved you for that.

When you both returned to the Celestial Palace, he wanted people to greet you both, but your hopes weren't so high.

In their eyes, you were still a servant, and he was still just a monkey. That was something that they would never stop seeing.

But you learned that respect should be earned, not given, so you stopped being the respectful one. If someone offended you, you responded, well, know that now not only your own fury was feared, but the one of your husbands too.

///

"My love, this is wrong!" You tried to convince him, whispering between the peach trees. "We shouldn't! We should guard the immortal peaches! Not eating them!"

"AH!" He picked another one, giving it a huge bite. "I'm the Guardian! Why shouldn't I? And those knuckles head Will never noticed of a few have been eaten, my dear."

He extended the same peach, his mischievous eyes tempting you.

"You and I... We deserved more, my love. Why deny it?"

Yes, why? The immortals were never Just with both of you, that was the right payment that he deserved. Your mouth became full of the peach pulp, and soon the lips of the monkey claimed your now immortal ones.

You desecrated even the same soul of that orchad.

And soon, you both were meant to desecrate more.

///

When he learned from your former masters, the Seven Fairies, that you weren't invited to the banquet of the mother of the west, he was furious.

You were at his side when the Seven Maiden started to mock him and yourself.

"A stone monkey and his mate to the royal banquet? How absurd!"

"He can come and make a dance for us; she can serve us for sure!"

Their laugh was what enraged him the most. How dare they mock you in front of him?! How dare they make funny of the Great Sage wife?!

When the maidens were immobilized by his spell, by the look on his face, it was clear that he planned nothing but troubles.

When the two of you came in the Great All, he put everyone to sleep and then started to drink and eat everything that his eyes could possibly lay on.

"Wukong, this...this is not necessary! We should stop!"

"Stop?!" He looked at you, throwing away a cup full of wine. "They made me do it! They've never been fair to us! I won't stop! I refuse! Come, my beloved, let's drink and wine at their own expense! Let's feast! And when we're full, let's bring the rest to the children!"

And so you did; you drank and drank wine with him, uncertain of this action. The emperor... he would be enraged... but he was right, they treat you both poorly... still...

And so you drank, trying to put down your worries in the alcohol, afraid of the future. You tried to put at rest the fear. And so, Cup After Cup, you fell asleep. You didn't remember all; only your spouse brought you something shining in your mouth, with a huge grin on his face.

When you woke up, you were both back to your mountain, and your fear was true.

///

"I BEG YOU!" your head on the ground, like the first day you both met, "ask forgiveness! Do as they say! Don't bring your people to war! Do not harm them! Please!"

His swore brothers Look at you with pity while he keeps on looking at the thundering skies. He couldn't turn back down.

"My precious one, I refuse to beg for Mercy! I'll make them see what happens when they play against me!"

Then his eyes became gentle only when he looked at you. His hand cupped your face, looking at your crying eyes. How he hates to see your gorgeus face crying.

"Go with Who can't fight my beloved; stay with them! The world of war is not meant for you."

"If you refuse to beg for Mercy," you held his hands against your trembling chest, "then I'll fight with you."

///

And so you did; you did fight alongside him and his generals against the celestial army... but it wasn't enough.

Not against Erlang Shen.

When he was taken away, you were held hostage in the palace, forced to see the tortures and every plan to kill him. But in the world, nothing has ever worked.

When they put him in the Lao Tsu Trigram furnace, you thought they had lost him. No matter how much they torment you, no matter what pain, the thought of the loss of your husband was too. much to bear, but he wasn't dead; no, he became stronger.

Nothing could have beat him, and, for a moment, you really thought that he could become the new emperor...

But he played against more capable opponents.

///

You could still Hear him moving, struggling against the rock, gnawing at the mud, trying to get out and break free from the golden sigyl.

"You're hurting yourself more..."

"WAIT until I break free!"

"You won't..."

"Are you doubting me?! "

You get, starting to walk away, your cold expression couldn't even manage to hold his fiery eyes longer than a second.

"Where are you going?! Stop!"

"I'm going to find our people. They fled in the fight. I'll do what I can."

"We'll do it when I'll break free! WAIT!"

When you turned around, you were the one holding an enraged expression. Your fists were so tight that your hands were white, and your lovely (y/c) eyes were of a deep red color.

"I wanted you to stop! To reconsider it! But you didn't listen! We could have been happy and serene, but you... you just wanted more."

He wanted to scream back, but he heard it—your hiccups, your sobs.

"No, please! Don't cry! I can hold everything, but seeing you cry breaks me deeper." He struggled again to reach you, to console you, but another strike from the sigyl stopped him. You didn't want to hear him again; you just wanted to leave, and so you started to walk away again, ignoring his screams.

"PLEASE! I'll Fix Everything! I'LL DO IT! PRECIOUS ONE, PLEASE!"

///

As the seasons change, you change for the worst. You became something else.

Your power, once maid to help and protect, became cold like ice. Your colors disappear, pure white, like a ghost you became. You even started to forget your name.

With no one to come back, your people were hunted by the Celestials, abandoned, and hated by everyone. With no place to go, you became a demon.

For 500 years you prey on mortals, other demons, and such, until fate acts again and a monk and three pilgrims cross your path.

And your heart longed for two things: your husband and the flash of the Tang monk.

But your story was short-lived, you guessed.

///

Wukong held you in his arms, your fragile body against him. You were like a child, deep in slumber, while your old color started to come back.

He did what he could; he suffered enough, all for one thing: a second chance for you.

He sensed your struggle in your sleep, his footsteps echoing in the depths of Mount Huaguo.

"Shhhh...sleep..."

Yor hands grasped his tunic, feeling the rasp material under your finger.

"Wukong, I had... a dream."

"A Dream? It was good?"

"No, it was a nightmare. I did so many bad things... I hurt you and someone you care for."

He stayed silent, only holding you closer to him. "It was Just a Dream, my love...nothing more."

He laid you down on the altar, covering you with some furr. He stayed there, admiring your tired expression.

"Sleep now; when I'll be back, you'll tell me all."

"Where are you going?"

"...finish a job...but I'll come back soon, so do not fret. Your husband would never abandon you."

You smiled, feeling his lips caressing your forhead. You felt safer now; he would come back soon.

And so he closed the door made of rock of your secluded prison. A sygil, one similar to the one that he once had, and a spell made to you sleep.

He didn't noticed, but he started to weep while he was closing It.

///

He did it; he finished the job. He became Buddha; he obtained a position so secure that he could grant you and himself freedom.

But he was never meant to be free, wasn't he?

He wanted you out of this conflict; he tried to protect you, but you were so stubborn, so eager to protect the husband that had pulled you back from those 500 years of misery...and instead there you were, at the brink of death.

How ironic and unkind...

He felt something—a warm touch to his chest. Your palm emitted that kind light; you tried to use your power on him one more time. He held your hand and stopped you.

You were so tired and you looked at him. He seemed so tired...and yet he smiled.

It's fine. That's enough. No more.

In your last moment, you couldn't help but cry, sobbing, with one consolation of dying at his side.

He wanted to hold you close to him, tell you that everything would be okay, and not be scared because he was there with you. He could only caress your face, trying to stay closer to you, avoiding more pain from the arrows.

And while the divine light was ready to engulf you both, he prayed one last time.

He prays that, if his plan works out, to meet you again, to fix the mistakes of the past, and to tell you how much he love you one more time.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

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@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan

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stevieschrodinger · 2 months ago

Text

Part One TwentySix

Eddie climbs into the beemer, looking as hang dog as Steve has ever seen him, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie fiddles with his sweater cuffs, plucking at them with his finger nails, frowning, “we...speak English?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what the language is called, English.”

“And...many more? Languages? Lots and lots, right?”

“Yeah baby, that’s right, what’s wrong?” Steve grows increasingly more alarmed, Eddie actually looks like he might cry.

“I have to learn more? Learn all?”

“Oh! Oh no, not if you don’t want to. You could learn another one one day, but only if you want to.”

“Sure? Do you promise?”

“Yeah. Yes, baby, I promise. Just this one.”

Eddie sags in his seat, whole body crumpling with relief. Steve can’t help but laugh, but he does give Eddie’s hand a comforting squeeze.

Eddie gets into the beemer holding one massive fucking sunflower. Like, the head of the thing is just. Huge.

“Too big. Too different,” Eddie elaborates, “can’t sell it.”

“Well, that’s okay, it’ll fit in perfect on the coffee table,” Eddie nods affably at Steve’s suggestion.

“Stevie?” Steve hums to show he’s listening, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the car parking space. “Should we go to church?”

“Church?”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Eddie sounds the name carefully, “say she’s worried about my immortal soul.”

“Does she now. And who is Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

“She makes flower arrangements for church. Stevie? What’s an immortal soul?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “well. Uhm. So there’s...some people believe that there’s God, and heaven and hell and stuff like that. And there’s loads of religions, like with languages, lots of places have different ones and...God is kind of like...do you remember El explaining about Santa at Christmas?”

“Yes. He has a beard and reindeer and choose if you’re good, then gifts. Not real though, fun for kids believe.”

“Yeah. Yeah God is like that, but for grown-ups. And instead of gifts you get into heaven when you die.” Steve sees Eddie’s face crinkle up in his peripheral vision, “actually, you know what, I bet there’s a book about this, library detour?”

Eddie nods, humming agreeably.

The book on religions they find at the library is probably, now, a little below Eddie’s reading level, but it seemed like the best option at the time. When Eddie looks up from it and asks, “think The Upside Down is hell?” Steve sort of regrets the idea of a book.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Hell's probably more like, fire. And brimstone. And I never once saw a little demon with a pitchfork. Also, and I know this for absolute certain, there’s no way someone as good as you comes from Hell.”

“Oh.”

“I think...it’s up to you want you want to decide baby, you read as much as you like, and you think about it, but I think it’s made up, like a-” Steve hesitates over actually saying 'fairy tale', since he’s talking to a guy who, literally, is like a character from one of those stories, “like something that’s made up," He finishes lamely. "Anyway, forget the book, come up here, I haven’t won the kissing game for a couple of days and I’m feeling lucky.”

Eddie leaves the book, forgotten for a while, and Steve decides the first chance he gets he’s taking that one back.

“Stevie!” Eddie bursts through the door of family video, luckily it’s the middle of the day and the place is dead. He breezes straight past Steve and presents four pink roses to Robin, “from Chrissy,” he tells her, causing a spectacular blush to form on Robins cheeks before she sinks down behind the counter.

Eddie completely ignores her. “Knock knock.”

“Who's there?” Steve asks reflexively.

“Eddie with some flowers,” Eddie says proudly, and then promptly bursts out laughing.

“Uhm...Eddie with some flowers who?”

“What?” Eddie looks confused.

“...what?” Steve asks, feeling as confused as Eddie looks.

Eddie brightens again a second later, “knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Steve asks again, cautious this time.

“Family Video.”

“Family video...who?”

“Family video not house!” Eddie declares, and then laughs uproariously.

From behind the counter, Robin Whispers, “what is happening?”

“I have...absolutely no idea,” Steve answers, right before Eddie starts again on another nonsensical knock knock joke.

There isn’t much that Eddie does that annoys Steve, to be fair, there’s not really anything. But this. By the time he gets home he’s had enough of Eddie’s one man comedy act. “Joyce,” he hisses down the phone desperately, “you don’t understand how shit they are; they don’t even mean anything.”

She has the audacity to laugh at him, “I remember the boys going through that phase. They both did it when they were...four? Maybe Jon was five.”

“How long does it last???”

“Oh, I don’t know, few months maybe, off and on?”

Steve, very gently, bangs his forehead against the wall.

Eddie’s holding a bunch of something pink and only, maybe, a tiny bit wilted. He’s bright eyed as he gets into the car, “Stevie, Chrissy say at me about a new thing. We can try?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?” Steve has the car in reverse, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the spot.

“Blowjobs.”

Steve’s really pleased with how well he just...doesn’t react to that. Because, truthfully, he’s thought about it. He has. Really. But...well. Eddie’s teeth are sharp. And it’s not that Steve thinks Eddie would ever, ever hurt him on purpose, but that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have some, potentially, unresolved toe loss related trauma. And then there’s Eddie’s dick, and how...wriggly it is. How the end opens up and the...well. Just the whole thing, really.

“Stevie?”

“Why...are you and Chrissy talking about blowjobs?”

Eddie shrugs, “Chrissy not really like them, she ask if I liked them. I say I not try them. She said…” Eddie frowns, thinking, “she said, ‘you never get a blowjob?’ and got...angry sad? At Stevie?”

“Oh, she thought I was getting blowjobs but never giving you blowjobs?” Steve can, vaguely, feel his eye starting to twitch. He also can’t help but be fucking irritated with Chrissy, not only is it not her business, but he also can’t really be annoyed with her because...really if that’s what she was worried about, she is only sticking up for Eddie. He’s so naive, there’s no way Chrissy hasn’t picked up on just how innocent Eddie is, so Steve can't really blame her for thinking that anyone could take advantage of Eddie.

Even if it is fucking annoying.

“Yes, but I tell her no blow jobs at all. But we can try now, right?”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Sure. Uh hu.”

Eddie nods, “when we get home.”

“Right,” Steve says, with far more confidence than he feels.

“Stevie? Why not tell about blowjobs before?”

Steve hums, “just kind of...was saving it for a special occasion?” He tries desperately, he can’t look at Eddie as he speaks, keeping his eyes on the road, “didn’t want to go through all the good stuff too fast, you know?”

“Oh okay.”

Eddie limpets himself to Steve the second they’re over the threshold, demanding kisses, his fingers already exploring around Steve’s jeans button, “hang on hang on, couch or bed?”

“Couch,” Eddie answers easily, still kissing Steve as they walk awkwardly though the house. Steve sits, letting Eddie kneel between his legs, fumbling with his zipper.

And, the thing is, Steve really, genuinely believed he could do this. He trusts Eddie, he does. He loves Eddie, really, but he’s not even half hard when Eddie gets him out. And like Eddie...is, he tends to just go for things. Steve catches sight of the teeth and just...can’t. His hands are in Eddie’s way and he’s tucking himself away again before he can really think about it, “could we, maybe, leave this until...later?”

Eddie pouts, “want to try.”

“I just, I don’t want to do this right now, okay?” And the guilt Steve feels is a live thing. He remembers so clearly when he’d been frightened of Eddie’s dick, and how upset Eddie had been. That same fear raises it’s ugly head.

“But why? Chrissy tell me boys really like it-”

“I mean, I do. Kind of. But I just think we could...not do this.”

“But Chrissy say-”

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” Steve snaps, getting angry now. He’s not going to be prodded into doing something he just doesn’t want to do. Especially not by Chrissy Cunningham. “Since you’ve been working with her it’s been Chrissy this and Chrissy that, can’t you just, leave it? For once?” Steve gets up, needing to be away from this conversation.

“But why?”

“Because I just don’t want to, okay? Why don’t you go and ask Chrissy since she knows everything,” Steve snaps again, he knows he’s snapping, and it’s just making him angrier at himself for reacting this way, but he can’t seem to stop himself, defensiveness fueled by the guilt eating at him.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, hands on hips, frowning from the doorway.

“Go then. Go ask her what I should do about it.”

Eddie’s frown is nuclear now as he faces Steve across the kitchen, he tries to speak, half formed words at first, Eddie clearly struggling as he gets upset, “you think? You think?? You promise forever! Stee scared of Eddidie more! Eddidie different! Stee tell away!”

“You are though, you are different!” Steve knows he's wrong the second he says it. He knows Eddie well enough that saying that in anger is a cheap shot, and unforgivable low blow.

Eddie’s mouth pops open, shocked and affronted. He goes to speak but just...doesn’t. He turns and leaves...Steve hears the front door go.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs to himself, angry and upset with himself, the fight goes out of him as he’s swamped by guilt. Steve makes himself move to follow Eddie out. He opens the door just in time to watch Eddie pull the beemer out of the driveway, “oh fuck.”

“There’s pretty much only one place he would go, I think.” Steve tells Hopper, “so I’m pretty sure he will be there.”

Hopper hums from the drivers seat, “and what exactly did you two fight about?”

“I...well. I think this is one of those times where you don’t ask unless you’re really sure you want to know.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, there it is,” Steve breathes a massive sigh of relief, the beemer is parked near the florist. Tight to the curb too, a good parking job, and there’s not a single mark on her. The florists however, is shut for the day.

Steve bangs on the door, peering through the glass. It’s dark inside, but there’s some light shining through that little door in the back. Steve knocks on the glass again, and eventually Chrissy appears. She unlocks the door, immediately telling Steve, “he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Kid, can I go?” Hopper calls from where he’s half tucked the truck out of the way.

“Yeah,” Steve waves him off, turning back to Chrissy, “I need to apologize to him. Please.”

