#hope no one's been rude to you about this

[crossfandomskylines]

Anywhere But Here

Summary: A Valentine's Day singles event was the last place you wanted to be until an unexpected conversation with Bradley Bradshaw turned the night into something else entirely. What started as shared sarcasm and an easy connection quickly became something deeper. And by the time the night was over you realized maybe fate had other plans after all.

Warnings: 18+. Suggestive Content (some nudity, heavy making out, implied smut but none directly), Alcohol Consumption, Mild Language.

Word Count: 4,389

Author's Note: Still struggling with a little bit of writer's block because of my headspace but managed to write this over the past few days and I think it turned out okay. This is my first time writing for Bradley so I'd love any feedback you guys have! I'm also still a little rough around the edges when it comes to writing smut so I'm sorry if that part isn't good. Hope you enjoy xx

You should have known better than to let your friends talk you into this. The dim lighting, the too loud music, the room full of strangers who all seemed to have the same agenda. It was everything you hated about Valentine’s Day wrapped into one overcrowded venue. 

Somewhere across the room your friends were probably watching and feeling satisfied that they’d successfully dragged you out, but they weren’t the ones stuck making small talk with men who either wanted a rebound, a hookup, or a therapist.

You sighed as you swirled the cheap cocktail in your glass as the third guy of the night launched into a monologue about his “complicated” relationship with his ex.

“Sounds rough,” you said nodding absently.

“Right? And she just doesn’t get that I need space,” he continued, leaning in like you were supposed to be impressed by his emotional unavailability.

You were about to excuse yourself and find your friends when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"Is this seat taken?" Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was easy, casual, like you hadn’t just been trapped in a one-sided conversation about someone’s divorce for the last fifteen minutes. You blinked in surprise, looking up to find Bradley standing beside you. You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you at his arrival, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Bradley,” you said with a chuckle, knowing full well he’d been watching from the corner of the room. 

You’d always known of Bradley. He was part of the same circle of friends though you’d never really talked outside of the occasional greeting or passing comment at group events. He was always nice enough, just not someone you ever felt a need to connect with more deeply.

He raised an eyebrow at the guy you were talking to, still unaware of his impending rescue. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” Bradley asked, looking at you with an easy grin.

The guy hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between you and Bradley before he finally nodded, mumbling something about catching up with some people. Bradley’s lips twitched in amusement as he pulled the barstool out and took a seat next to you, making it clear he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

As the guy shuffled away, Bradley glanced at you and whispered, “I’ve got to hand it to you, you were handling that a lot better than I would have. I’d have run for the hills by now.” His grin was teasing, but there was a warmth in his eyes, an unspoken understanding.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It wasn’t that bad, I just didn’t know how to get out of the conversation without being rude.”

Bradley leaned back, getting comfortable. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I was nearby. My friends usually do a pretty bad job of saving me from stuff like that. But if it helps, I’m pretty good at the rescue mission.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a smirk. “I’m sure you are. But I’m guessing Jake and Mickey had something to do with this little rescue operation?”

Bradley chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Guilty as charged. They’ve been trying to convince me to get out here all night. Apparently, they think I’m a really good wingman.” He grinned, clearly not taking the comment too seriously. “But between you and me, I’m just here for the free drinks.”

“Free drinks? I think I missed that memo?”

Bradley grinned as he motioned towards where Jake was across the room. “His price for dragging me out tonight was picking up my tab.”

Bradley leaned against the bar, nodding toward your empty glass. “Speaking of…need a refill?”

You hesitated, but he shrugged, adding, “Promise I won’t try to trauma-dump on you.”

That earned him a small smirk. “Well, in that case��� sure.”

He flagged down the bartender, ordering for you without making a big deal of it. As you waited, you glanced around the room at the couples awkwardly chatting, the guys clearly scanning for their next target, the women trying to seem interested but mostly looking bored.

“This might be the worst Valentine’s Day event in existence,” you muttered.

Bradley let out a low chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

You turned back to him, arching a brow. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit half these people don’t even want to be here.”

He shrugged, smirking. “That includes us, doesn’t it?”

You laughed. “Fair point.”

The bartender slid your drink across the bar, and you murmured a thanks before turning back to Bradley. Somehow, standing next to him felt…easy.

“So, what were you doing before you got roped into this disaster?” he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

You shrugged. “Had plans to drink wine, eat chocolate, and watch literally anything that wasn’t romance related. But my friends staged an intervention.”

Bradley smirked. “Tragic. What were you gonna watch?”

“Probably a concert film. You know, something that really captures the Valentine’s Day spirit.”

His grin widened. “Concert film, huh? What band?”

You lit up, immediately launching into a mini rant about your favorite band. You talked about their best albums, the time you saw them live, how their early work was underrated but their newer stuff still held up.

And Bradley listened. Not in the way people do when they’re just waiting for their turn to talk, but in a way that made it clear he was actually interested. He nodded along, grinning at your enthusiasm, occasionally asking a question or making a comment that proved he was keeping up.

At some point the noise of the bar faded into the background. The awkwardness of the event, the forced conversations, the reason you even came here in the first place…it all disappeared. It was just you and Bradley talking like this was the most natural thing in the world.

And you kind of liked it.

The DJ must have had a cruel sense of humor because without warning the music shifted from upbeat pop to something softer. Something that clearly signaled it was time for couples to pair off.

Around the room, people hesitated before awkwardly stepping closer to their dates or scanning for someone to dance with. You weren’t planning on participating until you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was him. The guy Bradley had saved you from earlier. He was lingering near the bar, glancing in your direction like he was debating coming over for round two.

You groaned under your breath. Bradley must have followed your gaze because he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. “Uh oh. I think your ex therapy patient wants a second session.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t even joke.”

His lips twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. Then after a beat he nudged you with his elbow. “We could always pretend to be together. Save you from another deep dive into his complicated emotions.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, we could, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. “I mean I’d hate to see you suffer.”

You rolled your eyes but honestly? The idea didn’t sound half bad. Better than standing here pretending not to notice your former conversation partner lurking nearby.

“…Fine,” you sighed.

His grin was instant like he’d known you’d agree. Without another word he reached for your hand, his fingers warm as they laced easily through yours. Before you could process that he was already tugging you toward the dance floor.

“Smooth,” you muttered as you followed.

He glanced back smirking. “I have my moments.”

You stopped near the edge of the dance floor where other couples had already started swaying to the music. Bradley turned to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and something softer, unreadable.

“Alright,” he said, his voice teasing but gentle as he placed one hand at your waist. “Try not to fall in love with me.”

You snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Dancing with Bradley was… easy. You had expected it to be awkward and stiff like the kind of slow dances you endured at high school prom. But he moved with an effortless confidence, his hand steady at your waist, his grip firm but not overbearing.

“So,” he said, his voice warm and low over the music, “how am I doing so far? Best fake Valentine’s date you’ve ever had?”

You smirked. “I don’t know. The bar’s pretty low. But I’ll give you points for effort.”

Bradley let out a soft chuckle, his thumb absently tracing small, slow circles where it rested against your waist. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it, but you noticed. And suddenly, the room felt just a little warmer.

The first song came to an end, and for a second, you thought about stepping back, about making some teasing remark and putting space between you. But before you could, the opening chords of a new song filled the air. A song from your favorite band. Your favorite song.

Your eyes widened. “No way.”

Bradley’s mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “What are the odds?”

You looked up at him, suspicious. “You didn’t request this, did you?”

He shook his head, smirking. “Nope. But now that it’s playing, it’d be wrong not to keep dancing.”

Before you could argue—not that you really wanted to—he pulled you back in.

And this time, you let yourself sink into it.

Somewhere between the first verse and the chorus, the space between you disappeared. His hands settled more firmly at your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your shirt. Without really thinking about it, your arms slid up, looping around his neck.

You felt him exhale, a quiet little laugh against your temple. “See? You’re having fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Don’t let it go to your head, Rooster.”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Too late.”

The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed yours with every slow step, the way his voice curled around your name when he murmured it just loud enough for you to hear. It all felt so natural and easy, like you’d been dancing with him forever instead of just minutes.

And when he made a dry teasing comment about one of the couples beside you, something about their awkward middle school dance stance you tipped your head back and laughed.

The sound must have done something to him because his hold on you tightened, just slightly. Just enough that you felt it. Just enough that you didn’t want to let go.

The song drifted into its final chords, but neither of you stepped away immediately. You were still close. Closer than you probably should have been considering this whole thing had started as an excuse to avoid bad small talk.

Bradley was looking at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he knew you weren’t in a hurry to move either. But then the DJ switched back to something obnoxiously upbeat, and the spell broke.

Bradley exhaled, glancing around before leaning down slightly, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “Alright. You wanna get out of here?”

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you trying to take me home?”

His smirk widened. “Would it work?”

You scoffed, even as heat curled in your stomach. “Not a chance.”

He chuckled. “Good to know.” Then, with an easy shrug, he added, “I was thinking we could go do something actually fun.”

You tilted your head. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. But I promise it’ll be better than this disaster.” He gestured around the bar where people were still fumbling their way through awkward conversations and stilted dances.

You eyed him, considering. “You do realize this is how horror movies start, right? Some girl follows a charming guy into the night, never to be seen again.”

Bradley placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me.”

You bit back a grin. “Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “…Are you serious?”

Bradley grinned. “Why not? We ditch this place, get some food, and actually enjoy the rest of the night.”

You should have said no. You should have come up with an excuse, played it safe, stuck to your original plan of going home alone.

But instead, you found yourself saying, “Alright, Bradshaw. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

His grin turned downright smug. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him take your hand anyway, following him toward the exit. Leaving behind the bad dates, the awkward glances, and the Valentine’s Day you thought you were going to have, and stepping into the one you never saw coming.

The bar door swung shut behind you, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat inside. You hadn’t realized how loud it was until now. It was so much easier to breathe out here.

Bradley, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, shot you a look. “Alright, I’m thinking pizza. And not some fancy, sit down place. I mean real pizza.”

You smirked. “Define real pizza.”

His eyes glinted. “Late night counter service, greasy but perfect pizza.”

“…Go on.”

“There’s a spot a few blocks from here. Open late, no frills, just damn good food.”

You pretended to think about it, though your stomach had already made the decision for you. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m never trusting you again.”

Bradley laughed, leading the way down the sidewalk. “That’s a lot of pressure, sweetheart.”

When you arrived after a short walk from the bar, the place was exactly as he’d described. A hole in the wall joint with neon signs buzzing faintly in the window and the unmistakable scent of fresh pizza wafting out the door.

Bradley let you step inside first, the warmth from the ovens immediately washing over you. The glass display case was lined with massive slices ready to grab and go.

“Alright,” he said scanning the selection. “You a toppings person, or are we keeping it classic?”

“Pepperoni,” you answered without hesitation.

His smile was approving. “Good choice.” He turned to the guy behind the counter. “Two slices of pepperoni, please.”

You arched a brow. “Two? What if I wanted two slices?”

Bradley gave you a look. “Trust me. You won’t want the second when you see the size of these.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A few minutes later, you were standing outside, each holding a massive, perfectly greasy slice, the warmth seeping into your fingers as you took your first bite.

You groaned. “Okay. Fine. You were right. This is really good pizza.”

Bradley grinned, chewing his own bite. “Told you.”

The street was quiet, save for the occasional car rolling by and the faint hum of city life in the distance. For a moment, you just stood there, eating in comfortable silence.

Then, Bradley wiped his fingers on a napkin and glanced over at you. “So.”

You swallowed your bite, eyeing him warily. “So.”

His smirk was lazy, unreadable. “Wanna head back to my place?”

You nearly choked. “Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”

Bradley laughed. “Not like that.” He gestured to the nearly empty street. “It’s still early. I figured we could keep hanging out…unless you’re dying to go home.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. It wasn’t that late, and you weren’t tired. And if you were being honest with yourself you didn’t really want to say goodnight yet.

“…Alright, Bradshaw,” you said, giving him a knowing look. And just like that, you found yourself following him into the night.

When you reached the curb, he gestured toward an old but well kept Bronco parked under the glow of a streetlamp. It suited him. It was rugged, classic, and also a little effortlessly cool.

You expected him to climb in first, but instead he reached for the passenger door, pulling it open.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously?”

Bradley just shrugged, stepping back to give you space. “What? You think I don’t have manners?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you as the door-opening type.”

His smirk was subtle but genuine. “Guess I like keeping you on your toes.”

Still eyeing him, you slid into the seat. The door shut with a solid thunk, and a moment later Bradley was rounding the hood and climbing in behind the wheel.

Bradley’s place was exactly what you would’ve expected. Laid back, a little old school, but effortlessly him. Warm lighting, a well-loved couch, a few framed photos on the walls, and a record player in the corner. It felt lived in, comfortable.

“You want a beer?” he asked as he tossed his keys onto the counter.

You nodded, stepping further inside. “Yeah, sure.”

Bradley grabbed two from the fridge, popping the caps off with practiced ease before handing one to you. You took a sip as he led you toward the couch, where he sank down with an easy sprawl.

You hesitated for half a second before sitting next to him, tucking your legs underneath you. The conversation picked up right where it had left off with music, movies, dumb things you’d both done as kids.

At some point you kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs out, your sock clad feet nudging his thigh. Bradley didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he absentmindedly rested a hand on your shin as he talked, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your jeans.

You should’ve noticed it earlier. That shift, that subtle change in the air. Because somewhere between the teasing and the laughter, something had settled in the space between you. Something quieter. Heavier. Bradley’s fingers stilled against your leg, his gaze flicking to yours.

You swallowed. “What?”

He shook his head, his voice softer now. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you both knew it. The air crackled, and before you could second guess it, you were shifting closer. Bradley’s hand slid up, palm skimming your knee before settling at your waist. His fingers curled there, warm and steady.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, he was right there. His breath fanned across your lips, his eyes locked onto yours, searching.

And then he kissed you. It was slow at first, just the soft press of his lips against yours, like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away and you kissed him back,he deepened it, his hand tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, threading into his hair, and he groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent heat curling through your stomach. By the time you finally broke apart, you were breathless.

Bradley rested his forehead against yours, his lips quirking. “So… I’m guessing you don’t regret leaving that singles event?”

You laughed, still catching your breath. “Not even a little bit.”

Bradley’s hands were still resting at your waist, warm and steady, as you hovered just inches from him. The air between you felt charged, humming with something unspoken but undeniable. You moved first, shifting onto your knees before slowly swinging a leg over his lap, settling yourself against him. Bradley inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their hold on you like he was still processing what was happening, like he needed a second to let himself feel you there.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, his hands twitching slightly against your hips.

You nodded, fingers trailing up the back of his neck as you leaned in. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth met yours again, deeper this time, the hesitancy from before fading as he pulled you closer, molding you against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a quiet groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands, large and warm, traced slow circles at your waist before slipping under your shirt. His palms pressed against your bare skin, mapping their way up your sides, his touch reverent like he was savoring every inch of you.

He paused, giving you a chance to stop him, but you weren’t going anywhere. You lifted your arms, silently telling him to keep going, and Bradley took his time easing your shirt up and over your head, his eyes flickering over your newly exposed skin. His fingers followed the path of his gaze, tracing along your ribs, your back, your shoulders.

“Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper, his lips moving with purpose as his hands roamed over you.

You shifted in his lap, pressing closer, and that was when something changed. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin like he suddenly couldn’t get enough. His kisses turned hungrier, his breath heavier as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until all you could do was melt into him.

You gasped as his mouth trailed along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, his lips and tongue leaving a heated path in their wake. His hands moved again, exploring more boldly now, and you arched into him, letting yourself feel everything. His touch, his warmth, the way he was unraveling right along with you.

Your fingers moved with growing urgency, skimming over Bradley’s shoulders as you tried to push off that damn ugly printed shirt. But the fabric bunched awkwardly at his arms, refusing to cooperate. Frustrated, you tugged harder, reaching for the undershirt beneath it too, wanting them both gone except now you were tangled in two layers of fabric, and nothing was coming off the way you wanted.

Bradley chuckled against your skin, his breath warm where his lips had been trailing along your collarbone. 

“Impatient, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper laced in it too, something thick with amusement and want.

You huffed, still struggling. “If you’d stop wearing so many damn layers—”

He cut you off with another quiet laugh before leaning back slightly. “Here,” he murmured, his hands covering yours, steadying them. “Let me help you out, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flipped at the easy way the endearment rolled off his tongue, but before you could dwell on it, Bradley took control. He shrugged out of the over shirt first, letting it drop to the floor before crossing his arms to pull the undershirt over his head in one smooth motion.

And damn.

Your breath hitched as you finally took him in. His broad shoulders, toned chest, the soft trail of hair leading down his stomach. His dog tags rested against his skin, catching the low light of the room, and for a moment, you just stared.

Bradley smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Better?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, hands splaying against his bare chest as you kissed him again, slow and deep, making sure he felt exactly how much you appreciated the view.

Bradley groaned against your lips, his hands sliding back to your waist before gripping your hips firmly, grounding you against him. The kiss deepened, turning messier, more desperate, and when you rolled your hips just slightly, testing the friction, that was when he lost the last bit of his restraint.

His grip tightened, his breath shuddering against your mouth. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

You smirked. “Maybe I like the heat.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for half a second before he suddenly moved, flipping you onto your back on the couch in one swift motion.

You barely had time to gasp before he was hovering over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His lips found your neck again, his hands roaming over newly exposed skin, and suddenly, you weren’t the one in control anymore.

And you definitely didn’t mind.

Bradley’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, fingers grazing over your hips before settling at the waistband of your jeans. His eyes flicked up to yours, silently asking for permission. When you nodded, he made quick work of the button and zipper, his fingers brushing over your skin as he tugged them down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze raking over you, dark and unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. His voice was rougher now, lower, as he shook his head. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest at his words, at the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

Then, before you could think of a response, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to the base of your throat. His mouth was warm, his kisses slow and reverent as he made his way down, lingering at the delicate skin along your collarbone, then lower, teasing over your ribs before his hands found your thighs.

He shifted, lowering himself onto the floor in front of the couch, his large, rough palms pressing against your inner thighs as he spread them apart. The contrast between his calloused hands and the soft skin of your legs sent a shiver up your spine.

Bradley’s breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as his mouth trailed lower until it hovered just above the place you ached for him most. His grip on your thighs tightened, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin as if savoring the anticipation.

“Still with me?” he murmured, his voice husky, teasing.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers sinking into his thick curls, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “Bradley—”

His lips curved against your hipbone. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

A slow, unrelenting press of his mouth, a sound of satisfaction rumbling low in his throat as he pulled you closer, as your world narrowed to nothing but the feeling of him, the steady, torturous rhythm of his hands and lips unraveling you piece by piece.

The last coherent thought you had before everything melted into sensation was that you’d never look at him the same way again.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just My Type

This one is for @henderdads with her prompt - accidental first kiss. Happy Valentine's Day, Cass! I hope this will bring you some joy!

Steve Harrington wasn't known for sharing his problems with others. He was the one who resolved all your issues, not brought more to the already very overcrowded table. The kids needed some stability, and as much as he loved Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, they weren't exactly fit for that role. The girls would soon leave Hawkins for college (Steve was so proud his heart could burst), and Eddie had his hands full with the whole finishing high school thing while still recovering from being nearly eaten by demobats.

No, Steve had this handled. He was the least fun of the four, but reliable. As far as the kids knew, the only issue Steve had was his inconsistent and ever dramatic love life, nothing else.

When Steve's eyesight started getting worse, likely from all those concussions, he handled it on his own. No need to worry anyone. A secret pair of glasses for home, prescription sunglasses for driving (and yeah, he looked cool in them, despite the kids' grumbling), and that was it. They didn't need to know. Everything was working out just fine. He was great at faking things.

At least until that fateful day. But we’ll get there. First, something about Steve’s love life.

See, Steve was dating around. He had been feeling anxious, unfulfilled, and the more he thought about it, the reason wasn’t Nancy for once. Even stranger, he knew he was over her, but the feeling of needing something and not being able to get it wouldn’t leave. So he got out there, used his charm, and prayed he’d finally find the one.

So far, it wasn’t working out. Most of the girls he went out with were lovely, kind, and gorgeous, but there was always something missing that made him break things off before anyone could get hurt. He had a type - curly or wavy dark hair and even darker eyes, but hey. It wasn’t his fault that Nancy had been the closest to an ideal relationship he’d ever had! That had to be the reason, he thought. Maybe his concussed brain decided that curly hair meant a good girlfriend.

“It’s not like I can help it,” he lamented, pretending not to see Eddie’s amused smirk. They had become good friends after their Upside Down near death experience, and as Dustin never failed to mention with a truckload of disgust, they were now practically inseparable. “Who doesn’t like curly hair? They’re making it this whole thing. I’m over Nancy.”

Eddie snorted and tossed his chemistry textbook somewhere towards the pile of stuff that might have included his desk. “Uh-huh. Sure thing. So this new one-”

“Jenny.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes. This Jenny. It’s just a coincidence that she’s a dead ringer for Wheeler.” He nudged Steve’s side with his bare foot. “Come on, Harrington. Be honest with your only adult friend.”

Steve kicked him in retaliation. “Wow, rude. I’ll let you know, I have Robin!”

“Buckley is so much more than a mere human, Steven. She doesn’t count, she surpasses our species. Whereas I,” he announced to the broken ceiling fan, “am very human, non-judgmental, and I have seen you go through half a dozen ladies of the same type since the spring break. So?”

Laughing, Steve kicked him again. “So nothing. She doesn’t look like Nancy. Hell, she looks more like you - her hair is darker, more wavy, and she has those really pretty dark eyes. And she’s tall. Are you saying you’re my type too?”

Eddie rolled over and batted his eyelashes. “I don’t know, Steve, am I?”

Steve hit him with a pillow in the face. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing, he might have just noticed the tinge of longing in Eddie’s voice.

..

To recap: the two things that led to the most important day of Steve’s life were a) his tendency to date a certain visual type of girl; b) his unwillingness to admit to anyone that he needed glasses.

Here’s what happened.

Steve, being both a good friend and a good boyfriend, took Jenny to see Eddie perform with the Corroded Coffin. Was metal his favorite music genre? Not really, but he wanted to support Eddie, and Jenny didn’t seem to mind, she even agreed to wear a Corroded Coffin t-shirt from Steve’s wardrobe.

Steve found himself enjoying the concert way more than he’d expected. The alcohol helped, sure, but it was so heartwarming to see Eddie in his element, scarred, but still the same. Steve had even learned to recognize the lyrics within all the noise, and even if he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Eddie yet, Steve considered them surprisingly deep. He really hoped Eddie would make it big, he was a wonderful guy, and life owed him big time.

