#i have a creeping feeling that there would be more

[lolxdswag123]

Talk it Out.

Bucky Barnes x ex-avengers!Reader & Bob Reynolds x platonic!reader

a/n: had to make my contribution

Warnings: mature themes, suggestive language, mentions of grief, John Walker, slight angst, fluffyyy

I finished my jog around the track, concluding my morning training. I took a towel to wipe the sweat off my face before standing to exit the gym. 

"Done already?" Walker calls out from the other side of the gym. 

"Shut up, Walker," I call back, rolling my eyes. As if I need more training. 

I've been living with the 'New Avengers' group now for a couple months. Before, I had vowed to work alone for the rest of my life after Thanos... and yet within seconds of my old friend Bucky Barnes calling me, I was in the car and heading to live in this tower again. It didn't feel the same as when it was the Avengers tower. I knew it never would. 

Bucky has been my best friend and confidant ever since we turned into dust together, then immediately after- lost our friends together. It had been a miserable period of time, and I thought that he would never come back to the Avengers life after what we had been through. The day I saw him on the news with this group of misfits, calling themselves the 'New Avengers', I nearly threw up on my shoes. 

It was a couple weeks after that when he to ask me to live with them. He knew how hard it would be for me- for both of us- to move back into that tower and call it home again. It had too many memories, too many ghosts. And yet, he was still my safe place after all this time.

That's how I ended up dealing with the outrageous flirting and taunting from John Walker every. single. day. 

"Walker, worry about your own training. Your form is sloppy," I heard a voice approaching from behind me, interrupting my glaring match with Walker.

I turned to lock eyes with Bucky, who wore an irritated look on his face. He wore a tight fitting black t-shirt and sweatpants. I nearly had to catch my breath as he entered the room. His hair hung over his face and he smelled like a dream. He nodded to me, then shot a look back at Walker as he entered the gym.

"You heading out, doll?" Bucky asked quietly in my direction.

I immediately felt a swarm of butterflies attacking the lining of my stomach, as I always did when he addressed me by this name. I swore sometimes he said it just to mess with my head. He knew exactly how it made me feel.

I nodded hastily, "Yeah, I'm tired today."

He sighed, scanning my face with skepticism, "Alright, I think someone was making breakfast. You should eat."

I pursed my lips, turning back to the exit and starting to leave, "Got it, thanks."

I knew better now than to mistake his concern for any feelings beyond friendship. I had been very forward with the man on multiple occasions- and he has shown no reciprocation of feelings. It was my mistake to think that our bond was anything other than shared trauma and a casual friendship, but to him, that was all it seemed to be. 

As I headed up to the kitchen, I could smell a faint scent of something burning. Bob must have been cooking again. I shook my head and laughed, wondering why nobody has taught him to cook by now.

"Bob?" I called as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, searching for my other teammates. 

"H-hi," he stuttered, scrambling to rinse a smoking pan in the sink.

I walked over to the counter, seeing a plate of burnt eggs and bacon sitting next to the stove. "Everything okay?" I asked, walking around the counter to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"Just b-burnt the food again," Bob said shyly, red slowly creeping up his neck. I shrugged, closing the fridge and turning to face him. He gave up on the smoking pan and shrugged bashfully. 

"Is that for everyone?" I asked, pointing at the plate of burnt food. 

He nodded dejectedly. 

"I like it better burnt anyway," I shrugged, walking over to grab a piece of bacon. I could see his eyes brighten just a fraction of the way out of the side of my vision as I ate the bacon.

When I first met Bob, I had no idea that he was the one responsible for the whole 'New York City Void Incident.' He was too soft, too gentle- always trying to help everyone as much as he could. 

I had been living in the tower again for three days, and had already met the rest of the team. After a particularly rough nightmare, I had awoken and decided to head to the living room to get a glass of water. My nightmares had started getting worse again after the Void Incident. They hadn't been that bad since after everything went down with Thanos. 

After we lost Tony, Steve, and Nat, I struggled a lot. So did Bucky. We stayed together at Sam's for a few weeks, trying to put the pieces of our lives back together. Every night I woke up from a nightmare, I ended up in Bucky's room. He would hold my hand and tell me happy stories until I fell asleep. At that time, I realized that I would do anything for him, and that I wanted to always be around him. It hurt when we moved back to our respective homes and stopped spending this time together, and it hurt even more when I found out from Sam that he was on dating apps just days after.

I was confused, and so lost. Since then, nothing has been the same.

I startled when I heard movement from behind me, and was one millisecond away from throwing a kitchen knife at the intruder before I heard Bob speak.

"W-wait, it's just me," I heard the voice say and quickly turned to face him. He looked sweet, and innocent. The man in front of me was dressed in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized long sleeved shirt. He looked adorable. 

I kept the knife in my hand, but instantly knew that he would be no threat, "Who are you?" I asked, still observing him.

"Um, I'm Bob," The man said, tugging at the end of one of his sleeves. "Ar-are you Bucky's girl?" he asked, looking nervously at the knife.

"You're Bob?" I asked, subconsciously allowing my shock to seep into my words as I gently set the knife down on the counter. He nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Bob," I said, extending a hand for him to shake. He looked nervously at it- like I might change my mind and punch him instead.

"I'm Y/N," I said, still holding my hand out for him, "And no... Not Bucky's girl, but he did ask me to come live here with everyone..."

Bob reached out, taking my hand and shaking it gently. He sighed quietly when he pulled away- almost as if he was relieved that I had ultimately decided not to punch him. I took a step back, grabbing my water again, taking a sip before speaking again.

"What are you doing up so late?"

He shrugged, looking away, "This is th-the only time I get any peace and quiet..."

I nodded, "I understand, it seems chaotic around here."

He takes a shake breath in, but nods in silent agreement. "What about you?" he asks quietly, before quickly adding, "I-I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just haven't seen you up this late before."

I let a breath escape my lips, shaking my head, "It's okay... I just get nightmares sometimes. Didn't want to go back to sleep."

Bob nodded, seeming to understand. "Well... I wouldn't mind some company. I-I mean, if you feel like staying out here with me. If not, that's okay too."

I let a smile trace my lips, and began walking over to the couch. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Since that night, Bob has been nothing but a shy ball of sunshine in my life. When I get nightmares, we spend the nights sitting in the living room, talking about anything and everything until the sun starts to rise. I help him with training, and he makes sure I don't fall asleep in team meetings. None of the team knew how we got so close, but they didn't ask. They seem to respect Bob's boundaries more than anyone else's. Well, everyone except for Walker.

After breakfast, I headed back to my room to take a long shower and call Pepper. It was early afternoon before I ended up in the living room again. 

"Well look who decided to join us," I heard as soon as I entered the room. I looked up and meet eyes with Walker, of course. Dude doesn't know how to mind his own business. 

I rolled my eyes, taking my seat on the couch next to Bob. He nodded shyly at me, and gave a gentle smile which I returned. 

"You okay?" I asked quietly enough so that nobody else would hear.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, looking at me with concern, "Are you? I know you didn't s-sleep much last night." 

I smiled gently at him, appreciating his care for me, and patted the back of his hand with mine, "I'm okay," I whispered.

We sat there, studying each other with a careful affection, before an agitating voice broke our peace.

"Wow, didn't see that coming," Walker announced, a pointed gaze resting over Bob and myself.

"Wh-what?" Bob asks defensively.

"You two," Walker shrugged like it was common sense.

"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, wanting to protect Bob from any taunts I suspected Walker was preparing to throw at us.

Walker opened his mouth with an antagonizing smirk, but was hastily cut off by a voice in the kitchen.

"Lay off, Walker."

I whipped my head around to see if it was really him who spoke, but quickly turned back again as I felt a blush cover my cheeks. Bucky was grabbing food from the pantry, not even looking in our direction when he chimed in, but I still felt a twist in my gut at the situation. His hair was wet– he must’ve just showered– and he was in a red long sleeve shirt and grey sweatpants. My face was steaming. It wasn't that I was embarrassed– because I definitely wasn't embarrassed. He was the one who distanced from me. I wasn't doing anything wrong by finding comfort in another person. 

What bothered me was how he was defending the fact that I might be with someone else. Not bothered by it in the slightest, but defending it. Bob seemed to sense my discomfort and took my hand in his gently, squeezing to let me know that he could tell something was bothering me. My heart swelled.

"But- see- this is what I'm talking about," Walker continued, now pointing to our hands. 

I could see Bucky approaching the living room out of the corner of my eye and tensed. He made quick eye contact with me, trying to read my expression before glancing quickly down at our hands. I wasn't sure, but I swore I could almost see his right eyebrow raise just a tiny bit.

He pursed his lips and turned back to Walker, "I said. Lay. Off."

Walker rolled his eyes, but was clearly intimidated by Bucky's tone as he decided to shut up after that. 

I had never outwardly mentioned my feelings for Bucky to Bob before, but I had a feeling he might’ve figured it out on his own. After getting so close with him, I quickly learned that he is always analyzing the people around him. He knows a lot more about the team than probably anyone else– except for me. I get the honor of listening to all of his observations in the late hours we spend together. 

With the look Bob gave me as Bucky sat on the couch opposite to us, I immediately could tell that he had it figured out. He gave me a questioning look– almost imperceptible– if I hadn’t been paying close attention. I nodded in response, to which he gave me a shy smile back. He knew. Of course he did. 

Bucky’s gaze returned to us, and I could see his eyes flicker again between us, then down to our joined hands. He turned his head away from us and began watching some old movie that Alexei put on. I don’t know why I thought he would care after all this time. I should have gotten used to the fact that he had been keeping me at an arm’s distance for months now, but my heart must not have gotten the memo. I shook my head, attempting to clear my mind of the disappointment before it started to show.