She scowls and makes a vague humphing noise at him, “fine,” Steve slips awkwardly through the gap Chrissy allows him, and once in she locks the door behind him. Steve follows her into the shop, “Eddie, I’m putting some stuff in the car out back, you come get me if you need me, okay?”

Steve comes around the doorway to see Eddie nodding sadly, he’s sitting in what must be their tiny break room. There’s two chairs and a beat up Formica top table, a little electric kettle on top of a under counter refrigerator. Eddie’s got a scrunched up wad of tissues in his hand where he’s clearly been crying.

“Hi Eddie,” Eddie fiddles with his tissues and keeps his eyes on his knees, not looking at Steve, so he pulls up the other chair, “I’m really sorry.” Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just,” Steve sighs, rubbing at his face roughly, “I did get scared okay? But I shouldn’t have...I should have just explained, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Eddie nods, shredding the tissue, “I sorry too.”

“It’s...not you're fault. Not really. I just...Eddie, your teeth are really sharp you know, and my dick is...my dick. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, okay, I know that but…”

“Chri-” Eddie bites it back, and stops speaking again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that too. It’s good you have a friend okay? It’s good she’s...teaching you things I haven’t thought of. It’s…you can talk about Chrissy, it’s fine.”

“Chrissy say...no people should do anything they don’t want to. Especially with sex stuff...so Eddie a bit wrong,” he sniffles, “but she help me dig hole anyway.”

“What hole?”

“For your body. Dead soon, but that...kind of funny joke?”

Eddie says it in a way that means he did not find it funny at all, and Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah. Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

They sit in silence for another minute before Steve offers, “you did a really good job of parking the car...do you want to drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stands, and so does Steve, and then they both move in for a hug at the same time, Eddie desperately throwing his arms around Steve's shoulders and holding him as tight as he can.

Steve swears to himself he’s going to do better with this stuff, and lets himself nose at Eddie’s ear, his skin tickled by Eddie’s new curls.

Eddie answers the phone, “Harrington residence,” he says carefully.

Steve watches him frown for a second, before he says, “yes, wait please,” and then offers the phone to Steve, “doctors.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Steve takes the phone, confirming his address and date of birth, before the lady tells him his test results are ready to pick up.

He hangs up, and Eddie’s there, offering him a pen, “that your birthday?”

“I- yeah. Yeah it was.”

Eddie nods, “should be on calendar before, Stevie,” Eddie admonishes gently.

“Okay, I’ll do it now, and then we can go get my results, okay?”

Eddie nods, “no more condoms,” he says solemnly.

Steve snorts a startled laugh.

There’s a frantic banging on the front door, then the bell rings. The bell rings again before Steve can even clamber up off the couch. It’s Eddie and Chrissy, and they hustle into the house before Steve even has the door all the way open.

Steve’s already alarmed, he isn’t due to pick Eddie up for another hour at least, and Chrissy wouldn’t just close the store unless it was an emergency.

“What happened?”

“There was a man,” Chrissy explains a little breathless, “Eddie hid behind the counter the second he saw him, and I’m sure he didn’t see Eddie, I’m sure. But he was asking questions. If a young man worked at the store, weird things about Starcourt. I just kept telling him no Steve but- he’s definitely looking for Eddie.”

Steve feels a mounting sense of dread as she speaks, “Eddie, did you know him?”

Eddie nods, looking frightened, “Starcourt. When I was in tank.”

“Tank?” Chrissy pulls a face, “what tank?”

“Uhm,” Steve suddenly realizes that Chrissy maybe shouldn’t be here for this part, Steve definitely needs to call Hopper, “Chrissy, thank you, but maybe you should go-”

“Absolutely not. Not if Eddie’s in trouble-”

“Okay, but the thing is-”

“Steve.” Chrissy huffs, “I know, okay?”

“You know...what?”

“I don’t know!” She flails a little, “I don’t know what I don’t know! But I do know that Eddie had never heard of the moon landing! He didn’t know that the guy on the five dollars is Abraham Lincoln! He didn’t know that other languages exist and he certainly can’t speak anything other than English even though, according to you,” she pokes Steve in the chest, “he should be able to speak Finnish! And he can’t!”

She’s getting worked up now, and Steve finds himself taking a step back, his hands up in defeat. For a tiny cheerleader, Chrissy’s kind of scary.

“He can find one bug in a delivery of a hundred stems Steve! And do you know how, he told me he can hear them! Hear them! I’ve watched him trim anything from daises to roses to full on sunflowers with his thumbnails Steve! He can cut baler twine with them. And don’t get me started on the florist wire, do you know what he does with that? He just straight up fucking bites through it!” Chrissy gets louder and pinker the longer she rants.

“He came to work with a mashed potato sandwich, like that's normal!! His tears are fucking brown! Brown! Those fingernails, that’s not polish, they’ve never been chipped, not once, they just grow that way, right? And I might be a blonde cheerleader but I am not stupid. So no. Okay, no. I don’t know what Eddie is. But I do know he’s my godamn best friend and if he’s in trouble, I want to help, okay?”

She’s all bright eyed and kind of breathless, and just a little terrifying. Eddie’s got his hands up in front of himself, nervously pulling at the threads of his cuffs, eyes big and worried as they slide back and forth between Steve and Chrissy.

Steve sighs, “okay. Okay. We can explain, but I just...I need to make a call first.”

Part TwentyEight

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #robin buckly #chrissy cunningham #buckingham

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wholoveseggs · 8 months ago

Note

Me again :) I'm just requesting those as they come to me, so feel free to ignore. How about Elijah and reader being in a relationship, but Elijah being pretty vanilla and gentle in the bedroom. So, reader sits him down to share each other's desires and kinks. He finally opens up, revealing a world of dirty thoughts inside his mind, one of them being da breeding kink. I picture it very conversation driven as they build tension.

Fantasies

gif credit @winchesster

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You get Elijah to open up about his desires and he discovers a few of yours, leading to a night of fun and exploration.

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet @originals23 I adore all of your requests ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smutttt, discussions of kinks & sex, lots of cum & orgasms, praise, breeding kink, public sex, fingering...

When you started dating Elijah, you expected a lot of things. You expected him to be the perfect gentleman and he was. You expected him to be kind and considerate and he was. And you expected him to be the perfect, loving partner and... Well, he was that too. He was everything you wanted and more, but sometimes... Sometimes, he was a little too gentle.

The first time you had sex with him it surprised you, mostly just how sweet and tender it was. He had you on your back, pressed into the mattress as he made love to you, taking his time, kissing your lips, your neck, and even your forehead before he came. You didn't expect it and you had to admit it was a little frustrating.

He was one thousand years old, an immortal creature of immense power, a man that had seen and experienced so many things, and yet, in bed he was just… the complete opposite. He was a soft lover, a romantic, a gentleman in the bedroom and you adored him for that, but there were times when you wanted more.

At first, you chalked it up to him wanting to make sure you felt good, but it soon became clear it was just the way he was. He wasn't shy, not exactly, but he wasn't open about his desires either. He was quiet in bed, mostly just letting out the occasional groan. The wildest thing he had done with you was smack you on the ass while you were riding him and, well, that just wasn't enough. You loved him so much, and you wanted to explore your sexual fantasies with him, but... You didn't know how to tell him.

All of this was on your mind when the two of you were at Rousseau's, cozied up in a quiet corner booth, drinking bourbon and chatting about everything and nothing at all. His arm was draped behind you on the booth, his hand idly stroking the nape of your neck and he was laughing, a deep and beautiful sound, his head tipped back as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

You loved this version of him. Relaxed and happy, with no care in the world, no responsibilities, no Mikaelson family drama, no nothing. Just the two of you and your love.

You'd had a few drinks, making you extra chatty. Your hand was on his knee and you were leaning against him, telling him some long winded story about something. You couldn't quite remember what it was, because his fingers kept brushing the nape of your neck and distracting you.

He noticed, of course, and when you trailed off and fell silent, he leaned down and whispered, "What's on your mind?"

"I..." You shook your head and finished your drink, setting it down on the table a little harder than necessary. "Can I ask you a question?" You said softly, turning towards him, your eyes flicking from his lips up to his eyes.

"Of course." He smiled at you, his eyes sparkling. "Anything."

"You tell me all these interesting stories about your past, but you never talk about... your... uh… sex life." You flushed red, stumbling over your words. You had no idea why you were so nervous. He had touched on the subject a few times, but never in any sort of detail.

He chuckled, looking away briefly, his smile growing, the corners of his eyes crinkling once again. "You want me to kiss and tell?" He asked, amusement in his voice.

"Yes. No. I don't know." You huffed, reaching for his hand, needing some kind of connection to him. "It's just... We've been dating for a while and... Well, I feel like I know almost nothing about your desires. Like… what you're into."

He took a sip of his drink, watching you curiously. "Tell me yours first," he said. "Then I'll share mine."

"Mine?"

"Yes, yours." He chuckled. "We all have them, don't we? Fantasies we like to indulge in."

"I... sure, I have them." You bit your lip. You knew your face was bright red.

"What is the wildest thing you've done?"

You hesitated, thinking about your past. You'd never been in a serious relationship before and the only thing that had been somewhat close was the occasional hookup, but those were few and far between.

"Uh... Well, this one guy I dated really liked roleplaying, so we used to pretend to be strangers in public places and stuff." You felt your cheeks flush as you looked down at the table, avoiding his eyes. "It was... It was fun."

"What else?" He was leaning back, relaxed, watching you intently, but there was something about the way he was staring at you that sent heat straight to your core.

"It's your turn," you said quickly, wanting to steer the subject away from you. "Tell me about one of yours."

"Mine?" He smiled that knowing smile of his, his eyes sparkling, but he didn't hesitate to answer. "I enjoy watching."

"Watching?"

"Yes. Watching." He laughed, finishing his drink. "There was a witch I was with for a short while and she would touch herself while I watched."

"Oh." You shifted in your seat, biting your lip. "And... And did you touch yourself too?"

"Sometimes," He set his empty glass down on the table and leaned back, stretching his arms out over the back of the booth. "Other times I would simply enjoy the show."

"That sounds hot." You licked your lips, picturing him sitting back and stroking his cock, watching some naked girl touching herself.

"It was." He turned his head towards you and looked you up and down, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your turn, tell me a fantasy of yours,” he said, his voice a low purr.

"Oh, okay." You shifted in your seat again, fidgeting. This whole thing was getting a bit intimidating.

"Come now, don't be shy." He said softly, his hand brushing against your arm. "I told you mine, didn't I?"

"Fine, fine, uh..." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You weren't embarrassed, not exactly, but it was hard to open up. This wasn't exactly going the way you planned. "I've always wanted to... I've always wanted to be dominated, but like nothing too rough, just..." You paused, taking a shaky breath. "I don't know how to explain it, but I've always had this fantasy of a man pinning me down, making me do whatever he wants, making me submit."

"Is that so?" He asked, his hand settling on your shoulder. His touch was light and gentle, but his fingers squeezed lightly. "Have you ever done that before?"

"Not really. You have to really trust someone to let them have control." You opened your eyes and found him looking at you, his eyes dark, his lips parted slightly. "Also, some men just aren't very good at it, they have to enjoy it as well."

Elijah chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That is very true."

"What about you?" You asked, your eyes searching his. "Have you ever...?"

"Done what you just described?" He cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. "I've been on both sides plenty of times, but I prefer the dominant role. I find it..." He trailed off, his eyes roaming over you, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your thighs, the swell of your breasts. "I find it very appealing."

"Of course you do," you teased, relaxing a bit. "What else do you like?"

"Well, now, I couldn't possibly reveal all my secrets to you, could I?" He said, his hand settling on your thigh, his thumb stroking the skin there.

"What is a kink if not a secret?" You laughed, reaching out to touch him, sliding your hand under his jacket and rubbing his chest. "What about, uh, what's the most bizarre thing you've ever done?"

"That would depend on what your definition of bizarre is," he grinned, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. "I've had sex with vampires, witches, werewolves, humans..."

"No, not what," you rolled your eyes, trying not to giggle. "I mean... I don't know... Like... What's the wildest kink you've ever explored?"

"Ah." His eyes sparkled as he moved closer to you, his hand slowly inching lower. "Are you sure you're ready to hear it?"

"Yes, of course." You shifted, spreading your legs apart for him, wanting him to touch you.

"Hmm, maybe another time." He slid his hand higher, his palm pressing against your pussy. "I'd like to hear another one of yours."

"Elijah..." You sighed, moving your hips, rubbing against his hand.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

"Fine, okay." You closed your eyes and leaned back against the booth, focusing on his hand, his fingers. "There was this one time, with this one guy..." You gasped, his fingers pressing against your panties, stroking you.

"Yes?"

"He wanted to... To come inside me and... I didn't let him, obviously." You opened your eyes and glanced at him, finding him watching you, his eyes dark and intense. "But... I've thought about it a lot since then."

"Oh?" His fingers slid beneath your panties and he groaned, feeling how wet you were. "You're soaking," he murmured, his eyes still locked on yours. "Tell me more."

You could tell by the look on his face that this was definitely something he was into, his eyes burning, his lips slightly parted. "He said he wanted to fill me up," you said softly, biting your lip, trying to ignore his fingers. "He wanted to make sure I was... uh... filled with his cum," you whispered, feeling yourself blush. "I told him no, but... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Is that so?" His fingers brushed against your clit, making you whimper. His lips were inches from yours, his breath hot and sweet.

"Yes," you moaned, closing your eyes, your hands gripping the edge of the booth. "I would think about him, about what he'd do if I let him."

"Would you like to explore that with me? This fantasy?" He asked, his thumb circling your clit, his fingers teasing your opening. "I'd love to try it with you," he whispered, his tongue licking the shell of your ear.

"Yes," you whimpered, spreading your legs wider, wanting more.

"What would you like me to do?" He asked, his teeth gently tugging on your ear.

"I'd like you to... To pin me down and..." You took a deep breath and forced yourself to say the words, knowing that's what he wanted to hear. "To fuck me, fill me up with your cum, and leave me a mess."

"A mess?" He laughed, his fingers slipping into your cunt, pumping in and out. "Like you are right now?"

His lips were still by your ear and you could hear the smirk in his voice, his fingers pumping firmly, you gripped his arm, squeezing him tightly.

"Wait. Eli- someone could catch us," you gasped, glancing around the bar. You couldn't see anyone watching, but there were still a few patrons at the bar.

"Relax, no one can see you." He kissed your neck, his thumb stroking your clit, his fingers fucking you. "Now tell me," he murmured, his tongue sliding over the soft skin of your throat. "Would you like that? To be left a mess, your thighs slick with my cum, your pretty pussy dripping?" His teeth scraped across your skin and you shivered, unable to hold back a moan.

"Answer me, darling." His fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "Would you like that?" He asked again, his lips trailing lower. "For me to fuck you, make you mine, claim you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, bucking against his hand. You couldn't remember ever being this wet. "Yes, yes, please," you moaned, your nails digging into his forearm.

"You have to stay quiet baby," he said softly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. "Can you do that?" His thumb pressed against your clit and you couldn't help but cry out, a loud moan slipping past your lips.

He chucked, his hand stilling inside you, his other hand cupping your jaw, turning your face towards him. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted. He kissed you, adding a third finger, stretching you. You couldn't take it anymore, your orgasm crashing through you, moaning into his mouth.

"Elijah," you whined, breaking the kiss. You were still shaking, his fingers still inside you, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Fuck," you gasped, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go. You had completely forgotten where you were. Thankfully the bar was practically empty, only a couple of people around, no one sitting near you, but it was still a public place and you were completely exposed.

He smiled, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean. "We should be getting home." He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Yeah, yeah, we should." You sat up, adjusting your skirt, smoothing it out. You were still shaking, still wet. He was watching you with amusement, he had never seen you so turned on. "You should call a car," you said, not meeting his eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and you could feel your heart beating in your chest.

"I could." He reached for his phone and started typing out a text. "Or I could get a hotel room." He looked up from his phone and smirked at you. "You can finish telling me about your fantasies," His eyes raked over you, his smile growing. "Unless you'd rather just show me." He winked and hit send, his phone vibrating immediately with a reply. "Car's on the way," he said, standing up. "Shall we?"

He led you outside and you followed him blindly, not saying a word. It was late and the streets were mostly empty, the streetlamps casting a warm glow over the city. The wetness between your thighs was cooling and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elijah put his jacket around your shoulders, taking your hand and leading you to the waiting car. He opened the door and helped you in, sliding into the seat next to you. You sat silently, staring out the windows as the driver took you to the hotel.

"I can't believe we did that," you whispered, a bit nervous.

He kissed the side of your head, intertwining his hand with yours and bringing it to his lips, "I guess we both enjoy a bit of exhibitionism,"

The hotel he rented was incredibly fancy. The lobby was massive, filled with plush chairs and couches, a grand piano in the corner, soft music playing in the background. You stood by the desk, Elijah talking with the receptionist, signing papers, making arrangements.