After the concert, Jenny excused herself to the bathroom, and Steve went to grab some beers. His head was pleasantly buzzing, and even though his eyesight was more blurry than usual, he found his way through the crowd with ease.

He put down both beers and wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist. He’d lost track of time at the bar, she must have come back in the meantime. And so, as they tended to do, he touched her cheek and turned her face into a quick kiss.

Steve noticed several things at once.

First, stunned gasps from the Corroded Coffin members, along with Robin’s snickering.

Second, Jenny’s cheek felt different. Almost stubbly?

Third, it was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

And fourth, before the kiss could end, he felt something wet - the beer he’d just brought - hit his head and back, along with an angry shriek.

What happened next was a blur, and not just because he had trouble seeing it. He was vaguely aware of a second Jenny hitting him with her purse and storming off, Robin trying to control her laughter, and the person next to him, also drenched in beer? That was Eddie.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry!” Steve instinctively grabbed napkins and started drying off the beer in Eddie’s hair, on his jacket. “I...OK, not the best time to tell you, but I’ve noticed I can’t see shit, and normally I wear glasses, but I couldn’t take them with me because I look like a baby accountant or something, and I didn’t want you guys to worry. And uh, you probably know, but your hair looks kinda like Jenny’s, and I’m really sorry I did that without asking.”

Eddie was motionless, letting Steve fret over him. He was just staring into the distance, cogs turning in his brain.

Robin, bless her heart, re-directed the Corroded Coffin guys to grab a mop and a dry t-shirt from Eddie’s van for both Steve and Eddie. After that, she started ushering the unlucky pair towards men’s bathrooms, to “wash off that smell before it’s too late.” She snapped her fingers in front of Eddie’s eyes, getting him to move.  

As she shoved both of them towards the sink, she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him close. “Since you are freshly broken up, I would strongly suggest you think hard and fast about why you made that mistake, Steve. I can’t spell it out for you, even if it would be easier for everyone involved.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, uh...I think I might know.”

“Might?”

“I definitely know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so dumb. That...even if I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t fair to Jenny. Or the ones before.”

Robin smiled at him and, not unkindly, patted his shoulder. “They’ll get over it. In the meantime, your man looks like he’s about to faint. Don’t mess this up, OK? I couldn’t stand to see you brooding again and going through another set of Eddie substitutes.”

After she closed the door behind Steve, she grabbed the mop and started cleaning the mess. She could say it would cost Steve a lifetime of driving her around, but she knew he’d do that anyway.

..

In the bathroom, Eddie was slowly finding his words. “You...you kissed me.”

Steve took a step towards Eddie, trying not to spook him. “Yeah. I know it sounds like bullshit,” he said, pushing down the bitter memories of that word, “but I really mistook you for Jenny. I can’t see much, especially when it’s dark. I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice didn’t sound fine. The music from the club drowned out most of the quieter sounds, but Steve could swear he heard a sniffle. “Of course,” whispered Eddie and he seemed so sad. Steve wanted to punch his own face. “Of course it was a mistake.”

Eddie straightened his back and wiped at his eyes before turning towards Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. It happens. I mean, you should feel more sorry for yourself, you’re single again, and if Jenny or anyone from the club talks, they’ll think you’re a-”

“I don’t care.”

With a bitter chuckle, Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, Steve. You have a reputation to protect. Our lovely and pious citizens of Hawkins expect something like that from me, they know I’m...wrong. But you? You’re the golden boy. Steve, you should think about what this will do to you.” He wasn’t looking at Steve, his eyes were glued to the floor. Steve didn’t need a hint to know why Eddie was blinking so rapidly, why he sounded so strained.

He reached out and grasped Eddie’s hands. “Eddie. I really don’t care. I won’t feel sorry for what someone might think. The only reason I’m sorry is that I kissed you without you agreeing to it, in front of people, because...” He took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “...because I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Not a case of a mistaken identity caused by my shitty eyesight. And I wish I could have done it differently, that we wouldn’t be in this dirty bathroom, and sticky and disgusting from that beer. But even if I’m sorry for not asking you, I’m also glad. Because it made me realize something really important.”

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, still wet with tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. A hint of hope. “And what is that?” he asked.

Steve moved several wet strands of Eddie’s hair from his face. He looked just a little bit like a wet rat, but to Steve, he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t wait to bury his hands in Eddie’s hair properly, when it was freshly washed. Maybe smelling of Steve’s shampoo. That was a thought.

He stroked Eddie’s cheek and for the first time in so long, he felt puzzle pieces falling in place. This was right.

“I realized that I didn’t answer you when you asked me,” he smiled and pulled Eddie closer. “You, Eddie Munson, are exactly my type.”

[lycheeloving]

Second chapter!! Happy Valentine's day <3

Bruce finds you at work and doesn't leave you alone.

< first chapter

The next day at work, it all feels like a fever dream. Did you really meet Bruce Wayne? And talk to him all night? You feel a bit nauseous just thinking about it, but you just remind yourself that you'll never see him again. Even if you did get along really well...

Whatever, you'll just daydream about kissing him in the moonlight, that's just as fun as the real thing, right? Not that you could compare it to the real thing,  you'd have to kiss someone at some point to know what it's like.

Maybe you should have kissed Bruce yesterday, he certainly seemed like he would have been ok with that, but that was probably just wishful thinking anyways. Oh well, too late now.

The bell that lets you know somebody entered the store rings and rips you out of your thoughts. Fuck. You hate when there's costumers, which is why you chose to work at the shittiest bookstore in Gotham. And are hiding in the back.

You're supposed to say something like "I'll be right with you!", but you're not going to do that. You hate talking loudly. Especially to strangers, especially when you can't even see them. But you never even say anything when you're out in the front and making direct eye contact with them, so whatever. You just hope they won't ask you for help with finding anything, just having to ring them up is bad enough...

Why do you have to get costumers at all? Fuck, you should really look for a job with less contact to people, but this is the best you've been able to find so far.

You reluctantly leave the safety of the back room, only to find a guy in an oversized hoodie and sunglasses absolutely beaming at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Should you know him?

Only when he takes the sunglasses off do you realize that it's Bruce. No way, how did he find you? You feel your palms getting sweaty.

"Finally! I found you! Do you know how hard it was to find this book store with the minimal description you gave me?" 

Not hard enough, apparently, considering that he was able to find you this soon. It hasn't even been a full day!

He's still smiling at you. "I've been to multiple book stores this morning! I'm so glad you told me you'd be working today, or I would have had to ask everyone if you're one of their coworkers!"

"Yeah, well, if I had wanted you to show up here, I would have given you more details, probably." You deadpan, hoping your voice isn't shaking.

He's not deterred, he just keeps talking as if you hadn't said anything: "Wanna get lunch with me? When's your break? We could go to that café around the corner that I saw on my way here!"

Is he not getting that you don't want him here? Well, you do want him here, but you don't. You want him to think you don't want him here so he'll leave before you can embarrass yourself.

"I can't leave for my break, I have to stay here. I'm the only one working right now, I can't just- just lock up and get something to eat." Your boss actually allowed you to do just that, but when you came back from doing it the first time, an angry costumer was waiting for you and yelled at you for 10 minutes about how it's rude to just close the store in the middle of the day. You don't want a repeat of that, so you started eating your lunch at work whenever there were no costumers. Which is almost always, luckily.

"I could go get you something and we can eat here! It doesn't seem like you get a lot of costumers so we won't even be disturbing anyone!" Why is he so persistent? Can't he go talk to some supermodel or something?

"I'm not hungry." You kind of are, actually.

"That's fine, we can just talk! I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, I haven't clicked with anyone like this in a long time, I couldn't just let you go."

Wait, is he serious? Well, why else would he go through the effort of looking for you... But still, you can't quite believe it. Are you being pranked?

"You should go. What if costumers start showing up? I'm sure you don't want some weird fan to recognize you."

Bruce ignores what you say and stays. He talks to you for about half an hour, well, mostly he talks at you, until he has to leave because his lunch break is over. You just stand there, perplexed. Does he really want to hang out with you?

He returns the next day. And the next. And the next. Every day, always during his lunch break. It takes a few times until you stop trying to ignore him, a few more times until you start actually talking to him, and a few more times until you agree to eat lunch with him. Not go anywhere else, just eat your own lunch at the bookstore.

You can't stop yourself from trying to push him away a little bit, though.

You put down your fork. "You know, it's rude of you to keep visiting me at work, where I can't just leave. This is basically harassment."

"If you want me to go, I'll go. Just say so, and I'll never show up here again, I promise."

You don't want him to leave. Well, you do, because you don't want to get even more attached, but you don't, because, well, you're getting attached. You can't bring yourself to make him leave.

You huff and roll your eyes. "Whatever." You pick your fork back up and continue eating.

He tries to suppress a smile. Gross. He's so cute.

Whenever he catches you playing a silly game on your phone (which is basically every time he enters the store, as you love slacking off), he insists on befriending you on it if possible, so when you're not hanging out he'll send you a booster on your candy-crush-esque game, or play against you on a quiz app.

Sometimes he uses the chat option there to tell you to go to sleep when it's late and he catches you playing, even though he's obviously awake as well! Hypocrite. It makes you smile every time. 

One day while you're eating lunch together, a few months after he first showed up, he puts down his fork and says: "I think I need to make this more clear. I am interested in you romantically. I want to date you."

You almost spit out your lunch, but manage to swallow it without choking. "H- Wh- Huh? What?"

"We can just be friends, I'd love to be friends, we already are friends, in my opinion, but I would also love to date you. So if one day you decide that you want to date me, please let me know."

You already want to, but you will absolutely not be informing him of that, thanks. Asking for what you want? What are you, a well adjusted person? You blink owlishly at him instead of saying anything. That should suffice as a response, right? No, you should probably say something.

"...Look, even if I was interested in dating you—", which, again, you literally are, but why would you tell him that;

"—you're famous, and at some point it would come out that I was dating you, and the paparazzi would publish one single picture of me and I'd immediately panic so hard I would pass out and die. This—" You point your fork between the two of you. "—is already risky enough. Whatever this is, anyway."

Bruce, as always, chooses not to address the parts of what you were saying that were clearly your anxiety speaking and simply grins.

"So you do want to date me? It sounds to me like you're just looking for excuses. Don't worry, if I don't want anyone to know about you, noone will! People don't tend to recognize me when I'm not wearing a suit, especially in environments where they're not expecting me, so anywhere outside of my workplace and fancy parties. It's worked so far, hasn't it? Not a single person has recognized me here! Dating won't change that. So, if you do want to go on a date with me, just say the word. Please."

What word? Wait, he means that metaphorically, right? No, but seriously, what would you say, how would you say that without sounding totally weird?

"That's not what I was saying. At all. Stop misinterpreting me." You roll your eyes at him. He changes the topic, but he keeps smiling until he has to leave.

Lying awake that night, you think about what he said. Does he actually like you? Or is he just pretending, because he likes a challenge? Knew you'd be difficult to get close to, and he gets a kick from being someone's first relationship, kiss, everything, and then leaving them? You feel nauseous and you suddenly feel cold. How are you supposed to figure this out? You try to tell yourself that it's only your anxiety speaking, that Bruce is actually a nice person and wouldn't do that, but you can't quite convince yourself.

The next day, your way home after work (and after pretending your conversation with Bruce yesterday didn't happen, which luckily he played along with), you see something on the ground that reflects the light in a way that catches your eye.

What is that? It's kind of hidden behind a trash can.

You take a step closer, hoping it's not some kind of trap, but you can't think of a villain who would hide shiny things on the floor to kill civilians. At least not in that color, the Joker would make it colorful, and this object appears to be... black?

Oh, it's a Batarang! You've never seen one up close, but they can't be super rare with how often people online post about having found one, there's even one guy who collects them and has an entire wall plastered with them. Allegedly. People online are saying that most of them are probably replicas, but you can't tell, as you've never seen a real one. Until now.

That makes you think, just how many Batarangs does Batman have? More than enough if he let's random people keep them. You think about picking it up and taking it with you. It would be really cool to have a Batarang...

You reach out towards it, but stop right before you touch it. Is it stuck in the floor? Fuck, just how sharp are those things...?

Maybe you should leave it here, you'd just cut your hand open on it, trying to get it unstuck.

Plus, maybe Batman will find this one if you leave it here, and then re-use it! Reduce, re-use, recycle, Batman!

You leave it where you found it, after taking a few pictures of it as proof.

The next day, Bruce asks you if you did anything interesting yesterday, like he does every time he sees you. Usually you'd say no, but you did find that Batarang... Would Bruce care about that?

While you're contemplating, Bruce says: "You'd have said no by now if nothing had happened! Come on, please tell me?"

Fine! Whatever! You'll tell him, even if he'll probably think it's boring.

"Ok, so, on my way home yesterday... I found a Batarang. And, um, it got me thinking, well, first of all, how many of those does that guy have? If he's just leaving them lying around like that, right? Oh, and, it was so sharp, it was stuck in the floor, though I guess maybe that just means Batman is really strong? Either way, I thought he doesn't kill, right, but considering what he's working with it's a miracle no criminal has ended up dead yet, right?" You stop rambling, realizing that Bruce hasn't said anything yet. At least he appears to be amused.

"You have a lot of thoughts about Batman, huh?" He grins. "Yeah, he must have tons of those things, I've seen the posts. Did you take it with you?" He didn't respond to your killing thoughts... Oh well, you did give him a lot of information all at once.

"No, I didn't... But I thought about it! I mean, it seems like that's what everyone else is doing, but with it being stuck in the floor like that I was worried I would cut my hand open trying to get it unstuck! And with my luck there would have been germs or poison on it and my wound would have gotten infected, like, immediately, and I would have died. So I left it there for Batman to hopefully find again. I mean, he should probably be reusing the ones he already has, right? Reduce, reuse, recycle, I'm just helping Batman be more climate friendly!" There you go, rambling again.

Bruce seems almost too amused at all of this.

"Well, do you want it? I can come with you when your shift is over and help you get it unstuck, if you want. If nobody else has already taken it. I'm sure Batman won't mind. And if it ever comes out that he's not trying his best to be climate friendly, I'll personally go kick his ass, I promise."

"Uh. Um. You don't have to do that!"

"...Kick his ass or go get the batarang for you?"

"I meant getting the batarang, but also please don't fight Batman. He'd wipe the floor with you. No offense."

"Well, first of all, I think I'm just as strong as Batman-" You roll your eyes at him. Dork.

"And second of all, I don't have to get it for you, but I want to. Please let me?"

Ok. Fuck. Whatever. This is the first time you'll be seeing him outside of work, excluding your first meeting.

"Uh. Ok? I, um, my shift ends at 8."

"I'll pick you up in front of the store, then. It's a date!"

"Uh! No, well, yes, but, it- um-"

"I'm just teasing you." He winks at you. Winks! Is he trying to kill you? You turn your face towards your food so you don't have to look at him. Asshole. Stop being so hot.

Later, at 8, he's already waiting for you in front of the store while you're locking up.

"Ready to go?" He smiles.

"Uh, yeah! Sure!"

You start leading the way to where you found the batarang, talking about whatever comes to mind on the way.

Finally, about halfway on your way home, you reach the place where the batarang should be. You hope it's still there, but somebody else could have taken it. You push the trashcan it was behind to the side, and...

There it is!

"Look, it's still here!" You turn around to Bruce, smiling. He smiles back. You fight the urge to giggle or hide your face behind your hands, he needs to stop being so cute.

"Didn't you say it's stuck in the ground? Why wouldn't it be here anymore?"

"Uh, you said you'd help me get it out? Somebody else could have done the same thing!"

"Right. But they don't have my getting batarangs unstuck from the ground skills."

You roll your eyes. How often could Bruce have come in contact with a batarang? His only advantage compared to you is that he's stronger and not afraid of cutting his hand open. At least that's what you think.

You watch as he grabs the batarang and gets it unstuck in seconds. Seriously? It was that easy?

"Woah. I think I would have been able to do that myself, that looked super easy. Sorry to have made you come all this way..." Apparently it wasn't stuck in there as much as you thought? Even if a considerable part of it disappeared beneath the ground. Hm. Weird. Maybe there was a batarang shaped hole there before it landed there? Or Bruce is just a lot stronger than he looks.

"No, I'm glad I came along! I wouldn't have wanted you to cut yourself accidentally." He wraps the batarang in a piece of fabric. Some kind of rich people tissue, maybe.

"Let me carry it home for you?" He looks at you in a way that makes you melt a little bit. Ok, fine.

"Oh, uh, sure!" You did enjoy walking around with him. And not just because walking with someone in Gotham is safer than doing it alone.

"Also we could maybe order dinner? And eat together at your place?" And let him into your apartment that's not cleaned up? That looks shitty even when it is cleaned up?

"Don't push it."

"Or we could go somewhere? I'll pay, of course."

And absolutely embarrass yourself and make him never want to see you again and talk about you to journalists that you're a horrible person, which gets published in every newspaper ever so you have to move and change your name? Ok, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

Bruce can clearly see the anxiety on your face.

"It doesn't have to be a date, if you don't want that."

Be brave! Be brave! You can do this!

"Uh." You almost choke on your words. "And... if I do... want that...?"

You might actually pass out, this is horrible. If he doesn't respond in less than a second, your flight response is going to win and you'll run away. And quit your job, so he can't find you again.

"That would be wonderful! We can take it slow, ok? Absolutely no pressure to do anything you don't want to do whatsoever, I promise."

You nod, not feeling brave enough to say anything. Maybe those were your last words ever.

"So... Dinner at your place? As a date?"

You nod again. Shit, fuck. Are you actually going to date Bruce Wayne? What were you thinking? Wait, does going on one date even mean you're 'dating' him? What's the definition here?

You start walking again, leading Bruce to where you live. If he hates your apartment and leaves and you never see him again that's fine and you'll be able to handle it, right? But that won't happen, so calm down. But if it did happen, you'll be fine and ok and fine. It's fine! Oh fuck, what if you misunderstood him? Did he even mean dinner tonight? Are you embarrassing yourself by assuming he'll come with you right now?

Bruce walks right beside you and starts talking again.

"I'll order. What do you want?" While saying this, he puts an arm around your shoulder. You tense. Woah.

"You said you'd take it slow!" Look at that, you can talk again.

"Too much?" Yes. But also no. But yes. But no.

"I don't know! Maybe?" He takes his arm away and you can breathe again, but somehow at the same time you miss his warmth.

"Don't worry, I'll take it so slow. The slowest. You won't regret dating me, I promise. This'll be so much fun, you'll see." He smiles.

You don't know about that, but you do know that at the very least it'll be interesting. You hope he won't notice you looking up what the definition of dating is on your phone while he's ordering food later.

[kawoala]

📧 you have two (2) new messages !

@ aizawashouta ˒ 5h ago

“capital-b Bitch”

contents; word count- 564. profanity. kitty!! this is short, sorry. i blacked out writing this. enemies to lovers. neighbors! au.

If there’s one thing you’ve noticed while living in this building, it’s that your neighbor is a capital-b Bitch. You’ve had exactly one interaction and it went something like this:

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I am darkness incarnate. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even think about me. If I hear loud noises from your apartment, I’m breaking the door down to shut you the hell up.”

Okay, maybe not exactly like that, but pretty damn close! He exudes the energy of a ten-year-old street cat who's been through so much shit, that he refuses to trust anyone or anything. He glares at you every time you get your mail, and from what you’ve picked up, he’s the same for everyone else in the building.

Even now, as you’re crouched down outside of the building, rain pouring down on you, trying to give a stray cat some food, you can see him glaring at you from the doorway.

“Come here, kitty,” you coo softly, reaching forward just a little bit. The cat retreats back into its corner and your brows furrow, frowning slightly. “I just want to give you some food, kitty.” You tear some chicken off of the piece you’re holding and toss it over to the cat. It hesitates, sniffing it suspiciously, but inevitably eats it.

His stare is burning into your skin, your brows furrow further at the thought of it. You glance over at him, hoping he’ll get the hint and go away, but his stare doesn’t waver.

You roll your eyes and stand. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?” You put your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes. “You keep glaring at me like this is your cat and I’m trying to steal it, or something.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks closer to you, then past you, crouching down right in front of the cat. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and you peer over his shoulder in confusion.

The cat comes out of its hiding spot, purring and curling around his hand.

Your jaw drops. “What- what the hell? How did you do that?”

He turns slowly, eyes half-lidded, shaded by his hair. “She’s my cat.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. “What?” Your voice is quiet, hands dropping limp at your sides. “Why is she outside then? You must not be a very good cat owner.” You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth. You’ve always prided yourself on being nice to people, even when they don’t deserve it, but that was . . . Not your best moment. “I- sorry, that was rude. Why is she outside?”

He stands to his full height and you take a step back, almost intimidated by his aura. “I work long hours. It’s not good to be kept up in that apartment all day.” He walks by you again, brushing your shoulder as he does so. “She didn’t come to you because she doesn’t really like chicken. She only ate it because she’s gluttonous. Try fish next time; all cats like fish.”

“Oh,” you breath out, shoulders slouching in defeat. The cat follows him as he walks inside, swaying its tail in an almost mocking manner. “Bye, kitty,” you whisper, frowning.

Okay, so maybe he’s a Bitch, but he’s a Bitch with a cute cat.

[obsessedwithfictionalmen01]

Celestial Date

A/N: Hey there! It's been a long time since I've written anything!! This is a little idea I had a few days ago I hope you guys enjoy it and just remember English is not my first language so if there's any mistakes please let me know! 🩷

Pairing: Castiel x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: Reader has a crush on Castiel and her brothers (Sam and Dean) know about it, more importantly they also know Castiel feels the same way, so they play a little match maker game by setting them up for a Valentine's Day dinner!

Warnings: none? i think?

Castiel stared at the state of the bunker, he didn't know how or why but someone had decorated it with heart balloons, heart shaped paper cuts on the walls, a heart shaped pie laid on the kitchen counter. Why so many hearts? He asked himself as he looked around the bunker. For sure this wasn't Deans’ idea, maybe Sam… but then he herd it, your small giggle echoing the hall. This had to be your idea.

“Hey, Cas! You like it?” You asked excitedly, holding pair of scissors and a pink colored paper.

Castiel stared at you for a few seconds confused, that's when it hit you. He didn't now about Valentine's Day. But he knew freaking cupid himself.

“It's Valentine's Day!” you said excitedly as you pointed at the heart shaped balloons around the room. Castiel followed your pointing finger and looked around.

“You do know that's not what hearts look like, right?” He asked with a small soft smile, he didn't mean it in a rude way, he was actually confused.