Alexei laughed at a scene in the movie, then announced, “We should do a movie night tonight. Team bonding or whatever the Winter Soldier is always talking to us about. Yes?”

Yelena sighed from the opposite side of the living room, rolling her eyes, “Dad, no one wants to have a movie night. Especially if you make us watch with Russian subtitles again.”

“I’m with Alexei on this one,” Bucky said, “We need to continue to learn how to coexist together– as a team. It’ll make it easier for us to coexist on the battlefield.”

“The battlefield?” Walker says with a scoff, “Dude thinks he’s still in World War II.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shooting a sharp look at Walker before saying, “You know what I meant, dipshit.”

I decided to pitch into the conversation, having a brief memory of a similar conversation years ago. “No, no. He’s right. We used to do these stupid team bonding exercises back in the day with the team–” I paused for a second, trying to void my voice of the thick emotions I felt as I spoke. The memories of the special time we spent together before our fight with Thanos never failed to choke me up. I missed them. I missed the old me.

Before I could continue, Bucky took over, “See? And that helped us coordinate better together when we fought– right doll?”

I nodded, and felt a light squeeze on my hand as Bob looked at me encouragingly. “Right,” I managed to get out, “Right. It helped a lot.”

Bucky met my eyes briefly with an understanding expression, then glanced back at Bob and raised his eyebrows at me, asking a silent question. I turned my head.

Yelena stood, stretching her arms out and announced, “I will go get Ava to tell her we are watching a movie.” Everyone nodded or grumbled in acknowledgment as she exited the room.

After Yelena returned with Ava, it was a quiet, relaxing night. We watched ‘Red Dawn’ by suggestion of Alexei, of course, but it wasn’t too bad. I started nodding off about halfway through, feeling the weight of my lack of sleep starting to push through the surface. I leaned onto Bob’s shoulder and closed my eyes.

“You okay?” I heard him whisper in my ear a couple minutes later.

I nodded, too tired to speak.

“H-he keeps looking over here,” he whispered, and I blinked my eyes open to see what he was talking about. Straight in front of me, Bucky was staring right at us. When we made eye contact he pursed his lips, and I could see his eyebrows pinching together in the light from the TV. He shook his head lightly and turned back his attention to the movie.

I dozed off again, and when I woke up the credits were rolling. The only people left in the living room were myself, Bob— who looked like he could fall asleep himself— Alexei, and Bucky.

I sat up from where I had been leaning on Bob and stretched, getting ready to head to bed myself.

“Y-you going to bed?” Bob asked, sitting up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

I reached out to his hand, gave it a squeeze and nodded, “Might be back out here in a few hours, though.”

Bob smiled gently, nodding and waved goodnight to me.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” I said, “Night Alexei, see you both tomorrow,” I waved to them, starting to exit the room.

As soon as I entered the elevator my heart stopped as I heard a, “Hey, wait up,” coming from outside. Of course. A metal hand stopped the doors from closing as Bucky entered the elevator with me.

“I’m turning in, too,” he said, yawning.

I nodded, not letting myself speak.

“You like the movie?” He asked casually, turning to face me. I stayed facing the elevator doors.

I shrugged, “I kind of fell asleep… so I missed most of it.”

I could see him nodding in the corner of my eye. “Yeah…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

The elevator dinged, the doors opening as we reached our floor. I was the first to exit.

“Well, goodnight, Bucky.” I said, already walking toward my room.

I felt a cold grip on my hand, and was pulled back from my quick steps.

“Hang on,” he said softly, looking down at me, running his flesh hand over his face. He said nothing.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to ignore the feelings that were overtaking me from the moment he stepped into the elevator.

He shuffled, letting go of my hand, and nodded to my door, “Can we talk?”

I sighed, considering what it would feel like to have him in my room, at this hour, talking alone. I shuddered, but nodded, opening the door to my bedroom. He followed me in.

I closed the door behind us, staring up at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

“Let’s sit down,” he said, strolling over to my bedroom and taking a seat. I joined him.

“What’s up?” I asked again, kicking off my shoes and avoiding eye contact. I knew as soon as I looked into those steel blue eyes that I would be a goner.

He sighed, and took my hand in his, instantly rubbing circles on the back of it. “Look at me,” he breathed. I hesitated, taking a deep breath to compose myself.

“Doll…” he said. I looked up.

As soon as we made eye contact I could see a sadness behind his eyes. One that made me feel guilty, for some reason. Guilty that I hadn’t noticed before— guilty that I hadn’t taken care of him. But then I remembered— we don’t do that anymore.

“Hey,” he said, sensing that I’d started to lose focus, “Are you okay?” He asked gently, still rubbing circles on the back of my hand.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, “I’m fine. Sorry, just tired.”

He nodded, taking a breath and running his metal hand through his hair. “I know, you haven’t slept much at all lately. But that’s not what I meant.”

“How do you know that?” I asked, completely taken aback by his statement. I didn’t think anyone in the tower was aware of my arrangement with Bob, especially not him.

He ignored my question. “What I meant was— are you okay after tonight? I know you were thinking of them. I was too. I just had to check on you, doll.”

There it was again. His tender words and actions had me falling deeply— madly— but I pushed those feelings down. I couldn’t deal with them tonight. Not again.

“I’m fine. Thanks for checking,” I said, almost believing my own lie. I seemed to be the only one.

Bucky sighed again, scooting closer to me. He slowly reached up with his metal hand, brushing a hair out of my face as he examined my expression. I shivered at the cold touch, but held eye contact.

“Okay,” he resigned, “Okay…” he pulled his hand out of mine, moving further away from me and I instantly felt more on edge. I frowned, looking back down at his hands. The hands that I used to hold to fall asleep, as he whispered happy thoughts in my ear. The hands that I always wished would do more than just hold my own, but never did.

He shifted, and I could sense a change in his demeanor before he spoke again, “I wasn’t going to ask… but after today, I just want to know. I can keep Walker off your back, I just want you to tell me the truth. Are you and Bob together?”

His voice sounded tight when he said it. It warmed my heart that he is still looking out for me, but for all of the wrong reasons.

I shrugged, already on edge, “That isn’t any of your business.”

He rolled his eyes, visibly getting irritated, “Come on, doll. You know you can tell me. What happened? It’s like you put a wall up and you won’t let me through anymore.”

I felt something snap inside me, “You put the wall up, Buck. You moved away. You are the one who stopped answering my calls. You are the one who left. Not me. So yeah, it’s none of your business who I might be seeing.”

He sighed, standing up from the bed and throwing his arms to his sides, “So you are seeing him?”

I stood up in front of him, raising my voice slightly, but keeping it low enough to not wake the others. “No, Bucky. I’m not seeing him. He’s just been the only person who’s been there for me. That should’ve been you, but you left.”

Bucky’s face fell, his eyes reflecting that deep sadness that they held earlier. “Sweetheart, will you just relax?”

I shook my head, looking away, trying to blink away the hot tears that were burning in my eyes. He took a step toward me, slowly extending an arm. His hand met my cheek, gently, and he turned my face to look at his own. When he saw the tears in my eyes his shoulders sagged. He took a step back and sat on the bed with his shoulders on his knees, and his palms rubbing his head.

“I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t know.” He said, looking at the floor. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so instead just shook my head.

“Sweetheart, please. Will you come here so I can apologize properly?” He asked softly, extending one of his hands to me. I hesitantly took it and sat on the bed, a few feet away from him.

He held my hand and looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry, doll. I had no idea. All this time— all this time I thought you had moved on. I saw you with Bob one of your first nights here. I thought you and him were… well— it doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. It was weird— having a conversation like this with him after so long. It felt nice. It felt refreshing, like I’d been away for months and I was finally coming home— but I didn’t say that.

“Oh, baby,” Bucky said, taking my other hand in his metal one, looking down at them sadly, “When I was distant… I wasn’t trying to be. It was such a weird time. I was so caught up with the Valentina bullshit… then I had to save all of their asses,” he cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the other bedrooms. I let out a small laugh, and I saw his eyes soften for just a millisecond.

He squeezed my hands, looking deeply into my eyes, “Doll, you know I would’ve been with you every day if I could’ve… that’s why I asked you to move in here with me. I thought things were going to be—“ he paused, looking back down at our hands, before starting again, “I thought we were going to be like how we were. Then I saw you with Bob… and gosh, sweetheart, I just wanted you to be happy. It broke my heart but I just wanted you to be happy…”

I closed my eyes, feeling incredibly stupid. I breathed out a long breath, before I trusted myself to speak.

“Buck…” my voice came out small, but steady, “I didn’t know. I wish you would’ve came to me after you saw that…” I paused, getting my thoughts together as I shifted my weight on the mattress.

“But…” I continued, “You could’ve called. You could’ve just filled me in on your life— instead of shutting me out— instead of making me feel so alone.”

He inched forward, reaching out to cup my face so that I looked right into his eyes. He looked so devastated and I was starting to crack— slowly— one piece of me falling right back into his arms at a time.

“Doll, I wish you knew how much I wanted to. Really…” he shook his head, “After I left, I started focusing on work. I was trying to save up— I wanted to—“ he stopped, sighing out, “Oh, doll, I was trying to get us a place… then I found out we were moving into the tower… you were the first call I made.”

I was speechless. I was standing there like a fish, opening and closing my mouth— a million things that I wanted to say— but none of them seeming right.

“So…” I said, unsure of what would come out of my mouth next. “You… you wanted…” I trailed off, too overwhelmed with this information.

“I wanted you to move in with me,” Bucky finished for me, “When I asked you to move into the tower— of course I wanted you to join the team— but most importantly I wanted you to move in with me. To be…”

He looked straight into my eyes when he said the last part. “To be mine, doll. That’s what I wanted.”

I melted in his hands, completely wrecked by his confession. Finally, after all of this time, I allowed my gaze to flicker between his eyes and his lips. Without saying a word out loud he nodded, pulling me in.