To the untrained eye he looked the picture of composure, but you could see how worked up he was, his shirt slightly rumpled, his tie loose. You could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his hand on the small of your back. The two of you barely spoke the whole way here, both of you eager for what was to come.

The room was on the top floor, overlooking the city, the lights sparkling. You took in the sights, admiring the view, before turning towards Elijah, smiling. He sat on the bed, pouring two glasses of champagne. He held out a glass to you and you took it, taking a sip.

"This is nice," you said softly, setting the glass down on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt nervous now, you didn't know what to expect from him.

"It is," he said, his voice soft. His fingers trailed up your leg, "come here" he gestured, and you obliged, moving to straddle his lap, his hands on your hips.

You kissed him, his lips warm and soft, his beard tickling your face. He pulled away, smiling, and kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You moaned, grinding against him, his cock hard beneath his pants. He slowly peeled your clothing off, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes roamed your naked form, his gaze hungrier than ever. He lowered his mouth to your breast and swirled his tongue around your nipple, sucking on it lightly. With his other hand he gently massaged your other breast. You moaned softly, your head falling back as he worshiped your body.

He looked up at you, admiring your flushed skin, half-lidded eyes and puffy, pink lips. He couldn't wait to fill you with his cum, have you dripping and full.

His hand went up your thigh and dipped below the waistband of your panties. His finger slid between your pussy lips, gathering your arousal, before moving up to circle your clit. You moaned, grinding your hips, chasing the pleasure.

He hummed in approval, watching your face as he teased your clit, before pushing two fingers inside. He pumped them in and out, curling them slightly, searching for that sweet spot.

You gasped as he found it, clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"I can feel how you tighten when I touch here," he whispered, his lips against your ear, his fingers pumping firmly. "Your pussy will milk my cock so well, won't it?"

You whimpered, feeling yourself grow closer. His thumb brushed against your clit, his fingers never ceasing. You arched your back, bucking your hips, your body begging for release.

"I didn't hear you," he said in a soft lilt, his lips ghosting along your neck.

"Yes, yes, it will," you moaned, panting heavily.

He smiled and pulled his hand away, making you whine at the loss, he left you so worked up. You felt his erection twitch against you, his hands gripping your hips.

"You'll have to be a good girl for me, won't you?" He said, his voice husky. "So I can give you what you need."

"Yes." You sighed, your fingers working at his tie, struggling to undo it. His words making you flustered, he had never been much of a talker in bed before. This vocal, dominant side of him had you reeling, the way he was speaking to you, touching you. It was driving you mad, and you needed more.

He watched you pull his tie off, his hands on your hips as you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Your fingers finally succeeded, pushing his shirt open and running your hands over his chest. You leaned in and kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip.

He broke the kiss and grinned at you, suddenly flipping you over onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He looked down at you, his gaze hungry, his eyes dark. You reached out, grabbing his belt, undoing the buckle, wanting to feel him. He leaned back, letting you, his cock straining against his pants.

You pulled his belt off and threw it aside, his pants and boxers quickly following. You stared at him, becoming wetter from the sight, he was so beautiful, so big, his cock was thick and long, already hard, a drop of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

He smirked at you and reached down, taking himself in his hand, slowly stroking.

"Touch yourself," he said, his hand moving up and down. "I want to watch you."

You bit your lip and obeyed, opening your legs, running your fingers along your pussy, gasping as they glided over your clit. He smiled, his gaze heavy, his eyes hooded.

"That's a good girl," he praised, his hand speeding up, his grip tightening. "Does that feel good? Do you like it?"

"Yes," you whimpered, nodding eagerly. You couldn't believe how much his words were affecting you, your fingers slipping inside, the sight of him above you, stroking himself, it was too much.

"I bet it does." His voice was thick, his breathing heavy. "You look so beautiful when you're enjoying yourself."

You couldn't help but smile, blushing at the compliment. He smiled back, letting go of himself and crawling over you, his cock brushing against your core. He kissed you, his lips soft and warm, his hands roaming down your thighs, lifting them up, pressing them into your chest. Your hips sprung up and he tapped his cock against your pussy, his hips grinding into yours. You groaned, the friction making your cunt ache. He continued to tease you, his cock sliding over your clit, your wetness smearing all over his length.

He kissed you again, his lips bruising, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He grabbed his cock, lining himself up, the head of his cock spreading you open. He pushed in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands found yours, intertwining and pressing them down onto the mattress.

He groaned, burying himself to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust, before starting to move, his hips moving slowly, rocking back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of you. The sight of him above you, his hair disheveled, his chest rising and falling with his breathing, his eyes locked on yours, was almost enough to make you come.

He kept a slow pace, his cock stretching you, filling you, his hips rolling into yours. The hot, wet sounds of your pussy making him groan.

He let go of one of your hands, his free hand reaching down, his thumb brushing over your clit. You gripped his forearm, holding onto him, your eyes locked on his, as you both lost yourself in the pleasure.

He was letting out these soft groans and grunts, his jaw clenched, his breathing heavy. His hips were starting to falter, his cock twitching inside you. He was so close.

He leaned forward and kissed you, his hand squeezing yours. You felt him tense, his hips thrusting forward sharply, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a strangled groan, his body shuddering, his cock pulsing, filling you with his cum.

You looked down, watching as he pulled out, a string of cum connecting you, his fingers pushing inside, fucking his cum into you, his thumb circling your clit.

He leaned forward, kissing you deeply, his fingers pumping in and out, his thumb teasing your clit.

"That's it," he murmured against your lips. "Such a good girl, letting me fill you."

You could feel his erection pressed against you, he was still so turned on. You could feel the pressure building, his fingers pushing into you, his thumb stroking your clit, filthy wet noises coming from between your thighs.

He pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his cock, your combined fluids slick and warm, dripping down your thighs. You groaned, his cock sliding back inside you easily, his hips meeting yours, his body flush against you.

He pushed your legs up further and you hooked your arms under your knees, spreading yourself open for him.

You watched his thick cock sliding in and out of you, a trail of white fluid clinging to his cock every time he pulled out. The sight of it was enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through you, a strangled cry falling from your lips.

"That's it baby, squeeze my cock." His voice was low, his breath hot against your ear.

Your pussy pulsed around him, your orgasm continuing, making you feel like you were floating.

He buried his cock deep, his hips circling, his pelvis brushing against your clit, another wave of pleasure washing over you, the aftershocks of your orgasm intensifying. You felt his cock twitch, his hips jerking forward, a fresh wave of cum filling you.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his cock pumping his cum into you, his body shaking, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. He kissed you, his lips soft, his tongue slipping past yours.

He continued to rock his hips, his cock throbbing inside you, his cum spilling out, trickling down your ass, soaking the sheets. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, your hips moving in tandem with his. You wanted to stay like this forever, to keep him inside you, his cum warming you.

"Elijah," you whimpered, your pussy clenching around his cock.

He chuckled, kissing you slowly, his tongue exploring your mouth.

"You like being filled, don't you baby?"

You nodded, feeling a fresh wave of arousal hit you, your pussy growing wetter.

He grinned, kissing you again, his hips grinding against yours. You gasped as his cock brushed against that spot inside you, the pleasure building. He started to move again, his pace slow and deep, his lips never leaving yours.

"I'm going to keep filling you, until you can't take anymore." He whispered, his voice heavy, his hips thrusting forward, his cock hitting that spot again, sending shivers up your spine. "You want that don't you?"

"Yes," you whined, feeling a bit dizzy. You felt so full, so warm, your cunt was stretched so tight. His cock was rubbing against all the right spots, his lips brushing against yours, his beard tickling your skin.

"Do you want to have my baby?" He asked, his lips ghosting along your neck, his teeth nipping at the tender skin. "Want to have me pumping you full, filling you, making sure my baby grows?"

"God, yes." You gasped, his words making you moan. He was so close to you, his body covering yours, his cock buried inside you, his hot breath fanning over your face.

He leaned back, his cock coated in white, pulling out slowly, before pushing back in, a low moan escaping his lips. He was so turned on, his eyes hooded, his cheeks flushed, his pupils blown.

"Look at your perfect pussy." He growled, his eyes fixed on the place where you were joined, his cock covered in your combined fluids. "You're so full, aren't you? My cum spilling out of you."

He was fucking you so slowly, his hips rolling into yours, his cock stretching you. It was too much, too intense, you couldn't take it. You reached down and rubbed your clit, desperate to find release, desperate for him.

He grinned, watching you touch yourself, his eyes glued to your face, your eyes screwed shut, your mouth falling open. He started to fuck you faster, his cock pounding into you, his pace rough and demanding.

You felt yourself start to fall apart, the pressure building, your clit throbbing. He was pounding you so hard, so deep, his hips snapping forward, his cock bottoming out.

He kissed you again, his lips hot and slick, his tongue caressing yours. You moaned into his mouth, another orgasm hitting you, making you see stars, your pussy clamping down on his cock. He groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock swelling inside you before releasing another hot load of cum, your combined fluids spilling out, pooling between your thighs.

He kept moving, fucking you through your orgasm, his pace slower, his hips circling, riding out his own release.

His hips stilled, his cock resting inside you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He let out a low moan, his cock twitching, the last of his cum filling you.

You watched him slowly pull out, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, more white fluid pouring from his cock. He groaned, tapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit as he softened, his cum dripping onto your stomach.

You were still reeling, your whole body tingling. You felt so empty, so warm, his cum coating your thighs.

He kissed you again, his hand moving up to stroke your cheek, his other hand resting on your thigh.

"You were so good for me." He said softly, his voice hoarse, his eyes meeting yours. "So beautiful."

You blushed, smiling up at him, the praise washing over you. He smiled back, leaning in, his lips brushing against yours, his kiss tender and sweet. He moved off the bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth.

He cleaned you gently, wiping away the mess, before lying down next to you, pulling the covers up over both of you. He held you close, his hand stroking your back, his breath warm against your skin.

"There are so many fantasies to explore," he murmured against your skin. "So much for us to try."

"Oh yeah?" You asked, running your hands over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the marks your nails had left. "Like what?"

He grinned, his hand trailing down your side, cupping your ass.

"Well, I did have this idea for next time…" he said, his voice low.

You laughed, pressing closer to him. You loved him so much, and knew there was a lot more love to give. You were already looking forward to his next fantasy, and hoped he was looking forward to yours.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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bouncybongfairy · 8 months ago

Text

Not A Peep

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You're a medic on Task Force 141 and Ghost finds out you have a thing for him when you get flustered stitching him up. Once you guys get back to the barracks, he fucks your throat under a desk.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Dom Ghost, Face Fucking, Rough Smut, BJ Under Desk

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was easy to separate yourself from all the stories being told while studying to be a combat medic. Tales about women falling for soldiers and then being immortally traumatized from watching the war take its effect on him. Whether it be emotionally or physically, the horror stories were gruesome. One teacher talked about how she had to treat her fiance after he’d been shot in the arm, apparently it fucked her up for a while. In a way, you would mock the fact that anyone would put themselves in that situation. Falling in love with someone with such a high risk job. It seemed like common sense not to put your heart on the line, especially when it could affect your job.

That was until I met Simon and you started to understand that those wives tales weren’t so far fetched. The two of you didn’t talk much but it always felt like there was so much tension. Constantly making eye contact, becoming flustered and tongue tied whenever he spoke to you. Avoiding him when you could, not liking the feeling of your heart racing when you did. He held so much emotion in his eyes, like he was projecting his thoughts through eye contact. On a recent mission, a bullet brushed past the area above his hip bone; creating a laceration that needed stitches. Barding into the tent and pulling his pants down and shedding his gear.

Immediately you get on your knees, pulling everything you needed to treat him out of your tactical vest. Looking up just before starting the first stitch, he was already looking down at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were narrowed onto you. Blood was running down, trailing down the contour of his v-line. Hands started shaking slightly, especially as he started to moan and curse in pain. Even though you were fully aware his reaction was from discomfort, you couldn’t but imagine if it… wasn’t.

He was watching you like a hawk, swiveling his head to watch you whenever you grabbed gauze. All hope that he didn’t notice you acting flustered was ditched when you started feeling dizzy, swaying a little. He grabbed your arm to prevent you from falling, your partner taking over. Now back in the barracks, you took a long hot shower. Trying to figure out why you got so in your head, the water began to run cold. Prompting you to get out and get dressed, walking back into your room. Ghost who was stripped of gear, laying back on the bed supporting his weight with his elbows.

“Do you need me to redress that for you?” you asked, assuming he was waiting to see you about his wound.

“No. Do you need me to undress you?” he asked, sitting up.

“I- What?” you asked, taken off guard.

“Do you. Need me to. Undress you?” he asked slower, like you were too dumb to answer the question.

“I don’t understand-” you began saying.

“No no, I saw you today. The way your eyes widened when you were on your knees in front of me. The desperation and neediness was so potent I could practically smell it on you. I could have taken you right there if I wanted, forced myself into your throat. So hot and bothered you couldn’t even do your job, I consume your thoughts. Don’t act like I don’t” he said, backing you against the desk that was in the corner.

“I don’t-” he interrupted.

“Wanna say something you regret,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Dipping it into your mouth, feeling around to see your reaction, “I think it safe to say that if you didn’t want my cock, you wouldn’t be sucking my finger like a whore. Would you?” he asks, you shake your head and in response he gives you a sharp smack on the cheek.

“Would you?” he asks again, giving you a chance to correct your answer.

“Yes sir,” you say, melting at the way he looked at you.

“Good girl, get under the desk.” He said, which you did without hesitation.

He unzipped his fly, struggling for a second to free his member but finally got there. Sitting down in the office chair, rolling into the small space under the desk. Completely trapping you inside the small space. No longer being able to see above his shoulders, not that it mattered when his cock was right in front of you. Every time your lips finally encased his tip, he would use his hand and pull it away. You reach up and try to take his length into your hand. His voice booming through the room as he pulls away a couple inches to look you in the eyes.

“Put your fucking hand down, you haven’t done anything to deserve it,” he said, scooting back in, using his hand to guide your head down.

After all the teasing, the feelings of his cock pushing past your lips felt like heaven. Ever since you met him all you could think about was him ravaging you. Using your body for whatever he wanted. A loud groan coming from the back of your throat, his other hand was stroking your cheek. Slowly starting to push your head down further, you gagged which made him chuckle.

“Fuck, I knew i’d eventually have you gagging around my dick,” he cooed, letting his head fall back. You looked up, now being able to see his exposed jawline. Reaching your hand down and starting to play with yourself. Spreading your wetness around and circling your clit. Moaning as drool and pre-cum started sliding down his shaft. He grabbed your hair and starting to fuck your mouth. His eyes were rolling back, feeling feral hearing the wet slobbering and slapping sounds. There was a knock at the door which made you squeal and try to pull away.

“Shhhhh!” He hisses before clearing his throat and answering the door. However just before he does, he presses your head down, applying pressure with both hands on the back of your head. Forcing your lips all the way down to the base of his cock.

“Yeah!” he yelled, Soap opened the door but remained in the doorway.

“Have you seen y/n? We have training soon,” Soap asked while you were digging your fingernails into his boots, swallowing around his length which hurt slightly.

“Yeah, I think she went to get some fresh air,” Ghost said, stars were forming in your vision. Soap thanked him and promptly exited and Ghost finally let you pull back. Gasping for air and wiping the tears out of your eyes. He moaned as the cold air hit his dick just after getting used to your hot throat.

“That’s a good girl, just breathe. Yeah, you’re a such a good fucking girl,” he snarled and pulled you back down on you.

He stood up and balled his fist in your hair, and pinning his hands onto the top of the desk. Essentially locking you into place and he obliterated your throat. Making sure your nose was pressed into his base with every thrust. Not bothering to pull his cock out as he started came. Warm cum flooding down your throat and into your stomach. He pulled out, not wasting any time putting his dick away. You rested your upper body on the now empty chair that sat in front of you. Ghost squatted down and grabbed your wet chin to look up at him before speaking,

“Firstly, you should thank me for feeding you before training. Secondly, I didn’t make you cum because you left scratch marks on my boot,” he said, walking out of the room.

#rough smut #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction

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rooksamoris · 5 months ago

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💞 — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒, 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄.

💞 — in which vil invites a vampire hunter to live in your castle as a guard. this hunter seems to enjoy pressing your buttons quite a bit.

💞 — vampire!vil schoenheit x vampire!reader x vampire hunter!rook hunt (implied poly)

💞 — warnings: SUGGESTIVE!! nothing crazy, but it is suggestive, hopefully in the gothic romantic sort of way. obvi, blood, mentions of gore. rook says "bon appetit" at some point. vil and reader are "married" but in the eternal partners thanks to immortality sort of way

💞 — 2.2k words. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY @v-anrouge!!! when i was wondering what i should write, i remembered you were the one who gave me the thought of vampire hunter!rook which has completely haunted me since. i wish you a million more happy days <33 think imma do a whole au tagged as "𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄." bc wow i miss vampire stories

Vil could not have been serious about this.