“I know! But this is much prettier than a real heart” You explained with a gentle tone looking at him, you didn't know why but everytime you stared into his eyes you swore you could get lost in them for hours, a pretty blue color and so many emotions packed in them.

Castiel on the other hand could listen to your voice for eternity, whenever you would start rambling about your newest hyper fixation Cas would be the only one listening, your brothers too used to it dissociated and just nodded. But not Cas, he would listen carefully watching your lips move and voice getting pitchier the more excited you got with the conversation. Like now.

“Valentine's Day is literally the best day of the year, it's the only day we truly celebrate love and friendship, there's hearts everywhere, people buying and receiving flowers… It’s so magical” You said with dreamy eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you like flowers?” He asked.

“Are you kidding? Who doesn't love flowers?”

“Well I understand why humans would find them beautiful but you know they are basically dead, right?”

You looked at him trying not to chuckle, you were amazed by his point of view of life, how he found everything so complex and rare. And he loved how you viewed life, you found beauty in the most simple and small things.

“I'm gonna go and get ready for tonight. Sam and Dean want all of us to have dinner tonight in a nice place near the bunker, they say they are doing it for me but I know they just want to have a drink later and maybe find a desperate girl in the bar” You said with a small grin before you turned around and walked towards your room “See you at dinner, Cas”.

Castiel watched you walk away, his heart skipping a beat when your head turned to look one last tie at him before entering your room. He decided to head into the kitchen where he found Dean and Sam eating a slice of the pie you made, he sat down next to them with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You are going to spoil your appetite for dinner” He said when both brothers looked at each other and then at him. “Oh we are not going out” Dean said with a small grin chuckling. “But I heard we were…” Castiel started before Sam cut him off “No, Dean and I aren't going”

“I don't understand” Castiel said, Dean looked at him and sighed, he stood up from the chair and walked towards him, his hands placed on his shoulders “A little birdie told us you may have a crush on our little sis” He said with a mocking tone “And another birdie told us that maybe our little sister also has a crush on you” Sam continued “So we thought… maybe it's time they both had a chance to have a date, and what better day than Valentine's Day? As you can see he loves it” Sam said with an amused smile.

“She… likes me?” Castiel asked, still shocked. His eyes stared into the table, he would have noticed, right?

“Just one thing…” Dean said before he pressed his angel blade against Castiel's back “One wrong move and I end you” He stated now in a more serious tone. Castiel only stared at Sam worried, this wasn't the first time he felt something like this for a human but this was her it wasn't just any human and of course Sam and Dean's sister which he already knew what it meant.

Castiel took a deep breath and when Dean put the blade away he looked at both brothers with a pleading look “What should I do?”

“Hey man, just be yourself. We know how much you care about her, you’ll be fine” Sam said with a small genuine smile. Castiel nodded and got up from his chair “Thank you” He said to them before he quickly disappeared. Both brothers looked at each other and laughed, they wished they could be there to witness this date.

A few hours later you were all dressed up waiting outside the restaurant for the boys and the angel, you looked at your phone when you felt a presence behind you, turning around quickly you were met with Castiel, he wasn't wearing his usual trench coat and suit. He was wearing a much nicer suit without his tie, the white shirt had a few buttons undone and the black suit jacket fitted his form perfectly. You couldn't help but look at him up and down your eyes taking in how handsome he looked, you were so distracted by it you didn't even notice the hand he was hiding behind his back.

“Hello” He said gently with a small smile, he was nervous but tried his best not to show it. “Hey, Cas. You look very handsome” You said feeling the heat rising up to your cheeks.

Now he was the one taking in your appearance, your outfit hugging the curves of your body perfectly, the color perfectly matching with your eyes which sparkled under the moonlight, Castiel could swear he was in Heaven again. His mouth opened but nothing came out, he was stuck. That's when he remembered the small gift he brought you, his hand finally sticking out holding a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Oh, Cas. You shouldn't have…” You said when you looked at the flowers, your eyebrows arching with a small pout, but a happy one almost endearing. “Well you said that you liked flowers and that that was something people did in Valentine’s Day so I thought…” You stopped him by standing on your tip toes and kissing his cheeks gently

“They're perfect, thank you” You said taking the flowers and smelling them briefly.

Castiel looked at you wondering how was it possible for such a simple creature to be as beautiful and sweet as you, he wondered what he had done to deserve you. His thoughts quickly pushed aside when you took his hand leading him inside the restaurant, you sat at your table placing the flowers on top of it when it hit you, the table was for two, not four. You frowned and looked at Castiel confused “Are the boys coming?”

Castiel looked at you briefly before his hand rubbed the back of his neck “No” He replied nervously, he didn't know how you would react when you found out about your brother's little scheme.

“They had this planned didn't they?” You asked rhetorically. He simply nodded with a shy smile.

“Well since they went through the trouble we should just enjoy, right?” you said with a small grin, the waitress appeared and you both ordered drinks and your food, you knew Cas didn't usually eat or drink but after he became a human he missed savoring food so he tried every now and then.

An hour passed and both of you were having a great evening, you talked about everything instantly connecting in a deeper and more intimate way, you felt your cheeks slightly turning red from the wine you had and Castiel looked more relaxed and happier than usual, he felt like he could listen to your voice for hours and not get tired.

Finally both of you decided to pay and have the last drink at the bunker, he took your hand gently and then walked with you through the streets at night, all restaurants filled with lovers celebrating this day you couldn't help but look subtly at them, which didn't go unnoticed by Castiel.

“You know, angels can feel love, we can fall in love and feel all kinds of emotions but humans… you take it to the next level, you live and love in such a special way. It amazes me” he said, looking at you with a small smile.

“I guess knowing your life has an ending makes everything more special” You replied, squeezing his hand gently. You both remained silent after that admiring the calm night when finally you reached the bunker.

You entered first looking around to see if your brothers were home but no one seemed to be there. You took Castiel’s hand and guided him inside, he sat on the couch while you looked for Dean’s whiskey bottle he hid from everyone. When you finally found it you poured it in two glasses and sat next to Cas on the couch, one of your legs on top of him as you handed him his drink.

“I had a really good time tonight” you said looking into his baby blue eyes, you wanted this night to never end. “Me too.” he replied, placing the glass on top of the table “Dean told me… that you liked me.”

You stared at Castiel blinking for a few seconds, feeling your cheeks turning even more red “That bitch” you replied “Cas, I know it must be weird for you, I don't expect nothing from this you don't have to feel pressured honestly I don't know why he would tell you that I simply…” Castiel kept listening to you when he noticed you rambling nervously he leaned in, finally kissing your lips. You stopped talking instantly and closed your eyes feeling his hand on your cheek gently caressing you, you could taste the whiskey on his lips. You wanted more so you placed your hands on his chest and deepened the kiss slipping your tongue between his lips. A small moan escaped Castiel’s mouth and he took your hips in his hands lifting you up and sitting you down on his lap.

“Is this Ok?” He asked breaking the kiss to look at you, worried you would change your mind. He had his hands now on your hips holding your body against him and your hands were unbuttoning his shirt very slowly “Yes, Cas. This is perfect” you said before attacking his lips again. You both got lost in each other's hands and lips, he was unzipping your dress, his hands caressing your skin, your heart beating loudly and your hands taking his shirt off…

“For the love of God, not on the couch!” Dean yelled, startling both of you.

“Oh my God I’m gonna need therapy after this” Sam said laughing with his hands covering his eyes.

“Get a room!” Dean yelled again.

Castiel and you looked at each other and chuckled, your face hiding in the crook of his neck “I wouldn't mind taking this somewhere more private” he whispered in your ear. And that's how you both ended up entering your room and closing the door behind you. This was gonna be the best Valentine's day ever.

[snowseasonmademe]

Good and Plenty

warning ‼️: lots of smut

word count: 5,554

pairing: aurelien x older black female reader

summary: the tensions are high all day and you and aurelien (almost) can’t make it home to finally get what you’ve been waiting for

note: happy valentine’s day freak-a-leaks!!!! here’s a very sexy valentine’s day fic for my fellow aurelien sister wives ;) everyone, let’s thank @whoevenisthiz ! she helped me with the scene after they get home and it really what kicked off the inspiration for the whole the fic. she’s so amazing. i’m posting this earlier than i planned because im really excited about it!!!!! i recommend y’all grab a snack and sit in a cold, dark room….alone. as always, i hope you enjoy and tell me what you think❤️‍🔥!!!

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The tension had been simmering all day, long before the intimate dinner, long before the teasing touches under the table. It started that morning—when you woke up to the slow, wet heat of Aurélien’s tongue between your legs, dragging you from your half asleep haze with the lazy, purposeful flicks of his mouth. He was buried beneath the covers, strong hands gripping your thighs apart as he feasted, groaning against your clit like he was tasting the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

You’d tried to push him away—mumbling something about needing more sleep—but he only chuckled, that deep, knowing sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. “Just let me take care of you” he murmured, lips brushing against your slick folds before he sucked your clit into his mouth, making you gasp.

He always wanted to take care of you. Always so eager to please, so willing to obey. Out of the bedroom and especially in it. And God, he was good at it. Even with all your experience, all the years you had on him, he still made you feel like you knew nothing when it came to pleasure. Like your body was something to be discovered, unraveled, and worshipped anew every time he touched you.

He didn’t stop until your fingers were tangled in his curls, until you were gasping his name, thighs shaking around his head as you came hard against his tongue. Only then did he finally emerge, lips wet, eyes dark with satisfaction. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before pulling back to whisper against your lips, “Good morning baby.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, he got up to get ready for work, leaving you spent and panting in the sheets. You were still trying to catch your breath when he reappeared, straightening out his white compression shirt, looking every bit the composed, put-together man you knew he wasn’t when he was beneath you.

Before he left, he leaned down, brushing one last lingering kiss against your jaw. “I bought you something” he murmured, lips ghosting over your ear. “I want you to wear it tonight after dinner. It’s in the closet”

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving you hotter, hungrier, and more frustrated than when he had his mouth on you.

By the time dinner came, the anticipation was unbearable. The restaurant was your favorite—dimly lit, luxurious, filled with the kind of quiet intimacy that only made the tension between you more potent. Aurélien looked devastatingly good in his tailored suit, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and strong arms, the open collar teasing just a glimpse of his smooth, warm skin.

But it was the way he looked at you that had you gripping your wine glass tighter. Like he wanted to devour you right there at the table.

“Staring is rude you know?” you murmured, dragging your tongue over your bottom lip just to tease him.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting in his seat. “Can’t help it ma belle” he admitted, his voice thick with restraint. His eyes dropped to the deep neckline of your dress, then back up to your lips. “You look too good”

You smirked, setting your glass down before leaning in, letting your fingers trace over the back of his hand. “You’re acting like you weren’t between my legs this morning” you whispered, watching his jaw tighten. “Like you didn’t make me cum on your tongue before you even ate breakfast”

Aurélien sucked in a slow breath, his fingers curling into fists on the table. “You trying to make me hard in this restaurant Y/n?” he muttered, voice low and rough.

You hummed, dragging your nails lightly up his arm. “I think you like when I tease you” you mused. “When I make you wait”

His gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Do you want to leave right now?”

You smiled, tilting your head. “I want you to be patient” you corrected, trailing your fingers up to his wrist. “And then, when we get home, I want you to lose all of it”

His breath left him in a slow exhale, his grip tightening under the table. “Tu vas me donner une crise cardiaque un jour” (You're going to give me a heart attack one day)

You only laughed, taking another sip of wine.

You didn’t even make it through dessert before agreeing to leave. The second you stepped outside, Aurélien’s hand was on your lower back, guiding you toward the car with a possessive urgency that made your stomach flip.

The moment you slid into the passenger seat, restraint snapped like a frayed thread. Aurélien had barely even pulled off before you grabbed his jaw and kissed him—deep, hungry, desperate. He groaned into your mouth, his hands immediately roaming your body, gripping your waist, your thigh, your neck—anywhere he could reach. His lips were hot and urgent, trailing down your throat, nipping at your skin as his breathing turned ragged.

Your hand drifted between his legs, pressing against the thick, hard length straining beneath his slacks. He hissed, bucking slightly into your touch, his fingers tightening around your thigh.

“Fuck” he exhaled, forehead pressing against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. “You trying to make me crash before we even get home?”

You smirked, breathless, pressing one last slow, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Drive faster”

He obeyed.

The second you stepped through the door, his hands were on you again. You barely had time to drop your purse before his lips crashed against yours, hands greedy as they pulled you close. The heat between you was unbearable now, both of you gasping between frantic kisses as you stumbled back against the wall.

Your back hit the surface with a soft thud, but you barely noticed because Aurélien was already pressing into you—his hard, strong body molding against yours, the unmistakable heat of his arousal pressing against your stomach.

“I want you to fuck me hard” you murmured against his lips, voice thick with need. “Right here against the wall”

His breath hitched. His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your hips, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“I’ll do whatever you want baby” he rasped.

And he meant it.

He grabbed your thigh and brought it to wrap around his hip as one of his hands slid into your drenched panties. “You’re so wet” he groaned, dragging his finger through your slick folds before teasing your clit in slow circles.

“Of course I am” you purred, arching into his touch, guiding his hand with yours to show him exactly how you liked it. “I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day”

His jaw clenched, and his free hand gripped your thigh, hiking it up against his waist. “Fuck” he breathed.

You laughed softly, teasing, threading your fingers through his curls and tugging. “Aurelien” you said in a serious tone. “I need you inside of me. Now”

His strength paired with his obedience, his need to dominate warring with his devotion to pleasing you—made your body burn.

His hands worked fast—pushing your dress up, sliding your panties down your thighs. His movements were eager but careful, like he was desperate to have you but still mindful of your comfort. He always was. Even in his most desperate moments, even when his body was shaking with restraint, his first instinct was to make sure you were taken care of.

But right now? Right now, you wanted him to lose control.

“Don’t hold back” you urged, grabbing his chin, making him look at you. “Show me how bad you want me Aurélien”

That was all it took.

Aurélien cursed under his breath, fumbling with his belt, shoving his slacks down just enough to free himself. The second his dick pressed against your entrance, he paused, his gaze locking onto yours, waiting—always waiting for your permission.

You pulled him closer, breath hot against his ear. “Do it”

And he did.

The stretch was exquisite, his size forcing your body to adjust, but it was exactly what you wanted—what you needed. A strangled groan left his lips as he sank in, forehead pressing against yours, his body trembling with the effort to control himself.

“Putain bébé” (Fuck baby) he choked out. “Je pourrais jouir maintenant” (I could cum right now)

You tilted your hips, urging him deeper, wrapping your leg tighter around him.

Aurélien gripped your hips and pulled back before slamming into you with a force that made your breath hitch. He set a brutal pace, fucking you against the wall just like you asked, the sound of your back hitting against the wall filled your ears and breathy moans filled the room.

He was lost in you, worshiping you with every thrust, every reverent kiss against your shoulder, every desperate moan muffled against your neck. His hands couldn’t stay still, roaming your body, nails digging into you, memorizing every curve, every dip, every shudder.

“Tell me what you need” he panted, lips brushing against your ear.

“You” you gasped, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, deeper. “Just like this. Just—”

Your words cut off in a moan, back arching against the wall as Aurélien drove into you, hitting that perfect spot again and again—so precise, so ruthless, like he was made to fuck you just like this. His strokes were deep and demanding, dragging pleasure out of you with each roll of his hips, each desperate thrust that left you gasping. His fingers dug into your thighs and hips, holding you up effortlessly, his strength undeniable as he used it to wreck you in the best way. You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, that telltale heat building, threatening to snap.

His grip tightened, knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto you, and his pace turned brutal—fast and deep, yet still so in tune with your body, like he knew exactly what you needed before you even had to ask. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, mixing with the frantic gasps, the sharp moans, the low, desperate groans spilling from his lips. He was unraveling, coming undone just as fast as you were, and the knowledge only pushed you closer to the edge.

“Cum for me” he begged, his voice breaking, thick with need. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes blown wide, dark and pleading. “Let me feel you bébé please—”

It was the way he said it, the raw desperation in his voice, the absolute worship laced in his words that finally shattered you. Your climax slammed into you like the way his dick was stroking your inner walls, stealing the air from your lungs, making your whole body tense as pleasure ripped through you. You cried out, nails raking down his back and arms, thighs trembling around his waist as he fucked you through it, determined to pull every last ounce of pleasure from you.

The way you clenched around him sent him spiraling right after you. His hips stuttered, a deep groan escaping his chest as he buried himself to the brim, his whole body shuddering with his release. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, the way his muscles locked up, his grip on you tightening as if he needed to hold onto something—needed to hold onto you—to survive the intensity of it all.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just panting, tangled up in each other, his body still pressing you into the wall like he never wanted to let go. His breaths were ragged, hot against your neck, his heart pounding just as wildly as yours. Slowly, his grip softened, fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

“Fuck” he murmured against your lips, voice wrecked, filled with nothing but awe.

And the way he said it—like he still couldn’t believe you were his—made you ache for him all over again.

Then, slowly, Aurélien pulled back, his fingers brushing through your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. His eyes were dark with satisfaction, but there was still something softer—something almost tender—in the way he looked at you. The dominance he’d shown moments ago had been replaced with a hunger that felt a little different, but no less intense.

“You okay?” he murmured, kissing your forehead, his voice rough, thick with desire.

You smirked, taking his face in your hands, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw before dragging your nails down the sides. His pulse quickened beneath your touch. You tilted his face up to meet your gaze, locking eyes with him, and you could feel the shift between you—him, still catching his breath, and you, already craving more.

“I should be asking you that” you teased, voice low, dripping with satisfaction and hunger. “I did tell you to fuck me hard didn’t I?” Your tone was teasing but laced with a darkness that promised there was more to come.

His grin curled lazily, cocky, like he knew exactly how you felt and didn’t mind it one bit. But in his eyes, there was still that hint of boyish awe—like he couldn’t quite believe he was here with you, in this moment, with all of you. “I’ll do whatever you want” he reminded you, his voice rough as he pressed another slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Whenever you want”

Your breath hitched at his words, but you didn’t let him get the upper hand yet. You hummed, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his muscles twitched under your touch. “Then I hope you’re not too tired” you purred, letting your fingers trail lower, teasing the waistband of his trousers before dragging them back up to his chest. “Because we’re not done yet”

His sharp inhale echoed in your ear, his hands tightening around you—too desperate to pull away, too eager to do exactly as you said.

Aurélien might have been the athlete, the one with stamina that went for miles, but you? You were the one who knew exactly how to use it.

The power was in your hands, and right now, it was your turn to make him bend to your will. You leaned up to kiss him again, slow and deep, your tongue tangling with his as you pulled him toward you, guiding him backward toward the stairs.You felt his cum dripping down your thighs and it made you so ready for the next round.

As you reached down, your fingers wrapped around him again, and you could feel it—the slick mess of both of you coating his dick, warm and sticky against your palm. You glanced down, smirking at the sight of it, the evidence of everything you’d just done still glistening on his skin. With a slow stroke, you spread it over him before tucking him back into his pants, smoothing the fabric over his length like you hadn’t just had him unraveling in your hands.

As you made your way up the stairs, you felt the pulse of anticipation building again—this time not from the tension of the moment, but from the sight awaiting you at the top of the stairs. Aurélien had planned something special. The soft glow of candles lit the path to the upstairs balcony, the space decorated beautifully with roses, fairy lights, and soft pillows arranged just so—an intimate, romantic scene that made your heart race in a different way.

You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin, but it didn’t matter. Everything else melted away as you took in the sight before you. The balcony was transformed—soft candlelight flickered around the space, illuminating a scattering of roses, delicate fairy lights twinkling overhead, and pillows arranged perfectly. It was beautiful, intimate, and undeniably romantic.

“Oh, what’s all this?” you asked, your voice filled with surprise, though you couldn’t hide the hint of excitement rising inside you.

Aurélien moved behind you, his body warm against your back, arms wrapping around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, a satisfied smirk pulling at his lips. “I decorated before we left” he murmured, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “But we couldn’t really get to it because we were… busy” he finished, squeezing your side with a playful, possessive grip.

You smirked, spinning in his arms, eyes dark with desire. “You’ve been making me wet all night, and now you pull this shit on me?” you purred quietly, almost a whisper, hands running over the muscles in his chest as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his lips. “It’s gonna be hard to wait any longer baby” you said, biting your bottom lip.

His eyes darkened at the tone of your voice, his grip tightening on you. “I’m gonna have to make you wait, but trust me, it will be worth it”

Before you could respond, Aurélien reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, holding it out toward you with an intensity that only made you burn hotter. “I have something for you” he whispered, voice thick with need.

You took the box, eyes glinting with curiosity. As you opened it, your breath caught in your throat. Inside was a stunning Tiger’s Eye Van Cleef bracelet, the deep golden hues reflecting the candlelight, beautiful in its simplicity and elegance. The piece was exquisite—just like him.

“It matches mine” he said, his voice proud and full of admiration as he stepped closer. “I knew you’d like it”

Your fingers brushed over the bracelet as you slipped it onto your wrist, eyes never leaving his. You could feel the intensity between you, like the space between your bodies was filled with pure electricity.

“Oh you knew huh?.....It’s perfect” you whispered, your voice a soft purr, eyes locked on his. “You always know exactly how to please me”. The words rolled off your tongue, full of intent, as you moved toward him again, pressing yourself against his chest.

Aurélien smirked, his hands trailing down your sides, fingers grazing over the curves of your body. “That’s my job baby” he replied, his voice dripping with desire.

Just when you thought he was about to pull you in for another kiss, he surprised you. He turned you again, pushing you gently toward the balcony railing so your back pressed flush against his chest once more. Your heart raced as you bent over it, the cool metal biting into your palms as you leaned forward, offering yourself to him completely. You gasped, feeling his growing arousal against you. His fingers slid down your back, tracing the curve of your spine before grasping your hips firmly, pulling you toward him. The heat between your legs was unbearable, and you could feel his hard dick pressing against you, demanding, urgent.

“You look so fucking sexy like this” he murmured, his voice thick with need, hands gripping your hips, holding you close. But you didn’t care about looking sexy—you cared about feeling him, having him, finally getting what you’d been desperate for all damn day.

“Aurélien” you whined, pressing your ass against his hard dick, rolling your hips against him.

His breath hitched, and his fingers dug into your skin as if he was barely holding himself back. “You need me that bad, baby?” he rasped, dragging his hands down your stomach, teasing the lace of your panties.

“Yes” you gasped, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “I want you to make me cum again—fuck me. Right here”

That did it. His restraint snapped. He quickly took off your shirt and skirt, his hands gripping your ass as he pressed you against the railing. “Bend over a little more for me” he ordered, voice rough, almost desperate.