Our lips met softly, but I quickly pulled away, shaking my head again. “N-no,” I choked out, “but… but what about the dating apps? Sam told me you joined them right after you moved out. Right after everything happened with us.”

Bucky leaned back, sighing and rolling his eyes. He looked at me and said, “Sam orchestrated all of that. I didn’t— I didn’t know if you wanted me to tell him about us— Doll, I didn’t even know if there was an us yet,” he sighed again, rubbing a palm to his forehead, “I never used them, just downloaded them to shut him up. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know you knew about that.”

I nodded, breathing out shakily. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky breathed, reaching out to my hand with his own, “So what are you thinking?”

I paused for a second, before letting out a breathy laugh, “That I need to talk to Bob.”

His expression turned confused, then hurt, so I quickly said, “He is the only one who knew about my feelings for you. And— he’s kind of my best friend. I need to fill him in on everything.”

Bucky nodded, sighing again and stood up from my bed, letting go of my hand. “I’m glad we had that talk. It was long overdue.”

“I agree, very long overdue,” I replied, nodding.

He smiled down at me, pausing for a moment, then shifted, “Alright, I’ll let you get to bed, doll. You need the sleep.”

I nodded, looking back up at him. He slowly leaned down, carefully taking my face in his hands and placed a soft kiss on my forehead, before standing and turning to leave.

“Wait—“ I called out before I could stop myself. He turned back, looking at me expectantly. “I will,” I said with no further explanation.

He paused, a confused look crossing his face, “You will, what?”

“I’ll move in with you. To your room,” I said, nodding— feeling confident in my words.

A smile instantly covered his face, reaching his eyes. He looked away, like we was afraid I might take it back.

“And I want you. I want to be yours,” I nodded, feeling a smile overtaking my own face.

He crouched down, immediately taking my face in his hands, giving me a slow, gentle kiss that I’ve been longing for forever. His cold hand on my face made me shiver. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, drawing him closer to me and deepening the kiss. He moved to sit on the bed next to me, pulling away for just a moment and searching my eyes desperately.

He reached out again, and hastily took my face in his hands and kissed me hard. I felt every nerve in my body ignite, responding to every move he made. I reciprocated, running my fingers through his hair.

He tugged me closer, drawing me to throw one leg over his own, our chests aligning. I gasped, but didn’t break the kiss. He gripped the back of my legs, pulling me impossibly close until there was no more room between us. He broke the kiss, traveling down to my neck, tilting my jaw up gently with his metal hand. I shivered at the cold metal pressing against me.

“You don’t— know how— long I’ve— wanted to have you— like this,” he said between kisses, trailing down to my collarbone.

I gripped his hair, tilting my head back even further to allow access. “I’ve wanted it since the first time we shared a bed,” I breathlessly confessed in the heat of the moment.

He pulled away for a moment, resting his hand on my chin, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “Oh, doll,” he breathed, looking at me intensely, “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

My heart fluttered at his words, and I had to fight back the tears burning in my eyes at his confession.

“Buck…” I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “You mean everything to me.”

“Will you come stay tonight? In my room?” He asked, suddenly sounded shy.

I nodded fiercely, “I’ll come stay every night. Always.”

He breathed a sigh of happiness, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, doll.”

“Wait,” I said, pulling away abruptly, “I have one condition.”

He smiled at me lovingly, “Anything.”

“I still have to go see Bob. At least some nights.”

“Deal.” He leaned in, giving me a quick kiss before lifting me up and carrying me to his room for the night.

The next morning, we walked to training together. Everyone’s heads turned when we entered the gym, but nobody said a word. Bob waved at me from the bench he was sitting on, giving me a small thumbs up when Bucky wasn’t looking.

“Okay, so we’re all going to just pretend the walls here aren’t paper thin?” Walker finally spoke.

This time, instead of glaring daggers at him, Bucky just smiled and looked at me lovingly.

[heartyluv]

Note: After I wrote that little drabble, (is it a drabble?) I knew it just had to become a full fic. And I said I was gonna take a break on writing Caleb, but if you’ve been around you already know. I LUV CALEB.

Creds to @/bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!

Link to Drabble :)

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut, You match Caleb’s freak, YOU’RE BOTH PERVS!!!

Word Count: 2,711

Summary: Your landlord’s grandson is obsessed with you, but he doesn’t know that the feeling is mutual.

Perv!Caleb/Perv!Reader

After finally getting your first apartment, you were so excited to make it a home. You were thankful to have found such a nice place in a decent city and even more so to have a landlord who’s the sweetest lady ever. She welcomed you with open arms and fair rent, something you would never take for granted.

But you were willing to get on hands and knees so that you could really thank whatever gave you the opportunity to live on the same floor as her and the handyman she calls her grandson.

Caleb.

All you can do is admire him from afar, wonder what his strong hands feel like on your skin—because you refuse to be the one to break it to him first. You refuse to tell him that you watch just like he watches you because you love the dynamic that he’s unaware of. You love that he thinks that you don’t know that he put cameras in your home the day you called him over to fix your sink.

You only knew because you had one of your own for security reasons. When you went to the store while he worked in your apartment, you saw with your own two eyes how he creeped around, how he took a pair of your used panties from your laundry basket, how he intricately placed the little devices so that you wouldn’t see them. Had you not had the footage, you really wouldn’t have known. But you’re so glad that you did.

You were obsessed the moment you saw him. The white tank top against his abs and black gym shorts around his muscular thighs made your pussy clench. The silver chain that dangled around his neck made you wonder what he’d look like on top of you as he fucked you hard. At first, you thought you were delusional when he raked his eyes over you, when he stood a little too close when he helped you move your things in.

He always plays the sweet boy next door, ready to help with anything after a single phone call. But in reality, Caleb wanted to know what your cunt felt like when you cried as he pumped you full of his cum. When he first laid eyes on you, of course he thought you were pretty. On top of being nice, he figured you two would get along. He tried to be polite and not watch how effortlessly your ass jiggled in your tight shorts the first day you met. It was hot, you were moving around all day, it was normal, he tried to tell himself.

But when you slumped over the back of your couch, groaning from exhaustion, he was hooked. The outline of your fat pussy with faded sweat lines showing through the material made him rock hard instantly. He had wondered if you had no panties on, and with the image of your shorts tucked between your lips, he had his answer. All he wanted from that point forward was to see you naked for himself.

So, he made it a habit to check on you almost everyday, “see how you’re settling in”. It was during one of those times where he turned off your bathroom sink valve. He set out to purchase some cameras after he left and grinned like an idiot when his grandmother came to him later in the day, telling him to help you out when you called.

After seeing what he did, you decided that you needed to have access to him in the same way. It was only fair. You asked his grandmother if it was okay to come over for some girl time a few days after that, and she gladly accepted. At one point, you asked her if you could use the bathroom and while she cooked you two lunch, her back to you while she stood at the stove, you took the risk and snuck into Caleb’s room.

You’d always be grateful that the sweet granny happily showed you around before you got settled. Once inside, you wished you had the time to look through his things like he did yours, but time was of the essence.

You made it quick, placing the camera you already set up behind some books on his shelf. It gave you the perfect arial shot of his room and you were going to use it to your advantage.

And you have, watching all the times he covered his mouth while he came so he wouldn’t wake his sleeping grandmother. All the times he fucked his hand as he watched you hump your body pillow, not knowing that you wished it was him. Even all the times he just sat there watching you do domestic things around your apartment.

Although it was clear you two liked each other, you thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of knowing something he didn’t, more. You liked the fact that you both wanted each other so bad, but nobody said a thing. You loved that all it would take is one conversation and you would know how good he’d feel inside of you.

Today, you both were home. You saw him on the live feed earlier, unable to stop staring at his impressive cock when he removed the towel off his waist after his shower. He’s checked on you a few times too, and if you weren’t as depraved as him, you wouldn’t have thought that it was the sweetest thing ever, but you were and you did.

Just as you were getting ready to give him a show because not only did you want to come, but you liked when he did it with you, a reminder showed at the top of your phone.

Street sweeper coming today! Don’t forget to move your car!

“Shit!” you exclaimed, throwing your phone down and quickly grabbing your keys, sliding on your slippers by the door before rushing out. The last thing you wanted was a ticket.

Caleb heard you run out and slam your door, so he checked his feed to see if you were okay—if you needed him. He sat at his desk, turned on his computer, and checked your living room, bathroom, then your bedroom. He almost turned it off when he saw nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw you left your phone on your bed—screen up.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, leaning in to see if his eyes were deceiving him. At the same time he moved, movement happened on your screen. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. There’s no way, he thought.

He tested the theory swimming in his mind, moving back and forth in the office chair, only to see the exact same thing happening. To make it official, he shut the screen off and when your phone showed the same thing, he knew.

You were watching him, too.

He cuts his light on, turning in the direction that the camera was pointing. Once he found and pulled out the tiny black device, he smiled devilishly.

He wasted zero time making his way to your apartment and he used the privileges of his grandmother being the landlord, grabbing the spare key for your door. He was going to wait for you and he hoped you were ready for him.

It was as you started walking back to the building that you went to pull out your phone, only to realize that you left it. Panic immediately filled your body. You left it your room and couldn’t remember if you turned it off.

You ran, smashed the button near the elevator, waited impatiently for it with your nerves unsettled. You weren’t scared. In all honestly, there was an unfamiliar excitement flowing in your veins as you wondered if you’d been caught.

But when you got to your door, when you stepped inside, you frowned because there was nothing amiss. You huffed as you took your shoes off and walked to your room. It was there that your heart fell to your ass.

Caleb sat on your bed, scrolling through your phone. Beside him on your nightstand? The camera you put in his room.