You looked at him in disbelief as he sat at the luxurious table. He ignored your look of disbelief and continued to sip from his wine glass, the rid liquid sloshing to and fro. Any idiot would assume it was just wine or fruit cordial, but no, this was a bit too thick to be either. Your eyes then darted to the smiling blonde bowing at the both of you. That bastard hunter that you and your kind were constantly trying to get away from. He was grinning without a care as if he was not in the presence of one of the most feared vampires in all of the Twisted Wonderland.

“You don’t look too pleased to see me, mon vampire,” he said, tilting his head to the side, smile ever present.

It took everything in you not to scrunch your nose, “What vampire would be pleased at the sight of a hunter?” you retorted, before looking back at Vil. You assumed he was bluffing when he told you he would employ a vampire hunter to keep watch over the castle. You knew why he did it—all that power came with enemies and artifacts that all manner of magical creatures wanted to steal for themselves. But come on, you hoped he would settle for a protective spell.

Vil finally sighed, “He won’t harm you, or me if he knows what’s best for him.”

“Oh, Roi du Poison, no need for worries. I could never dream of tarnishing such beauty,” he replied, standing straight again. Despite that smile of his, there was something sinister beneath it all. He was hiding something, that much was clear.

“Vil, darling, you can’t be serious—”

All the vampire did was stand and make his way over to you, standing behind your seat and placing one of his hands onto your shoulders, and then he used the other to cup your chin so that you were glancing over at him, “Stress ages the skin. Relax your brows,” he told you. Your immortality would keep you from aging just fine, yet he still insisted that you follow these human regiments with him.

After a moment, you sighed, letting your shoulders drop before sending a half-hearted glare at the hunter, “Fine,”

“Good,” Vil moved away from you and to the blonde hunter, his hand quickly grasping his jaw, “And you,”

“Yes?” Rook asked, practically beaming over the fact that the poisonous vampire himself was touching him. He could barely keep himself from reaching out and embracing the vampire.

Before this, he had just been admiring you and your spouse. All of this was like something from one of his dreams. Here he was, in that gothic castle which he had only seen in paintings, with the famed vampires hiding in it. Rook could not wait till he was free to explore the place and uncover the magical secrets that were hidden there. Perhaps he would even get the chance to collect skeletons from the closets.

Your glares were exhilarating and Vil’s touch was just… arousing. This was the type of opportunity he would kill for. He probably did kill for it, no one could know when it came to him.

Vil’s lavender eyes traced over the hunter’s face, before narrowing in on his eyes, “You will be on your best behavior, yes?”

Rook nodded, placing a hand on his chest, “Of course, my queen.”

“Darling, quit your pouting already,” Vil said, glancing at you through the mirror as you tended to his hair. He never let anyone tend to his beauty process, but you. Who would not trust their eternal lover? He began to rub a serum into his skin, “I know you’re not happy, but you’re a vampire, not a toddler.”

You nearly tugged his hair at that, “You know how I feel about vampire hunters,” you told him, “And him? Of all the hunters to bring into our home, you have to bring the one with the most kills under his belt—if he tries anything, I’ll… I—”

“We’ll both feed off of him. Don’t worry,” he said, cutting you off as he turned around to face you. One of his hands reached for the brush and he set it at the vanity behind him while gazing up at you. His hands cupped your hips and forced you closer, “You worry too much. If he messes up, he’ll make for a great meal.”

His hands trailed up and down—hips, to thighs, hips, to waist—he had done this thousands of times before, “You’ve heard of his skill, his strength. A man with such endurance must have plenty of blood… all that running and fighting he does has to show in the health of his arteries. I’ll even let you use those fancy chalices you like,”

Oh, Sevens. He was so attractive when he went into his informative tangents.

A blush covered your cheeks and your hands reached to grab onto his shoulders so that you could balance yourself. Centuries later he still managed to make you blush like a rose. He claimed you were his spouse, but sometimes you felt more like a devout worshipper. His body was the shrine you bowed to, your love was the offerings you held out to him.

“I just ask that you play nice,” he said, his hand drifting from your hip, up to your cheek. A smirk came to his lips as he tugged your face towards him. He smirked when your eyes trailed over to his mouth, “You can do that, right?”

All you could do was nod in response.

“Good,” And finally, he gave in and kissed you, teasingly dragging his fangs along your bottom lip. Vil knew how much you loved when he did that, he could feel it in the little shift you did as he held you close. He pulled away after a moment, just to let his hands dip down to the back of your legs and pull you into his lap, “Now, let me take care of you.”

Living in the castle with Rook was strange, but not completely horrible. He had so much to satisfy his curiosity, so most days you did not see him unless you were in places that he was monitoring. You caught him a few times in the secret tunnels beneath the castle, and the various hiding places that no one knew about.

He tried to get into your good graces with his… strange shows of affection. Last night, when he was walking you home from the opera, he told you how much he wished you would let your rage control so that you would sink your teeth into his pale freckled skin.

Strange, and yet your mind drifted back to the thought of it. Letting go of your control and pouncing onto the hunter, tearing the collar of his shirt, piercing that pretty skin of his. You forced the thoughts out of your mind when you began to imagine what his gasps and whimpers may have sounded like.

Vil seemed to be much more quick to let up when it came to Rook. He did not think the green-eyed hunter was a threat and just let him share his amorous and romantic poetry. At the dinner table, he would laud you and your Queen, comparing himself to the knights of yore, bound to protect and never to touch—and Vil did not interrupt him once. He looked pleased, instead, amused even.

Even more absurd was when Vil began letting Rook help him out with his clothes or his makeup. That had truly caught you off-guard, but you still did not seem to let up on your suspicions. He was just so unsettling sometimes, despite his sweet moments. You worried he would turn around and set a trap for you, or worse, for Vil.

Vil could take care of himself, but you loved him too much to not worry.

“Ah, mon vampire!”

You turned around when the hunter suddenly called out for you. Of course, he just happened to be in the gardens at the same time as you, “Rook,” you muttered, “Do you never sleep?”

He quickly took his spot at your side, his hand drifting to hover around the small of your back, “Now why would I tell a predator like you when I am most vulnerable?” he asked, this thumb sliding over your spine a bit. His green eyes looked a little more threatening for a moment, “That would make me a poor hunter, non?”

That look in his eyes made you shiver.

“I suppose you are right about that.”

You were sure you could take him on in a fight, but you also wished Vil was out here too. Rook always seemed a little more behaved in the presence of Vil, since he was more of a threat than you were—or perhaps Rook just enjoyed toying with you more. When the two of you were alone, Rook seemed more like the bloodthirsty creature, except he thirsted for your ire. He was just begging to be your meal with the way he acted.

His touch grew firm, “Looking for an escape?” he asked, raising a brow, smiling at you. He looked quite pleased with himself.

“No,” you retorted, a little blush coloring your cheeks, “That’s what you should be doing.”

Rook laughed at that and his hand moved off your back and to your hand instead. Gently, he tugged you with him deeper into the gardens, “I would never want to escape from you. No matter how vicious you became,” he told you, affectionately.

You scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a minute,”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. You’d run with your tail between your legs just as the other mortals do.”

He tugged you a bit harder once he came to a stop, forcing you to fall against him. The blonde nearly shivered as your hands met his chest to steady yourself, “Mon vampire,” he whispered, “You and I both know I would never run from those gorgeous fangs of yours,” he said as his free hand cupped your jaw.

The foolish hunter was guiding your face toward his pale neck. A soft growl came from the back of your throat, “Stupid hunter,” you muttered. That familiar bloodlust began to seep from your every pore.

“Go on,” he cooed, “bon appétit.”

You decided to give in—his blood just smelled too good. You brushed his blonde hair behind his ear before slipping a hand behind his neck to force him closer to you, causing him to place his hands on either side of your head, against one of the pillars in the gardens.

Fangs glittered beneath the night sky like swords on the battlefield, his neck was your enemy. All you wanted to do was suck him dry, and end that dull beating you could hear where his blood was rushing. Vil had told you athletic people carried more blood. He shivered as your tongue swiped against his neck.

“Ah—wetting my neck to make it easier? You are just so—”

Before he could finish with his teasing, you quickly and violently sunk your fangs into his neck, humming in satisfaction as his blood hit your tongue. His body tensed up for a moment and then he relaxed, leaning his body against you, pinning you to the pillar. He gasped a bit at your harsh sucking, but never once did his protest.

Instead, his fingers tenderly carded through your hair, “Mmm… Tu es merveilleux.”

You could not even bring yourself to pull away and reply to his compliments, instead opting to dig your fangs in even deeper. The blood began to drip down your chin, Vil would scold you for that, but you did not care. His blood was delicious.

“What have I told you about getting blood on your clothes when you’re feeding?”

Speak of the devil—erm, vampire.

Quickly, you pulled away from Rook’s neck and you were just about to wipe your face on your sleeve, until you felt Vil’s sharp glare and Rook’s hand grasp your arm in time.

The hunter gave you a teasing smile, before turning his attention to Vil.

There was a frown on Vil’s face, “I can’t believe you managed to make such a mess in the five minutes that I have left you alone.”

“Merci, I do my best.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Look what you have done to mein schätzelein,” he scolded, as he took out a handkerchief to wipe up your mouth for you. His attention was now on gently wiping away the blood that dripped down to your chin and onto your chest. He patted it down, careful not to rub too hard. A brief look of hunger flashed in his eyes as he wiped the blood. He nearly bent down to lick it off of you instead. “Such a mess... and I thought we promised we’d feed on him together? Greed is not a pretty look for you.”

The flush on your cheeks brightened, much to both of their amusement.

“Don’t scold them, Roi du Poison. It was my fault. I was teasing too much,” Rook interrupted before you could speak. One of his hands trailed down your back, while the other slipped around Vil’s waist, “But since you’re here now, you can have a taste as well.”

Vil rolled his eyes, “I am much better at controlling myself,”

That was a lie. His eyes kept drifting between the pierce marks on Rook’s neck and the little bit of blood stuck on the corner of your lips.

©rooksamoris 2024. do not steal or translate my work!

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#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst vampire au #vampire!reader #vampire!vil #vampire hunter!rook hunt #𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄.

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indigovigilance · 1 year ago

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Neil Gaiman's 3 cameos

"But Neil only has one cameo, it's in the movie theater!" Come now. What show are we watching? There is not just one cameo. There are three. The first one is...

The one that actually happened:

but then there is also...

The one that was supposed to happen, but didn't:

See those two people in the background? Lower left-hand corner of the screen? By rights, that should have been Neil and Terry, but Terry was taken from us too soon. Neil wrote this scene intending to do the cameo by himself, in honor of his friend, but on that day couldn't bring himself to do it:

Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it. [...] it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

The fact that the scene exists at all, I think, can be taken as a cameo. I would interpret it as one of Neil's cameos, since he wrote it as a self-insert of an important aspect of his relationship to the work, but it is also Terry's cameo. Focusing on the empty space where something ought to be is itself a representation of what is missing; there is something to be said for drawing attention to absence, which is what our knowledge of how this scene came to be accomplishes.

There's no good way for me to transition to the next part of this meta other than to encourage you to take a deep breath and remember that Terry Pratchett has been immortalized by this and other works. He is beloved, and not forgotten, and lives on in our hearts, and we honor him by celebrating his works not only in mourning but in the full range of emotion that his works inspired in us, including laughter.

Because this next part is just silly.

Neil's AU Gary Stu cameo:

Neil Gaiman has told the story multiple times about how a careers advisor tried to redirect his life course from storytelling to... *shudder* accountancy. Here's one quote [source]:

Gaiman: I very much wanted to write comics. I remember as a kid, I was 15, and I had a meeting with an outside careers adviser. I was asked, “OK, well, what do you want to be?” And I said, “Well, I really want to write American comics.” There was a long pause, and then the outside careers adviser said, “Well, how do you go about doing that then?” I said, “You’re the careers adviser. You tell me.” And then there was another seriously long pause, and the adviser said, “Have you ever thought about accountancy?” I said, “No, I have never thought about accountancy.” And then we just sat and stared at each other.

We are all very lucky that teenager!Neil decided to completely disregard this advice, but Good Omens S1E2 contains a character that seems to resemble who Neil would have become (or thought he would have become) if he had let that careers advisor drag him into a life of bean-counting mundanity.

We may not see Neil's face in this scene, but we do get to experience his existential dread of the what if: what if I had never become a storyteller? What if I had listened to that wanker, and lived a life without following my dreams?

I'd say it counts as a cameo.

#good omens #good omens meta #neil gaiman #cameos #this meta somehow got a second life I have no idea how or why but we’re on our way to being blessed by Beelzebub

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sunderwight · 1 year ago

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contemplating an SVSSS fic where Airplane transmigrates into Tianlang Jun instead of Shang Qinghua.

he wakes up before Tianlang Jun was about to walk into the HH Palace Master's plot, but too late to really do much about Su Xiyan's situation or the frame job. of course, being Airplane, he doesn't go face down the sects and get sealed under a mountain. but he also doesn't know what to do about the whole situation with Luo Binghe.

he was too vague in his outline and especially in his actual story. finding Xiyan or possibly some random washer woman who lives along the Luo river is a needle in a haystack situation, and he didn't ask for any of this to happen to him, so he just ends up leaving it alone. Tianlang Jun goes back to the demon realms with his confused (but relieved) nephew, and works on consolidating his power there and on thwarting the attempted incursions of Huan Hua Palace.

HHP has egg on their face because they riled up the other sects and got them into this alliance/ambush plot and then the heavenly demon they were supposed to fight didn't even show up. hasn't even been seen in the human world since. while HHP tries to spin it as them being so strong and formidable that they scared him off, the other sects feel like they're just blowing hot air and trying to take credit for something that never even happened. was that head disciple of theirs even involved with a demon at all? suspicious how she just disappeared, too. maybe it's a cover-up. no one's particularly impressed or convinced after the fact that HHP's claims are on the level.

which at least means that there's no concerted effort to wage a war or anything. Tianlang Jun meets a young Mobei Jun and Airplane decides to expend a lot of time and energy in helping the young prince consolidate his own power, so that's a whole thing. there's no system so Airplane's not obliged to preserve the plot, but he still knows it's out there and he's gotta skirt the line between giving MBJ absolute power on a silver platter and not setting MBJ up to be killed by the protagonist one day.

there are benefits and problems to TLJ mostly leaving Luo Binghe's whole journey untouched. on the one hand, he anticipates that everything around Luo Binghe will continue just like in the novel, so that's easy to predict. but on the other hand, that means he's in for some trouble when the blackened protagonist emerges all super-powered and unbeatable from the abyss and starts taking revenge on everyone who wronged him (a category which potentially includes the deadbeat dad who abandoned him for years).

so as the time of the immortal alliance conference approaches, Tianlang Jun starts to think that he needs to get ahead of this.

the most logical solution is to prevent Luo Binghe becoming quite as OP of a protagonist as he'd been the first time. since TLJ is plenty powerful himself (one of the things Airplane enjoys! as well as being very rich!) LBH really does need every edge he could possibly get to be a threat to him. so, why let him gain those edges?

this leads to TLJ's brilliant plan: just don't let Luo Binghe get thrown into the Endless Abyss! no blackening, no all-powerful weapon, no gauntlet of monsters to hone his skills, just a run-of-the-mill heavenly demon hybrid who could never in a million years take his old man in a fight!

TLJ decides he can two-birds-with-one-stone this situation by capturing Shen Qingqiu. then, one day if LBH does still make it to his doorstep, he can present him with his hated scum villain as a peace offering. like well son I know I abandoned you to suffer on your own, but plausibly I didn't even know you existed, so here, have your abuser to dismember in cathartic violence as you please! become a filial son and this old man will help fund whatever massive harems you want to build!

genius!

so, shortly before the immortal alliance conference is set to take place, TLJ goes and steals himself a peak lord.

Shen Qingqiu is... kind of different from what he expected? but oh well, it's been years since he wrote the novel and lots of characters have turned out somewhat different in person from how they were on the page, and the guy was always a mess of contradictions anyway. TLJ hands him over to his servants with strict instructions to keep him locked up, but not to harm or kill him (revenge is reserved for the protagonist, after all!)

Zhuzhi Lang, who witnessed the last debacle where his uncle took a sudden keen interest in a cold but beautiful human cultivator, makes entirely the wrong assumption (as do a lot of the palace staff) and figures that TLJ has just become more pragmatic about pursuing his lovers. Shen Qingqiu is given appropriate chambers (and restrictions) and word soon spreads that the Demon Emperor has captured a human cultivator to serve as his concubine.

so, this version of SQQ has actually been Shen Yuan since Luo Binghe joined the sect (and also doesn't have a system and thus had zero plans of throwing LBH into the abyss), and he is desperately trying to figure out what kind of changes he has unwittingly invoked here that Luo Binghe's father should be still alive, and free, and also kidnapping him to be his goddamn concubine?! that has to be a misunderstanding, right?!