You did as he said, gripping the cool metal as you arched your back, offering yourself to him completely. The night air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but you didn’t care—because you felt him behind you, felt his fingers trailing down your spine, then yanking down the tiny lace he’d made you wear.

“So you liked the lingerie I set out for you this morning” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, his hands already gripping your waist like he couldn’t stand another second without you.

“Of course I did” you purred, tilting your head to brush your lips against his jaw. “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me in this all day.”

His dick twitched against you, his grip tightening. “Ouais?” (Yeah?) His voice was rough, dark with intent. “Laissez-moi vous donner ce que vous attendiez” (Let me give you what you've been waiting for)

You turned your head slightly, eyes dark with lust. “I want you to fuck me over the balcony so everyone knows how good you fuck me” you said, voice dripping with filth.

“Putain” he swore, his control completely shattered. His hand cracked against your ass, making you gasp, before he slid his fingers between your thighs, groaning when he felt how soaked you were. “Dripping for me” he murmured, rubbing your clit in slow, deliberate circles. “You need me that bad, huh?”

“Stop talking and fuck me” you demanded, rocking back against him.

He didn’t make you ask again. Lining himself up, he slammed into you in one deep thrust, stretching you open, making you gasp at the perfect, overwhelming fullness. He didn’t give you time to adjust—he started fucking you hard, deep, just like you needed, his grip bruising on your hips.

“Yes—fuck” you moaned, hands gripping the railing for support. “Fuck me Harder”

“You take this dick so fucking good” he groaned, pounding into you with everything he had. “So tight. So fucking wet for me.”

You gasped when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, making you arch even deeper for him. He landed a hard slap on your ass making you whine loudly. The mix of pain and pleasure had your legs shaking, had you completely at his mercy.

“Smack me again” you moaned.

He did—hard. The sting only made you wetter, made you clench around him.

“Again”

Another sharp slap.

“Now make me cum” you gasped, your voice almost breaking from how desperate you were.

He obeyed instantly, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles, his thrusts turning brutal. “Cum for me” he rasped. “Let me have it”

Your orgasm hit like a fucking earthquake, your entire body tensing as pleasure exploded inside you, your walls clenching down on him, pulling a deep groan from his lips. He wasn’t far behind—you felt him twitch inside you before he cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, his grip on you unrelenting.

For a moment, all you could hear was your heavy breathing, the sound of the city below, and the lingering echoes of your moans in the night air. Aurélien’s hands traced slow, lazy patterns over your hips, his lips brushing over your shoulder, his breath still ragged.

Then, without a word, he turned you around, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. It wasn’t soft—it was all tongue, all heat, all the leftover desperation that neither of you could shake. His hands roamed your body, gripping, squeezing, pulling you closer like he still hadn’t had enough.

Slowly, he walked you into the loft, the soft carpet cushioning your feet as he guided you inside. The flickering candlelight cast shadows along the walls, and the night air from the open doors made your overheated skin tingle. When he reached the center of the room, he lowered you onto the plush floor, his hands firm but careful as he eased you down.

You looked up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, watching as he sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His muscles flexed in the dim light, his skin still glistening from your last round on the balcony. Then, his hands moved lower shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs until he was completely bare above you, hard and ready again.

Your breath hitched when he leaned over you, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. His hands slid under your hips, lifting you slightly, arching your back so your ass was perfectly presented for him—your body pressing into the carpet, your legs spread just enough to feel the heat of him behind you.

“This” he murmured, trailing a slow hand down your spine. His touch left a trail of heat, every inch of your skin hyperaware of him. When he reached your ass, he squeezed—firm, possessive, sending a sharp pulse of desire straight to your core. “This is how I want you”

A shiver ran through you at his words, your body responding instantly. The anticipation was unbearable, pooling deep in your belly, making your thighs clench. His hands gripped your hips firmly before sliding lower, spreading you open with intent. The cool air against your heated skin sent another shiver down your spine, a slow, teasing pause that left you breathless.

Then, without warning, he slightly leaned down and let out his spit into your pussy. The sensation made your body jolt, a needy whimper slipping from your lips as he teased you, drawing out every ounce of anticipation. He groaned, savoring the way you trembled beneath him, before finally pressing the thick, leaking tip of his dick against your pussy.

With one deep, unhurried thrust, he filled you completely, stretching you open in a way that made your breath hitch, your mouth parting in a silent moan before it finally broke free.

“Fuck Aurélien” you gasped, voice trembling, your fingers digging into the plush carpet beneath you, desperate for something to hold onto. The overwhelming fullness, the slow, dragging way he pulled out only to press back in—it had you teetering on the edge of madness.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as he began to move, each stroke deep and measured, savoring every second of being inside you. His breath was uneven, his restraint evident, but it didn’t last long. Soon, his rhythm shifted, his control slipping as his hips snapped against you, faster, harder, his dick slamming into that perfect spot that had your legs shaking beneath you.

Your body tensed, pleasure unraveling inside you at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. The way he stretched you, filled you so perfectly, sent wave after wave of ecstasy crashing into you. It was too much, too intense. Your limbs burned, the friction, the overwhelming sensation making it impossible to think straight. You whimpered, trying to crawl forward, your hands scrambling at the carpet as you attempted to escape the unbearable pleasure.

But he was quicker. “Mm mm” Aurélien growled, his voice thick, dark with dominance as he grabbed your waist and yanked you back, forcing you flush against him again. “You’re not running from this dick. Come here”

A needy, broken moan fell from your lips as he grabbed you, pinned you in place, his hands locking around your hips, making sure you took every relentless stroke. Every inch. The deep drag of him, the way he filled you without pause, left you gasping, your body trembling under him. Your vision blurred, your muscles burning from the strain of taking him this deep, this hard. Every thrust sent a sharp, intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain rippling through you, leaving you desperate, stretched, and utterly consumed by him. His grip was bruising, his pace unyielding—there was no escape, not that you wanted one.

You felt him everywhere. The heat of his body pressing down on yours, the rough scratch of his breath against your shoulder, the tension in his muscles as he held himself back just enough to draw it out. Every inch of him dragged against your walls, thick and unrelenting, forcing your body to yield. The way he filled you, the way he stretched you, made your thoughts dissolve into nothing but him. And he felt you, too—his grip tightening as he groaned low in his throat, as if he could barely hold himself together. You clenched around him, and his rhythm faltered for a split second, a raw, helpless sound tearing from his throat. “Fuck” he gritted out, the word drenched in hunger. You could feel it—how close he was to losing control, how much he loved the way you took him.

His breath ragged as he reached beneath you, fingers expertly finding your swollen, sensitive clit. He rubbed tight, merciless circles, each touch perfectly in sync with his punishing thrusts. The sharp contrast of pleasure and intensity sent you spiraling, your body tensing, then unraveling beneath his relentless pace. His other hand smoothed over your ass before bringing it down in a sharp, stinging slap. Once. Then twice. The sharp bite of pain only made the pleasure crest harder, your cries muffled against the sheets. “Give it to me” he growled, his fingers pressing, stroking, demanding—until you shattered for him, falling apart in his hands.

The combination was lethal. Your orgasm ripped through you with devastating force, your entire body jerking as your walls clenched down on him, squeezing him so tight you heard him curse under his breath. A strangled cry left you, muffled against the carpet as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you again and again.

Aurélien groaned, his pace faltering, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself deep one last time. His body tensed, his breath shuddering as he spilled inside you, his low, broken moan vibrating against your skin.

Neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, trembling in the aftermath. Your breaths were ragged, chests rising and falling in sync, the only sound filling the space around you.

Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your spine, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest. His warmth, the way he held you so securely against him, sent a different kind of shiver through you—one that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the way he made you feel.

A deep, satisfied groan rumbled in his chest as he pulled out, slow and careful, letting you feel every inch of him leaving your body. The wet, obscene sound of it filled the air, making your breath hitch. He lingered there for a second, eyes locked on the way you trembled, before finally settling beside you.

Neither of you said a word at first, just the sound of your breathing filling the room. But you didn’t need to.

Then, with a lazy smirk, he exhaled a laugh. “You know” he murmured, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, “we really could’ve just fucked in the car”

You laughed, burying your face against his chest. “I don’t even know how we made it home without crashing to be honest” you admitted. “I had my hand in your pants the whole damn ride”

He groaned, shaking his head. “Yeah, I was holding on for dear life” He traced a slow circle on your hip before tilting his head down to look at you. “We’re reckless as hell”

You grinned, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone. “A little”

He hummed, then suddenly— “What zodiac sign do you think our baby’s gonna be?”

You froze for a second before lifting your head to look at him. The countless hours of teaching him astrology finally came back to haunt you. His expression was unreadable, but there was something teasing—something knowing—lingering in his eyes.

“The way you’ve been putting it in me like you’re trying to start a family, we might find out real soon” you teased, arching a brow.

His smirk widened, hand smoothing over your stomach. “Yeah?” His voice was deep, almost too casual. “Hope they’re a Scorpio”

“So Jules can have a birthday buddy? Great idea” you teased, rolling your eyes.

He chuckled, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. “Exactly. Double the chaos.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day” you shot back, laughing.

He smirked, tilting his head. “Yeah, and nine months from now, you’re gonna be saying ‘Happy Parenthood”

You scoffed, swatting at his chest, but he just grinned, pulling you even closer. He kissed you again, deep, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. And he did.

What started as lazy touches and teasing words unraveled into something primal, something untamed. You lost track of time, lost track of how many times he pulled you under, only to bring you back gasping, shaking, begging for more. Every surface became a playground—the bed, the couch, the kitchen table, even the floor when patience ran out. He flipped you, stretched you, took you apart in ways that had you seeing stars, until your body was trembling, muscles aching like you’d spent six straight hours on a stairmaster.

By the time you collapsed against him, boneless and wrecked, dawn was threatening the horizon. Your voice was hoarse, your skin marked with the evidence of everything he’d given you.

You knew this was gonna hurt so good when you woke up later.

[rat-n-atty]

The last gift 🎁

Animation and some soppy rambling from yours truly!

( featuring in order, @stillnothereforanyrealreason @hyperbaguette @chaosisunderratedd @fandomgoesahhhhhhhhh @echostarsys @livzees (Hi wife!) @sakuwura-meow-meow @xcoffeebomb @cookiepopcat @axelcx11z @coralalala64 @tiredsmashbros @its-a-me-mango @libbytwq @bear-boi-5 @bluestrawberrybunny @briandraws )

BOOM!

REDESIGNS ONCE AGAIN ONLY THIS TIME ATTY APPARENTLY HAS LOST HER WRISTS (jk, but now her hands float for some reason, not Rats tho...)

Okay now it's time for me to rant about all the wonderful people I have made in the animation :D

@stillnothereforanyrealreason , @hyperbaguette and @chaosisunderratedd y'all are...the best friends I had ever got the chance of meeting. We have been through the deepest shit ever in our life and yet we all still managed to still be friends and that really surprises me. You guys are my truest friends that I don't mind rambling about redeemable villains with or maybe even share some shitty humor or go to y'all for some art inspiration but overall just have a really fun time.

I want to thank you for all these crazy 2 years we have been friends for and hopefully we still continue that crazy questionable bond 💜💜💜

@fandomgoesahhhhhhhhh and @echostarsys y'all are a bunch of freaks tbh /silly but you're bestest mates that I could ever ask for! I love hanging out with you guys and yapping about who knows what whether it be Smg4 or it be your Aus! I love how passionate you two are and I love how you guys support my own small projects as well! You guys have made me feel comfortable talking about my interests in a really long time and I just want to thank you for that 💜💜💜

You guys are amazing and I hope you two never stop being you (except maybe Tari...stop being rude /silly/j)

@livzees HI WIFE YOU LOVABLE BEST PERSON I HAVE EVER MET YOU!!!!!! You are the best person I have ever had the chance to meet and get to know! You're super funny and your art is really cool and I love all that you do and create including your Rivalry Au! You don't mind if I yap too much or send you the dumbest things, you make me feel seen and noticed and I am so happy I can be silly with you (considering I proposed with an onion ring)

Seeing you pop up on my screen makes my day and being with you in VC trying to make you laugh at my dumb jokes makes me happy! I love you sm (/p) and always keep being your amazing lovable you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

@sakuwura-meow-meow , @cookiepopcat and @xcoffeebomb YOU GUYSSSSSS UGHHH WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN?????? You 3 are the coolest people ever in my eyes, even though I tend to make fun of you a lot...you mean a lot to me. You listened, you laughed, and you supported me when I felt like no was. You made me feel like I belong and that I mattered.

You all helped me get out of my shell which I am grateful for (but you should also be terrified about too, I have breeched containment and cannot be held for much longer /hj) I hope you 3 never stop being your amazing selves and I hope you know that you all hold a very special place in my half dead bitchy heart ❤️❤️❤️

@axelcx11z and @coralalala64 YOUUUU!!!! THE SILLIES!!!! YES YOU!!! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!!!! I'll have to admit...talking to you guys at first was so nerve-racking for me because I look up to y'all but after some chats...I realize y'all are just a bunch of the silliest people ever lol but I love that about yous.

Cora, you are the first person I saw on my page and instantly had to follow because I thought your art style was so cool and I think your Aus and your own characters and creatures (as deadly as they can be, one of them gave me rabies /hj) is the wonderful silly aspect about you that I love 🫴👑✨

Axel, you're the chilliest guy I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and I love how you even consider me your doppelganger considering how little we interact lol (sorry, I'm just too shy) . I still totally love all that you do tho no matter what fandom you're in; I fell in love with your style when I first saw it so never stop creating dude 🫴👑✨

@tiredsmashbros , @its-a-me-mango and @libbytwq or as I call you, the holy Smg4 Trinity /silly. It was such an honor to finally meet you all in the TSB server but to be honest I was also on the verge of having a panic attack because I was overwhelmed being surrounded by a bunch of people I look up to the most. I know I'm not active much and I barely have anything to say (unless it's about AJR or my cursed hear me outs) But I absolutely enjoyed any interaction I got.

You guys are the biggest inspirations in my life and I hope that one day I'll be able to achieve what you do (but not today lol) you guys are awesome, I love your rants and your complicated lore and most of all, I love your art and I hope you never stop doing what you love 🫴👑👑👑✨✨✨

@bear-boi-5 HI! HELLO! IT'S ME! YOU ARE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE I LOOKED UP TO! When I first joined Tumblr, I remember your pretty little masked face /silly showing up on my screen and I immediately saw and loved it! You are such a master at traditional art and I love how detailed it is and how cool it looks!

When you first made fanart of my Smg5 I was absolutely shook considering at the time I was still a fairly small creator with only like 50 followers lmao but I want to thank you, if you didn't draw my Smg5 I probably wouldn't have drawn her much either assuming that people just hated her.

Meeting you in the TSB server was the coolest thing in my life because you're one chill dude and I hope that maybe when I overcome my overbearing shyness we could get to know each other better lol

🫴👑✨

@bluestrawberrybunny and @briandraws Brian, you're a freak /pos like HOW???? HOW DO YOU HAVE THE TIME, AND THE PASSION AND THE ENERGY FOR WHAT YOU DO???? Honestly if I ever had the amount of energy you have, I would be in a bloody coma. You are the first person I ever had the chance of actually connecting with a Tumblr moot (and realizing how unhinged they are /hj) but I just wanted to say thank you for tolerating me this long lol. Your an amazing artist and even an amazing author (even though I think you should be sentenced to a mental hospital for flooding the server about your Marware obsession /j )

And you! Blue! I love all your work as well! I love apprenticeship and I love your tangents! Having you and meeting you in the server has been a treat but it's also nerve racking because I'm still shy lol. I think your art is so cute and I hope you never stop!

🫴👑👑✨✨

Because of the song I couldn't add as many people as I wanted but here are some honorable mentions!

@deltaruinedcoco37 @purpdrawsthings @hamlos @chaoticlad @bow-and-aro-child @theartistisme43 @b-r-i-n-g-x @grinnames @strange0-0storm @goofy-goobers-things @arco-doodles @artist-heart83 @sspacesillyy @hi-imlooneybirdie @pisschxn @rainstormsart and PLENTY MORE BUT TUMBLR FUCKING HATES ME SO IF YOU SEE THIS THEN I LIKE YOU TOO

I love all that you guys do wether that be art or writing or theories or ANYTHING ELSE just know that you'll always have a supporter 🫴👑✨

Now this brings me to the end of my birthday party sadly, I hope y'all liked it and I hope y'all didn't eat all of my birthday cake and thank you for all the birthday art and wishes but before y'all go...

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

The many joys of sharing your birthday with a holiday, it's often overlooked lol but I hope you guys enjoy it whether you're alone or you have a partner. Practice self love too because you're also important ❤️❤️❤️

Okay that's it

BI Y'ALL!

[midnight-mourning]

Only Place Worth Being

Little something for one of my Secret Valentine's! Hope you enjoy Ben, one of my fav love songs is a bit angsty, but I promise is all works out in the end <3

Song rec: Cold Cold Man - Saints Motel

Word Count: 2302

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

You sigh, feeling defeated as you set the vase back down on the desk. All day, you'd waited for any kind of acknowledgement. A thank you, a nod, even just a passing glance. 

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Another gift, another failed attempt. 

And on Valentine's, at that. 

You take one of the flowers out, twisting it between your fingers. 

Maybe flowers weren't their thing? Though, that implied that neither were cards, stuffed animals, art supplies, and—okay yeah maybe this was a pattern. 

Maybe gift-giving wasn't their love language? They always accepted gifts from the children without hesitation, fawning over them and the likes. Proudly announcing their joy at receiving something so lovely, and displaying it for all to see somewhere in the Daycare. Could it really just be all an act? 

You try to reason with yourself more and more as you set the flower back. You felt bad that they'd go to waste, and almost considered taking them home with you, but that just felt… pathetic. And rude. 

You need to face the facts; they just didn't love you like you did them. 

They didn't love you at all, for that matter.

You've tried everything to tell them when it came to your side. Hinted at it, joked about it, did everything except outright say the words. And the only reason you hadn't done that was because you felt almost certain of the rejection that would occur. 

So, you tried for the most part to keep your feelings to yourself, only letting slip ups like this happen once in a blue moon. A moment of weakness, a moment of 'what if'. Though you've yet to have that happen. 

You know they tolerated you, you think you were friends at the very least. 

They would tease you, make you laugh, and so on. You worked well together, be that keeping the kids corralled for arts and crafts, or for naptime. You'd spent many a night working late cleaning up, chatting, flirting. Or at least, you'd thought so.

"Sunshine, could you help me clean this table please?" Sun would ask, more than capable of doing it on his own. 

But you'd oblige with a smile and a nod, heart racing every time your hands brushed against each other. Seemingly too many times to just be 'incidental'. 

"Starlight, sit and read this with me, I want to make sure it's something the children will enjoy." Moon insisted, pulling you into his lap where you'd stay until he deemed otherwise. 

But during the day it was almost the complete opposite. They were professional, to the point. Conversational, but brief. Their laughter at your jokes not quite as full, more nervous, or hollow. 

It almost made you feel like you were going crazy, getting the most mixed signals of your life. Maybe that's why you hadn't given up until this point. You always somehow managed to get drawn back in. 

A bout of excited yelling from further in the Daycare interrupts your melancholic thought process. You see Sun is busy with several of the remaining kids, acting out some sort of scene with them as a distractor while they wait to be picked up. 

You lean back against the security desk, sad smile on your lips as you observe. They'd make someone very happy one day, you think. It just wasn't going to be you. 

You needed to finally accept that. 

Sometime a bit later, as you're packing up your bag, your phone rings. Taking a glance you see it's your manager. You answer, not thinking as you're digging in your bag for your keys. 

"Hey." She says. 

"Hey." You reply. 

She sighs, you can hear the tap of a pen. "I got your file pulled up here. Talked to the manager over in rockstar row and they said they're happy to have an extra set of hands if I've got 'em. I just wanted to double check with you before I make any changes."

You cringe at her words, as if you hadn't been expecting them, or this call. You wanted this. You asked for it. You couldn't seriously be upset that you'd gotten exactly what you had asked for. Deal with it now or suffer the consequences later.

It had been the only way, you'd argued. Your little crush was affecting your day to day, and theirs. It wasn't fair to keep pushing when they weren't going to give. And if you stayed here you'd just feel like a burden, and that's the last thing you wanted. You decided that you'd still do your best to remain friends, maybe hang around and offer guidance and the likes to whoever took your place.

"I, yeah, give me a second,"—you still can't find your keys, now confused and frustrated—"I can't seem to find my—"

A jingling sound from behind you stops you in your tracks. And just as you turn around to find yourself face to chest with a yellow torso do you hear the 'call ended' noise go through your phone. 

Only then do you realize you'd been on speaker. 

Your eyes slowly move up, meeting Sun's gaze after a moment. 

His smile is as static as always but his eyes are narrow slits that sear into you. You shift your focus slightly to the left to see your keys spinning around his finger. He clears his nonexistent throat and your focus goes back to him. 

No point in beating around the bush. "Um, I was… going to tell you guys. Once it was for sure going to happen. Didn't think you'd take my keys as punishment." The joke is a bust and you know it, especially given his entirely unwavering gaze. 

"Oh, Sunbeam. We took your keys much earlier today, for a different reason entirely." He suddenly bends to your level, rays ticking to the side. "But now, I think I'll be keeping them. Because an explanation is in order."

You think you'd find him intimidating in that moment, but building off your earlier feelings—and all the others you've kept in for so long—all you find is anger and frustration pouring forth. 

"I'm the one who owes an explanation? What about you? What about the both of you and this… game you've been playing with me?" You stand straight, poking a finger into his chest as he jumps back from the touch. It only fuels your fire. "I just, I can't get you. Can't wrap my head around how you can just go from being all over me to flinching at my touch. I think you like me, think you care, and then snap! It's like we're back to square one again. Do you know how much that hurts? Besides the fact that I love you, even if it was just as a friend, being this hot and cold with someone is just cruel, you know. So I was just trying to save all three of us the trouble and finally take myself out of the picture. Because lord knows you two have probably been dying for that to happen."

You take a gasping breath, hand coming up to your hair as you breath heavy, tears pricking your eyes. You dare to spare a glance over to the Attendant. If he didn't hate you before, well, he probably does now. And you're sure it'll be the same with Moon. 

You cough into the silence, cheeks starting to burn. "Now. Can I have my keys back, please?"

Sun doesn't answer you, and you suddenly hear a loud thump. You jump, whipping to look at him and find that he's dropped to his knees. 

He looks nowhere in particular as he speaks, voice barely a whisper. "No, surely... is that, what have I—" He grips his rays tight, they squeak under the force. His words become unintelligible to you, and it's then you realize he's switched to binary. It's garbled, grating, and it worries you. 