He didn’t even look at you as he scrolled, your body getting hot as he clicked on all your saved and favorites videos of him. His whines and desperate moans came from your phone and you couldn’t help but bite your lip and smile. That was the one where he humped his own pillow like you had, coming so hard that he had to wash his sheets in the middle of the night because there was so much. It was a part of your top three.

“Six months,” he finally speaks. “You’ve known what I’ve been doing for six months and not only did you say nothing, you were doing it, too.”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve replayed this scenario over and over in your mind, yet nothing but silence is all you can offer.

Caleb stands, your phone dropping to the floor as he walks towards you. You start to back away, making him stop. He’s only a few steps apart from you now, staring you down with eyes so intense it makes your heart race.

“I’ve been wasting my cum all this time when I could’ve been putting it where it belonged if you just opened your fucking mouth.”

“You could’ve said something yourself,” you quip.

He chuckles breathlessly, eyes narrowing at your audacity. “And if I made you take it now? Then what?”

You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant despite the slick gathering in your panties. “I have to want it, don’t I?”

“I wouldn’t lie. Not with the way you can’t stop squeezing your thighs together. You forget,” he proceeds to walk closer and you refuse to let him close the distance, carefully moving back. “I’ve been watching you, too. Longer. I know what you look like when you lie, when you’re turned on, when you’re horny, and especially when you’re desperate to be filled with cock.”

You swallow, and he knows what you’re getting ready to do. You don’t know why you want to do it, but you’ve learned how much you enjoy toying with and teasing him.

“You can run if you want. You like to play, I know that. But you’ve made me wait long enough, so when I get my hands on you—because I will get my hands on you. I’m having you any way I want, that fair?”

The moment you turn around, you don’t get three steps into your attempt to flee before he wraps his strong arm around you.

He’s rough in how he handles you, and you love it. He presses his mouth to your ear, licking it to make you shiver. “You’re gonna get on your knees and you’re going to let me fuck your face, aren’t you?” He grinds his cock against your ass. “You don’t deserve to feel good, not yet. Let me see what you’ve learned while you watched me.”

“Don’t act like you’re punishing me,” you tease. “You just want to cum down my throat, pretty boy. I know all your desires, remember?”

He spins you around, forcing you to your knees. You look up at him hungry eyes, feeling your pussy pulse.

You pull down his sweatpants slowly, nearly whimpering when you realize he’s had no underwear on. His cock springs free, nearly hitting you in the face. He’s so much bigger in person.

You know exactly what he wants, but why give it so quickly? You take just his tip between your lips, suckling it and running your tongue along the slit. He groans, his hand gripping your hair tightly. You’re slow in the way you lick him, slow as you start to take him down your throat. And it’s pissing him off.

He tightens his grip, slamming you down and making his cock hit the back of your throat. You choke, tears brimming your eyes. He starts to push and pull, his hair falling into his face as he watches you struggle to take all of him, but god you’re so fucking ready for him.

“You’re not so bold with dick down your throat, hm? I bet your panties are drenched.” Your moans vibrate around his length, confirming his accusations. “I’m taking them with me when I leave. Why not add to my collection?”

You decide that you’re done listening to him. You slide your warm mouth off his length with an erotic pop, watching how he bobs in your face.

“You either fuck me, or get out,” you say breathlessly, spitting on his cock and stroking him in your hand. “Let’s stop wasting each other’s time.”

He smiles, showing his bright teeth. You’re a carbon copy of him and he’s determined to keep you. Lifting you off the floor, he kisses you aggressively, the exchange sloppy and wet. He tastes himself on your tongue, only making him harder between you two.

“When you take my cock for the first time, you’re taking it how I make you.”

He pulls all your clothes off, throwing them and disregarding wherever they land. After stripping himself, he puts you on your bed, dragging your hips forward so that you’re at the edge. He watches his swollen cock rest between your fat lips, moving himself back and forth and watching the precum seep in between.

He doesn’t warn you, doesn’t prep you. But you’re so wet that you don’t need it. When he buries himself to the hilt, you find that your mouth was a trooper for taking him the way it did, because right now? He’s in your guts. You try crawling up the bed, overwhelmed by his size, force, and the pleasure, but he keeps you still.

“Don’t run from me,” he commands through gritted teeth, making your hole stretch to accommodate him. “Take it like you wanted, baby. Keep running that fucking mouth.”

He’s relentless, taking your breath away every time his tip nearly slips out, only for you to be filled with him all over again. And what you forgot?

The cameras are recording all of it.

He plays with your tits, thumbing your nipples before wrapping his hand around your throat, adding just the slightest bit of pressure.

“Caleb…You feel so good..” you cry, tears falling down your temple once the discomfort quickly shifted to mind numbing pleasure. “Better than I imagined…”

He leans down, licking the saltiness from your pretty face. “I love when you cry for me. All the times I’ve watched you bury your face in your sheets, I should’ve been there.”

“You were..” you pant, squeezing him tighter as you grin tiredly. “And I was with you. We always came together, I made sure of it. You just never knew…”

His skin prickles with goosebumps at your words and his cock becomes familiar with your tight walls, feeling how they shape to commit him to memory because only he’ll know what you feel like from now on. He nearly shoots into you when you take his chain between your teeth, your eyes hooded with desire.

“You’re gonna come,” he smirks, trailing his hand down your body, pulling back to make the necklace fall from your mouth. “I always know when you get ready to. It’s my favorite part.”

He circles your hard clit beneath his thumb, using your wetness to make even more of a mess between your legs.

“You too..” you choke out, your back arching. “You always hold your lip between your teeth when you’re close. You feel good, don’t you?” you coo through your bliss.

He looks into your eyes, feeling you flutter uncontrollably. “Why don’t you tell me?”

With only a few more thrusts, you claw at the covers beneath you as your orgasm consumes you whole. You scream his name, begging him to keep going as he fucks you through it all. He braces his hands on both sides of your head, drilling into you until he slams into you so hard that it moves you up the bed.

He kisses down your breasts as his cum fills you and you cradle his head in your hand while your other toys with one of your nipples.

“This is only the beginning, you know that right? We have a lot of time to make up for,” he mumbles against your skin.

You look down at him, smiling. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me, then.”

[humpster35]

You gonna be good for us?

Chratt x Reader

|Contains: established relationship, threesome, unprotected sex, dom!chris, soft!dom matt, no incest, use of handcuffs and swearing.

A/n: This is my first time writing Chratt Smut so i’m sorry if it’s not good💌🍓

Y/n and Chris have been dating for around a year now. Their sex life was fine in y/n’s eyes. Chris however, was always the type to wanna try new things. He had bought these red handcuffs back in june, that he occasionally used only when he would fuck y/n during doggystyle. But right now Y/n only had one thing on her mind, during the beginning of their relationship, Matt and y/n used to flirt until Chris scooped in and made y/n his own.

Y/n was thinking on those times as she lay her body against Chris’s. He lazily thrusted up into her. The feeling of his bare cock hitting her cervix, though lazily, made y/n’s pussy clench around him. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Matt?

“Hey.” Chris’s voice snapped y/n out of her thoughts. He started to speed up before she could say anything. The sound of her moans echoed upstairs. The sound breaking all sound barriers of Matt’s walls.

As Matt sit there at his desk, he gripped his cock and covered his mouth. The whimpers that spewed out only further got more sloppy and messy as he heard y/n’s ass slapping up and down on Chris’s dick. He could just imagine how good she must feel, how tight, how warm…and how much he should’ve been the one filling her up and not Chris.

Matt stops touching at his dick, leaving it still on hard as he tucks it into his waistband and creeps downstairs. His feet move as quiet and stealthy as a cat. As he got closer to Chris’s room, he could hear Y/n moaning things like “ahhh Chriss.” and “mmm cum in my little pussy.” His heart rate sped up and he gnawed at his bottom lip.

The creaking of the bed, the headboard slamming into the wall only made his cock drip precum. Deciding to say fuck it, Matt reached into his waistband and let his dick spring out. He hissed as he felt the tip touch his forearm for a mere second. It gave him only a glimpse of how good he would be feeling inside of someone. Not just anyone, Y/n.

Matt softly opened Chris’s door and watched with wide eyes, the scene unfolding before him. Y/n was straddling Chris’s lap, her hair was messy and sticking to her body. The sweat on her body made the clapping of her ass cheeks more lewd as Chris’s cock went in and out of her. It was clear Chris had made her think she was doing all the work, but underneath her, his hips moved in tune with her own movements.

Y/n was so lost in the feeling of Chris’s cock until she heard someone say “fuck.” She didn’t stop—couldn’t stop due to Chris holding her hips in place to get his strokes in. Instead of telling Chris that someone was watching, she decided to look over her shoulder and that’s when she saw Matt.

His face was halfway visible, though she could tell his eyes were closed in concentration as his veiny hand gripped his dick with urgency. The bottom of his pink lip was hidden by his teeth gnawing down on it. Y/n moaned and started to grind on Chris’s cock. She wanted to imagine that a whimpering Matt was underneath her so she could ruin him.

Chris was almost on the verge of climax until Matt’s whimpering became too much. Chris immediately jumped up to sound of his brother in the doorway.

“Matt what the fuck?”

Matt’s hips jerked forward as he came. The cum landed on y/n’s left ass cheek which made her blush and grind a bit on Chris’s dick.

“M’sorry. I didn’t mean to-.”

Chris smiled at looked at how Y/n was blushing at all the attention she was receiving. The way her body remained connected to him and how her pussy got even more tight as she heard Chris confronting Matt, told Chris all he needed to know.

“You wanna get fucked by both of us ma?”

Matt and Y/n’s eyes widened as Matt put away his dick. Did they hear that right? With a whine from y/n, Chris lifted her off of his lap and tucked in his dick.

“If you want this, you’re gonna have to work for it.” Chris looked over at Matt and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Right Matt?”