Mobei Jun is mad. and jealous. and mad. but a concubine isn't an empress, so that job posting is still available, right? it better be, he has been waiting more than a decade for the official proposal!

TLJ meanwhile decides he's going to go secretly watch the immortal alliance conference just to make sure that the universe doesn't contrive to drop LBH into the abyss anyway, but weirdly enough, Luo Binghe isn't even there. listening to rumors, he gathers that uh... some stuff has changed? like Luo Binghe is head disciple of Qing Jing Peak? and apparently went crazy when Shen Qingqiu disappeared? except that some people think they might have eloped???

maybe he shouldn't get his rumors from Xian Shu disciples, those girls remind him of rpf conspiracy theory shippers from his old life. they're probably just way off base! hahaha... ha...?

well at least TLJ did a pretty good job of covering his tracks, so there's no reason for anyone to suspect that he captured Shen Qingqiu. or there shouldn't be, until he goes back home to find that every single demon seems to believe that Shen Qingqiu has been taken by him to be his lover. where did anyone even get that idea?! TLJ has been dutifully pining in his unrequited and inappropriate love for the young Mobei Jun for years now! whenever anyone asks he insists he's still mourning Su Xiyan! it's been a whole thing!

but oh shit, truth aside, there's no way those kinds of rumors have remained strictly contained to demon ears. both demons and cultivators have their spies after all, and even if they didn't, news moves along the borders.

sure enough, TLJ barely has time to try and dismantle this misunderstanding before a young Luo Binghe arrives on his doorstep, along with Yue Qingyuan and the very-much-still-alive lord of Bai Zhan peak, for some reason, all of them extremely pissed off at him!

#svsss #moshang #bingqiu #long post #scum villain's self saving system #i suppose frantic backpedaling and explanations would ensue #also potentially mobei jun and shen qingqiu having to fight a ceremonial battle in skimpy costumes #just 'cause

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tkwrites · 4 months ago

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It Doesn't Matter - Part II - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part II

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Beginning: Nico Hischier x Original female character

Summary: When Nico agreed to pose for Lena as her nude model, he never expected how difficult it would be or where the night would take them.

Warnings: Slow burn, talk of lots of anxiety, being naked for the sake of art, smut at the end (18+): handjob (f on m) fingering (m on f)

Word count: 12,200

Comments: This fic has taken on a bit of a mind of its own. It’s much, much longer than I originally envisioned, but I couldn’t bear to cut any of it down. I hope you like it as much as I do and enjoy Nico and Lena finally sharing their feelings for each other.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

It Doesn’t Matter - Part II

“I feel like I shouldn’t eat before,” Nico said, looking down at the spread of sushi that had just been delivered to the apartment.

“Why not?”

“So I’m not…” he patted his stomach affectionately. Not only would he be immortalized in her art, he didn’t want the first time she saw him naked to include being bloated from eating too much rice.

Lena flipped her hand and shook her head, “the whole point of a nude study is to see a human figure as it is, not as someone who's prepped for three days or something.”

He looked unconvinced.

“Do whatever you feel comfortable with, but don’t get hangry on me,” she warned, pointing her chopsticks at him.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he laughed.

He ate but stopped as soon as he felt the mildest hint of fullness. He could eat more when they were done.

“So, do I just get naked?” he joked, sliding the plastic takeout containers into the fridge.

She snorted, but the tips of her ears flared pink.

“I…kind of hoped…” her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure if she could just come out and ask for what she wanted. If he were a hired model, she would have asked him to come in a specific outfit, but this was Nico, and he was doing this as a favor.

“What?” he asked, unsure why she was being so hesitant. He was doing this for her. Didn't she know he would do just about anything for her? “Do you want me to wear something specific?”

Well, if he was offering. “Can you put on some dark suit pants with a belt?”

That wasn’t so bad. “Anything else?”

“No socks.” She knew he didn’t love to be barefoot, but for this, they would go against the picture and story she was building in her mind.

“Does it matter what color boxers?” he asked instead of protesting. He couldn’t remember what color he’d put on that morning.

Just thinking about seeing him in his boxers made her blush. Which was so stupid. She’d walked into the kitchen just the week before, only to find him walking around in nothing more than a tiny pair of black boxer briefs. They’d hugged his ass so tightly that she could see the muscles shift every time he moved.

Finally managing to shake her head and desperate to change the subject, she blurted, “I’m going to go set up in the living room.”

Nico smiled at how flustered she was as he went to change. Maybe Nina was right. At the very least, she might not be totally wrong.

“Maybe I’m just reading too much into it,” Nina had said when he had called his siblings in a panic the day before, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to get through this. “But I think you should give it a try. At least tell her how you feel. You don’t see the way she looks at you.”

He did see the way she looked at him. The same way she always had. Friendly and open and kind. But that was it. It never went beyond that.

“And what if I tell her and she turns me down? Or what if I tell her, and she says she doesn’t feel that way? I can’t just go back to how it was before. I can’t just take it back.”

“Isn’t it killing you to not tell her?” Luca asked. He didn’t understand it as well as Nina did, and had both feet firmly in camp ‘grow a pair and tell her,’ like Jack.

He gave a non-committal shrug. It was killing him. No, that was too dramatic. It wasn’t killing him, but it was making him a little crazy to feel so much intense emotion without having anywhere to put it.

Nina was tired of having this same discussion with him, which had only increased in frequency when Lena moved in. If she knew for a fact Lena wouldn’t turn him down, she wouldn’t hesitate to bully her little brother into spilling his guts. But as it was, she couldn’t guarantee anything.

“I’m going to make an ass of myself,” Nico moaned.

“You are not,” Nina admonished at the same time Luca said, “so what if you do?”

Luca continued before either of them could jump in, “you make an ass out of yourself every day you don’t tell her the truth.”

Nico had glared, and Nina had rolled her eyes.

In any case, knowing Lena was also nervous took some of his nerves down, too. At least he wasn’t alone in that.

Pulling out her art supplies, Lena felt like she might throw up. She was nervous and excited, and also so worried she wouldn’t be able to capture him. The last thing she wanted was to make Nico look flat.

Although landscapes were her specialty, the Institute insisted every artist get a full education, crossing over as many mediums and styles as possible. Even if it wasn’t the students' specialty, lots of things could be learned from going outside your own box.

She was scraping by in the class mostly because Professor Brown took pity on her. She told Lena over and over again that she had the talent but needed to feel the art. It was a criticism she only partially understood. Lena always felt her art, but figure drawing was indeed harder for her to connect with. She wasn't even sure why it was so difficult. Perhaps because a person was always moving, unlike a mountain that stayed steady and steadfast no matter what was happening around it. Capturing a facial expression was definitely harder than it was to find the divots and crags of a landscape.

This was another reason she wanted to sketch him. She knew him so well and knew she wouldn’t be able to turn off the part of her brain that was freaking out about seeing him naked. She would have to pay attention to his humanity and try to translate it onto the page.

Nerves ate at her stomach. Not only with the idea of not being able to capture his lovely figure, but also… Nico was her friend. Sometimes a little more than that if either of them needed a date to an event, but they’d never taken it beyond their usual, comfortable banter that often flirted with the idea of more. It was one of the things that made moving on from him so hard. He never made solid moves, but he never cut it off, either. He flashed his dimples and made her weak in the knees, but never went so far as to kiss her or really ask her on a date.

Seeing him naked without being in a relationship felt like a step too far. At the same time, it felt like the only option. There wasn’t another man she’d be comfortable sketching, despite her bluff about Jes.

Now she wished she hadn’t eaten.

At the very least, she would have the barrier of her art and easel between them. Maybe this really would force her into feeling her art. It already felt like she was fighting through her anxiety, and he wasn’t even there yet.

When he came into the living room, Nico found the furniture rearranged. She’d shoved the coffee table out of the way and set two of the dining room chairs in its place. She was unpacking her supplies, leaning a large sketching pad on her easel and lining several graphite pencils up on the side table, along with a sharpener.

“No paints?” he asked.

She jumped, and her heart did a little skid to the side. “These pieces are all supposed to be done in one color. I feel most comfortable with graphite, so I’m doing that instead of colored pencils,” she rambled before managing to cut herself off.

Turning to look at him, she breathed, “good heavens, you look hot,” before she could stop herself. She knew he would be, but she still felt like she’d just been socked in the stomach.

It was a bit selfish of her to request this particular outfit. She always liked the way his suit pants fit, and seeing his toned chest rising above the clean, sharp line of his black belt made her fingers itch to hold a pencil. His muscles were sculpted for practical use - not too bulky, but not too lean. Chiseled enough to show ridges and valleys, but not so much that he looked like a hulked out action hero.

He was desire personified. He was… he was an Adonis.

A cheeky smile lit his face, “good to know.”

She made herself laugh to break the tension.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. It felt too intimate, too much like something he fantasized about if he didn’t force himself to joke about it.

A triumphant smile lit her face. This she could do. She was used to directing models into shapes where the light would highlight the most interesting part of their features. She asked him to stand in the middle of the room and turned him a few times, trying to get the lighting right.

Nico tried not to flex or stand too stiffly when her hands were grasping his forearms to turn him this way and that. She stepped back to study him, then came forward to begin the process again.

Eventually, she shoved the couch out of the way and asked him to lean against the wall.

He stayed rigidly in the position she left him in as she brought another lamp into the room, angling the shade to get the shadows she was looking for.

“Just lean against the wall with your hands in your pockets.”

He did, and laughter burst out of her chest, “you can relax.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, looking up without changing his posture. He felt stiff and on display. In his mind, this was going to be much sexier than the reality was turning out to be. He didn’t know what to do with his hands or his eyes. Or his mouth. Was he supposed to be doing something with his mouth? Should he be smiling?

“Just stand like you would if you were waiting for something.”

"What am I waiting for?"

“Like you’re waiting for…me?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, Nico,” she caught the exasperation in her voice and cut it off. He wasn’t a professional model. He wasn’t used to coming up with scenarios on the fly like this. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “like you’re waiting for me to…” she trailed off. “It doesn’t really matter why.”

If it was up to him, he’d be waiting to take her to bed. She was wearing the same pink shirt she’d worn that day he walked in on her in the kitchen, and it brought up vivid memories of her wearing it without a bra. He wondered if she was wearing the matching underwear. The thought made him blush and cast his eyes down.

His hair flopped over one of his eyes in that cartoon prince way it always did.

“Stay there,” she practically yelled, her hands itching to capture the angles of his face.

The sound of her pencil brushing her paper took over his thoughts, and he tried not to twitch as his hair tickled his eyelid.

“Can you relax your shoulders?” she asked.

He rolled his shoulders back and did his best to relax, “better?”

“Don’t move,” she chastised.

He smiled a little before trying to settle his face back into the expression he had before.

Just as his neck was beginning to ache, she ripped the page from her pad and asked him to sit down.

He looked at her for direction and smiled at her intensity. He wondered if she always looked at people like this when she was drawing them. He was a little disappointed that in the six years he'd known her, this was the first time this kind of intensity was being turned on him.

“Just get comfortable.”

Nico extended one leg and slouched into the chair, letting the other knee fall to the side so his legs were spread.

“Can you,” Lena stopped herself mid request, biting her lip. In her mind, she was forming an art story of him slowly undressing. She wondered if this was just her lust talking and if that was okay.

“Can I?”

She decided she didn't care if it was her lust driving. It would be a good, easy to follow series.

Her cheeks were aflame, glowing bright in the lamp light. “Can you undo your pants?”

His eyes widened momentarily, and she saw his Adams apple bob in his throat.

Forcing his fingers into action, he worked at the button and zipper, well aware of her watching his movements.

“I want to sketch your hands,” she said, voice reverent.

Nico stilled immediately and looked at her, holding his zipper pull. That wasn’t a reaction he’d expected.

“Oh, God,” she covered her face, pencil still in her fingers so the point angled down at her wrist. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

He couldn’t stop the cocky grin that spread over his face. This was more like what he’d imagined posing for her would be like. “You can sketch my hands anytime you want, hase,” he said, adding on the pet name before he thought better of it.

Her blush got brighter. She hated when he called her that. Bunny. It was a term of endearment that Nina assured her was well known and used by friends and lovers alike, but it brought up all sorts of wishing on her part that they were the latter.

“Where do you want my hands?” he asked because he knew it would make her more flustered.

She had to clear her throat and duck behind her easel. “Wherever,” she squeaked out, trying to calm her racing heart.

Laughing, he thought about photos of underwear models and tried to get his body into a position like that. He hooked his right thumb into his waistband, exposing more of his red boxer briefs. The other hand fell off to the side, relaxed.

Peeking around her easel, Lena lost her breath. She had never seen him so sexy. He radiated confidence and comfort with his body — something she never quite managed to feel about herself.

This was going to be impossible.

“Look at me.” She really didn’t want him to look at her. She felt like she might set fire to her sketch pad if he did, but it would make the most impactful portrait.

Nico’s eyes met hers, and her stomach jolted. The teasing, flirtatious energy radiating from him hit her in waves. The rumble of desire she'd been feeling in her low belly purred to a higher gear, and she had to consciously stop herself from clenching her thighs together. Flirty and intense, his eyes were focused on her with purpose. Wanting, she realized with a jolt. That’s what this expression was. The kind of wanting where you want the person you’re looking at to know you want them.

She’d imagined getting this look of open desire from him so many times that having it turned on her now nearly knocked the breath out of her.

Forcing her hands into action, she’d never been happier to find muscle memory taking over – drawing the basic shape of his body when her mind was still running around screaming about how outrageously, unfairly attractive he was.

Eventually, her creative mind took over, and she relaxed into the art, strokes lengthening and easing.

When it came time to detail, she started with his face, trying to capture his relaxed, intense stare. In any other circumstance, she was certain her panties would catch fire or dissolve right off her body if he gave her this look. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen this expression. He would never be so forward with her in real life.

Despite her heart beating so hard she felt it in her throat and her wrists, her pencil stayed steady.

The exercise wasn't lost on her. Even the first drawing felt different. This looked different from her usual work, too - more real in a way she couldn’t really describe. Almost as if he might just walk off the page and kiss the viewer.

Wanting to get this expression just right, she paused to take a photo so she could reference it later.

“Can we turn on some music?” he asked after a minute or two.

“Sure. What do you want?”

“Whatever, just something.”

Flipping on the TV, she pulled up his music subscription service and selected a slow playlist. Something he wouldn’t be tempted to bop his head to before going back to her easel to finish.

Pushing aside the longing to be on the receiving end of this wanting in a situation where he wasn’t acting, she continued on.

He stayed in this position the longest. He found it the most comfortable, and apparently, the way he was watching her, the concentration in her mouth, and the way it narrowed her eyes just slightly was fine for her. It was a relief to not have to school the wanting off of his face for once.

After getting to a place where she felt like she could pick back up in a day or two, she had him remove his pants and sit backward.

Almost immediately, he leaned back, one hand gripping the chair for balance while the other ran into his hair. She yelped at him to still.

He went rigid. The position forced him to engage his core, and the arm lifted to push back his hair started to cramp from halting mid-movement.

This sketch ended up being her favorite, though she knew people would like the one before better. This one was really a study of his body — how his muscles flexed and bulged. She even somehow managed to capture the feeling of movement in his bicep. She’d only been able to do that with trees before. Plus, the whole thing was such a Nico gesture, it felt more like him, too.

A page ripped from her sketch pad, and finally, letting his arm down and shaking it out, he watched her settle it, face down, onto the pile,

“Okay,” she came out from behind her easel, her hands clasped in front of her, “I’m gonna go… get some water if you want to undress and sit back like this?”

He nodded, feeling his cheeks heat to match hers. This was all fun, games and teasing until he had to be naked in front of her. And she wouldn’t even be touching him. She’d be standing three feet away, looking at him the way she looked at one of her paintings.

He’d daydreamed about being on the receiving end of that intense gaze so many times, but getting it in this situation felt like a poor consolation prize.

He was on his own here, with no one to share the vulnerability of being naked with.

“Do you need anything?” she asked from the kitchen as he was stripping off his boxers.

“Water?” he asked, setting them on top of his folded pants.

Walking back into the living room, two bottles in her hand, Lena stopped short.

She had seen many nude models and taught herself to get over the shock quickly. Training her mind to see the person as a sculpture, not a living being, she focused on the beauty of the human body and not the person living in it. And Nico’s body was beautiful. Smooth golden skin, dotted with freckles and moles, that stretched over living, moving muscles.

Except, he wasn’t a marble statue. He was a living, breathing, beautiful man, and she knew him. She knew how he acted and what he loved, and she knew how much she loved him. And how much it meant to her that he was willing to put himself in such an uncomfortable position for her. She loved him so much, her heart ached with it. How could she possibly translate that into a two dimensional piece of art?