You rush over, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but hesitate. "Sun, is everything okay?"

No response, the binary grows in volume, worse, harsher. 

You finally have no choice and have to put your hands on his shoulders. "Sun! Talk to me, Pretty bot."

He snaps to attention, eyes meeting yours as you rub soothing circles into his shoulders. Slowly, his hands release his rays, dropping to his sides. He leans into your touch, head drooping and dropping onto your shoulder. You ignore anything this action stirs in you, especially when he lets out a quiet sigh. 

"Pretty bot?" He asks after a moment.

You can't help the laugh that slips out. "You act like I've never called you that before."

"I took it for granted, then." His hands travel up to rest on your own shoulders, squeezing. "If I'd realized how high the chances were of never hearing it again, I would have treasured it more than I do."

You freeze at this, and he notices, pulling back to look at you, rays spinning a couple times. 

"I'm so, so sorry love, give me, us, a chance to explain, would you?" His hand cups your cheek. "We don't deserve it, but it would mean everything if you did."

You swallow, nodding slowly. "Okay."

Sun rises to his feet again, and extends a hand to you. You pause for a moment, then take it. He suddenly pulls you into a spin, and the Daycare music stops, switching to something else, modern, pop. A piano riff begins to play and Sun guides you into dancing along. 

Sun chuckles softly. "The concept of love, and feelings, it's... exceedingly difficult for us to express properly in words of our own. But, we both think this song puts it near perfectly."

The singer starts then, and you recognize the tune. It's an old favorite of yours, and you know the lyrics well. 

'Oh, my love. I know, I am a cold, cold man. Quite slow to pay you compliments, or public displayed affections...'

You snicker to yourself. That one hit you right in the chest, you won't deny. But the direct acknowledgement right off the bat was a start. 

At the chorus, Sun's hands grip yours tightly. You realize then that he's trembling slightly. 

'You're the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being, the only bed worth sleeping is the one right next to you...'

"Sun—" You start, concerned.

He shakes his head. "We're okay. Please, keep listening."

You frown, but nod. 

The two of you continue to sway and spin, and you listen, really listen. It may be an old favorite, but they've given you an entirely different context to hear it in now. Feel it in now. Appreciate it, now. 

If it's truly a representation of how they feel, for you, then it's finally happened. They've broken you. You keep your feelings inside, waiting until the song is over to say anything. 

As the music fades out, Sun stops your movements, but keeps your hands held in his. 

He speaks before you can. "This is all, so new, to us. And we simply find it terrifying. We don't know how to act, what to do. It's all…  so much. But we were so focused on our own feelings towards you that we neglected you." He looks up to you then, even with that unmoving face of his he's still able to convey a look of genuine distraught and remorse. "We're so, so sorry, love."

"I—"

In that moment, the lights cut, the Daycare—and the Attendant momentarily—powering down.  

Still holding your hands, Moon appears, faceplate spinning once or twice as he meets your gaze. 

Again, you don't get your chance to speak first. "You can hate us if you must. If that does anything to ease the pain we've caused." The naptime attendant rasps out. "To be truthful, I almost wish you would. It's been more than earned." He lets you go then, stepping back. 

"Was it true?" You ask. "About the song being an accurate representation of… how you feel?" You glance down, biting your lip. 

"Stars, Moonbeam. It wasn't even the half of it. It's so much more than that. But yes, to a point, yes."

You shake your head, stepping forward. After a moment, you hold out your arms wide. Moon gets the idea, enveloping you in a hug soon thereafter. 

"I was hurting, a lot." You say against his shoulder.

"I know."

"I was so close to leaving."

Moon makes a rumbling noise, holding you tighter. "We know."

"If this is gonna work, we have to talk more. Okay?"

"As much as you want. Whenever you want. Anything, anything that you'll let us have." You find that he, too, is trembling now. 

You chuckle, petting his hat in an attempt to soothe him. "If that's the case, I guess I can let go of some of the anguish the two of you have put me through."

"We'll do whatever it takes to take that away. To make up for it. Promise. Promise. Promise." It occurs to you then that he's lifting and pressing his faceplate, specifically his smile, into your shoulder. Kissing, he's kissing you.

Oh.

You gently push him back, cupping his faceplate. "Hey, why settle for the alternatives when you can have the real deal?" 

Moon stares at you a moment, so still you'd think he powered down. Then, you're being peppered with kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and your lips, especially your lips. 

You laugh, trying half-heartedly to push him away. "Quit it! I'm serious! So greedy."

"Yes." Moon hisses in between kisses. "Absolutely. Always."

You finally give in and succumb to the love being bestowed upon you then. You think you liked the sound of that. 

Always.

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

Gahhh this was a lot of fun, a bit angsty but I think it got cute and sweet by the end, I was really channeling the song and like the vibes, Happy Valentine's Bensus!!!

Adding the tag list since it's writing stuff

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[dustisus]

og trilogy things that might come up in tgr

idk am rereading the og trilogy and here are some things that could be relevant in tgr maybe. just as a reminder ig. (i don't have exact quotes or page numbers for tkm bc i listened to the audiobook so they are paraphrased but for tfc and trk the quotes are word-for-word). ordered by theme, my comments at the end of each theme

Fans (of the Ravens)

"[Kevin and Riko's] unconventional childhood led many to worry about their psychological well-being but also fueled a rabid obsession with the pair." tfc p20

"Riko's freaky fans" (said by Nicky) trk p75

The whole Kathy interview + "The only look in [Riko's] eyes was murder." tfc p219

Comments: We know fans of the Ravens can be obsessive and extreme, but we also know that even before more questions were raised about conditions in the Nest, people were concerned about the psychological wellbeing of Kevin and Riko. We also know that Riko has been on TV looking murderous, long before the finals, which was the last straw. I think people might start looking into Riko when they start looking into the Nest and start realizing he was never okay/normal/whatever.

Jean

"'Fun is for children,' Jean said" trk p91

"It'd barely left his net before Jean checked [Kevin] hard enough to knock him over." trk p144

"'A dog who bites his masters hand deserves to be slaughtered. The location and audience are inconsequential.'" (said by Riko) trk p282

TKM, loosely quoted. Wymack about Jean and Kevin: There's too much between them, good and bad and ugly, for them to ever make things right.

Comments: Just a few pickings. I hope Jean changes his mind about fun, though he may not find Exy fun. We know Jean can check Kevin to the ground, hope that comes up again. I sure hope that thing about the dog biting the master's hand doesn't come up again, but with all the starved dog imagery I think it's inevitable. For the final one; yeah as I reread the og trilogy I'm losing more and more hope about Jean and Kevin reconnecting. I think they may just need to heal separately.

Jeremy

Mentioned in TKM: Jeremy has a "toothy smile".

Comments: This was mentioned no less than 3 times, so it must be important. If you only remember 1 thing from this post, it should be this.

The Trojans

TKM, loosely quoted: The Trojans had never been caught by cameras saying something rude about an opponent.

Comments: But that could change? Place your bets now on who's caught shit-talking the Ravens.

Kevin

TKM, loosely quoted: Kevin looked contented just to be standing on the Trojans' court. [...] Kevin gave Jeremy one of his rare real smiles.

"I don't have perfect control over Andrew, but Kevin owes us his life and I can get to Andrew through him." (said by Wymack) tfc p53

"Kevin needs someone who can keep up with and challenge him. Fortunately she is also a Raven alumnus, so she knows the repercussions of getting caught with Kevin. Maybe they'll have more luck after we've settled things with the Ravens this year.'" (Renee about Thea) trk p181

TKM, loosely quoted, Neil and Wymack speaking: N: You don't think Kevin will tell Thea the whole truth? W: Unlikely. He won't put her at risk like that.

TKM, loosely quoted: "I know what he's like" [...] "Riko. If you want to talk" Kevin was known for his talent, not his sensitivity. Consideration and tact were foreign to him. That he tried at all was so unexpected it felt like a balm.

Comments: Kevin's so sweet to be happy just to be on the Trojan's court. I hope he gets to be happy for a bit in California, even if the interview goes to shit. "Kevin owes us his life" uhhhh I hope Jean doesn't inherit that mindset. I think if we do get more Thea interactions, it will make more sense why she and Kevin are together, even though Kevin may not be entirely honest with her. Will be interesting to see how long they remain unofficial. Also Kevin can show sensitivity! I hope he gets to in TGR.

The Ravens

"This was a dark and heavy tune, an intimidating message of death and domination. The Ravens took their image seriously. Neil guessed they had a lot of intensive counseling in their futures." trk 142

TKM, loosely quoted, during Thea appearance: It made Neil wonder how the Ravens fared after they left the Nest's hivemind. Maybe it took years to recover. Maybe they never did. Maybe they broke and carried pieces of Evermore with them the rest of their lives.

Comments: You know it, Neil! None of this bodes well, for any of the ex-Ravens. But I think that when TSC3 is over, Kevin and Thea might be the ones carrying the broken pieces of Evermore. Jean probably too but I think he will have healed better. But idk.

--

hope this massive post interested you! (tell me if there are any typos) a week til tgr. wow. kevin voice: we're all going to die. yeah feel free to add anything or come with theories in the notes.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Show Me How You Do It." Bo Sinclair and Rusty Nail X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

So! I have been talking about doing a cross-over fic with these two for a while, you know, the fucked up chain-smoking, truck driving, southern bastards who would totally get along AND make each other worse. So I went kinda hard on this, it gets pretty messy and nasty and violent, I hope you all love it and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And most importantly, Happy Valentines Day!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.6K. Bo Sinclair and Rusty Nail X FEM!AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: EXTREMELY DUB CON. Blood. Gore. A Mutual Murder Hobby. Chase. Predator/Prey. Kidnapping. Restraints. Duct Tape. Nipple Clamps. Masochistic/Pain Slut Reader. Blow Job. Rough Oral Sex. Throat Fucking. Gagging. Knife Play. Pain Play. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Insults. Voyeurism. Torture. Vaginal Sex. Branding. Crying Reader. Cream Pie. Raw Sex. Sloppy Seconds. Serious Threats. Forced Orgasm. The Idea Of Wound Fucking.

—

The pair met by chance, a totally random run in, they figured out each other's hobbies and proclivities by pure happenstance, but a strange friendship was forged all the same as a result. 

Rusty had been on a truck route he'd done multiple times, so when he came across someone rude and in need of correcting? It was all too easy to go after their clique, safe in the knowledge he could indulge his murderous thirst and still hit his destination on time. He'd been on the group for two days, it was near midnight, her car was badly damaged, finally died with a sputter. 

The massive truck comes to a stop, and she sees him in the rearview mirror, she curses and gets out of the car, all her friends are dead, she is alone as she makes a futile attempt to run, key word is attempt. They had got in a nasty fight earlier, Rusty took a tire iron to her leg, pretty sure he broke the bone, but she'd wriggled away, got back to the car had made a getaway, except now if she wants to continue her escape, no other option but to do it on foot. It's amusing how pathetic it is as she limps away. Rusty gets out of his truck and makes his way, not in a particular rush, following behind, she can see him coming, try to speed up, he laughs, then he breaks into the lightest jog and catches up so easily. 

He locks a hand onto her shoulder, leg kicks out, his foot connects, and he violently dislocates her knee, causing her to go down like a sack of bricks with a sharp scream that matches the sound of the sickening crack of her bones breaking. She sobs weakly as Rusty stands over her prone form, back lit by his truck lights, he pulls out a pocket knife, flicks it open, lingers for a moment, simply watching and then he lowers down. A hand is in her hair, he stabs home, sinking into her throat, then tugging, dragging from the left to the right and cold metal tears through fragile flesh and hot blood jets out onto the pavement, staining his knuckles as he removes the weapon from her now dying body. He stands and waits, crimson dripping down silver, drop, drop, drop onto the asphalt. He watches until she stops making those sick gurgling sounds from choking on her own blood and stop moving all together. 

Rusty admires the scene for a moment, and that's when he hears it, the unmistakable sound of an engine turning over, the headlights flicker on and wash over him in profile. He turns his head to see the pickup truck that created the sound, it had been turned off, partly hidden off-road in the grass. He can't see who is at the wheel, his hand tenses around the knife, the door opens, and a man gets out, he leans against the door and calls out, “Nice work.”

Rusty pauses, he isn't sure what to make of the supposed compliment, he keeps his guard up as the stranger approaches, soon he is standing close enough, bathed in the lights from Rusty's truck. He looks to be in his 30s, dark hair, a navy blue jumpsuit, a baseball cap, a crooked smile and the one thing that makes the tension ease, blood speckled across his own features. Rusty considers him, then asks, “You have a good night too?” 

Bo laughs, genuine and joyful rolling off his tongue, “Oh, the best. Wanna hear about it?”

They drag the body off the road, move Rusty's truck off to the side, the pair of them lean against Bo's truck, they both talk and smoke. Bo opens up first, an olive branch, sharing how he and his brothers have their small town project, how people who run through get adopted into the “repopulation effort”, and how he had dispatched the last one who tried to get out of the town. Bo had the corpse in the truck bed, he showed it off, and that was pretty good proof for Rusty.

After that, Rusty shares the indiscretion that idiot made, the cross state chase, the friends he murdered that led to the finale’ Bo just witnessed. It was an entertaining hour to say the least. 

“I gotta finish my delivery, but I got some free time after that, would love to see this town you’ve been talking up in person.” Rusty admits, which has Bo telling him, “Would love to have you, don’ wanna keep you an’ I have to head back myself.” 

Rusty made a move to pick up the body and Bo brushed him off, “Nah, I can handle that for you, if my brother can’t do somethin’ with her, she can go in the gore pit.”

That intrigued him further still, “The gore pit, huh?”

Bo jerked his head behind him, a vague gesture in the direction of where it was, “S’ where undesirable bodies go, you know the ones too fucked up for our purpose, spare parts and whatever can’t be salvaged, t’aint far from here.”

“Well, mighty kind of you, thanks.” Rusty said it sincerely, he hasn’t met someone with his same hobby and certainly not someone willing to be so helpful. Bo told him, “Don’t mention it, I’ll see you round. I’ll make sure to warn my brothers who to look out for so they don’t do nothing untoward to you.” 

They parted ways and Rusty held true to his word, he was back around here in a few days time, and it was all true, just as Bo said. He was shown everything from the gore pit to the basement, and now he had a home away from home and some friends to come visit, like-minded people who he can truly be himself around. They both got along on at least their shared motivation, setting right people who have a distinct lack of manners, Lester’s collection of knives and hard work ethic appealed to him, Vincent’s art was as impressive as his brutal nature, but he got along best with Bo, they were the most alike overall. 

So it became a regular thing, swinging by and stopping when he was in the area, and the friendship grew over time, one of the best times they ever had was when Rusty stuck around for a few days and got to see them all in action when some unlucky people passed on through, he even helped out and fuck, if that wasn’t some of the most fun he ever had. Killing was usually such a solitary activity, sharing it with someone else with an affinity and talent for it, against trespassers and rude individuals? It threatens to border on the euphoric. 

The friendship has developed to the point that they didn’t just spend time hanging around Ambrose, some nights they venture out, do it the Rusty way, find some “talent” and go from there, and that night at the bar, is how they meet you. 

You don’t get nights out as often as you’d like, honestly, this was a rare occasion, you were headed to the table with a fresh drink when they noticed you.

“How bout her?” Bo asked, a glance to the man atop the stool next to him, once he caught his eye he tilted his head in your direction. Rusty followed the movement, looking you over as you settled into your seat, fingers gripping the cool glass in front of you, yeah you were definitely to his tastes, but it wasn't up to him.

Rusty focuses his attention back to Bo and replies honestly, “S’ your birthday, more about what you want than me.”

“True. So I want the illusion of bein’ polite, sue me.” He grinned before taking a sip of his own drink. 

Once they had their sights on you, it was going to happen no matter what, the pair ganging up on you made it laughably easy, especially since the facade only needed to be maintained to get you out of the bar, into the truck and down the road.

The next time you got up the “meet cute” was executed, you were partially distracted and being convinced you knocked into Rusty and spilled his drink due to not paying attention was very believable, as opposed to the truth of him forcing it.

You were thoroughly embarrassed, offering napkins you snatched off the nearest table, stumbling over an apology, “Oh my God, I am so sorry-” 

“S’ fine, accidents happen.” He assured you with that long southern drawl that caught your attention with an easy smile, and you insisted, “Really though, I am sorry, is there any way I can make it up to you?” 

“Well actually…This drink? Was for my friend, not only that, it's his birthday, maybe buy a replacement and come sit with him?” He gestures over his shoulder, and you look in the direction he indicated, not a bad looking man at all, neither was the man in front of you. 

Honestly, there were worse ways to spend your evening, it was more than agreeable. You look back up to his face, partially hidden from his hat, asking a question of your own and answering his query at the same time, “So what's he drinking?”

Once the drink was purchased and introductions were made, you were pleasantly surprised by how well you got along, the conversation flowed easily, the tone a bit flirty and when the offer to attend Bo's birthday party was made a long while later, you thought why not? 

You took a cab here and had already had a couple of drinks, so riding with them in Bo's pickup truck just made sense. The mood on the way there remained light, music playing, and you were excited by the sound of the upcoming festivities. The drive flew by, leading to you riding up the main drag in Ambrose, you were at ease and distracted so you didn’t notice the lack of any other car on the road, or any other living person, but you would come to question that as soon as you were out of the truck and in front of the large dark house. You expected lights, music already pouring out, life, not this, the utter still and quiet that was permeating the street.

“Where is everyone else?” You asked in slight confusion and the pair shared a laugh, Bo asked, “What do you mean?” 

A quirk of your brow with a point to the house, before your hand opens, palm flat and up as you press, “The party? You said there was a party here?” 

Another laugh, this one much more devoid of humour, “Sorry for the confusion darlin’ see, this is the party. One-” Bo points to himself, “-two-” then pointing to Rusty, “-three.” He finished pointing at you.

“A party of three sounds pretty great to me.” Rusty agreed with a grin and Bo confirmed, “A threesome sounds like the perfect gift, hm?”

You would be lying if you hadn’t thought about that earlier in the bar, with the certain touches, being pressed between them, thought maybe the night might trend that way in a different set of circumstances, you were into the both of them, but the choice being all but removed is a horse of a different colour. The response in you is automatic, you turn, and you bolt, you run back the way you came, and part of you was very aware you wouldn’t get away, but wasn’t this your fault?

You should have known better than this, then to get in a truck with two strangers you had just met, it was stupid. Now you were running down the street, terrified, and judging by the lack of help from your calls and cries and no people around, this town is deserted save for you and the two of them. Any other town running down the main street screaming for help would at least get some attention, but clearly this is no normal town. 

This is all calculated, and you played right into it, you can hear them behind you, hooting and hollering, they gave you a small head start, but now we're coming quickly, this is part of it obviously, the chase. You wonder how many times they have done this, if you would ever be found, if your story would eventually be covered on some morbid as fuck true-crime podcast, you push yourself harder, lungs burning, thighs straining and feet hurting from how hard you were pounding the pavement in an attempt to get away. 

Of course, they catch you. 

The one named Rusty had been the one to get his arms locked around your waist, yanked you up with a delighted, “Gotcha!” 

“Damn, she almost made it all the way to the church!” Bo sounded like he was genuinely happy and your stomach twists, you scream, Rusty whistles in response and Bo comments, as if you weren’t there, “Good set a lungs on her, huh?”

Rusty grunted in the affirmative as he tightened his arms around you, keeping a tight hold as you attempt to squirm, kick and struggle. “Let’s get her into the basement.”

The basement? The last fucking place you wanted to be alone with these two was the fucking basement, it was futile, but you tried, you called out into the dark nothing of the night.

The basement under the garage was a dank dirty place, you don't take in many details, but your eyes do scan the photo wall, the mattress with no sheet on it, but the focal point is obvious once it enters your line of sight, the chair. Leather and metal, able to change the position, an archaic dentist chair.

You are put in it, held by one tightly and your wrists and ankles duct taped by the other, several loops around your knees and elbows further restricting your movement, in less than two minutes you know you weren’t going anywhere.

“Think this'll hold?” Rusty asked, grip loosening, and Bo hummed, “Yeah it should, has before.” 

Confirming you are definitely not the first, then again the simple fact this room existed communicated that, a knife is drawn, and he says, “Too bad you are so restless, might have been able to save these pretty clothes if we coulda stripped 'em off before we had to tape you up.” 

Rusty follows Bo's musing by saying, “Yeah, now we'll need to cut them off to get to what we want.” 

“Shame.” He says it in a tone that gets across his overt joy at the situation. 

You say nothing because you know it won't help, there are a few displeased sounds that escape when he begins to work regardless. The thin strap of your top is caught with the blade, he pulls it up and the strap snaps, the second one follows, next the shirt's hem is gripped with one hand and the knife saws up until the fabric is able to be yanked off your frame. You are pulled up from your sitting position and your nice jeans are cut in multiple places before the blade is put between his teeth and then strong fingers slip into the open spaces, then tearing until only some denim is left on the lower half of your legs, thanks to the tape. He nicked you with the knife a few times, and each time you inhaled sharply from the small jolts of pain, the blood slowly running.

Rusty sat idly by, on a chair of his own, watching this all go down, you wonder why he isn’t getting in on it himself, most he is commenting on what's going on, at the moment he is talking about your underwear, saying it's  “Cute, think she was looking to get laid tonight?”

“That's a great question, let's ask her, she's been too quiet.” A hand is in your hair, jerking your head up to look at him instead of the cut he left on your inner thigh. “The panties are real nice, you dressed up cuz you were lonely? Desperate for some company?”

So maybe you were, perhaps that was the main reason you were out there tonight, but that doesn't mean you had to admit that to them. You don't want to not respond, so you lie, “It's for me.” 

“Oh really? Don't know nobody who wears stuff this slutty just for themselves, do you, Rusty?” Bo's hands are on your body, knife off to the side as he starts to feel you up, fingers playing with the lace edges and delicate material covering your chest.

“Personally? No, I don't. Wearing something like that is just asking for it, inviting all sorts of attention.” Rough palms explore your tits, thumbs brush already hardening nipples and your breath catches. You bite out a response, “Ever heard of the saying look good feel good? That's all it is.” 

Mutual scoffs and laughs, before Bo taunts, “Yeah, sure, let's follow this line of thinking, you look good to feel good, so I'll help you feel real good.”

“So generous.” Rusty complimented and Bo thanked him. You thought about how isn't this what you wanted in a roundabout way, you might as well try to enjoy it, right? Might be sick and twisted, but so is this whole situation, you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you said you weren’t into the idea of being restrained, perhaps if you mentally reframe this you can get almost as much enjoyment out of this as they are.