Matt looked at Chris with a blank expression before letting out a low chuckle.

“He’s right doll. If you’re gonna be a slut then you have to show us how badly you want it.”

Y/n clenched her thighs together

She had never felt so intimidated and turned on in her life. Seeing the two brothers standing there, both so different in their own way, only made her more needy. She stood up and slowly walked towards them.

Y/n was gonna test the waters. See if Chris was actually serious about this.

Matt lifted his head up a bit. His eyes still dead on her, and watched as Y/n slowly took her hand up and down on his chest.

Chris watched in amusement at Y/n’s actions. His arms were folded and he nodded his head to give her permission to continue.

“Wanna make Matt feel good Chris.” Y/n softly spoke and looked down at her feet. She knew that Matt himself was more dominant than her but, she also knew that she had the power to ruin him, make a mess out of him.

Chris chuckled and placed his hands on the sides of Y/n’s hips.

“I bet you do. Matt’s been wanting that, haven’t you Matt?” Chris smirked at Matt knowing that he took the girl he’s brother has always wanted.

“Fuck off Chris.” Matt retorted as he pulled out his dick for Y/n to suck on.

Y/n’s eyes widened as Matt put her on her knees. She was now face to face with his cock, Matt was much longer than Chris. His dick had blue veins coating it, the tip was almost a bubblegum pink and she opened her mouth.

“Yeaa-. That’s it, fucking take it.” Matt groaned while he pushed his dick to the back of y/n’s throat. He made her choke as he didn’t waste anytime on moving.

Y/n moved her head as much as she could, in the same rythm Matt decided to move. The sounds of gagging and slurping was all the came out of her mouth. She rested her hands on the side of his pelvis to maybe help steady herself.

Matt saw this and shook his head, he sped up as the bucking of his hips made Chris laugh. He watched as his brother started to lose himself on only Y/n’s mouth. Chris then positioned himself behind his girlfriend, giving her no time adjust, as he slams his cock into her pussy.

“Fuckkk.” Chris groaned and his hand smacked her ass, leaving behind a print. His dick moved at a fast pace inside of her, Y/n moaned around Matt’s length and he grabbed her hair, starting to make her head move the way he wanted it.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Matt started biting his lip hard. The way his dick would hit the back of Y/n’s throat paired with how warm and wet her mouth was. It was too much, and too tight.

Y/n choked as she felt Matt’s cum shoot out. He held her head in place and bucked his hips more into her mouth, chasing his orgasm.

Chris never let up. He was starting to sweat by how fast he moved, the bucking of hips and clapping of y/n’s ass back against him made him slow down. He took his shirt completely off while still thrusting into her.

Matt pulled his cock out y/n’s mouth, and slapped her face with it. There was still a little cum that landed between eyes.

“Little slut.”

Matt took his shirt off also, he walked to Chris’s bedside drawer and pulled out the tiny red handcuffs.

“How bout we use these.?” Matt held them up so Chris can see.

Chris nodded and threw his head back before pulling out suddenly.

Y/n practically fell to the floor, her body felt spent and she didn’t have the energy to stand up. Matt held his hand out, waiting for her to take it.

“May I?”

Y/n blushed at how soft Matt was being with her and nodded. He helped her walk to the bed with Chris preparing the pillow he was gonna give Y/n to hold onto.

“Baby, hold this.” Chris passed her a pillow with a black cover over it. It was the pillow he always slept on.

“Chris I can’t take it, I don’t think I can take more.” Y/n looked down at the bed, feeling Matt arch her into position.

Matt rubbed her back and ass, he was more gentle than Chris. That’s what she always liked about him.

“I’ll go slow okay?” Matt’s voice was quiet and soothing.

Y/n nodded and Chris decided to stand on the side of them.

“Alright I wanna use these now. You gonna be good for us?”

Chris moved the pillow and threw it back to its original place.

Y/n could hear the handcuffs and she blushed at the thought of Matt being this way. She didn’t know he could be dirty.

“Yes. I’ll be good.”

Matt bit his lip again, he placed the handcuffs on her wrists tightly. He then took his cock, slapping it on her ass a few times, before slowly sliding in her.

Y/n was tight. Matt had never felt something so tight in his life. His hands gripped her hips hard, while Y/n struggled to stay upright.

“Fuck. Y/n.”

Chris kissed her lips and then put his cock to her face.

“Open up for me baby.”

Y/n was hungry to taste his cock. She loved sucking her boyfriend off. Chris’s cock was huge and thick, she always got a mouthful.

“You gonna be good?” Matt started to moan, the slow but deep thrusting of his cock made Y/n shiver everytime he would pull out, then push back in.

“Matt I think she’s kinda busy right now.” Chris chuckled seeing the fucked out face of girlfriend. Her mouth was occupied by his cock and her arms constantly moved. She tried her best to push Matt’s hips away.

“Shit. I don’t think Ima last long.” Matt started to speed up. He grabbed a fist full of y/n’s hair started thrust into her like he was riding a horse. The loud moans of Y/n got muffled by Chris’s cock. She tried her hardest to move away, she couldn’t take it. Matt’s dick was much longer and curved at the end.

“Ouuh-baby. Yea take my dick in your throat.” Chris also grabbed at the girls trying to make her swallow more of him.

Matt kept a tight hold onto her hair, he would smack her ass then scratch down her back a bit. The pain mixed in with pleasure made Y/n’s pussy tighten as she could feel her orgasm building up.

Chris started to cum after three more thrusts. He shot his load into Y/n’s mouth, not even bothering to move so that she would swallow it all.

“Swallow it. Like the whore you are.”

Once Y/n’s mouth was finally free, she had tears streaming down her face from overstimulation. She felt Chris kiss her lips, her pussy still being fucked into by Matt.

“M’not a whore.” She started to whine. Matt shut her up though, a firm smack to the ass and he pulled her head up to look at him.

“Oh baby. You are a whore. This what you wanted?” He started fucking into her faster, the tip of his dick reaching her cervix.

“Y’like getting fucked by two men huh?”

Chris undid the handcuffs and Y/n’s hands immediately fell on the bed. Chris smirked, he pulled her in closer to him.

“It’s okay baby. i’m here” He kissed her lips deeply. Matt continued fucking her hard, the sloppy thrusts only signaled to Y/n that he was close.

Matt let go of her hair. Y/n’s head fell down and he pushed her into a deeper arch. He fell in love with the way her ass would jiggle so much from the constant bucking of his hips.

Chris felt Y/n start squeezing his hands. He also knew that she was close, Chris put his fingers into y/n’s mouth.

“Spit.”

Y/n obeyed and he felt Chris start rubbing her pussy. She lay her head on his shoulder while Matt started to squeeze her hips more.

“Ohhhhh-fuck. Fuck, i’m gonna fucking-.”

Matt pulled out quickly and stroked his cock, his cum shooting onto y/n’s ass.

“Chris don’t stop. Fuck i’m so close.” Y/n felt her body tense up, she started playing with one of her boobs.

“Cum for me. Cum for me baby.” Chris bit his lip and then started to make-out with Y/n. His fingers were so thick and he would rub her clit fast, Y/n couldn’t handle this because she already came once when Matt was fucking her.

“Chris—please, i’m gonna cum.”

Matt bent down and grabbed her ass. He dove in between them, then started to lick from her asshole to pussy.

Y/n immediately threw her arms around Chris. It was now the two boys pleasing her, Chris’s hand was still rubbing at her clit, while Matt worked on her asshole and the bottom of her pussy. This feeling was becoming too much and she couldn’t stay still.

“I can’t take it.”

Chris wrapped his arms around her upper body and held her in place while smacking at her ass. Matt’s tongue poked inside of her tight asshole and this was the first time anyone has done that. He was hungry for her, to taste every part of her.

Matt knew that this was a once in a moment thing and he was gonna make the best of it. Chris and Matt then placed Y/n on her back. Chris opened her legs and started sucking on her pussy.

“You taste so fuckin good ma.” His tongue was long and the feeling of his stubble caused y/n to completely let go. Her arms lay above her and her tits got played with by Matt.

“You’re so fucking pathetic.” Chris slapped y/n’s thigh as he got up.

Matt then took his position, his tongue slowly licked down from y/n’s stomach, then, he only kitten licked the clit. He knew he was teasing her but he didn’t want her to cum that fast.

“Matt please let me cum.” Y/n’s voice was hoarse from all the screaming she did. She even grabbed Matt’s head and put it more into her pussy, but Chris grabbed both of her wrists.

“As you wish.” Matt smirked then held her thighs down while sucking on her clit. His tongue lapped up and down her slit then it went back to the clit, he even stuck his tongue inside of her pussy.

Y/n immediately came. She couldn’t handle the stimulation she was getting. Chris started to lick and suck on her boobs while Matt did his job.

Matt spit on her pussy then rubbed it in. He started licking the clit more until he saw y/n’s legs shaking from overstimulation. He stopped and wiped his face.

“Aight Matt I think she’s done.” Chris let y/n’s wrists go and the girl lay there limp. He peppered her face with kisses and hugged her tightly.

“I love you baby. You did so good for us.” Chris kissed her lips endearingly. Y/n smiled at him and then pulled Matt in for a kiss.

Matt laughed and started to put his shirt back on. Chris stroked Y/n’s hair, they all needed to catch their breath. But both the boys knew that Y/n was the one who had been doing so well at taking them, so they gave each other a silent glance.

“Matt go run the water in the bathtub.”

Matt nodded and got started. Chris lifted Y/n, carrying her to the bathroom so that she wouldn’t have to walk. Matt added her favorite body wash, Chris pulled out his phone and went on uber eats.

“Aight Matt in like twenty minutes they’re gonna be bringing us all chipotle.” Chris put Y/n in the bath tub and then headed out so he could clean the room.