She knew from experience how awkward it was to be a model, let alone a nude model, and that was with people she barely knew. For Nico to be naked in front of her, willing to let her sketch his strong legs and expressive eyes was something totally different. Now, besides seeing his body, which really was so beautiful, it nearly made her lose her breath. She could also see the anxiety in the set of his thigh and the curve of his spine.

Quite suddenly, gratitude and love for him swelled within her chest in a way she had never experienced. It felt hard to breathe.

A small noise escaped her throat.

Looking over his shoulder, Nico asked, “okay?”

She nodded. Her feet finally moved, and she handed him the water. “You’re so beautiful, Nico,” she said, that reverent tone back in her voice as her eyes wandered down his body.

He felt a blush creep down his neck. “I don’t…” he cleared his throat, “I mean, you’re…”

His brain wasn’t working right. She was watching him with this wonderment in her face, like she’d just found the answer to the universe. He wanted to tell her she was the beautiful one, not him, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words when she was looking at him like that.

“Thanks,” he finally managed to say. "What do you want me to do?”

Now that they were here, she had no idea. She just wanted to watch him for the rest of the night.

The embarrassment she’d expected never came.

She adjusted her easel, so she was looking at him, just off to the side. She could see three-quarters of his face, but his thick thigh hid his penis from her view. “Just try to get comfortable,” she said.

Her voice was so kind and gentle that it relaxed Nico a little, but mostly, he still felt coiled tight and out of sync. “I don’t know that I can,” he said truthfully.

“That’s fine. I know I’m asking you to be comfortable in a really awkward situation. If you feel like you can’t look at me, that’s fine.”

The truth was that he always wanted to look at her, but seeing her this way, looking at him with holiness in her face, made him ache for her in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. It felt nothing like any of the dreams or daydreams he’d had that involved him being naked in her presence before.

She started with his legs first, so he didn’t have to find a way to position his head right then. “Can you flex your right thigh?” she asked.

He did, and she giggled. He glanced over to find her in the same spot, shaking her head, “sorry, the other thigh? Your left. My right.”

Nico tried his best and heard a breath rush from her.

“Good grief, your legs are so sexy,” Lena said before she could stop herself.

His breath lodged in his chest. “My legs?” he repeated, his voice one step off from croaking. Had she really just said that?

“Yes,” she said, her tone serious, pencil still working. “Men’s legs are severely underrated.”

When he glanced at her, he found her concentrating again, but her mouth was set in a new expression, lips soft and parted slightly, like she was waiting to be kissed. At this point, it was nothing short of torture.

Pulling his eyes from her, he folded his arms around the chair back and set his chin on his hands. He watched the album cover bouncing around the TV screen. Mens legs were underrated. How many men did she think about like that?

“That’s really nice, Nico, if you can just stay like that.”

Cookie wandered in then and flopped onto the carpet previously covered by the coffee table. He watched Nico with slow blinking eyes, and he tried not to feel so observed.

After four more songs of listening to her pencil and eraser working, she said, “Okay.”

He sat up.

“Wait! I have to take a picture.”

He winced, feeling the muscles in his back knot up. “Those aren’t getting turned in, are they?”

“Nope, they’re just for me,” she winked.

His eyes widened, and she laughed.

“No, they’re for reference so I can finish the drawings. I’ll delete them later.”

Forcing a laugh, Nico couldn’t quite decide which was worse - her taking the pictures or telling him she'd delete them so casually.

“Okay, so for the last two sketches, I was thinking one with you standing, and one with you supine.”

“Supine?” he repeated. He’d never even heard that word before.

“Laying on your back.”

Well fuck. Of all the times he imagined himself on his back with her, this was just another one that would crush the daydreams he clung to on long, lonely nights. Pushing that thought away, he asked, “what’s first?”

“Whatever’s easiest for you.”

“Standing full frontal?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “None of my figure drawings have included genitals. I could cut you off at the pelvis or sketch from behind. Which would you prefer?”

He shrugged, feeling too spent to make a decision, especially one like this. Then, quite suddenly, he realized: If he was standing in front of her, he’d have to watch her looking at his dick the whole time. “Behind,” he blurted, too quick, too loud.

After following her instruction, he found himself standing, facing the large window, where the curtains were mercifully drawn. One of his feet was up on a rung of the coffee table, forcing him to keep balance with the other.

“I think you need to hold something,” she said, standing and walking out of the room.

Upon coming back, she handed him the chain he wore most of the time. He’d left it on his bathroom counter, unsure if she wanted him to wear it. The fact that she seemed to know where he’d left it without asking wasn’t lost on him. He wondered if she assumed that’s where he’d left it or if she’d somehow seen him put it there.

“You can fiddle with that,” she said.

It was cool and solid in his hands, and he allowed it to slip through his fingers, feeling the ridges and links of the metal, before his fingers slid over the cross. His breathing centered, and he felt some anxiety unknot between his shoulder blades.

After a quick outline, she filled in some details that wouldn’t come through in a photo and asked him to lie down. She knew he was losing steam. It was a lot to ask to pose for six different portraits. Not only did it require a certain amount of stillness on his part, but it was also a night full of being watched. She could fill in the details later.

“Let me get you a blanket to lay on,” she said.

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to lay buck naked on the floor.

She fetched the cozy blanket she kept on her bed. It was soft and comforting and smelled like her, like the sweet, citrusy scent of her perfume. It was all at once comforting and disconcerting. He had so many memories with this scent. There was even a time his dick would twitch every time he smelled it. It was around too much, now, for that reaction, but it still called up a sharp longing in his gut.

Wrapping it around himself, he sat on the floor, then lay down.

She fetched him a pillow, and once he was comfortable, began directing. “Can you bend your knee closest to me?”

He was slow to move but did it anyway.

Sensing his fatigue, she told him, “I know, we’re nearly done.”

He sighed, relieved he didn’t have to ask.

“I was hoping this one would be sort of satisfied.” she said, settling herself onto the floor facing him, her easel collapsed to be shorter.

He arched one of his eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she answered, “I mean like, content, I guess.”

“I don’t think I can do that right now,” he said, hearing a wearied annoyance come into his voice. He was too tired to school it back. He was feeling spent up. Too much vulnerability with too little reciprocation.

Lena bit her lip. “Can I do anything to make it better?”

A sigh shifted his chest into a new position, “I just feel really…” he wasn’t sure what the words he needed were.

She waited patiently for him to finish. He liked that she never rushed his thinking.

Finally, he threw the other half of the blanket over his lap and sat up to face her. “I feel like I’m all exposed.”

She nodded.

“And you’re not.”

She hmm’d and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking. It was such a Lena gesture that it made him smile.

“Do you want me to get undressed?” she asked, then immediately regretted it. It seemed like the reciprocal thing to offer, but upon hearing the words out loud, she realized exactly how much she didn’t want to do it. Then they both would be anxious and awkward, and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her art, and that would be a loose loose for everyone.

“No.” Yes, of course he did. But if that were to happen, he wanted to earn it. He didn’t want it to be because he couldn’t sit through modeling for some portraits. Plus, then he would be completely distracted by her.

She scooted a little closer to him, questioning in her eyes.

“I feel,” he hesitated, searching for the right thing to say. A long pause passed where she didn’t get fidgety or impatient, just waited for him to continue. The phrasing came in SwissGerman first, or course, and then he had to figure out how to best say it in English. “I feel like I’m doing this for nothing.”

“For nothing?” she repeated, a mildly panicked look crossing her face.

“I’m doing it for you, but for what? So you do well on your project?” He was happy to help, but it felt like too much. Too much given without any reciprocation. Perhaps his fatigue was talking.

Her mouth pursed, “I can see where you’re coming from, but it’s a little more than a grade at this point. With you, I've finally been able to sketch the body the way I've been trying to for so long. And the fact that you’re willing to do something so uncomfortable, so vulnerable for me makes me just…I don’t even know how to say it.” She wanted to tell him that it made her love him. She’d told him she loved him before. She’d told him that many times: “love you, see you later,” but this felt different, deeper and truer somehow, and she wasn’t sure she was willing to admit those feelings.

Instead, she asked, “do you want to see the sketches so far?” feeling they may be the best explanation she had.

He perked up. She rarely showed anyone her art until it had been worked on more. A rough sketch was something she held close to her chest, wanting to keep it private until she deemed it good enough to display. He nodded, and Lena stood to retrieve them.

Given a moment to think, he assessed his body, finding what was lacking with a quick scan. “I think I need to eat,” he said.

His metabolism was so high, spiked higher by so much physical exercise all the time that hunger often came on swiftly, affecting his mood more than he’d like to admit. His teammates teased him to the point that he always had a snack with him. How long had they been at this drawing thing? He hadn’t eaten enough to begin with, and now they were however many hours in, and he was hungry.

That would also explain it. She hadn’t been joking when she told him not to get hangry on her. Setting the sketches in front of him, she went to grab the sushi from the fridge.

The drawings were farther along than he expected. She worked faster than he knew.

It was a strange thing to see himself in her delicate, penciled outlines.

Flipping over to the second sketch, he blinked a few times. He was himself, but not. The man on this paper was confident, relaxed, and flirtatious in a way he always wanted to be, especially with Lena.

“Is this how you see me?” he asked when she came back into the room.

“That’s how you are, Nico.”

It was like looking in a weird, funhouse mirror. Was this how she saw him all the time?

The third sketch was all in the details: the peek of the tattoo on his bicep, the flex of his abs, and the swell in his boxers.

He flipped to the first nude sketch. She perfectly captured how he felt. Anxious, unsure, and alone. It even looked like he was bouncing his leg. Yet, the portrait didn’t seem to feel anxious. It somehow felt like acceptance. She wasn’t fighting against his feelings to make them prettier, never asking him to feel anything different. She took him as he was and translated him onto a page in a way he’d never seen or expected to see.

How could he possibly be these two things just an hour apart?

“It’s weird to see your own facets turned back on you, isn’t it? I felt that way when I had to sit for class portraits.” They had all taken turns modeling for their classmates so they could understand better the perspective of the model, and it had been strange to see sixteen different versions of herself at the end of the class - each of them skewed a little based on the artist.

In the last drawing, he looked more relaxed. He was so glad when she’d handed him his cross to hold. Not only was it something comforting and familiar, but she’d also given him something to do with his hands, which felt important.

This was the drawing that most made him look like a hockey player, he thought. He could clearly see how his butt and thighs were thicker than the rest of him. He’d long ago gotten used to the size of his legs, but it was still strange to see the disproportion of them in comparison with the rest of his body laid bare so thoroughly.

She dipped her head to capture his line of vision, “I meant what I said before, Nico,” she said, handing him the to-go container. “You really are beautiful.” She flipped back to him tense and unsure. “Even here. Maybe even most here.”

His eyes shot to hers.

“This,” she tapped the drawn version of him on the back, “represents a huge sacrifice you're making for me. Putting yourself in a very uncomfortable position to help me get better at my art. To help me really understand the human form for the first time. I look at this, and I see how much you care for me.”

When he’d finished with the rest of the sushi, feeling sated and comfortable, he looked at her. She’d placed her sketch pad on the floor and put the last drawing on top of it. Hunched over, she was filling in detail.

He always appreciated this about Lena, that if he needed some time to himself, she would find a way to keep herself busy. He didn’t feel like he had to entertain her all the time, like he did with a lot of the women in his life. It was a refreshing change of pace.

He watched her work for a while, fascinated with the way she braced her hand with just the knuckle of her pinky finger so she wouldn’t smudge the charcoal already on the page.

Clearing his throat, he set the empty container to the side.

Looking up, Lena could see how much better he felt. His shoulders were more relaxed, and his hands were loose in his lap.

“Do you want to keep going?” she asked, moving the drawing back to the pile.

He nodded.

“We can pick up again on Sunday if you’d rather.”

He wasn’t sure he could convince himself into doing this again. “No, I feel better,” which was a partial truth, “let's finish now.”

She scooted back to her easel. When she got settled and looked around it, she found he had changed positions. Still on his back, his other knee was slightly bent, the blanket draped around his far hip to cover himself. His hand was up, resting under his head, showing off the smooth underside of his bicep and the tattoo of his families zodiac signs.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

"Yeah. Could you adjust the blanket?” she asked. “So it’s not so folded?”

He nodded and pulled himself into a half crunch to see and adjust the fabric. His abs contracted, and Lena looked at the ceiling before she could be overwhelmed with attraction.

“Like this?” he asked.

When she looked again, it was better, but still looked too placed, not like it’d been hastily thrown over him.

Her lips pressed together, an he sighed, knowing what that meant. “Can you just adjust it?”

“You’re sure you’re okay with that?”

Pulling in a fortifying breath, he nodded.

As she crawled over to him, Nico felt his heartbeat quicken.

Her hands softly gathered the blanket, pulling out the folds. If he were wearing something underneath, she’d just toss it up and let it fall, but she couldn’t do that.

Her fingers brushed the inside of his thigh as she tucked more of it between his legs, and the muscle fluttered all the way up to his groin. Biting his cheek, he stifled the groan of frustration that crawled up his throat.

“Sorry,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, eyes still closed. Maybe he hadn’t been as successful as he thought. If he looked at her now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the semi he was sporting from popping into a full boner and he just couldn't take that embarrassment. “it’s okay. Just, no more.”

Nodding, she scooted back to her easel.

Keeping his eyes closed, Nico thought about swimming in the cold, glacial lake near home until his body relaxed.

“Nico,” Lena asked, her hand on his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open.

Above him, her expression was soft and full of that same wonderment from before. “I’m done if you want to get dressed.”

He nodded, and she left the room.

Before going to join her in the kitchen, he pulled his boxers and trousers back on.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you felt comfortable.”

He hugged her then, bringing her body closer to his. He'd been thinking about it for too long.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she said, voice intimate, dim and quiet.

“You know I'd do anything for you,” he said.

Did she know that? She figured she did. “Still, I know it wasn’t easy, so thank you.”

Nico stilled when she tucked her face into his neck. She’d done this before when he’d comforted her after a breakup. Then, he’d wanted to show her he could be the better man for her, but he’d been unwilling to cross that line. He still was. Maybe Jack and Luca were right. Maybe he did just need to grow a pair and ask her out. But what if she didn’t want him and didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of that discussion and wanted to move out? He would feel horrible. She’d have to find a place that would let her keep Cookie or take him back to her parents.

“Are you okay?” she asked, running her hands over his back. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft. Along with the scent of his soap and the mild undertone of sweat, there was a faintly cedar-y smell clinging to his skin. She’d never been able to tell where it came from. It was too faint to be cologne.

His muscles trembled. “Yeah,” he said into her hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

Her phone trilled from her back pocket. Lena was the only person he knew who didn’t keep her phone on vibrate.

She pulled back so she could look at it.

Nico reluctantly let his hands fall to his sides. “Your mom?” he asked. It seemed she was the only one who ever really called Lena. At least when he was around.

“No, it’s Milo,” she said, silencing the ringer and setting the phone face down on the counter. “He’s probably drunk and wants to get laid.”

Nico’s heart began to race with worry, jealousy, and fear. “Does he do that a lot?” Thank god his voice didn’t squeak over the words.

“Once a month or so, I guess.”

He knew he shouldn’t ask this question. He knew it was none of his business, but he was tired and emotionally empty, and his filter was thinner than usual because of it. “Do you take him up on it?”

Her eyebrows raised, a sarcastic look taking over her pretty features, “are you serious, Nico? Of course not. He’s just drunk dialing through his contacts list.”

“I always hated that guy. He’s such a tool.”

Hearing that phrase come out of Nico’s mouth, in his strong accent, made her laugh out loud. “What?”

“That’s not the right word?” he asked. “Like he’s selfish and just does things to be cool?”

“It’s the right word,” she confirmed, this teasing smile on her lips that would liquify his bones if he let it. “I know you never liked him. I just didn’t realize you felt so…strongly about it.”

His nose scrunched as he blew out a frustrated breath. “He wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Well, he couldn’t measure up anyway.”

“Measure up to what?”

“To this guy I’ve liked for a really long time,” she said, not quite brave enough to spit out the truth.

“So why don’t you date him?” Nico asked instead of demanding to know who this man was.

“I can’t ever tell if he’s into me.”

“He’d be a fool to not be into you.”

“Would he?” she asked, looking into his face, wondering what he meant by that.

“Yeah. You’re kind and fun and smart,” he said.

Part of her swooned when he didn’t lead off with the fact that she was pretty. The other part of her was a little disappointed he didn’t seem to notice.

“Any man would be lucky to have you,” he added on quietly as his eyes dropped to his feet. He couldn’t possibly look at her while telling her another man would be lucky to have her. It would happen one day, he knew, but he kind of hoped he’d somehow be out of the picture when it did.

Lena studied him as he looked at his bare feet.

His curiosity got the better of him, “who is this guy anyway?”