“You gonna put some of that to good use?” Rusty asked with a gesture to the wall, your head turns to see a series of what looks like torture implements on hooks and racks. 

“Course I am! That's half the fun right there.” Bo left you on the chair as he headed over, your eyes went wide with panic, and you said, “What about what you just said? About feeling good?”

“Awe, you don't get it, see, the hurt is gonna make what does feel good, feel even better.” He said it slowly and carefully, as if you were stupid, and he needed to spell it out for you to be able to begin to comprehend it. You resent that, hate how much it arouses you.

He came back over, something in his hand that you couldn't quite make out, his opposite hand reached out, fingers hooked in your bra, and he pulled it down under the curve of your breast so it would stay in place. Bo says casually, “Nice tits.”

You laugh, a shocked nervous thing from how casually he stated it, that laugh is cut off abruptly when he flicks your nipple, you yelp and then that makes him laugh in turn. Some more flicks, hard pinches and twists led to him saying, “You look ready.”

Both his hands get into the mix, and you find out what he brought over, nipple clamps, worse still clover clamps. Traditional clamps pinch from two sides, clover clamps resemble their namesake and instead provide four points of pressure, like the directions on a compass but more sadistic in nature, boxing the sensitive bud in on all sides. He takes his time placing and tightening both of them until you can't hold back your whimpering, the pain is burning, more than slightly distracting, the chain connecting the clamps that currently rests between the valley of your breasts is freezing cold. You are trying to reign yourself in, not show just how much of a pain slut you are, but it is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. 

“Looks good.” Rusty praised, and Bo followed with, “Have to say I agree.” 

You are repositioned, the chair is moved, the leg rest stretched out, you are pulled forward, and adjusted to his liking until you are on your knees and elbows, eye level with his belt buckle. 

“I can't resist it, I gotta have that mouth, but M’ not stupid, I know it's dangerous, so keep those teeth in line, or I'll make it hurt much worse-” As he speaks he is opening his belt and dragging down the zipper on dark washed jeans, staring down at your face. “-you do a good job we can get to you feeling’ good too, faster.” 

Makes sense, you do love sucking dick, you can fake some added enthusiasm, you can do this.

You had noticed how hard he was through his pants, and now he was standing before you, thick and hot shaft in his hand, he nudged his hips forward, the head of his dick to your lips. You resist for a fraction of a moment, but even that is enough to displease him, he grips and yanks your hair, breaching your less than willing mouth, he starts to slip inside you, closing your eyes and taking him halfway down on the first stroke, rewarded with a pleasured hum from him. The taste is strong, salty, but by no means bad, just the kind of flavour you’d find from a man who hasn’t showered in hours.

You pull back and then rock forward, you tighten your lips around him and suck, you think to other times, different circumstances to fuel you, a running track of your thoughts, “Act like you love it. Act like a slut. Give it your all. It might just save your life.”

And that is exactly what you do, you press your tongue to the underside of his shaft, dragging up and then forcing yourself down harder, sucking all the while, but you don’t just do that, you make sure to provide some good variety. You pull him almost totally out and focus on the head, tongue swirling around the tip, eyes open, and you look up to meet startlingly blue eyes, “Not a bad start.”

You can do a lot better than that. Rusty piped up, and your eyes shot over, watching as he is opening his own pants now, “How about you give her some more motivation?”

Sinking down again as your captor says, “I love how you think.” Bo reached over, you falter, and he said, “I didn’t say slow down.”

His tone is harsh, you fight a wince and step it up, picking up the pace and making sure to hollow your cheeks on every upward movement. You only got a few bobs of your head in until he had whatever he needed in his hand, he reaches down, and soon you are clued in, the harsh pull on your nipples, the chain pulled taut, now it was crystal clear, he added a weight. You were feeling it, back arching slightly to try and ease it, but there was no helping it, the pain in your nipples nearly doubled, and you had to fight to maintain momentum in sucking his dick. 

Your focus is on Bo, but Rusty still checks in, and you can hear him openly jacking off at this point.

You begin to find your footing, some semblance of confidence, when Rusty cuts in again, “You're being so nice to her, M’ shocked.” 

That gets the intended rise out of Bo, him muttering, “Shut up Rusty, I’m not fucking nice, and you know it.” 

Rusty hits back with, “Coulda fooled me.”

Bo picks up the discard knife and holds it to your cheek, a shock of fear runs through you, body tightening up, and he barks down at you, “Is that the best you can do?”

Christ, you are being put to work. You begin to throat fuck yourself roughly, hoping that will please him enough, that the added pressure of the head of his cock penetrating the tight wet heat of your neck will soothe him. He does seem to enjoy it, in fact he enjoys it so much that the knife slips slightly and cuts your cheek, you whine around his dick, and he groans at the mild vibration. 

Rusty even notices your efforts, calling out, “Look at her get after it.”

He can’t help himself, hips starting to move, fucking into your mouth that is steadily leaking drool down your chin. 

You had been faring pretty well but with him getting increasingly rough, the pain from your chest and the second, fuck, third cut on your cheek, the lack of air, you feel your stomach turning, you gag too hard and pull yourself back with a gasping breath. 

No rest is given, no kindness show, an open hand hit to your bloody cheek makes you cry out before fingers tangle in your hair and twist, pulling you closer to him, you don’t comply immediately. You are still trying to breathe, to rein in your stomach and not be sick, but he isn’t having it. Head pressing to your closed lips, and you shake your head, tempted to tell him you need a second, he tells you, “Open that addictive little mouth again.”

You shake your head, and he tightens his grip on the knife, “I’ll get in that mouth one way or another, even if I have to make a new hole to do it.”

The severe look on his face tells you how serious he is, you should have realized sooner that he is the kind of man who would get off on fucking an open wound. His fingers prod at the slice on your cheek and the image of him ripping it open with his own brute strength just like he did to your jeans earlier filters through your mind, like water rushing over a rock.

That convinces you, mouth back open, he shoved inside, and you find a way to make it work. The worst thing about all of this is how it is getting to you, the extreme situation, the degradation, the audience and pain, him using your mouth with no regard, your inner thighs are soaked. In a few more minutes, the extreme nature of the throat fuck has your eyes tearing up and when he catches the shiny wet tracks pouring down your cheeks he cannot help himself. 

“She puts on a good little show, doesn’t she?” Rusty praised and Bo grunted in agreement.

He is hauling you up, no concern for how it hurts and pulls on the clamps, he throws you down onto that dirty mattress, you are on your back and that eases the pain on your chest a bit. 

You wonder how he is going to do this with the tape around your ankles and knees, your legs are together and straight, but the answer comes quickly, your legs are brought up, rested on his chest, feet placed beside his head on his left shoulder. Rusty gets up, not bothering to put his dick away, “I got you a present, don’t let me stop you, I’ll get it ready.”

He is able to get great leverage, have complete and total access and still look down at your, as he puts it, “Pretty cryin’ face.” 

One hand falls down, and he touches your soaked cunt for the first time, his fingers swiped up between your folds, and you arch, a gasp slips out, and he laughs, “Holy shit, you are soaked!”

Bo holds his hand up for Rusty to see, and he pauses whatever he is doing and laughs too, your eyes close, and you bite your tongue, suppressing a groan, you just want relief, you want him to keep touching you and hate yourself more than a little for that fact. You are wet, yes, but unprepared for how swiftly he enters you, essentially no preamble, it tears a loud moan from you and all pretense is abandoned, you can’t even remotely pretend this doesn’t feel incredible and exactly what you need. It both soothes your need and stokes it at the same time, the thick shaft dragging along your swollen walls, stretched to what it feels like their limit. 

He doesn’t waste time, he is rough, cruel, he slams his hips into you with such force it hurts the backs of your thighs, but the positive far out weighs the negative, it feels amazing. 

You lose yourself, moans and curses spill forth from your lips as you rock with him, his hands are needy, busy grabbing on you, feeling the soft planes of flesh within reach, the sound of skin on skin and his own curses and groans fill the space. Whatever Rusty is up to has totally fallen away in the background.

 Even when he first got inside of you, actually cumming wasn’t honestly on your radar, and yet, here you are, hurtling towards that edge. You swear that at times with attentive partners giving it their all you can’t get off, and here is this total asshole, with zero care for your pleasure, his fingers brushed over your clit all of one single time, and he might just make you cum harder than anyone else ever has. It creeps up quickly, going from the thought, “I think I might actually cum-” to gasping out, “Holy fucking shit!” cumming with an ample gush in the span of less than two minutes. 

The pleasure makes you shiver, body trembling, every small inhale noisy, you feel like your body isn’t your own and yet you are still locked inside of it, helpless to the complete overwhelming force of it sweeping through you. The walls of your pussy rippling around his shaft, as if trying to pull him even deeper, an impossibility because he is slamming every single inch into you on every forward thrust of his hips.

Bo groans loudly, his head tipping back, a swallow that makes his Adam’s apple bob heavily, “Christ I could die in this cunt happy.”

You are overstimulated, still struggling to come down from your high, when Rusty’s voice filters through your pleasure induced haze, “I think I got something to make it even better.”

Bo looked over his shoulder to Rusty, you can’t see him from your angle, but Bo gasps, “No you fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I sure as shit did, so you want it?” Rusty asked, and you hear a grunt in the affirmative, “Yeah, fuck, hurry tho, M’ gettin’ close.”

You hear the steps coming closer, even over the obscene sounds of your sex, the wetness and meeting of your bodies, you try to brace yourself, but you have no idea what you are preparing for, still struggling with your body weak from the evening's strenuous activities.

“Got a place in mind?” Rusty asked and Bo said, “Anywhere, you’re the expert.”

Bo’s voice sounded strained, his hips are flattering, but every thrust that does fully connect is somehow even harder, he really is close, and you know there is nowhere else he is going to cum but inside of you.

You don’t see it, you feel it first, the pain is unlike anything you have ever experienced, the pain is blinding, the scream that it rends from you is the loudest you have ever let out, no doubt. It goes on for a solid twenty seconds, your entire body locks up, naturally your cunt is included in that, and it proves too much for Bo, it pushes him over the edge, and he holds deep, cumming fully in your seizing pussy. You are begging, broken and nonsense, begging all the same, just for whatever they are doing to you to just end. 

When Rusty steps away, your vision takes a moment to come back into focus, once it does, you see it, he is holding a branding rod, the still angry red capital B, they branded you, right on your outer thigh near your hip. Long after this night is done, if you make it out alive, a permanent reminder and souvenir from this, branded for Bo, his birthday present always, even if you manage to get away. 

The pain is still ruling your mind, you are not at all focused on it when Bo pulls out, he lets go of your legs and lets them fall to the mattress you don’t notice the cum pouring out of you because of the sudden terrible pressure on the brand makes you sob. You don’t notice Rusty getting onto the mattress next, vaguely hearing him ask, “Mind if I finish up in her? I got real close earlier.”

“Go for it.” Bo encouraged, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as you continue to cry. “Shhh, I gotcha.” Rusty puts you on your other side, taking all the pressure off your brand mark, thankfully, he lines up and slides into you with a deep groan, the sound of it makes you clench around him. 

Rusty taking him up for sloppy seconds provided essentially no relief, the waves of pain radiating cuts through any pleasure, it is too strong for even a little masochist like you to enjoy. No way you are going to cum again tonight.

Rusty must have been very close before because he is cumming in you, adding to the mess, less than five minutes into fucking you. You feel pretty out of it when he pulls out too, you know you are making a mess, stuffed with far too much cum for any one hole. You lay there, still taped, sweaty, more tired than you think you have ever been when you hear Bo say, “Lets go have another drink and then see if we wanna come back and play with her some more tonight or leave her for tomorrow.” 

“Love the way you think.” Rusty replies, you hear them head up the stairs, and you lay there, bringing your still bound hands up to take off the clamps still fixed on, far too tired to even think of escape, hoping they leave you for tomorrow and that the pain ebbs enough that you can get some much-needed sleep.

[zaldritzosrose]

Show Me Your Darkness (Sauron x Jewel Smith!Reader)

Summary: Keeping the mask of the Lord of Gifts in tact was more of a task than he had expected. Especially around you. His surprise beloved, one he may value even more than his rings or power. And you loved to test him. Push his affection to its limits. So what happens when he lets you finally get under his skin?

This is a present for my dearest @kaelatargaryen, hope you enjoy!

TW: She/Her pronouns, afab reader, elven reader, no specific descriptions of reader, hints of cnc, mental manipulation (it is Sauron), predaror/prey dynamic, primal play, p in v sex, fingering, innuendo, profanity, Sauron being a little gentle and sweet (who knew).

Words: 4877

Eregion was your home, and it had been for most of your adult life. Your interest in the intricacies of jewel-craft were what brought you to its capital, Ost-in-Edhil. But it was your talent that had made you stay.

The forge was the pride and joy of the city, the heart of everything it was. And you had spent the longest time honing your craft under its master, Celebrimbor. Working at his side, day in day out, to craft all the jewels he needed for whatever creation is mind brought to the world.

Celebrimbor valued you so much, he had even tasked you with perfecting the stones he had eventually placed into the three Elven rings.

So, it was no surprise that you had been one of the first to meet Annatar.

The Lord of Gifts had been a surprise to say the least, but to have another to learn from? You weren’t going to pass on such an opportunity.

Months under the tutelage of Annatar had meant you were rarely not in his presence. His intense stare as you worked, which had once perturbed you, now made you confident.

Not that you needed any mentoring, but it was an easy enough excuse to remain at his side.

But he watched you as if you were the most fascinating person in the room and it was almost impossible not to preen under that gaze. Though it never stopped you from getting in few jabs about how often he would stare.

“Surely you know how to do this already, my Lord?” you asked, as you finished polishing another gemstone for Celebrimbor’s rings.

Annatar gave you a look you had become quite used to. Not frustrated, but almost like he was hiding a laugh whilst trying to remain unimpressed.

“I do, but seeing someone as talented as you work is quite fascinating.”

You went back to the gem, checking it under the light before placing it in a small box along with the others.

Having someone watch you made you work harder on normal days, having someone like Annatar watch you made you strive for perfection.

You didn’t quite know when your relationship with Annatar had become something else, but it had.

He would stand impossibly close as you worked, his chest almost against your back. Sometimes you swore he would whisper in your ear on purpose.

As for you, it had become your turn to stare. Not realising it, but it had soon become impossible to tear your eyes from him as he worked at the forge.

The way the flames would illuminate the golden tone of his hair. And just how good he looked as he moulded the metal to his design.

The foundations of your relationship, however, hadn’t changed. Annatar still found you fascinating and you still welcomed his tutelage.

But now you spent more time at his side away from the forge. From his chambers to yours and most places in between. You saw a side of him most did not.

And because of this, you rarely understood why so many other smiths would look at him with something akin to fear. Like it was rude to so much as look at him for more than a second.

You understood that he was a messenger of the Valar and that was a status of reverence, but that was all you saw. To you, he was now a teacher, a friend and a lover.

Even his outbursts of frustration in the forge barely phased you. Where another smith would jump and hurry to fix whatever the issue was, you rarely did.

If anything, you would tease him more for it.

Today was yet another day of frustration for Annatar. The rings were not progressing quite as he hoped. The Mithril was a sensitive ore, needing the right amount of heat and pressure before it would mould as needed.

He tried to remain composed, to temper the fire within that threatened to burn hotter than the forge he was now staring into.

You watched from your workstation, settled on a balcony above the forge. Watched how his hands clenched and unclenched on the hammer in his hands. How the muscle in his jaw twitched as he tried to hold back his anger.

It was almost too tempting. The urge to tease and taunt him grew the longer you watched.

You knew it wasn’t just the Mithril that had Annatar on edge.

He was entirely obsessed with the rings, something you had never tried to delve further into. It was something you knew was his, and his alone. But it was his pursuit of perfection that was the true source of his ire.

In the evenings, when he would finally lay in bed next to you, he would allow himself to rant. About how the other smiths couldn’t seem to understand what it was he wanted, or how important it was that these rings were perfect.

And you would listen. Knowing your usual teasing wasn’t what he needed right then. But watching him now, you realised just how ridiculous it all seemed.

Descending the winding stairs, you soon arrived at his side with a smile.

“Your jaw will set like that if you do not relax, my lord,” you tapped the sharp edge of said jaw, and you were sure you could see it twitch further.

Most of the other smiths seemed to have made quick exit, though some still lingered in the periphery. Any that did remain, seemed to be watching Annatar with a wary gaze.

“I have no time for your teasing today,” Annatar snapped back, not taking his eyes away from the molten metal before him.

But you were not yet in a mood to let it go. The other smiths now watched in curiosity. Aside from Celebrimbor, you were the only one that never seemed phased by Annatar’s quick change in mood.

“You have scared the rest the smiths away with your sulking, how are you going to get anything made now?” you continued, tilting your head to force his gaze on you.

You could see the way his eyes flashed at your words, but he still didn’t look at you.

Was it worth the risk to push him? Absolutely.

Your hand reached for his arm, putting just a little force on it to turn him to you. Annatar wasn’t one for excessive physical contact, especially in public, so this was yet another way to prod at him.

To your surprise, he turned and finally looked at you. But he didn’t soften as he usually did. It was one thing for you to taunt him in private, tease him for his fiery outbursts. It was another for you to do so with an audience.

You met his gaze, holding it for as long as you could. His stare was piercing, like he was reading your very soul. And the anger that simmered behind it was palpable. But you were in too deep now.

“Staring at me will get you nowhere, Annatar.”

That got him. You could see it in the tight set of his mouth. And when his hand darted out and grasped your arm, you knew you truly had pushed his limit.

“Do not test me,” he hissed, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

That tone would usually cause any other in his presence to wither and run. But you knew him deeper than frustration and anger.

“You cannot scare me like the others,” you replied, though your heart began to beat just a little faster than before.

“I dare say I am not afraid of you at all.”

His hand tightened on your arm for just a second. You could see the waves of emotions behind his eyes. Surprise, frustration, calm.

The mask returned, his hand loosening and freeing your arm.

But you knew you had crossed a line when he leaned in and whispered into your ear.

“Then I shall show you how fearsome I can be, my dearest.”

Those words lingered in your mind for the rest of the day. The veiled threat had sent a shiver down your spine.

Annatar had never made you truly fear him, you knew deep down he wouldn’t cause you any harm. But there was a curiosity now. How was he going to show you?

You half expected a knock on your chamber does that evening, but it never came.

A few hours passed and you simply waited. But still nothing. The sky was entirely dark outside, and you could no longer hear movement from the forge in the distance, meaning most of the others had likely gone to their own beds.

Elves like yourself didn’t often need rest, but working in the forge hour after hour to craft the rings with your fellow smiths had begun to bring forth exhaustion more often than usual.

So, it wasn’t long before you turned to your own bed yourself. Sleep found you quickly enough and your mind soon slipped into your dreams.

Annatar also let your words linger in his mind. He was aware you didn’t fear him as others did, he didn’t want you to.

You were his love, one of few he held true affection for. You should not have cause to fear him. But to have you so openly mock how others feared him. That he couldn’t stand for.

He heard the city around him quieten down and he allowed himself to seek out your mind. This wasn’t something he did often, he cared for you enough to want to show you respect.

But he also wanted to prove a point.

To not make others question his authority, to not make him appear soft. Because all of that was saved only for you.

He relaxed into his chair, letting the silence of the city wash over him. Letting the tendrils of his mind reaching out to seek out yours. It wasn’t long until he found you, your mind as familiar to him as the rest of you now.

To his luck, you were dreaming. Your mind entirely relaxed and primed for the taking. He let himself linger silently for a moment, waiting for the right doorway in. And Annatar thankfully didn’t have to wait long.

Your dream was a gentle one. Just you, alone and walking in the lush forests that surrounded the capital. They were one of your favourite places, aside from the small lakes pocketed throughout Eregion. You found peace there, so it made sense you would seek them out in your dreams.

Annatar let his dream self follow you, a silent shadow that you weren’t yet aware of. He couldn’t reveal himself too soon, where would be the fun in that.

You wandered at the forests edge now, hands running over the leaves and flowers. Soon, he thought himself.

He let you feel his presence, just a little. Like a whisper in your ear or a breeze on your neck. He could see you turn, as though searching for something that wasn’t there.

Now was his chance.

He whispered your name, letting the words weave into your dream. Your head whipped from side to side, frantically searching for the source of the invasion. Now he just needed you to listen and obey.

“Come to me…” he whispered, his voice swirling around you now as his hold on your dream became stronger.

“Come to me…you need to remember I am to be feared…”

You jolted awake. Cold sweat on your brow and goosebumps on your arms and neck. He had warned you, you supposed. A warning you were now taking very seriously.

His presence in your mind still lingered, tugging you to follow it to wherever it lead you. You had known, as a messenger of the Valar, that Annatar had abilities you could rarely comprehend. But he made a point to not often use them on you.

But he did seem to have a point to prove.

You slipped a robe over your nightgown and chose some light boots over slippers. The image of the forest edge still swirled in your mind’s eye, and you could only guess that was where he intended for you to go.

The city was quiet as you crossed the gate threshold, a little too quiet. It had to be Annatar’s doing. All part of the plan, you imagined.

The journey to the forest was thankfully fast, but the nervous flutters in your stomach began to mount the closer you came. And as soon as you began to see the trees, you immediately felt his presence.

Yet no matter where you looked, you couldn’t see him.

Annatar could see your figure just ahead of where he hid. The soft palette of your nightgown and robe standing out against the night’s sky.

He remained shadowed by the forest, but he let himself return to your mind. His voice a little firmer than it had been in your dream. He had no plans to entirely reveal his truth to you yet. He didn’t quite know how the revelation of his true identity would go, and he hoped he wouldn’t truly scare you off.

As if defying his own assumptions of himself, he was quite fond of you.

Annatar could see you searching for him and he smiled when he saw the disappointed drop in your expression when you failed.

He took that moment to let his voice return to your mind.

“I am here, my darling, but this is not to be a sweet endeavour…”

His voice made you stop in your tracks, instinctively returning to searching the forest line for him.

“This is going to be a little game,” his spectral voice whispered, beginning to pace in the shadows as you began to walk down closer.

“You will try to escape me, and it will be an easy task if you find me so unthreatening.”

He saw the way your brows furrowed at his teasing, but he could feel the obedience in your mind. You continued to walk into the forest, as if knowing exactly what he wanted you to do.

Your eyes still darting side to side to seek him out, but to no avail. You could feel his familiar presence, and something in the back of your mind was telling you to run.

But when you didn’t move, Annatar decided you needed a little push.