Once the room was clean and so was Y/n, all three of them sat in the living room to watch a movie together. Y/n rested her head on Chris’s shoulder, his arm was wrapped around her while Matt held her hand.

tag list:

@mattsweethart @mattspillowprincess @bernardmatthews @beabadoobeelvur @bluestriips @bernardsbendystraws @chrissonnyangel @passionfruitchris @natesfavoritehoe @salaciousxsturniolo @regulaho @riggysworld @hannahsturniolo @starrii-sturns @eyesonmattyb

[killerlookz]

When Every Vein is Red Out of the Blue | Joost Klein

description: VAMPIRE!Joost Klein x innocent!f!reader Your roommate, Joost, was weird, there was something strange... something just not right about him, which is why you'd kept him at a distance, refusing to make eye contact, or engage in conversation, choosing to ignore the way he drew you to him, how he'd take over your thoughts... but when a storm brings a power outage to your building, you find yourself closer to him than you ever could have imagined.

warnings: 18+ NSFW, MDNI reiterating once again this is VAMPIRE! joost, of blood/blood drinking, heavy religious themes (reader is implied catholic), blasphemy, innocence/corruption kink, fingering, unprotected PiV sex, reader is a crybaby so slight dacryphilia, lots of angst. minor plot note that doesn't really come up, but perhaps may be important for later but this fic takes place in the late 90s

and of course: RPF, while highly fictionalized since joost is a vampire, i must still warn that this is STILL RPF, do not continue if you are uncomfortable with this, this fic has only been put in fic tags, so if you are here, YOU SEARCHED FOR IT

word count: 15.3k

This city is filthy. Littered with sin.

It's rainy, as it mostly always is, you figured the poor weather was a perpetual punishment for the city's wickedness. The rain brings with it fog, its thickness obscuring the view outside your bedroom window- it's nothing but a red haze, a reflection of the lights that lined the street. The area had left your living situation in less than ideal conditions- the persistent scent of sex and marijuana in the air, the chants and yells of rowdy tourists and perverts alike, gawking at the women in the windows that line the canal. Less than ideal, indeed, but a room was a room, and broke and in university you needed to live somewhere, even if you loathed the area. At least you had had a roof over your head.

You sit, perched on your window sill, watching as the fog rolls in. The rain beats down on the glass, and you're almost still surprised to still hear the chatter of people on the street. No rest for the wicked, you supposed, willing to brave the rain to indulge in their sin.

As much shame as it filled you with you had found yourself lately becoming curious about what had really been going on in the city streets below you. It made you feel dirty, tainted, thoughts of going out just for one night, just to see what it was like. Those sorts of thoughts troubled you, deeply- leaving you worried you would actually follow through on your curiosity and corrupt yourself.

The lights in your apartment flicker, startling you, a gasp falling from your lips as they shut off entirely. The storm, your power was out. You clench your jaw, finding yourself thankful, for once for the red lights outside your window, illuminating your room in the darkness. Though, it had brought with it an ominous glow, the faint red tint to your darkened apartment almost more scary than if you had been in pitch black.

You creep forward, wooden floorboards creaking beneath your feet with every cautious move. The sound makes you shiver- your body tensing, eager to get out into your living room as you grab the white prayer candle that sits on your bedside table.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, the whole scene was unsettling- the rain, the fog, the darkness, you find yourself peering over your shoulder, like you're in some sort of horror movie, unaware of who or what could be lurking in the shadows.

"Power's out?" The sudden voice startles you- you jump back slightly, jerking your head to the source of the voice. It would seem the only thing lurking in your apartment tonight was your creepy roommate. Not creepy in the way of him being a creep, but, spooky, something odd about him. Much like the rest of your living situation, this too was less than ideal, he had actually been the boyfriend of the girl you had initially moved in with, someone you had known through university who had also been looking for somewhere cheap to live- but when the two of them had broken up it was he who had stuck around in the apartment- much to your disappointment.

His name was Joost, a few years your senior- you knew he did music, though you've never heard it, and that he works at an internet cafe not far from here. You didn't know much about him outside of that, despite sharing an apartment together, and that had been the way you had intended to keep it. He freaked you out. Up at all hours of the night, yet you'd never seen him in the daytime, always bringing random people through to the apartment that you'd never see again- you presumed for sex, as he didn't seem to care much about the commotion you would often over hear, the gasping and moaning. Visually, too, you'd never seen anyone like him, tall, covered in tattoos, a strange haircut, a perpetual thick, dark ring around his eyes. His eyes, a pale blue- the most striking thing about him, there was almost a lifeless quality about them, one that sent shivers down your spine whenever he had looked at you.

You had tried your best to avoid him when you could, and it worked, for the most part, he practically locked himself in his room during the day, and at night he usually worked, or was out doing god only knows what. It was best that way, making sure you weren't around him for extended periods of time- much as the nightlife here had peaked your curiosity, Joost had too. His peculiarities intrigued you, feeling almost mesmerized whenever you had been around him. And when you weren't around him…you had found yourself thinking about him. The longer he was around, the more frequent your thoughts would become.

At first it was merely innocent, wondering what he did with his life, why he was so, for lack of a better word strange, but they would get worse. Your mere curiosity about Joost spiraling into almost obsession. Slowly your thoughts becoming lustful, staying up late, ear pressed against your bedroom wall listening in on he and whoever he had brought home for the night. It wasn't right, no, not the way your hands would roam your body as you listened, finding their way between your thighs, gently brushing over the fabric of your pajamas- though, it would never go much further than that, not as the realization of what you had been doing began to hit. You'd wind up utterly disgusted with yourself, tears welling in your eyes as you curled up in your bed, guilt swallowing you whole.

"Did I scare you?" He laughs, there's something mocking in his tone as he relaxes back into the couch, obviously much more comfortable in the darkness than you, "Sorry." He lets out another cold chuckle.

"Didn't think you were home." Your voice is meek, eyes falling to the ground, heart still racing from the startle.

"Don't sound so disappointed."

"I'm not," You mumble, your eyes flick up slightly, allowing yourself to catch another glimpse of him, before quickly averting your gaze once again.

"Lady of such few words," He starts, "You know, I'm starting to think that you don't like me…"

"That's not true." You continue to ease your way into the living room, it's more well-lit than your bedroom, large, curtainless windows letting in more light from the street. You'd much prefer being out here, but Joost's presence fills you with unease.

"Why so short with me then?"

"Sorry." You apologize, eager to just light your candle and get back to your room now.

"You're even quieter than usual," He muses, "Scared of the dark?"

"A little," You admit, clutching the white candle between your two hands, fingernails digging into the soft wax.

"Oh no," You can't tell if his sympathy is feigned or not, "Why don't you let me keep you company then?"

"No, it's ok. I'm fine." Your words are fast, short, like you're rushing to get them off your tongue. Afraid of what being around Joost for any extended period of time will do to you- already feeling as if his mere presence has corrupted your mind.

"Please?" … Is he begging?… "Come sit with me."

"Okay," You whisper, nodding slowly as you walk over to the couch. Your steps are cautious, heart pounding in your chest, wishing you could just resist him, it was so easy, beckoning you towards him with just a simple please.

You sit just about as far as you possibly could from Joost, on the opposite side of the couch, pressing yourself to its arm. You stare straight in front of you, soaking in the way the room fills with thick unease.

"You want to light that?"

"Huh?" You nearly gasp, head snapping in Joost's direction.

"The candle." He points to your lap.

"Oh-uh, could you?" You look down at the white candle, it's misshapen from use, little crescent moon shapes litter its sides from where you had dug your fingernails into it.

"Of course," He smiles, a glimmer of something in his eyes, you can't quite put your finger on it- it's almost devious, yet you can't help but smile back, like he's drawing you towards him.

Joost lifts his hips off the couch slightly as he reaches for the back pocket of his jeans, the tight fitted tank top he wears rides up his stomach slightly, exposing a strip of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. You bite the insides of your cheeks, noticing the trail of blonde hairs that trail from just under his belly button to below the buckle of his belt. You blink a few times, attempting to avert your gaze. How pathetic, weak, tempted by such a measly amount of flesh.

He settles back onto the couch, lighter in hand,

"Are you there?" He chuckles. You shut your eyes for a moment, embarrassed at how he always seemed to notice the small intricacies of your behavior.

"Y-eah." Your voice breaking for a moment, quickly shoving the candle away from you, eager to just have Joost light it now.

"What's the hurry," Joost extends a hand to grab it from you, his fingers brushing over yours as he reaches for the candle. They're like ice, the sudden sensation causing you to suck in a small gasp, "Is something wrong?*" He asks at your clear startle.

"You're so cold," You nearly whisper, shocked, horrified even. A sudden wave of concern overwhelms you, had something been wrong with him?

Your concern is merely met with a dry laugh, and a rhetorical, "You think so?" A small smirk appearing on his face as his hand climbs further up yours, fingers snaking around your wrist. You clutch the candle that still sits perched in your hand, your tight grip preventing your fingers from trembling in Joost's icy grip.

"A-are you okay? Are you sick?" Your face drops into a frown, your worry unwavering.

"Oh," He coos, his smirk still sticking to his lips, "You're too cute, I'm fine." He shakes his head, his grip suddenly loosening on your wrist, "Let me have this, hm?" As his other hand grabs the handle from your sturdy grasp. You remain in the same position even as the object is removed from your grip, your fingers remaining in the same position as your hand remains in front of you.

You can't help but continue to stare at Joost, eyes widening in bewilderment, he was a complete and utter mystery to you, an enigma. You didn't understand a thing about him, why he was the way he was, and why you found yourself so latched on to him. He seemed to intrigue you twice as much as he terrified you.

Your breath is shaky as you inhale

"Why are you so…"

"So…?" He trails off as his thumb flicks against the metallic wheel of his lighter, a small orange flame erupting, which he presses to the wick of the candle, "Cold?" He finishes.