Well, shit. She’d really talked herself into a corner this time. What was she supposed to say now?

“Do I know him?”

She nodded.

“Does he play?” he asked hesitantly.

She nodded again.

“I thought…” The knowledge sliced through him: if it wasn’t about hockey, it was about him. “I thought you didn’t like hockey players,” he said, fighting against the ache in his chest.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What gave you that idea?”

“I overheard you talking to Jessica at the rink once about how you wouldn’t date me because I was a hockey player.”

“You’re sure I was talking about you?”

“You said ‘I don’t date hockey players,’ and then Jessica asked, ‘what about Nico?’”

Understanding sparked her memory. “Did you stick around to hear my answer?” She hadn’t even known he was listening in on that conversation. She’d been sitting on the refreshments counter while Jessica baked the soft pretzels. He must have been around the corner, heading into the locker room.

“You said ‘it doesn’t matter.’ I couldn’t listen anymore, so I walked away.”

A small smile lit up her face. “If you had stayed, you would have heard me say, ‘it doesn’t matter, Nico’s not like the other guys. He’s sweet and respectful.’”

“Oh,” he said because he didn’t know what else to say. “I thought you didn’t date hockey players,” he said again, lamely.

“I don’t. I mean, not the average ones,” she added on when his expression fell. “I told people that because they’d wonder why I was around the team all the time, but not shacking up with any of them. Those boys I grew up with were all such dogs, but you never made me feel less than for being a woman or like I needed to put out to be accepted.”

His nose wrinkled.

“See, that?” she asked, noting his disgust. “That’s why I like you, Nico. You’re sweet and kind and so respectful of women.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You see it in locker rooms all the time. I’m sure you see it in yours currently.”

The conversation paused as he thought.

“You’re different than other players,” she said. “Jessica was asking me that because she knew you’re a hockey player that I liked.”

“You liked me?” he asked, his mind running in circles trying to process all the information coming at him.

“Yeah, Nico,” she said. Well, she was already here, she may as well spill the whole pot. “I still do.”

Half of his mouth lifted just enough to dimple his cheek.

“Ugh, don’t flash your dimples at me! I can barely keep my hands to myself as it is,” she said, shoving his shoulder.

That was new. “What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Don’t tease Nico. It’s rude.”

“Who said anything about teasing?”

“I —” she was having a hard time articulating her words, “but you —”

He patiently waited for her to finish, attempting to school the grin off his face.

“But you don’t even like me like that,” she finished, lamely.

He couldn’t help it, laughter burst out of his chest, “what?”

“You’ve never made a move,” she said, feeling outrageously embarrassed. It was one thing to admit her feelings, but then to have them thrown back in her face was something she just couldn’t handle.

“You know what Jack tells me every time he sees us together?”

She was so taken off guard by the question that it jolted Lena out of her spiraling thoughts. “What?”

“He tells me to make it happen.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“All the guys know I’m in love with you.”

Her breathing hitched, and she gripped the counter behind her to keep from falling over.

“In fact, everyone knows I’m in love with you. Nina says I look so lovesick no one can miss it.” He took a step in so they were nearly chest to chest. “But somehow, you don’t ever see it,” he added quietly.

He was so close, she was certain he could hear her heart hammering. Her mind was still caught on, ‘all the guys know I’m in love with you.’ It was like she couldn’t process the words. “You’re in love with me?” she asked.

A deep, frustrated sound, like a groan, filtered up his throat. The thought of pulling that sound out of him in any other circumstance made her knees feel weak. It sent heat racing between her thighs.

“I’ve been in love with you since I left Halifax,” he said, relief he didn’t have to keep anything under wraps flooding through him. “That’s why I broke up with Viv when I left. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it wasn’t fair to her or to me.”

Her wide eyes snapped to his, and Nico took a steadying breath. She really hadn’t known. All this time, he thought she must have, but held to her principles enough to turn away from it.

“I’ve been in love with you since you left Halifax, too, Nico.”

It was his turn for his breathing to hitch. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t like me like that.”

How was this possible? Nico felt like his knees were slowly turning to jelly. “How could you think that?” he croaked.

“You never made a move,” she repeated.

“You said you don’t date hockey players,” he defended.

Hands fluttering up to cover her face, Lena shook her head. “I can’t believe this,” she said, a small laugh escaping.

Reaching up, Nico gently encircled her wrists and pulled her hands away. She let them fall by her sides.

His heart was galloping in his chest. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, surprised to find his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

Lena nodded, a feeling as though she were about to jump out of a plane surging through her body. Something grand and beautiful waited for her if she could just put her faith in the parachute and step into the unknown. Well, partially unknown. She knew Nico, and she wasn’t afraid.

One of his hands drifted up to her face. Cupping her jaw, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Lena,” he said, glad to find his voice had evened out.

For the first time, she recognized that look he was always giving her. That wide open, soft gaze. Love, she realized with a shock of understanding. It was love. It had been love this whole time. She really had been blind.

Her eyes darted away as her cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you.” She wouldn’t lie, hearing it eased some of the anxiety in her chest.

He waited for her eyes to come back to his before leaning down. Heart hammering with six years of anticipation, their lips finally met.

When her head tipped slightly to the side and her mouth opened to him, a shock raced down his spine while a sigh filtered up his throat. The kiss was better than any fantasy his mind had concocted through the years.

His tongue tentatively slipped into her mouth, and Lena felt a flash flood of right, this is right, this is the most right thing that’s ever been right in my life, sweep through her.

Her hands fluttered up to his shoulders, and she felt his, heavy on her waist, squeeze when her tongue slipped past his lips.

God, Nico was in paradise. This was the softest, most heavenly, love-filled kiss he’d ever experienced. How did people even find words for this? Sudden understanding sparked in the back of his mind. This was why people wrote sonnets and songs and books. He wanted to drown in this feeling.

Eager to see his face again, she eased back.

“This is okay?” he asked, eyes snapping to hers, worried she was having regrets.

Nodding, she leaned forward and slid her mouth over his.

This kiss was slower, more passionate. When her teeth grazed his bottom lip, Nico felt electricity zing through him.

His fingers ran into her hair to cradle the back of her head.

There was no stopping the moan that filtered up her throat when he sucked on her tongue gently.

Fuck, he loved that noise more than anything he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear it again, and again and again in every possible position and every possible circumstance.

All at once, the kiss was electric, the initial softness giving way to the chemistry and sexual tension that had been brewing between them for more than half a decade. Lena had never felt anything like it. It was exhilarating and somehow grounding in a way she’d never experienced, as if they were rooted together by their passion.

She wanted more of him. Her hands dove into his hair, noting the groan he let out when she pulled it lightly.

Nico lifted her onto the counter. He wanted her closer than their standing position allowed. She wrapped her legs around his waist. It was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

He broke away and trailed his mouth to her jaw, eager to taste her skin.

“Nico,” her voice was a breathy little moan.

He was a fool for not telling her sooner. God, he was such a fool.

Her hand found his jaw and pulled his mouth back to hers with a simple, “more,” that nearly drove him out of his mind with the need to obey.

Their teeth clicked, and she gigged.

He loved this, too - getting her in all the ways, even the awkward ones. A laugh fell into her mouth, and it brought him back to himself. He wanted to savor this. There was no need to rush. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Nico felt himself pout when she proved him wrong, and her lips broke from his. She stripped off her shirt, and before he could get his eyes on her, he felt her mouth connect to that soft spot under his jaw. How did she know?

“Lena,” he breathed. Her hands slid down his front, and the shock of her touch sent his skin to trembling. “Oh my God, Lena.”

She’d always loved the way he said her name, but this was something else. This was a song she would never get tired of, one she wanted to listen to again, and again, and again.

Her mouth explored his throat, sucking his pulse point. His dedication to go slow dissolved a little with every brush of her tongue, every graze of her nose ring across his skin.

His hands were suddenly everywhere. All over her back, cupping her butt to pull her to the edge of the counter so their hips could touch.

Feeling the rigid length of him pressing between her legs turned Lena feral. She’d done this to him. She was doing this to him. Tightening her legs around him, she wanted to do so much more to him.

Their hips ground together as his hands slipped to unhook her bra. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He fumbled with the clasps briefly before they gave way.

Taking the garment at the center gore, she pulled it away from her body. A brief moment of chaos ensued as their arms tangled in the effort to get it away from her. Finally, she flung it over his shoulder and giggled when the metal bits clinked against the tile floor.

Laughter split his face into the adorable, dimpled smile she loved so much before his gaze turned back to her. Even as the corners of his mouth remained turned up, his jaw slackened as his eyes blew wide.

Dreams and reality crashed into each other, and Nico felt his breath rush from his lungs. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“Hase,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was a bit of a cutesy pet name, but his brain was too busy trying to soak in every detail of her he’d been so starved for to think of a new one.

He murmured something under his breath in German, and Lena felt heat race to her core. She slid her hands into his hair in an attempt to pull him into a kiss, but he resisted, eyes still glued to her chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, voice husky.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling a blush overtake her cheeks.

He reached out, then paused, hands stopped in mid-air. “Can I?”

When his eyes flicked up to meet hers again, she lost her own breath. She was so used to seeing Nico’s expressive eyes wide with (what she knew now was) love, sparkling with mirth or drooped with disappointment. This…lust, different even from when he was posing with his pants undone, was new. Heat mixed with love and wonder. She’d never felt so desired.

She nodded, finding her voice wasn’t where she left it.

Nico was already throbbing against the zipper of his trousers, and cupping her breasts in his palms only made it worse. When she arched into his touch with a moan, it became damn near unbearable.

Unable to wait any longer, he crashed his lips to hers as their hips surged together again.

If he wasn’t careful, he was going to blow his load in his pants before he even got to feel her touch. Forcing himself to slow down, he concentrated on the weight of her breasts in his hands and the taste of her tongue in his mouth.

She was the one who took it further, one of her hands slipping down his stomach to cup him over his fabric prison.

Now would be a horrible time to faint, he told himself, even as he felt his eyes rolling back and his hips pushing forward into her hand. He groaned against her lips.

His mouth slid to her neck, and she shivered, feeling her nipples tighten more as his teeth scraped over her sensitive throat.

He was hard and so hot, even through the fabric of his trousers. It suddenly wasn’t enough. Removing her other hand from his hair, she fumbled with the belt buckle. Finally managing to get it open, she asked, “this is okay?”

“God, yes,” he moaned, hips restlessly moving against her hands.

As she was tearing the zipper down, one of his hands slid toward the fastening of her own jeans. “Okay?”

“Uh-hu.”

It was only after he flicked the button open and managed to pull the zipper that she realized she didn’t want to do this here. Not where, if she leaned back, her head would hit the cabinets, and not so close to where they prepared their food.

“Can we move to the couch?” she asked, breath in his ear.

Could they move to the couch? He would move them to the moon if she asked.

Lightning fast, his hands were suddenly cradling her bum, hauling her off the counter so he could cary her to the living room. A surprised yelp escaped her at the sudden show of strength.

He had to wrench his eyes open so he wouldn’t dump them on the floor as she licked his jaw up to the lobe of his ear, which she nibbled gently.

When they made it there, he tried to sit down still holding her, but only half managed it before he was falling the rest of the way. He didn’t mind her crashing on top of him. Feeling her chest pressed to his was a lifelong dream coming to fruition.

She was moving so restlessly on top of him, hips grinding, it made him whimper. Her hands snaked between them again, this time to shove his pants down.

They both pushed and tugged, and finally, he was free.

She broke away to look at him, and he had a sudden, terrible worry she would be disappointed. He wasn’t the biggest guy, but he wasn’t too small — at least no one had told him so.

“Oh, Nico,” Lena murmured, finally getting her hands on him. He was perfect. Thick and hard and searingly hot against her palm.

“Lena,” he moaned, head tipping back against the couch cushions. Finally feeling her touch was incredible. Now really would be a terrible time to faint.

She pulled her hand away briefly to spit into her palm, and he almost lost it, feeling like he could have come from the sight alone.

As soon as she began to stroke him, he was done for. There was no coming back from this — though he couldn’t think of a reason why they would need to.

His mouth dropped open, and his eyelids fluttered, attempting to keep looking into her face. The pleasure she was pulling out of him won out, and his eyes closed.

“Feels so good,” he groaned, his accent thickening as he spoke. He was going to lose his English next.

It happened, and he started babbling in German.

His voice was lower in his native tongue - it always had been. Lena felt her core flutter in anticipation.

He repeated the same word several times like it was a question, but she didn't know what it meant.

Nico opened his eyes and came back to himself enough to realize she didn't understand, and therefore couldn't do what he was begging her to.

“Kiss,” he managed in English, unable to pull out the correct grammar. “Please, kiss.”

Oh, that's what kush meant. In hindsight, it did sound a lot like kiss.

When she caught his lips, Nico couldn't hold back a moan as her tongue licked into his mouth. He had imagined this so many times, but those fantasies didn't prepare him for the actual feel of her hands on him, or the sweet, warm taste of her mouth, as if she'd just eaten one of those cinnamon sweets she liked so much.

Pleasure sparked and fizzed across his skin.

Jesus, this was better than anything he’d ever felt. Was this what six years of longing and anticipation did? Deciding it didn’t matter, he pushed the thought aside and let his whole mind be consumed by her soft hand, her incredible tongue, and the knowledge that this was actually happening. This was happening for real. He wasn’t going to jolt awake in a few minutes with a boner so hard it hurt.

“Lena,” he groaned into her mouth.

She pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, “what do you need?”

Everything. He needed everything. “You,” he said instead.

“I’m here,” she said, pulling at his length with a little more fervor.

His hips pumped up into her hand, desperate for release.

“Lena, I’m…” he couldn’t even get the words out before he was exploding.

She moaned along with him, drinking in the pleasure that washed over his face - his fluttering lashes and panting mouth.

Closing his eyes, Nico tried to compose himself. The sight of his release splattered over her breasts might actually make him faint.

She kept going with slower, gentler strokes until he winced, then gently pulled her hand away.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice deep and satisfied.

She giggled.

God, he couldn’t even move. Her mouth was back at his neck, and he breathed out a curse in German.

“Is that good or bad?” she asked into his skin.

“So good.” He needed to teach her so he wouldn’t have to explain. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” he said instead of launching into a lesson in German swearing.

Lifting her mouth from his neck, she looked down at him.

God, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “You’re so handsome, Nico,” she whispered, tracing a thumb over one of his bushy eyebrows.

He flushed.

“I’ve thought about what you look like when you’re coming so many times,” she said, tracing over his cheekbone this time.

“You have?” he squeaked.

She nodded. “And it was so beautiful.”

“I have too,” he admitted, slowly sliding his hand up her thigh. “Can I see it?”

Biting her lip, she nodded.

Even as he was working his hand into her underwear, his other was coming up to her face and gently thumbing her bottom lip out from under her teeth.

“Show me how to make you come,” he said, eyes boring into hers.

Shit, she might just fall apart from that look alone.

Rising onto her knees, she shoved her pants and underwear down to give them easier access. His fingers slipped between her lips, and she moaned, pressing toward them.

“I don’t really get off from penetration,” she said, “I like it, but it won’t make me orgasm, so it’s all about the clit for me.”

Sliding his fingers back from her entrance, he searched for that little nub. “Here?” he asked when he thought he’d found it.

Reaching down, she moved him where she needed him, so the pads of his fingers were making direct contact. “Here,” she breathed, guiding him to circle over and around her pearl.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and he devoured the pleasure that flowed over her face.

“I like this, too,” she said, moving his fingers into a V so they traced on either side.

He started a pattern from her instructions — circling and stroking, then splitting as he pulled back.

“You can press harder,” she moaned softly.

He did, and her hips stuttered into his touch.

“Can you…” she trailed off, feeling suddenly shy. She’d never asked a man for this before. Then again, this was Nico. He’d taken every other instruction to heart and was touching her exactly the way she wanted. She knew he would at least try.

“Anything,” he rasped, “tell me.”

Hips seeking, she moaned and loved that he was so willing to please her. She could see it in the way he was watching her — this eager, desperate look in his eyes, full of wonder and desire and so much need.

“Can you suck my nipples?” she finally whispered.

Growling something affirmative, he leaned in and drew one of the tender buds between his lips.

Her voice keened, and her hand flew into his hair to cradle him to her chest, “use your tongue,” she instructed, then moaned, “yes, Nico,” when he laved over the sensitive peak.

He was so turned on by her. By her confidence in knowing what she wanted and that she trusted him enough to tell him. Not to mention the way his name was panting out of her mouth.

Her back arched, pushing her hips into his hand and her breast into his mouth.

If Nico had known pleasing a woman could come with instructions like this, it would have changed his whole life.

He moved to the other breast, almost suckling at the tender bud.

“Fuck, Nico,” she moaned, “feels so good.”

“Show me how to take you there.”

“Put your fingers inside me.”