“Run, my dear. Run as fast as you can…”

Those words echoing in your mind sent a thrill up your spine. Maybe you should fear him, the forests weren’t exactly a place for romance. But there was something exciting about the whole thing…

So you started to run.

Annatar gave you a head start, watching your figure disappear deeper into the darkness of the forest. He kept his hold on your mind, following the path you took.

This was going to be a chase on his terms. While he had every intention to chase you down the ‘natural’ way, he was going to give himself a little advantage.

He walked through the trees, following the path he had seen in your mind. You were far enough ahead that he couldn’t see you, but he could feel you.

Though as the trees thickened, he began to break into a run himself. Closing some of the distance between you both. Urging you down the path into the centre of the forest.

Neither of you knew how long you had been running and Annatar had been chasing. But the night had truly fallen over Eregion now, the only light was the occasional stream of the moonlight between the trees.

Annatar had been a silent presence in your mind for the most part. Reminding you that he was always behind you, that you had yet to escape him.

Was there a little fear in you now? Yes, but not that he would harm you. It was a nervous, excited fear, for the anticipation of what he would do if he caught you.

“Run faster, sweet girl…”

The sudden voice almost made you jump. He had been silent in your mind for long enough that you nearly stumbled over a root when he spoke.

You gripped your dress in your hands and willed your legs to move faster. Though a small part of you wanted to get caught.

Annatar could feel the little flickers of nervous excitement. The way your instincts seemed to be on edge whenever you heard a sound that could or couldn’t be him gaining on you.

The centre of the forest was close, and he began to veer your mind to follow the path to it. No one really knew where the small clearing had come from, but it was ideal for his endgame.

And when he saw you slow down as the trees began to thin, he couldn’t hide his smirk as he returned to hiding in shadows.

The confusion was clear on your expression and when he didn’t show himself, Annatar could see the emotion devolve into something akin to fear. You began to turn in slow circles, searching the treeline for him again.

“Annatar?” you called out, and he could now hear the worry colouring your tone.

He waited, just a little longer. Until the nervousness began to morph slowly into fearfulness. Annatar could hear the thoughts in your mind.

Had he even chased you? Was this your punishment for embarrassing him in the forge?

All those thoughts began to whir in your mind until he could feel you sinking into panic. That was his moment.

“I am here, my dear…and it seems you are caught?”

Your mind was so lost to worry that you weren’t even considering that you could have just run on through the clearing and away. Your eyes flitted to where you thought his voice was coming from, peering out into the darkness for any sign of him.

Annatar edged closer to the light, letting his soft grey robes shift into something a little darker. Something more…him.

As your back turned to him, he walked forward. Taking advantage of your state of unawareness and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Now you are most certainly caught.”

You stilled in his arms, the sudden presence behind you putting you back on edge.

Something about him felt different. Darker, sinister. And you found yourself curious.

When you remained silent, Annatar spoke again.

“I can feel your fear, right here,” he whispered, tapping your temple.

You could hear his smirk, and you shivered as his cheek pressed against yours.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you answered, and Annatar found himself surprised that was what you chose to say.

His lips ghosted against your cheek.

“I do not want you to fear harm, darling. But I want you to understand something…”

Only now did he move to stand in front of you. And he watched as you took in his appearance, noting the quick smile that pulled at your lips.

“Understand what? Do you wish me to fear you as the other smiths do?” you asked, trying to take a step closer.

But Annatar held his hand up to you, stopping you still.

“I want you to know the truth, about me.”

He knew he would need to reveal himself sooner or later. He could only hope you wouldn’t actually run in fear from him.

You nodded your head for him to continue.

“I am no messenger of the Valar, and I wager the fear the other smiths comes from some instinctual feeling.”

You frowned. “So you lied to me?”

Annatar sighed. Closing the distance and tilting your head up to look at him.

“For your own safety, nothing more,” he answered, which only added to your confusion.

Annatar ran his thumb over your lower lip, letting his presence in your mind return. Letting images of his true self flick through. Showing was easier than telling.

Morgoth’s crown. The darkened fortress of Angband and his master. All the death and destruction that forever followed him. He could feel the recognition in your mind.

“Sauron…you are he?”

He nodded, preparing to have to stop you from leaving. But he didn’t feel fear in your mind. There was nervousness, yes, but not fear. Not of him anyway.

“Do you fear me now?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

He could hear the thump of your heartbeat. The nervous excitement returning. And he felt the soft exhale of a laugh from your lips.

“Do you wish me to, my Lord Sauron?”

What a dangerous game you continued to play, even now daring to taunt him. But instead of annoyance, he found himself enjoying it.

The hand on your chin slid down to your throat, his free hand returning to your waist as he span you back around. His chest pressed hard against your back.

His lips were against your cheek as he spoke.

“Oh, you play dangerously now, darling,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the spot just beneath your ear.

The hand on your waist began to roam, across your stomach and up to nestle just under your chest.

The low rumble of his voice combined with the heat of his hand had arousal settling deep in your belly. The lingered threat in his tone should have scared you, but it only excited you more.

“All across Middle Earth, the name Sauron is said in hushed tones. I am shadow and despair, yet you seek to mock my very nature?���

Your head leaned back against his body, the hand on your throat tightening just enough to hold you still against him. The other beginning to palm at your breast through the thin fabrics of your gown and robe.

His lips taking the lobe of your ear between them, tugging at it just enough to pull a sigh from your throat.

“You should be trembling in fear at my very presence, instead you are dripping with need, like a wanton little whore…”

The hand on your breast moved down painfully slowly, gripping your gown and robe to bunch it in his grip. The hand on your throat released you, only to move to cup your throbbing heat.

“Does the thought of being claimed by the Dark Lord himself make you desperate, my dear?”

You could barely form enough of a coherent sentence to answer him, but you tried. You wanted him, more than you feared you had ever desired anyone. Even when he masqueraded as Annatar, there had always been a deep-seated darkness within him when he would take you to bed.

And you wanted to see more of that darkness up close.

“Yes…” you sighed you, your body arching to chase the hand between your thighs.

Sauron chuckled against your skin; his lips now pressed against the column of your neck.

“Yes, what?” he growled out, teeth scraping against your pulse.

A rush of need went down your spine, flooding your veins as the combination of his words and touch had your mind in overdrive.

“Yes…my lord…”

The hand between your thighs finally began to offer you some relief. Long fingers shifting to slip beneath your undergarments. The pads of the digits beginning to circle your pearl just fast enough to pull your already prolonged release closer.

“Good girl,” he smiled, kissing your shoulder softly, “Now, I caught you and I wish to claim my prize.”

He held you gently as he brought you down to lie on the ground. But the new position gave you a chance to properly look at him again. To finally take in the subtle changes between Annatar and Sauron.

The black suited him more than grey, you thought to yourself. Your thoughts were cut short when he knelt between your legs, pushing them wider apart as he now hovered over you.

Your hand came up to tug him down, curling around the back of his neck. Sauron complied with a smirk, letting you bring his lips down to yours as he hooked one of your legs around his waist.

There was no real need for words now, the hunger behind his eyes was clear and you imagined it was reflected in your own. You broke the kiss to tug your robe from your shoulders, the cool air making you shiver as it hit your skin.

Sauron’s hand returned to its home between your thighs, slipping between your bodies to rub soft circles against your pearl.

Your head fell back in pleasure and Sauron took that opportunity to latch himself back on to your throat. Claiming every inch of skin as he continued his path down to your chest.

His fingers soon slipped inside, your hand gripping at his shoulder as soft moans fell from your lips. His rhythm was quick, your walls already clenching around his fingers.

Your back arched as your release finally broke, his name falling from your lips over and over again.

Now it was Sauron’s turn to give in to desperation. Your acceptance of his truth, the sound of his name dripping in pleasure on your tongue. Arousal pulsed in veins, his length twitching insistently against the fabric of his clothes.

Your own hands began to tug at his robe, silently demanding to feel more of him. The leg around his waist circling tighter to just feel any part of him pressed against you.

Sauron made quick work of pulling his robe from his body, leaving only the soft shirt and breeches beneath. The laces near torn apart in the hurried need to finally feel your flesh around him.

You pulled your own nightgown higher, Sauron’s hands moving to tear the light fabric of your undergarments at the seams.

He slipped inside with a groan, burying his face into your neck as your gripped at his back.

“Claim your prize, my lord…”

Sauron’s rhythm was punishing, a mixture of desperation and lingering frustration spurring him forward. His lips returned to the skin of your neck, hot kisses and nips of his teeth marking you as his own.

If you didn’t fear him, he could live with that. But he needed the world to know you were his and his alone. He needed to hear how desperately you needed him.

He held your leg tight at his hip, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. The muscles of your cunt were already clenching around him, need burning in every vein of your body and pulling him deeper into your core.

Despite the persistent need to claim you that gnawed at him, Sauron wanted to make this last. Have you as desperate for him as he now was for you.

He thrust deep, slowing his rhythm but deepening the power of his movements. His hips rocked against yours and he relished the way your back arched every time he hit that spot deep down inside you.

Now…you just needed to beg.

“You are mine, my darling, you may not fear me, but I can feel how much you need me…” he growled against your throat, his hand planted beside your head.

His words pulled an impatient moan from your throat. You weren’t the begging type, but you were so very desperate for release.

“Go on…tell me how much you need your Lord…”

You groaned in mild frustration, knowing you would have no choice but to give in.

Sauron chose that moment to give you a particularly hard thrust, your groan morphing into a long moan.

“Please…please, Sauron…I need you…” your hands clawed at his back as if to prove your point.

He moved a little faster, so you kept going.

“I need to feel you; I want you to claim your prize…”

His lips latched on to yours before you could finish speaking. Sauron picked up the rhythm again, working his way up until he was slamming his cock in and out of you in pure primal need.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as your peak washed over you, his name falling in broken cries from your lips.

His own release followed soon after, his rough growl of your name muffled by the curve of your throat. His rhythm stuttered as he finally emptied himself inside you.

“Mine…all mine…” Sauron whispered those words against your skin as he finally stilled.

He rolled to lie at your side, making it easy to forget you were both in fact out in a forest clearing.

You turned to rest a hand on his chest, holding yourself up as you looked down at him. You smiled as you felt the heavy thud of his heart beneath his chest.

“You never answered my question,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

Sauron raised a brow in response, prompting you to explain. You smiled again.

“Do you wish me to fear you, my lord Sauron?” you asked, exactly as you had earlier.

His hand came to rest over yours, returning your smile.

“I believe I do not, my dear,” he answered, pulling you down to kiss you again.

Despite everything, he realised you were the only one he wished not to have fear him.

But maybe he should fear you?

For you were the one who had managed to capture the Dark Lord’s blackened heart.

TRoP Taglist:

@tumblin-theworldaway @kaelatargaryen @valar-did-me-wrong

@stardustcasey @itwillbeourswansong @xximmortalkissxx

@varda-starqueen @iwanderbecauseimlost

@eowyn7023 @whenimaunicorn

Please let me know if you want to be added/removed!

[harrywavycurly]

I don’t know why but HWC Harry gives off vibes anytime you see him on his phone he’s texting or calling his sunshine girl because he’s miserable without her and I love it😅💕

Hiii babes!! Ohh I totally agree he’s probably so miserable anytime he has to be without his sunshine girl so he’s constantly just blowing her up the whole time he’s away from her😂 like here’s some examples through all the harry eras because I’m a visual person, I hope you enjoy😂💖

*this got outta control so I put them below 🙈*

This is 10000% him on the way home from the bar Niall dragged him to that he didn’t even want to go to because she didn’t want to go but she forced him because he needs to spend time with his friends.

Him calling his sunshine girl to double check her order before he goes into the coffee shop because he will hate himself for the rest of the day if he gets her order wrong (even though she wouldn’t care because she’s not picky lol)

Any moment of free time he gets is spent checking in on her, doesn’t matter if it’s been three hours or three minutes since his last text he is sending her an “I miss you” text because he does and he needs her to be aware of it😂

This is giving she sent him something cute like “miss you, can’t wait to see you later” because he was out with friends and he immediately calls an uber to take him home because his girl misses him and who is he to make her wait? And he didn’t even want to be out without her anyway.

For some reason this is as if he just had a rude experience in a shop and he’s texting her something like “checkout lady was rude. Need cuddles when I get home.” Because she’s who makes him feel better even over silly things like mean checkout ladies.

Obviously his sunshine girl just told him she was close by and this is him waiting till he sees her and if it takes more than two minutes he’s calling her to check on her.

He just got a new phone and of course the first call he makes on it is to her because who else does he even talk to on the phone at this point?

Now this one gives he’s watching her from the crowd and is also texting her his thoughts about it as he has them all while looking like the super proud boyfriend.

This one is giving he missed a text from her while out for a run about plans they have for that evening and he’s annoyed because he doesn’t want to be around anyone else besides her😂

[queenbee298]

Imagine this :

the reader got attacked by a bully and the toys are taking care of it !?? But the bully comes back to finish them of but got stoped by them and then meet some old toys from the Factory !!??? What do you think ??

And if it's okay with you.... can you add my OC in your story....??? I'll add them their pictures :

Jasper :

He's an unfinished experience who "supposed to be a human.." he's a skeleton but now, he's half human/toy.... He's dating Kissy missy (my ship) and he was with Doey protecting "Safe Heaven", but he got interrupted and go find a plane to kill the Prototype... He got badly injured by the fight, but doesn't care.... If he meet the reader it's because he escaped with his BEST FRIEND Wuggy from the Factory and go find the others he's a sweet boy, but VERY Insecure about himself.... He's scared of not being good enough or strong for the others... He also can't sleep.... The only way is that he sleep with Kissy missy WITHOUT Poppy (he hate her....specially after what she did....)

Wuggy : (my son)

He's similar to Kissy and wuggy but instead of a close smile his is open and he CAN talk !! He's the CLOSEST friends of Jasper and help him with his plans of destroyed the Prototype, but just like Jasper he got injured but not as much as Jasper.... He's a really shy guy and always helpful, he's the only one (with Kissy and Doe) who can calm him when he see Poppy....

I really hope I didn't asked too much but thanks again !!!

Thank you for requesting another story and with your OC’s, this will be fun. Request #5 Enjoy the story. Some warning before I start the story. There will be some blood, violence, and bad language in this story.

👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾👊🏾 As you and the toys were outside talking, playing games, or just relaxing. Two troublemaker came into the forest where you lived. They were loud and rude people from the city. They trespassed and threw eggs and toilet paper in your house. They called you a witch just because you lived I. The forest alone, before you took the toys in. You noticed them coming and told the toys to hide away.

Bully 1: “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Y/N, the forest witch!”

Y/N: “What do you want?”

Bully 1: “Oh nothing, it’s been awhile since you disappeared.”

Bully 2: “Where’d you go? The create some new spells?”

The toys weren’t happy to see someone disrespecting you.

Y/n: “You two are so childish. Just leave me alone before I call the police again.”

One of the bullies got close to you and threaten you.

Bully 2: “You won’t do shit! And if you say something, I’ll beat the fuck out of you.”

You got angry and threw a punch at his nose. He’s nose started bleeding and he’s other friend grabbed you from behind and held you tightly. The other one you took out a knife and cut your cheek. Your cut began bleeding.

The toys had enough and attacked the bullies.

The mini critters, Kissy, Wuggy, and Poppy rushed to your side worrying about your cut. Doey, Yarnaby, and Jasper ran to attack the bullies. Yarnaby claws scratched one of the bullies eyes and the Doey and Jasper began to beat up the other one.

Y/n: “Guys, that’s enough!”

Jasper: “But they hurt you!”

Y/n: “Enough!”

You never raised your voice at them, but reluctantly, they let the bullies go. One had teeth marks and a scratched eye. The other had bruises and black eyes. You walked over to the boys, took the knife one of the bullies and cut the bully’s cheek.

Y/n: “If you ever fucking come back here, I’ll make they’ll kill you. Now take your little friend and go home!”

The bullies left the forest. The toys and you went be into the house to patch yourself up.

Wuggy: “Mom/Dad, who were those people?”

Jasper: “And why did you stop us?”

Y/n: “Those two are troublemakers in the city. They come here for time-to-time and harass me or throw shit at my house.”

The toys were shock to hear some people would do that to you.

Doey: “Do they hurt you?”

Y/n: “Except from today, no. I’ve called the police on them before, but nothing changed.”

Doey: “Why didn’t you let us stop them!? Aren’t you angry at them?”

Y/n: “I am, but violences shouldn’t be the answer and you guys nearly killed them. I’m sure they’ll leave us alone now. Now let’s get ready for dinner.”

It was a silent dinner, the toys were still on edge out the bullies and during bedtime they kept their guards up in case something happened.

Hours later, you all were asleep, but you had an uninvited guest. One of the bullies broke into your house for revenge. The Doey, Yarnaby, and Jasper woke up.

Yarnaby let out a growl that woke up.

Y/n: “Yarnaby, is something wrong?”

Jasper: “Don’t worry, mom/dad. Everything is okay. Just go back to sleep.”

You were still tired, so you fell back to sleep.”

Doey: “I’m going to kill that motherfucker…”

Jasper: “This time, no one will me.”

The toys were out to look for the bullies and to put and put an end to him.

Bully: “You got lucky,you little bitch, but this kill, I’ll kill you.”

Jasper: “I don’t think so.”

Bully: “Who’s there? You and your freak friends will pay!”

Jasper: “I don’t think so. You won’t hurt y/n. And if you do… We’ll just have a little fun with you. Oh, Yarnaby.”

Yarnaby came running are the bully, growling and opening his face at him. The bully ran in fear to the door, but there was no escaping down.

Doey was waiting for him. He was in the vents and took his arms and reached out for the bully. He covered his mouth so his screams wouldn’t wake you up. Yarnaby caught up to him and Doey slowly fed the bully to Yarnaby.

After that, they cleaned up the bloody mess and went back to bed. Now with them around no one will hurt you.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸Well I hoped you all liked this gorey story. This one was fun to make and thank you again for requesting this story. See you next time <3!

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Ticket to Anywhere

This is my Valentine's gift fic for @qprpbj! You mentioned Paul/Darry in your prompt and I saw a post of yours about the lyrics of "Fast Car" by tracy chapman being Peril coded, so I wrote a songfic based on that. I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 2760

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You got a fast car

It’s a cold day in February of their junior year when Paul turns sixteen and shows up in the school parking lot in a brand new AC Cobra. It’s so shiny it gleams, painted a deep blue-black colour that’s almost a match for Paul’s eyes and a perfect match for his letterman jacket. For a second, jealousy flares so strong it burns up Darry’s throat until it chokes him, because he can pretend to be one of them all he wants, but he never will be, not really. He could never afford a car like that, not in a million years, one that costs more than his dad makes in a year, easy. His own birthday had passed a few months back, and the closest he got to getting any car was dad saying he’d start teaching him to drive and that once he got his license he could borrow the truck now and then. 

So he watches, envious, as Paul shuts the door, his stupid sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and Chrissy Smythe practically throws herself at him. She might as well be drooling, though whether it’s over Paul or the car, Darry isn’t sure. In any case, it doesn’t seem to matter, because Paul extricates himself from her simpering as quickly as he can without being rude and catches Darry’s eye with a grin.

“Nice car,” Darry says, because it is, any idiot could see that. It’s the kind of car Steve and Soda rhapsodize about, the ones Darry’s sure Steve is gonna try and steal one day. 

“Thanks,” Paul grins and tosses him a set of keys, “wanna take her for a spin after school?”

His eyes are twinkling, deep blue and mysterious and soft in a way Darry knows is just for him, a deadly secret swaddled in daydreams. Just like that the envy evaporates.

“Sure.”

Paul offers him a fist bump, the tap of their knuckles the closest they can get to holding hands in public. The contact still makes his heart race anyway. 

And I want a ticket to anywhere

“Theatre tonight?” Paul asks when they’re in the locker room after practice one Friday. He’s in just his boxers, towel slung haphazardly around his neck, hair still wet from the shower. Darry is being very careful not to stare, and even more careful not to hyperventilate. He should be used to this by now, after almost three years of being on the team together, but the thing about stars is that they’re hard to look away from, and Paul has always been the brightest star in Darry’s galaxy. It makes it hard to think. 

“Sounds like a plan. Who else is coming?” Is it date night or a hangout is what he’s really asking and Paul is even more casually nonchalant when he answers.

“I invited Chase and Angelina but they’ve got other plans, and Joey’s little sister is sick so it might just be the two of us, unless you got anyone else you wanna invite.”

“Maybe I’ll ask if Carla wants to come.” He says even though they both know he absolutely won't. 

“Cool,” Paul agrees, finally putting a shirt on, a soft looking Madras flannel Darry wants to steal. They bid their farewells to the rest of the team and Darry grabs both their duffel bags as they walk side by side out to the parking lot. 

Paul lights a cigarette while he tosses the equipment into the back of the Cobra. Darry pretends he doesn’t see the way Paul is checking him out, and flexes a bit more than is necessary when tossing around relatively light equipment bags.

Then Paul tosses him the keys to the car Darry knows he should never have had a chance to drive, and tells him to go faster until they’re flying down the back roads, sun in their hair and wind stealing the laughter from their mouths. They eat dinner at a greasy spoon in the middle of town between the east side and west side, and don’t talk about it. Paul pays for everything and Darry pretends it doesn’t send a familiar wave of embarrassment down his spine, even though he knows it’s the only way Paul knows how to show he cares sometimes. 

It’s getting dark by the time they reach the theatre and they’re running later than they meant to. Paul buys two tickets to the first movie he sees listed on the board, and neither of them have any idea what it’s about, but it doesn’t matter much anyway when they reach into the popcorn bucket held between them and their hands brush.

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

“You ever think about getting out of here?” Darry asks one night when they’re lying on the grass in Paul’s backyard, staring up at the stars. It’s a bit chilly out, but Paul is warm pressed against his side, head tucked into the crook of his shoulder. He smells like fancy cologne and fabric starch and beneath that, sweat, and it’s so uniquely Paul that it drives Darry a little crazy. 

It’s a soft night tonight, just the two of them in Paul's almost perpetually empty house, his dad on another business trip and his mom back in some rehab centre rich folks call a wellness retreat. Paul is in an even better mood than usual, bright eyes almost feverish in their shine, and he’d been the one to convince Darry that stargazing of all things was a better date night activity than watching a movie. Now, he lifts Darry’s hand in his to press a kiss to the back of his palm, and hums.

“Out of where? Tulsa?”

“Yeah.”

Paul laughs, once, a bright chuckle, like a firefly in a forest, there and then gone again, fleeting and beautiful. 

“I don’t just think about it, I’m planning for it.”