"Yeah…" Exhale

"You really want to know?" He leans forward, placing the freshly lit candle onto the coffee table.

You nod, slowly, concerned about why he seemed so hesitant about telling you.

Joost's eyes dart around the room, cheeks hollowing as he bites the insides of them, giving the current conversation pause. Your breath feels stuck in your lungs, the tension suffocating. You figured this had probably been the longest you'd actually hung around Joost, usually doing your best to avoid him, god, you'd basically refuse to even make eye contact with him most of the time he was around.

"I don't know," He shakes his head, "I don't want to frighten you more than you already are."

"I'm not frightened!" You respond sharply, defensively, your voice raising what feels like a few octaves, as if you had something to prove.

"Oh no?" He raises an eyebrow, challenging your statement, "How come your heart is beating so fast?"

You place a hand to your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart beneath your palm, quick, unsteady, you are frightened, but it feels so pathetic hearing it out loud, Joost's near mockery setting you back into your most vulnerable state. Not just frightened, helpless.

"It is no-" You suddenly stop yourself, eyebrows furrowing, shaking your head, "How did you know how fast my heart is beating?" Your body grows stiff, what a peculiar thing for him to say.

"Lucky guess?" He shrugs, his words drawn out, like he isn't expecting you to believe him.

You feel yourself attempting to scoot away from Joost even further, as if you already aren't pushed into the arm of the couch. Silly girl, if you really wanted to get away, you'd get up and scurry back to your room now. Yet you stay put, that subconscious part of you that remains drawn to him weighing you down, keeping you right there on that couch.

Joost frowns, "I knew you were scared."

You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head, adamant that you were indeed not scared.

"You're being weird." Your bottom lip jutting out, forming a pout, "What is wrong with you?" It comes out with less genuine concern for Joost, and more unease than you were anticipating.

"I don't think you would believe me even if I told you," He chuckles, seemingly unaffected by your anxious state, "But I could show you…" A smirk suddenly reappearing on his lips, eyes looking as if they've suddenly glazed over.

You feel your jaw slack, as if you're about to say something, anything, but all you can do is nod, eager to know what all of this show from Joost had been about, what this mysterious thing was.

It was Joost who was moving now, shifting over slightly, inching closer to you, but not enough to close the gap between the two of you. You can feel your muscles tense, body trembling, even with the remaining space on the couch Joost had almost been too close for comfort. Yet your worst thoughts wished he'd come closer, close enough to touch. You bite down, hard enough for a dull ache to creep into your jaw, wishing to purge yourself of those urges.

"Give me your hand," Joost asks, you can tell it's more of a command than a request, even behind the softness of his voice. You don't even think to ask why, why he could possibly need you to give him your hand, you just do, arms uncrossing, muscles relaxing as he takes your hand into his, the coldness of his flesh still sending shivers down your spine, small little goosebumps littering your skin.

You stare as Joost raises your knuckles to his lips, was it not only a few minutes ago that you had sat down here under the mere presumption you'd keep each other company until the power came back on? How quickly you had let things move, you should pull your hand back, swat him away, not let him get any closer. His lips brush against your fingers before he presses a kiss just above your knuckles. You'd never been kissed before, not by a guy anyways.

Never in your life had you felt yourself so close to succumbing to temptation. The pressure of years worth of repression weighing heavy on you, the cracks in your immaculacy long been formed, you know it's only a matter of time before you crumble to pieces.

Though, perhaps this did not really count, Joost's actions seemed chaste enough, in stark contrast with the noises you had usually heard coming from his room at night. A slight smile on your face, no, this seemed too gentle, too sweet, this could not be you giving into temptation.

Yet you can't help but wonder what this all has to do with what Joost had been meaning to show you, what all this has to do with why as your hand rests in his it feels almost as if you're touching a corpse.

Joost's lower lip drags upwards against your fingers, it's almost startling the lack of warmth that emanates from him, expecting his breath to be hot on your skin, yet still, he's ice cold. Still holding onto you, Joost twists your hand, forcing your palm open, his lips now against your wrist.

Joost inhales, breathing deeply, chest rising slowly, before he exhales at an equally steady pace,

"You…" He starts, before inhaling again, eyes closing as a smile tugs at his lips, exhale, "Smell delicious."

You furrow your eyebrows, your intrigue in Joost unable to override your unease with the comment, though, you supposed it had just been an odd way of saying he liked your perfume.

"Th…ank you?" Your voice wavers slightly, the tension of the situation mingling with the discomfort Joost had often brought you, the strange mix of emotions paralyzing you. All you can do is watch as Joost presses a soft kiss to your wrist. He can surely feel the way your fingers tremble as he holds them in his own hand, and how the veins in your wrist throb with trepidation.

Joost looks up for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity you had never quite seen.

"I'm sorry…" He starts, and at the two simple words you feel a pit forming in your stomach, as each second passes growing more anxious about what is to come next, "I'm sorry, I really don't want to scare you…. but you asked… and I just…don't think I can control myself."

It all feels so very strange, the way he speaks, is cryptic, like he's skirting around something, purposefully misleading you, leaving you out of the loop.

"Can't control yourself how-ahh!" A high pathetic yelp leaving your throat at the sharp, piercing sensation that enters your wrist, like nothing you had ever felt before. It's almost agonizing, eyes widening and filling with tears as you look down at Joost, teeth sinking into your skin.

If you pull your arm away he'll surely tear a chunk out of your flesh, his jaw clamped down tight, your eyes flick to your wrist, realizing he's broken more than just skin.

Your head tips back, chest rising as you suck in a sharp breath, eyes rolling backwards, your jaw tenses, you can't muster a sound, not even a scream as Joost's teeth dig into your wrist. Your body writhes, squirming uncontrollably, still careful not to make any sudden movements with your arm.

"Wh- what are you-" You manage to gasp out, breathy, guttural, sounds you've surely never made before- fitting, considering you've never experienced pain of this manner before, "Oh my god!" You're practically shrieking, you hope just this once the Lord will forgive you for using his name in vain, surely he'd understand the circumstances.

Suddenly- the pain ceases, or at the very least, eases. Your body trembles, tremors rocking you hard, yet if it wasn't for your nerves taking hold of you, you surely would have gone limp by now- your head fuzzy, you didn't even have to look down at your wrist to know you'd been losing blood. The wet, warmth that slid down to your hand was enough to alert you to the fact you were bleeding, how badly it was you were unsure of yet.

Slowly, you lift your head back up, your neck straining to maintain the weight.

You notice the way Joost looks up at you first, the sharp ache disappearing for a moment as your eyes meet his- wide, and icy blue. They're almost lifelike, but so mesmerizing in the ways that they are not, puzzled as you try to figure out what his gaze is missing, wondering how to make him whole.

Joost drops your wrist, limp, it falls to your lap, blood dripping onto the white fabric of your white, lacy nightgown. Your own injury seems so far from your mind however, not as you watch the crimson droplets slide down Joost's chin, his blood-stained lips curling into a smirk. He seems proud of himself, for goring you. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, not wanting to waste a drop of the bloody mess he's made of you.

Your teeth chatter, out of anxiety, and the lingering cold of his touch, you can still feel his icy fingers gripping into you even after he's let go.

It made so much sense now, the way Joost drew you to him, his strange behavior, why he only left the house at night, the noises you'd hear from his room, his coldness…

"The dead are meant to sleep until judgement… yet you walk among us…" You're thinking out loud more than you are talking to Joost, voice merely a whisper.

"You figured out what I am?" He finally speaks, voice low, sly. He's amused.

"Vampire."

"Very good," He nods slowly, he seems pleased but your own words echo in your ears at the accusation. Saying it out loud made it so real.

You look down into your lap, the sting of your wounds returning once your sights are set back onto the torn flesh of your wrist, the bleeding ceaseless, pooling on the white fabric below, staining- claiming the garment.

You can feel Joost's quiet satisfaction.

"You breathe… but you do not live" You shake your head, "There's no soul left in you… is there?" Your eyes widen at the realization. He's just wrong. Him. A perversion of everything you'd ever been taught, a body that lives on instead of a soul. "No soul." You repeat once again, bewildered as you shake your head, like that was the worst thing about this.

No life, no light, no redemption on the other side. You wonder about the man Joost was, who he could have been, You feel your eyes well up with tears, a quiet mourning for the Joost you never knew.

Selfishly- you're mourning for yourself too, the nights you'd stayed up, plagued with thoughts of him, delicate fingers inching closer and closer to bringing yourself to sin- it had been all for not. Your temptation now seemed almost unforgivable. Lust for a man was one thing, but lust for something so unholy, whose mere existence spat in the face of the life God had breathed from his very own nostrils into his creation. How could you repent?

Surely, you're mourning is for the purity of your soul, certainly, not for what could have been.

"No soul?" He asks. You nod. Just body, just impulse. "Who's to say?" He shrugs, "I still feel things…" He trails off for a moment before pausing, gaze meeting yours once again, forcing your breath to catch in your lungs over the intensity of his stare. It's haunting now, knowing the truth, knowing what was missing from behind those beautiful blue eyes, "… You feel them too, don't you?"

Your lips part, but words fail you, your mind a mess, the loss of blood doesn't help.

Joost picks your hand back up from your lap, your wrist limp in his grasp. He's careful not to stick his fingers near the open wounds, his icy palm simply holding your wrist.

"I know that it hurt you…" His voice grows softer, as if he's about to apologize for the carnage he caused, "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

The simple four letter word hadn't even occurred to you, and perhaps you could blame it on the pain, the sheer agony that overtook you as his teeth tore into your flesh. But you knew what Joost had been getting at- you didn't want him to.

That thought terrifies you more than his fangs ever could, knowing if he asked you'd let him drink from you again and again.