He obeyed even though he didn’t know how he’d stroke her clit now. Just as he was getting ready to detach his other hand from her breast, she guided his wrist so the heel of his hand pressed into her.

“Nico,” she moaned as pleasure flooded her system. Her hips ground into his hand. He felt incredible. God, was this what she’d been missing every time a man asked what she wanted and then did what they wanted anyway?

Her next words fell apart just as she did, turning as nonsensical as her rhythm.

Even watching the pleasure roll over her face didn’t prepare him for the feeling of her coming. He'd never felt anything like it. Her muscles clenched in quick succession, fluttering around his fingers. Fuck. If she did this around his cock? He might die.

All at once, the pleasure surging through her snapped, and she collapsed against him.

Nico eased his fingers from her and eased them up to his mouth, eyes rolling back at the first taste of her. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on her.

Before he could suggest they move to the bedroom, she was curling against him and tucking her face into his neck. Her breathing slowed. It was late - well past her usual bedtime, and Nico knew how a good orgasm could relax his body right to sleep if he was already tired.

“I love you,” she whispered into his neck.

A thrill zinged through him. “I love you, too,” he said, stroking a hand up her spine.

Upon waking, the first thing Lena noticed was that her breasts were bare, nipples puckered so tightly in the chilly morning air that they ached. Somehow, though, the rest of her wasn’t cold.

Trying to roll over, she ran into a solid body behind her.

The night before came crashing back. Nico posing for her before admitting he loved her. He loved her! Part of her still couldn’t believe it. She smiled, remembering the incredible way he looked falling apart beneath her before he teased the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had from her body. So incredible, she’d fallen asleep right in his lap. He must have moved them into this spooning position on the couch rather than moving her into her own bed.

Her phone trilled again. That’s what had woken her. Where was it? It sounded nearby.

Nico mumbled something and tightened his arms around her when she tried to get up.

When it rang for the third time, she realized it wasn’t ringing at all - it was her alarm. She needed to get up. As much as she wanted to just stay here and recreate the night before again and again and again, something Nico wouldn’t have minded if his hot length currently pressing into her back was any indication, she couldn’t. She had to show Professor Brown her sketches, and she had a painting to turn in in her post modernism class.

“Nico, I have to get up,” she said, lifting his arm from around her waist. Her chest was itchy from where his cum had dried on her skin.

“Nonig,” he mumbled, pulling her back into him.

“Yes.”

Finally managing to extract herself, she immediately fell off the couch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

God, he was adorable waking up. Mussed hair and heavy lidded eyes.

Nico didn’t want this moment to end. It couldn’t. It was too good. He watched, amused, as she tripped over her pants before tearing them down her legs and kicking them them off before she stumbled into the kitchen.

She finally found her phone — she’d left it on the counter — and cursed when she saw the time. She didn’t even have time to shower.

He groaned a pleasant curse in his native tongue and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. Sleeping on the couch was definitely not going to help him in the game tonight.

He sat up abruptly. “What time?” he called.

“It’s 9:05. I have to go to class.” she said, debating if she should just pull her jeans on and go. No, if she couldn’t shower, she at least needed to change.

He cursed again, jumping to his feet. This was not how he wanted the morning after to go. He wanted to make her breakfast in bed and ravish her again before he had to leave. Now, he had to rush. Practice started in 30 minutes, and it would take him 20 to get to the rink.

He ran to his bedroom and stopped short. There was a suitcase next to his dresser. He’d forgotten he was heading out on a road trip.

Running his hands into his hair, he wondered how this could have happened. He would have to be at the arena before she got home from class, and then they would leave from there to catch their flight to Florida. He finally got her, and he had to leave. This was the worst morning after he could have imagined.

Attempting to run down the hall and pull on her chucks at the same time probably wasn’t the best plan, but Lena needed to see him before he left. She wouldn’t see him again for six whole days. Stumbling, she crashed through his doorway just in time to watch him pulling on a new pair of underwear. She finally got her other shoe on before she stood up, pushing her hair out of her face.

He turned to her, and she lost her breath. She’d seen him naked, and he still did this to her.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said quietly.

He didn’t hesitate to stride to her, take her face in his hands, and kiss her deeply, like he’d wanted to for so many years. He was never giving up the opportunity again.

Gathering her against him, he broke the kiss in favor of burying his face in her hair. “I wish this morning was different.”

“I know, I do, too. But I’ll be here when you get back,” she assured, running her hands down his back. At the tail end of her stroke, she let her fingers curve in so her nails traced over his skin.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, cheeks dimpling.

A smile spread over her face, and she leaned up to brush her lips over his, “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

He nodded.

“Good luck,” she said, kissing him again, “I love you.”

Maybe this morning wasn’t so bad after all. “I love you, too.”

The smile she gave him made him want to move mountains.

“Thank you again,” she said, leaning in to kiss him one more time.

“For what?” he called after her as she ran down the hall.

“For everything,” she called back. “For all of it.”

It Doesn't Matter:

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nh13 #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier x ofc #nico hischier smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey romance #hockey fanfiction #nico & lena #🥭anon

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klausysworld · 11 months ago

Note

Your stories are so good!

How about a story where Klaus gets in over his head and ends up being taken captive by Augustine but falls in love with one of the scientist over the time he’s there.

(Made it the scientists daughter, not sure why? I think I read the ask wrong and then just got too deep with it. I can make another one if this wasn’t what was wanted)

(TW:This does include physical and psychological abuse form Y/n’s father! Please don’t read if this will be too upsetting for you and know that you are not alone.)

Betrayal

Klaus often went into dangerous situations without much of a plan, he was immortal and he used that to his every advantage. To be fair to him, this always worked in his favour except for that one time with the hunters curse but other than that it was fine.

Until now.

He woke with a groan, his eyes felt heavy and his body was stiff. Forcefully, he forced himself to look around but his face was against the ground. With a grunt, he managed to roll onto his back. His breathing was struggled and released in puffs. A hum reached his ears and he turned his head slowly to see a man, no a vampire sat in a cage or a prison cell opposite him.

The guys clothes were filthy, bloody and muddy. Hair greasy and growing a touch long. He gave an unserious wave "congratulations, you've been captured" he cheered sarcastically and Klaus frowned. The vampire rolled his eyes "¿no hablas inglés?" he questioned "français? Italiano? Polski?" he fired, clearly bored.

"Where-" Klaus frowned at the dryness of his throat and tried to clear his throat but it caused a painful sensation "Where am I?" he asked, raspily.

"English" the man stated, nodding to himself. "Right uh you are in an experiment where they do fun little tests on us vampires because they have an undying hatred towards us" the man explained, laughing tiredly to himself when he said 'undying'.

Klaus stared at the man like he were mad. "Tests? What sort of tests?" he questioned, frustrated and the vampire shut up. He glanced behind Klaus before back to him nervously

"They're trying to make a serum to make vampires have the uncontrollable urge to feed on other vampires...to rip their heads clean off. Be stronger, unstoppable and filled with hatred for our own" he explained quietly as though someone may be listening. Klaus frowned in response and slowly dragged himself up into a sitting position against the cold wall of his cell.

Vampires who rippered other vampires? It reminded him of his father and he didn't exactly want to think of him. Nor did he want to feel this week, how much vervain had they pumped him full of? He groaned loudly and the other man hummed in agreement.

The sound of a lock went and the vampire opposite Klaus quickly got to his feet, holding onto the bars like a desperate animal.

The soft clicking of heels sounded and the mans face immediately relaxed slightly, his eyes looking eagerly for whoever was coming. Klaus was hit with a strong scent of vanilla before a soft sigh was heard and he could see the back of a women. Her hair hiding her shoulders and the top half of her lab coat. She wore small black heels and a coat.

"You okay?" she asked the guy opposite him, handing him something, blood. He could smell it and he needed it. The vampire scoffed it down immediately with a sound of pleasure.

"mm thank you darling...I don't suppose you have another for me?" he purred but she shook he head

"It's for the new one" she whispered and Klaus's senses perked. She proceeded to turn towards him and her eyes looked him over. Klaus let out a breathy laugh, this was who was supposed to be testing and torturing him? He raised both his brows and licked his chapped lips before pulling them into a smirk. In response she only rolled her eyes "those eyes won't work on many people here" she told him, she placed the paper shot glass of blood onto the floor and carefully pushed it into his cage. "You'll be known by 52836, answer to it or they’ll burn it into you so you remember it" she informed, watching him reach forward and grabbing the drink.

"This is all I get?" he questioned, his nose scrunched and his browed pulled together.

"One a day. None if you misbehave. You'll feel better tomorrow when you have less vervain in your system, until then keep quiet. 12144 will be here with you...get comfortable" she murmured, a certain sadness and level of pity in her eyes as she gave a tight lipped smile to both vampires before leaving.

12144 looked back to Klaus, "You can call me Enzo, she's called Y/n. One of the mean ones daughters, been coming down here since she was small. She doesn't mean much harm but she's too scared to go against the rules" he explained with a shrug "Sometimes she sneaks me two portions if she can. She touched me once, just a hand on the shoulder. I was far too weak to respond but I knew she was there"

Klaus stared at Enzo for a moment before glancing to his now empty cup. What the fuck did he just get himself into?

It was the question he asked himself every morning and every night. To start off with he fought back against the scientists, yelled and screamed demanding to know who they thought they were, making empty threats and hoping his family would find him.

Klaus began to feel a little pathetic, he was hoping? That wasn’t like him. He was strategic and powerful. So he tried to pay better attention. After a few weeks, he was able to understand why Y/n was so obedient. Her father was dreadful. She once suggested that Klaus needed a break after watching blood poor out of his eyes, her father proceeded to grab her and threaten to stick one of the syringes in her neck. She sprinted out the room as soon as she was let go and Klaus couldn’t blame her. It made him think of Mikael and how he would hold a sword against his throat.

He had sympathy for her, empathy too but unfortunately he had to push that aside and instead of help her, he would manipulate her.

He would ask her about the little marks on her skin knowing it was a result of her trying to help him. Enzo would shake his head and occasionally speak up, telling Klaus to leave her be when her discomfort became clear.

“I don’t mean to upset you sweetheart” Klaus murmured, his hand reaching between the bars to brush against her arm making her flinch and pull away. “You don’t deserve to be hurt. I know that, Enz- 12144, knows it too. You’re good and sweet” he told her, his hand reaching to touch her but she wouldn’t let him. “I could help you” he whispered, his eyes flicking to Enzo’s but he just looked annoyed.

Y/n shook her head and left quickly and Enzo sighed. “You shouldn’t do that to her” he mumbled “you’re only making her hopeful”

“I haven’t lied. If she were to let me out then I’d happily slaughter that father of hers. Then she’d be safe” he smile sarcastically

“I wouldn’t let you kill her too. She hasn’t done anything cruel since the first day I met her” Enzo muttered solemnly

“I don’t plan on killing her” Klaus stated simply as he looked down at the extra cup of blood she had given him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do to her but he wouldn’t kill her, scare her maybe but he didn’t really want to kill her.

The two vampires sat back down in their cells. Preparing themselves for the torture to come. Occasionally it wouldn’t come, instead they would hear the sobs of a fear stricken Y/n as she begged the ‘scientists’ to give 12144 and 52836 a day off. It was those moments that made him soften for her.

When she would come down to where they stay with trembling hands and cups of blood.

As she handed the small offering to Klaus, he slid his hand out to grab her wrist gently. She immediately flinched and dropped the blood making her breathing escalate in panic.

“It’s alright” he soothed, pulling her closer to the bars so he could put his other hand on her cheek.

“I’m sorry” she whimpered “I’ll get more”

“It doesn’t matter sweetheart” he murmured, caressing her face gently and wiping the tears away. “I had two cups yesterday anyway” he reminded and she sniffed with a nod. “Come here love, let me hold you” he whispered, tugging her closer despite the shaking of her head a the cry that left her lips. Enzo watched with furrowed brows as Klaus managed to wrap his arms around her. Y/n’s body was pressed against the bars, still shaking as the vampire caressed her back slowly. Klaus looked over her shoulder to Enzo as Y/n melted against him. With hesitancy Enzo nodded and relaxed.

After nearly a full minute, he let her go and watched as her tearful eyes looked at his. Silently she turned around and left, whispering softly to Enzo on her way out.

Said vampire narrowed his eyes at Klaus “What game are you playing with her?” He asked lowly

“We need to get out. She needs to get out. This is how we do it” he mumbles

“Make her trust you and then use her? Like that will help her. You’ll only hurt her more” he sighed and Klaus rolled his eyes, sitting back down on the dirtied floors and shutting his eyes.

Y/n tried not to look him in the eye after that and she went back to pushing the cup of blood towards him instead of handing it to him. He could tell and Enzo could tell that something deeper was wrong. And it was only when it actually happened did they understand what.

It was Klaus’s turn to be shackled down and tested on. What he wasn’t ready for was when one of the scientists came in dragging Y/n by the wrist. He forced her infront of Klaus and shoved a syringe into her hands. She shook her head and begged no but as soon as her father stepped into the room she knew she had to do it. With one devastating look to Klaus, she injected him with the substance.

They made her test his blood and his reactions all afternoon, claiming that it was a good learning opportunity and she should finally get involved in the family business.

By the time she was finished, Klaus couldn’t see nor hear, he was certain for a moment that he was finally dead but eventually he woke a few hours later back in his cell.

After that, Y/n rarely brought them blood, she couldn’t face them. And when she had to face them, it was because she had to hurt them and that was even worse for everyone.

Neither vampire blamed her, they didn’t fight her when she would touch them. They would simply let it happen and internalise as much of their pain as possible so she wouldn’t cry as much.

Occasionally the other scientists would leave and she would immediately try stop their suffering. Asking what she could do. Enzo assure her that it was fine and she would hold his hand for a small while and feed him some water. Klaus would ask her to distract him which always confused her and ended up in a splurge of rambling so that he would be able to focus on something else. The amount of random stories that girl had told him wonder if she was just making them up on the spot but he didn’t mind if she was. Often she would caress his hand or shoulder as she spoke to try and give a sense of comfort.

One day, when Klaus was supposed to still be knocked out, she was in his cell with him. She had been told to clean the blood from the floor so that it wouldn’t smell and not to worry about 52836 because he wouldn’t wake for another hour. They underestimated his strength and the fact that Y/n would try sneak extra blood.

When he woke, his eyes slowly found her. She was down on her knees, scrubbing at the ground with a sponge quickly. It was clear she was on edge. She made it clear when she glanced over to him a few times. Only one of those times did she realise he was looking back at her and when it hit her she froze.

Klaus made sure not to move either, he wasn’t sure if the cage was open or not and he didn’t know if she would scream if he moved too quickly. He watched as she slowly began to stand up, he hesitantly moved his arm out and let his hand touch her ankle. A sound left her mouth as she went still again and watched him wrap his hand around her. “Can you help me sit up?” He asked quietly and reluctantly she nodded.

He let go of her and helped push himself up as much as he could while she supported the majority of his weight. She whispered her apologies as she managed to get him up and leaning against the wall.

“Thank you sweetheart” he whispered, his hand finding hers. She swallowed thickly but held his hand and sat beside him staring at the ground blankly.

Enzo was in the other room, being tested on as usual so Klaus had her to himself for a moment.

His eyes flicked to the lock of the cell, it was open and he knew that if he drained Y/n now that he would make it out. He felt her shuffle a little close to that she could transfer some of her body heat to his, and sighed to himself. Slowly he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re not like them” he whispered, holding her closer.

“I don’t want to hurt you” she whispered sadly and he closed his eyes, cursing himself silently.

“I don’t want to hurt you either” he uttered “I’m sorry” he told her, just before lowering his head and sinking his teeth into her neck. He squeezed his eyes shut to try block out her cry of pain and confusion. Her blood burned down his throat with the vervain she’d ingested but regardless of the toxic herb, he could still feel his strength returning. Her hands desperately tried to push him off, sobs echoing through his cell as he drank. Klaus tried to be a gentle as he could but her squirming made it so difficult.

When her heart began to slow, and her her breathing quietened, he pulled his mouth off. She looked up at him with a look that could only be described as betrayal and fear. Still, he picked her up in his arms and kissed her head “it’ll be okay my love” he whispered, carrying her with him as he pushed the cell gate open. “I’ll be back” he promised, putting her on the ground, ignoring her cries as he went into the torture room.

After draining the three scientists in the room and tearing the shackles off of Enzo, he came back and picked up Y/n. Enzo was furious and took her straight off of Klaus, promising her that he had no idea this was what would happen.

The three of them managed to escape the building and Klaus broke into a random car, beckoning Enzo with Y/n into the back as he managed to get it started.

He glanced in the rear view mirror as Enzo stroked Y/n’s hair while she shook and cried and asked if her father was still alive.

Klaus’s eyes met Enzo’s in the mirror as he stepped on the gas. Neither had any idea what to do now.

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