“Oh.” It’s times like these that the true gulf between them smacks Darry in the face, when he remembers how truly different their worlds are. For some reason he can sit in Paul’s thousand dollar car and visit his giant house and not feel it, but then they have conversations like this and he remembers it. Paul doesn’t need to wonder about getting out of Tulsa because it’s already a done deal, because he’s been accepted to any college he wants before he’s even applied because the Holdens sit on a fortune and his mom has connections at Yale. Darry on the other hand…well, they’re not even seniors yet and he’s terrified. He already spoke to coach about extra training over the summer, and he’s been saving every penny from his job at the diner, because even if he manages a full scholarship he’ll still have to afford textbooks and board and everything else. His grades are fine for right now, but next year they need to be perfect. He needs to be perfect because he doesn’t have the luxury of second chances. He can’t make a mistake.

Paul starts talking about MIT and Yale, voice soft in the darkness, and Darry thrusts the whole thing from his mind, pressing a kiss to Paul’s lips to shut him up, because Paul is getting out of Tulsa and Darry doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to; and because it’s clear from Paul’s rambling that him getting out doesn’t involve keeping Darry, doesn’t involve staying them, and for some reason that stings more than the thought of never getting out of Tulsa at all. 

He wants to bring it up, wants to make him promise they’ll stay together even if it’s a lie, but Paul never makes a promise he can’t keep and Darry knows asking him to tonight would be a certain kind of cruelty he doesn't have in him. They kiss under the stars and Darry wishes there was some way he could love him and lose him without it feeling like an inevitable, final, ruining blow to the chest. 

Any place is better

He shows up on Paul’s doorstep one night, just two months into their senior year, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s always been big, broad shoulders and a tall frame, and it’s a terrible mockery of the universe, that he is such a big person and yet completely and entirely helpless, small in the face of the problems of the world.

He all but collapses into Paul’s arms, and Paul catches him like he always does, warm and solid and everything he wants and has but never completely, and he wants to leave Tulsa and never come back. 

Eventually Paul hauls him upstairs to his room, and they curl up together under his comforter. Paul is everywhere, and the sheets smell like him, and slowly the tears subside enough for Darry to hiccup out an account of Soda’s bruised face mottled black and blue, of Steve’s shattered ankle, and Ponyboy’s tiny, shaking hand raising a cigarette to his lips for the first time ever and far too soon while he watched dad put stitches in Soda’s sluggishly bleeding forehead. 

He tells his soc lover about his beat up greaser brothers and he is loyal to all of them and none of them and it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s helpless. He can’t stop the violence or the hate any more than he can save Pony and Soda, or even himself,  from their side of the tracks. For a second he hates Tulsa Oklahoma so much it sickens him, a slow poison sticking in his throat and choking him, making it hard for him to breathe or cry or think.

He had to get out, he tells Paul, had to get out of that house, away from his brothers’ fear and Steve’s anger, and the resignation in Pony’s frightened eyes that at only eleven years old were far too used to far too horrible things. He had to get out, just for the night.

It’s a lie. As he falls asleep, Paul’s arms warm and safe around him, he promises himself he will find a way out of Tulsa if it’s the last thing he ever does. One day, he swears, he’ll leave and never look back.

Starting from zero, got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself, I got nothing to prove

Darry was born on the east side to a father who worked construction and a mother who worked a factory job up until he was born and every odd job she could find afterwards. He’s a blue collar boy from a blue collar family, in a blue collar neighborhood. Needless to say, he’s no stranger to hard work. Still, as he moves into his last year of high school he works harder than he ever has before. If he isn’t playing football, he’s practicing it, and if he isn’t practicing it he’s doing homework, and if he's not doing homework or football he’s scrubbing plates in the dish pit at his job. Family, friends, and a social life take a backseat, sleep becomes an afterthought, and yet it will all be worth it when he gets a scholarship- any scholarship- for football or academics it doesn’t matter, to any college that will take him. All he needs is an acceptance letter with a full ride, enough money offered that he can leave, leave the second he graduates instead of sticking around for a year and working, trying to save enough to get out. He knows better than to try, knows if he doesn’t get his ticket out paid in full he’ll never leave this godforsaken town, no matter how much he wants to, knows there will always be something else holding him back. 

For the first time since he kissed Paul back in sophomore year, they’re fighting. Paul thinks Darry doesn’t care, is pouting in the way only someone who has only ever had everything can pout, and he refuses to see Darry’s side no matter how many times he explains it. Darry’s frustrated and tired and so stupidly, desperately in love that he promises to work on it, and Paul promises to try harder to understand, and things aren’t perfect, but they’re not gone, and Darry promises himself the slight distance between them will be worth it when he wins his scholarship.

In the end, it doesn’t matter at all and it never did. None of it is worth it, because Darry gets five college acceptance letters, and two partial scholarships, and neither of them are enough. 

He’s not going to college.

You got a fast car

And I got a plan to get us out of here

“Will you come with me?” Darry asks when Paul finds him, because Paul knows, better than anyone, how much he hates this town and how badly he wanted to get out. It makes sense then, that he knew without Darry having to say it how determined he still is to go somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here, even if college is off the table.

Paul’s deep blue eyes go very glossy very fast.

“I can’t.” 

Of course. Of course he can’t, and Darry knows why, knows all about the acceptance letter to Yale tossed carelessly on his bedside table, for a program Paul didn’t even want. Knows Paul would be beyond stupid to throw it away, and wishes he loved him enough to do it anyway. 

“Ok.” Darry nods, and Paul’s hands curl into fists because he hates apathy from Darry, for all that it’s his own weapon of choice. Darry figures he loves him enough and owes him enough to end it the way Paul wants, so they fight, and Paul leaves, and it hurts as much as he knew it would a year ago, that night when he realized this was the only way it could end. 

He finishes the semester with a bleeding heart that's been broken twice over, wondering why the curse of the east side meant he was never enough, even when he was the best of them all. 

And then Paul comes back.

Been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

He has money saved is the thing. Not a lot, but enough, every spare cent from the dish pit at Al’s diner carefully squirreled away into a fund that was meant to be for textbooks and now is meant for something different, something more. It’s a lifeline, not quite a ticket out, but an escape nevertheless. 

He hands in his resignation the same day he walks across the stage to get his diploma, and doesn’t look back. 

Won't have to drive too far

Just across the border and into the city

And you and I can both get jobs

Paul picks him up, the day they’re set to leave, in the same AC Cobra he let Darry drive back when they were sixteen. 

His parents don’t understand it, but they hug him goodbye and they love him anyway. Soda is understanding, but his eyes are sad, and Pony seems betrayed but there’s a look in him that’s beyond the kind of understanding Soda always wears, something Darry thinks might reasonably be called kinship, as he pulls away and Pony tucks himself into Johnny’s side like he was made to fit there.

Darry claps Dallas on the shoulder, hugs Two-bit tightly, and ruffles both Steve and Johnny’s hair before he hefts his bag and follows Paul back to the car. There’s a piece of him that wishes he’d spent more time with his family this past year, but it’s a hollow ache of a vague could have been, and it pales in comparison to the elation that comes with getting out, of the relief that comes with not being stuck. 

“You ready?” 

Paul is as beautiful as he’s always been, those stupid sunglasses perched once again on his nose.

“Yeah,” Darry sighs, and it feels like he can relax, finally, for the first time in his life, “I am.”

There’s a map in the cupholder, creased and scribbled on, with directions to New York City, and a note in his pocket with the address of their new apartment in his breath pocket. The air smells like adventure.

“Let’s go build a life together.” Paul smiles, carefree and happy, and Darry loves him so much he can’t even really describe it. 

The car turns the corner. He doesn’t look back.

Finally see what it means to be living

[klovercrown]

Stripped ~ Mr. Reed X Reader ~Smut~(18+)

Warnings: Older man/younger woman (mid 20s), rough sex, unprepared anal, fingering, choking, corruption, humiliation

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A/N: Ayo! First time writing for Mr. Reed and i wanted to do a lil something for Valentines (Happy Valentines day btw).

He might be OOC (I wanted him to be a lil mean 🤭) grammar and writing might be off, but i hope y'all enjoy <3

Tell me, my dear... have you ever been touched by a man?"

Caught off guard by his sudden question, you lost your grip on the handle of the teacup of chamomile he made for you. The warm liquid spilled onto your button-up shirt, the lap of your black skirt, and onto the carpet next to your feet. Fortunately, the cup didn't shatter to pieces due to the cushion from the rug. You blushed from embarrassment, picking the teacup up from the ground and profuse apologies leaving your lips.

Mr. Reed only let out a chuckle, picking up a handkerchief from the coffee table to clean the mess. "Apologies, my dear. A reaction like that is expected from a strange man asking out of line. Terribly sorry." He brushed it off, still playing the nice old man act while his gaze lingered on your chest.

The tea seeped through the material of your shirt; the outline of your bra was visible. A low chuckle emitted from him, sending a shiver through your body along with the lingering arousal between your legs.

"Now look what I did...." He tsked, gently grabbing the teacup from your hands to set it aside. You sat up straight and still, swallowing with a dry throat. "I... I'm sorry for spilling that, Mr. Reed. It's just your question—

"Made you uncomfortable? Say no more, Sister (L/N). It was quite rude of me to inquire about something as personal as one's sexual history. Allow me." He insists as he gently dabs the stain on your shirt, his fingers brushing against the top of your breast through the napkin.

You flinched from his touch but didn't pull away, catching the small cheeky grin appearing on his face from your reaction. "There, there, no need to cry over spilled tea." He chuckled at his joke, eyeing you for a reaction but was only met with you in an anxious state. "Tough crowd."

As soon as he pulls the cloth away from your shirt, you smooth your clothes and stand up. "I appreciate your hospitality and time, but I—" Your shaky words trailed off, unsure of what to say that wouldn't anger or set him off in any way. You stood there frozen, anxiously fidgeting with the fabric of your skirt. He gave you his tight-lipped smile, dropping the handkerchief. "Let me ask... Sister (L/N)..." He asked, taking a step closer, which made you cower away and take a step back.

"....You didn't move away when a complete stranger touched your chest; why is that?" He said with a sinister chuckle, adjusting his thin-framed glasses. Mr. Reed's words filled you with confusion and embarrassment, wondering where this man gets off probing you with these types of questions.

You swallowed once more, struggling to find the words. "I...I don't know what you want me to say, Mr. Reed. I was panicked and caught off guard by your question..." You stumbled over your words and hugged your arms around yourself, feeling your heart start to pound against your chest.

He watched you with a hint of satisfaction at you struggling under his gaze. "Panicked? Caught off guard?" He politely ponders before stepping closer to you, within arm's length. "My dear....forgive me, but I don't buy those poor excuses for a second."

He was so rude, antagonizing, conceited, and damn...his words just turned you on more and more. Your eyes hesitate to meet his, regretting as soon as his grin grows. There is an aggressive blush spread on your cheeks, and you struggled to maintain eye contact with him.

You couldn't help but blush harder as he took a couple more steps towards you, invading your personal space. Your back hit the wall; you felt a hint of anticipation as he stared down at you. You stare down, looking down at your heaving chest to avert his gaze.

"Sister (L/N), is there a reason my question is causing you such discomfort? You're trembling…" He says as he grazes his hand along your arm, making you flutter your eyes closed from the feeling. "...you still didn't answer, Sister." He said in a teasing tone, which made you snap your gaze back up at him. "No, I've never been touched before." You firmly answered, hoping it would satisfy whatever sick, curious thoughts he had lingering in his mind.

"You have. Well, maybe that explains why you allowed me to touch you. You like the feeling, don't you?" He questioned, bringing a hand up to fidget with a lock of your hair. You jumped from his touch but didn't pull away, finding yourself enjoying the feeling of his hand stroking your hair.

"Your silence is all the confirmation I need, Sister (L/N)." He says while leaning into your personal space, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. A whine leaves your lips, overwhelmed by his lewd questions and touching. "Have you ever touched yourself?" He asks in a hushed tone, attempting to push your boundaries and overwhelm you further.

You bite your bottom lip. "Mr. Reed..." It came out in a pleading tone; you glanced up at him with beckoning eyes. "Use your words, Sister (L/N)..." He sternly tells you, his hands sliding down the side of your arms, then gripping your elbows. You nod. "Yes, I have touched myself."

He hummed in satisfaction, releasing your arms and then stepping back to the corridor. You stand frozen, unsure of what to do, until you hear the snap of his fingers, beckoning you to follow him.

Despite this terrifying situation you find yourself in, your feet led you to him. He looks pleased with your, lack of a better word, decision to walk with him down the dark corridor. He led you into what looked to be a home church, office, or study. With many bookshelves, a desk with wooden figurines, religious idols, etc.

"Now...." He starts, "...if you wish to leave, I am not stopping you, and your coat is right there." He gestures to the coat rack in the corner of the room. "However, if you choose to stay, I won't disappoint..." He says in a low tone, causing you to feel weak in the legs. After a deafening silence, you nod.

He smiles, "Excellent, now take off your clothes." He casually tells you, causing that tingling sensation to come back but close to unbearable. Your hands move to unbutton your tea-stained shirt, letting it drop to the ground. You wore nothing but a white bra underneath, leaving just your skirt. As you fidget with the hem of your skirt, you steal glances of him watching. He displayed the stoic expression he kept, but you could see he was containing himself from ravishing you.

As soon as your skirt drops to the ground, leaving you in just your bra and panties, he pins you against the edge of his desk. It happened so fast, you didn't have time to reach his warm lips smashing against yours. Whines and moans escape you, your body reacting from the touch and the taste of a man for the first time, and fuck, did you love it. His hands wandered along your body, from caressing your waist to groping your ass. "Fuck..." You mumble against his lips, which caused him to pull away.

"Bend over the desk." He tells you, taking off his glasses and slipping them in the pocket of his sweater. You obey, turning around and leaning forward while grabbing onto the edge. Fear and anticipation consumed you as his hand pulled at the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs. Mr. Reed's hands run along her calves, hips, and to your ass. "Now....I know you're a virgin; I must warn you I can get a little carried away—" "It's fine! Please use me!" You pleaded, even surprising yourself with this newfound lustful behavior. You have only secretly looked at adult magazines and masturbated, but this was new and exciting to you.

A low groan escapes him, squeezing your right buttock. "Dirty girl..." he whispers before bringing his hand down to swat you on the rear, causing you to yelp and jump from the blow. He chuckles, stroking the spot tenderly. You feel his fingers draw near to your pussy; you gasp as soon as they touch your folds. "You're sopping wet..." he says as he shoves his digits inside of you, drawing out moans and pleas from you.

He pumped his fingers inside of you, using his other hand to grip onto your left buttock, his thumb probing your tight ring. It was so foreign to you; it felt so uncomfortable but blurred with the feeling of him finger-fucking you. Overstimulated from his fingering and teasing, you throw your head back. "Please...please fuck me!" You beg, only to have him ram his fingers deep to silence you. He gently shushed you, his warm lips pressing kisses and nips at the nape of your neck. "Now now, my dear....Patience is a virtue.'" Slipping his fingers out of you, he moves them in front of your lips. "Open."

Without hesitation, you part your lips to have him shove his fingers onto your tongue. You closed your eyes as you tasted the delicious combination of his skin and your sweet juices, softly moaning like a whore. "Good girl," he praises, releasing his fingers and smearing his saliva-soaked fingers along your cheek. You hear him unzip his pants, gasping from the warm touch of his cock against your lower back.

Mr. Reed fidgets with the back of your bra, unbuckling it and letting it drop to the floor. He moves his hands to caress your breasts, his warm palms against your hard nipples. "I'm going to fuck you now; it usually takes preparation, but of course there is no issue with how soaked you are." The tip of his cock pushes inside of you, making you cry out and claw onto the surface of the desk.

After a few moments of adjusting, he starts to move. Mr. Reed moves at a steady pace, groaning against your neck from how tight your pussy squeezes him. "Fuck, such a dirty girl...aren't you?" He ends with a harsh thrust, making you choke out a moan. "Yesssss, yess, I'm a dirty girl~" you whine out, barely able to speak properly from the constant noises and the rough fucking you were receiving. One of his hands snakes up between the valley of your breasts, cradling the column of your throat.

Caught between his tightening grip and the new angle of his thrusts, you were in a euphoric state you never thought you would ever experience. His cock abused your cervix, and his balls slapped against your clit from each motion. With the release of his grip around your throat, you exhale. You feel him slip his cock from your vagina, making you feel empty.

As soon as you feel his fingers spread your cheeks, you feel yourself back against his hands. That was all the encouragement he needed, pressing the head of his cock against your ass. "Now....this won't be pleasant in the beginning, but you're going to like it anyway, aren't you?" He murmurs in your ear and only lets out a quiet curse from your tightness, slowly pushing in at an agonizing pace. Hot tears stream down your cheeks, and you went through a whirlwind of feelings from this. After a moment of silence, he cruelly drags out all of his length and slams it back in. "Aren't you?" You hastily nod.

It feels like a burning sensation; it burns and hurts just so damn right. He roughly squeezes one of your breasts while his other hand moves between your legs, mercilessly rubbing your clit. The feeling of his fingers pleasuring you and making your body reach closer and closer to your climax caused tears to stream down your face; this hurt so good. Increasing the pace of fucking your tight ass, he scooped more of your juices onto his fingers before resuming pleasuring you. "Who's my good girl?" He praises, pressing a kiss to your jawline. "Yours! I'm your good girl~" "Fuck.....right you are, I'm almost there~!" He speaks through gritted teeth, increasing his rough treatment on your body.

You feel as if you're about to pass out, your eyes rolling back as your orgasm reaches its peak. Right as you came undone and grinded against his hand, his hands moved to grope whatever parts of your body during your orgasm. He wrapped his arms around your chest and held your exhausted body to his chest as grunts and groans emitted from him, filling your ass up like a pastry.

As you were recovering from the brutal orgasm and 'heavy petting' you just received, he tucked himself back and zipped his pants. As your knees buckled and your eyes closed, you feel him lift your worn out body into his arms. His warm breath tickles your cheek "Happy Valentine's Day, darling~" placing a kiss before you slip into slumber.

[kravinoffswife]

Red Hood x fem!reader (Bridgerton AU) Part 2

Part one

AN: This took me way too long to write! I've already started on part 3, so that should be up in a couple days :)

@theendofthematerialgworl @little-miss-naill @phiauniverse

Warnings: AFAB reader, references to sex and flirting, a bit of touching, use of [y/n].

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Four balls. You had endured four balls without any sign of the mysterious Lord Todd, and before each one you would spend hours getting ready. Your hair would be done in meticulous curls, lips dabbed with the slightest of rouge, each dress complimenting your figure and complexion. You had been getting stares, invitations to dance and even visitations from male suitors at your Uncle's London estate. However, you did not seem to care for any of these men, much to your Aunt's distress. None of them were him; the man who had so rudely caught your fancy.

"But [y/n], Lord Hawthorne is quite the catch. His estate in the country is quite vast. Lots of rolling hills and blossoming trees, so I hear." Aunt Gertrude nagged as you sat in the carriage on the way to the next ball of the ton. Her whining fell on deaf ears for you were far more interested in the sound of trees billowing in the early evening breeze. You let out the occasional non-committal 'mhm' to placate her which she took as permission to continue.

"Lord Rickers has a manor in Cornwall. I believe you would like it by the coast. Some sea air would do you some good,[y/n], my dear."

"Yes, I am quite fond of the seaside, Aunt Gertrude." You said unenthusiastically.

"There's also Lo-" She was cut off by the carriage coming to halt. Thank goodness, you thought to yourself.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

The ball was in full swing; dancing, music, snide gossip. You sighed, preparing to once again delve into a world that you felt you did not fully belong in. If you had your way you would have kept to the corners of the room and been content with being an observer rather than a protagonist. Unfortunately, your aunt was defined by her ability to meddle and had your dance card full. So you found yourself doing your best attempt at the Quadrille. At the turn of the hour you had given up hope of Lord Todd's arrival. You speculated that he was a recluse who rarely ventured past the constricts of his home. Yes, that was the only explanation. For why would a perfectly eligible batchelor miss out on the chance to choose a bride? Perhaps for the same reason that you were not interested in any of the men that you waltzed with; because your intrigue had been captured by another.

The mundanity of the ball melted away when he entered your vicinity.

"Miss [l/n]." He took his hand in yours and kissed the back of it gently, though his face displayed a smug grin. "May I have this dance?"

"Well, I am supposed to be dancing with . . ." You peer down to look at your dance card. "Lord Roberts."

"What a shame for Lord Roberts, for if I am not to dance with you right this second, it will surely ruin the rest of my evening."

"Perhaps, I do not care if your evening is ruined, Lord Todd."

His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him, far too close for societal standards but it not seem to matter to him.

He spoke against her neck, his warm breath teasing the delicate skin. "Oh, but I think you do care, very deeply. Now once more I will ask, will you dance with me?" Shock rendered her unable to do anything but nod.

The pair descended upon the dance floor. His eyes were laser focussed on the curve of her cheek, which was rapidly turning rosy, while hers where on his shoes.

"Not so bold now, are you, my lady?" Jason said lowly. "I eagerly await a display of that debauchery that you were so happy to tell me about last time we met."

She looked around anxiously to check that no one heard him.

"We should not speak of such around others."

"Then maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere."

"Like where?" You felt slightly ashamed of your curiosity.

"My estate isn't far from here. How about we pay it a visit?" His hand drifted lower so that it now rested on your hip. You let out a soft mewl.

"Yes, I should like to inspect your . . . grounds."

"Then it is settled. Shall we?" He was already leading you away from the dance floor and prying eyes.

"What shall I tell my aunt?" You looked up at him wide-eyed.

"Nothing. I'm sure we can make it back in good time." He spoke with a level of vindication that made you want to believe anything he said to be true.

You nodded and left the room as inconspicuously as possible. He led you to his carriage, helping you inside. The moment the door closed he seemed to inch closer to you. You did the same until you were practically on top of each other, not that you minded. The rest of the journey set your nervous system into overdrive. Each time his thigh touched yours, there was a fluttering in your lower abdomen. Every whiff you got of his musk made your heart race. When his long fingers crept towards the side of your face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your skin felt like it was as hot as melting wax.

At long last, you reached his estate. The carriage drove through iron gates the colour of charcoal and onto a stone driveway. It was large, intimidatingly so - quite a bit like its owner. The bricks were the same shade as clouds just before a storm with dark strands of ivy crawling up them. None of the lights were on, not even in the servants quarters. The whole house was asleep. This was evident when you walked in and was greeted with silence. It was a seducing silence rather than an uncomfortable or sinister one, like the moment of anticipation before something loud happens.

What happened next was very loud indeed.

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