You don't answer Joost, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting to what he already knows is true. You had already given up so much to him tonight, you needed to at least save something for yourself.

"Does it scare you?" He asks

Your head perks up at the question, confused. Lots of things scare you now, perhaps everything at this moment was frightening.

"Does what scare me?"

"That you still want it." His voice is low, teasing, "Want me."

Joost's fingers tighten around your already aching wrist, a sharp sting shooting up your arm as his fingertips graze over the bites he's left in your flesh. A moan escapes you, one you attempt to bite back, to hide that it is not entirely out of pain.

You wince, wanting nothing more than to curl up inside yourself and disappear. You're crumbling under the heavy weight of his gaze.

"You've bewitched me…" Your muttered words are nothing more than a faint accusation, a desire to blame the lapses in your piety in something other than yourself, "You did this."

"No," Joost shakes his head in earnest, "I'm a man of many talents…but mind control isn't one of them. Your thoughts are your own."

Your lip begins to quiver, the tears that had begun to well in your eyes ready to spill,

"They can't…" You whisper, "No," You blink as the small, wet, droplets finally leak down your cheek, looking up, staring into the dark of the apartment, "God, forgive me." You choke, your pleading weak as Joost remains in front of you, his mere presence slowly draining you of your desire to remain faithful.

You pull back your hand, yet the cool of his palm lingers. The candle Joost had lit flickers in your periphery, you glance toward it, the wax you'd prayed over so many times, rosary gripped tight between your fingers.

You'd lost it now, mind racing, prayer after prayer scrambles in your mind, fragments of pleas for protection, yet you cannot fully find the words.

"Why fight it?" Joost seems, almost fascinated by your state, his question raw, inquisitive.

"Because." Your face twists up as you spit the short word back at Joost, "I'm not like you."

"Like me?" He seems taken aback, almost offended, like this whole ordeal hasn't all been about how different he is than you.

"Yes, like you, a monster." Your eyes widen in terror, as it settles on your tongue, that's truly what he is. The type of creature great works of horror are written about, has been living amongst you.

"You think being human is all that makes you good?"

"Yes, Joost," His name feels oddly pleasant in your mouth, sweeter than you had expected, "Jo…" You have to stop yourself from saying it again, "My soul matters!"

"If your soul matters so much, then why do you deny what it so obviously wants?"

"I want…" You take in a deep breath, exhaling with equal force, a tingle of anger quivering beneath you, who is Joost to tell you what you want? "I want to be good. I want to be more than desire."

"So you do desire me?" A grin spreads across his lips, his teeth still marked with your blood, a stark reminder of who Joost was, and what he had done to you, making simple desire not-so-simple.

"I prayed for this feeling to pass," You whisper, "I begged for it to go away." You grit your teeth,

"And did it?"

"No," You concede, "B-but, that doesn't make it right."

"But it's real, stop denying it, it's you."

"I wish it wasn't." You shake your head, "I should be scared of you." Your voice breaks once more, tears continuing to slip down your cheeks, your head beginning to ache from the strain, "But I'm just so much more scared of myself… how finding out what you are has only made me want you more."

Joost's icy palm grazes your cheek, his thumb stretching out to wipe away a singular tear. You don't mean to, but you find yourself leaning into his touch, for as cold and as lifeless as it was, it was a comforting contrast to the heat of the moment.

"I know how it feels…" Joost sighs, continuing to brush the pad of his thumb to your cheek, "…to be afraid of yourself."

"Do you really know how to feel?" You ask in desperation, as if Joost's capability for feeling would make your predicament any more salvageable, as if falling for an undead creature of the night was made any more worthy of forgiveness merely because he could feel?

"I was once just a man."

"I wish I could have known him…" That feeling of grief returning, not for someone you lost but from someone you'll never know.

You picture him then, warm blooded, full of life. You imagine what the sun must look like in the reflection of his pale blue eyes, how they had probably made him sensitive to the light, even then- squinting, nose scrunched up with a sweet smile on his light pink lips, full of real color, not merely just stained with blood.

You wonder if that part of him is still inside, and if Joost mourns who he used to be too.

"I'm not so different now," He chuckles wryly, "Please, just let me show you."

You nod, barely a small trembling movement of permission. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, shaking your entire body. You feel it in your stomach, your throat, your fingertips as it pounds into you.

You know Joost can hear it too, its frantic rhythm calling to a more monstrous part of him. You can't help but think about how many hearts he must have had before yours, how many beat under his touch- in fear, in lust. Still, he listens as if your heartbeat is the only one he's ever known.

Joost leans forward, but before you even have a moment to catch what he's doing his lips are on yours, nearly stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn't quite what you had imagined for your first kiss, certainly, a lot more blood than you had ever anticipated any kisses to be filled with. The bitter, metallic taste coats the inside of your mouth, you wished it had made you want to gag, to pull away, the stark reminder of what Joost is.

But you couldn't, the taste was enticing, for all of its tang, and unpleasantness, it was you, the very blood that kept you alive now being brought back to you.

You part your lips, both in surrender and in anxious curiosity- was this what Eve felt when she had tasted the forbidden fruit? The hunger, the unbearable need to know.

Joost's other hand finds its way to your waist, gripping at the soft, silky material of your slip, his tight grasp anchoring you to the couch, like you still may flee. But you won't, and you both know it.

Your lips struggle to find Joost's pace, the totality of the night working against you in keeping up with him. Yet you try, fearing if you pull away even for a moment, even just to catch your breath this will all disappear.

Joost's hand slips from your cheek down to your neck, cold fingers digging into the warm flesh just below your ear. You wonder if he feels the way your pulse throbs under his touch, if it brings out some sort of hunger within him. You can't but almost wish that it does, some sick desire within you that yearns to feel his teeth in you again, for you to be what sustains his life, at least for a little while. You need him to want you for more than just this.

You reach out a hand, placing your palm to his chest, feeling the thin fabric of his white tank top beneath you- you want to feel him really feel him, skin to skin.

"Are you still fighting me?" He asks, pulling away slightly, his bottom lip still dragging across yours, perhaps mistaking your gesture for a desire to create space between the two of you. You feel his breath on your face as he speaks from such close proximity, it's warm, it almost surprises you, half expecting his breath to be just as cold as his touch.

"I should be."

"But you aren't." Joost pulls back even farther, his lips no longer touching yours, "Look at me." His words aren't demanding, but out of a genuine desire to see the whole of your face, to take in the entirety of you.

You concede, eyes locking with his once more, a mutual desire heavy in the way the two of you gaze at each other- the longing is intense, as if Joost had been some long lost lover of yours that you had gone years without seeing, and not someone who had been practically a stranger to you.

He's more handsome than ever now, even with the dried, red stains that still hang around his lips, and disheveled hair, the moment only had made your attraction to him grow.

"Tell me you want this."

"Don't… don't make me say it." Your bottom lip pokes out, quivering as your muscles form a pout, no- once again, saying it made it real. It seemed much easier to beg for forgiveness when your sins were hypothetical, but now that the opportunity sat right in front of you…

"Yes," His voice is breathy, pathetic, almost begging, "I need to hear you say it. Need to know you want it. This could ruin you… I could ruin you."

You smile, tear streaked and trembling,

"You already have."

Joost smiles back, yet you can't quite tell if it's with pride or shame, perhaps a strange mixture of the two.

"Then why are you hesitating?" He asks, "I need to hear you say you want this."

Truthfully, you didn't know what this was- for him to feed on you again? To be turned?… Perhaps something more intimate? Did it really matter, you wanted all of the above, you wanted him.

"I want…" You inhale, holding the breath in your throat, letting it suffocate you for a moment before you finally speak, "You." Your final word shaky, filled with tension, like you've just confessed and you're waiting to receive your penance, "All of you."

Joost's expression softens into something painfully tender, "All of me?" He repeats, "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Maybe not," You whisper, "But I want to find out."

Joost nods, wordlessly, rather reserving the moment to take you in, examine your state, how quickly he'd gotten you undone for him.

Not even the chill of Joost's touch can save you from the thick, humid tension that surrounds you, the only thing sharp enough to tear through it was Joost's teeth- knowing it was just a matter of time before he was sinking them into you again.

The thought sends a shock wave throughout your body, feeling a familiar tingling sensation down your legs, a warmth growing in your lower belly. It had been that same feeling that had plagued you so often late at night, the one that had you folding in on yourself, sobbing, begging for forgiveness.

But it seemed right now, now that your desire was something real, tangible, in front of you.

"Will it hurt?" Again, you're not quite sure what you're asking about, unsure of where Joost intends on leading the night- your utter inexperience with men, much less vampires, leaving you entirely in the dark on this.

"Will what hurt?" He raises an eyebrow, clearly needing clarification, "What do you want, hm?" He hums, and he's really asking, his voice low, mellow, ready to give you whatever it is you ask for.

But you don't want to say it, you don't want to ask- you wouldn't even know how to. All you knew was the deep pit that was settled in you, a hole that yearned to be filled, a craving that needed to be satisfied. You open your mouth, but the words elude you- it isn't a feeling you know how to articulate, and it feels so heavy, so wrong even if you could do so,

"I guess," You drop your gaze sinking down into your lap, it shouldn't be so hard, you'd already given everything else up tonight, why not this? A small laugh escapes you, finding humor in the awkward way your brain had found away to skirt around most of Joost's questions, "Well, I guess I was just hoping you wanted me for more than just a meal."

"Oh," He sighs, his thumb rubbing at the side of your neck, feeling the way your artery thumps below him, a sickly sweet smile on his face, like he's genuinely finding some sympathy for you, like there's something really beating in the dark cavity of his chest. "I should have known." He chuckles slightly- it's quick, dry, a small puff of air leaving his nostrils as he tilts his head, deepening his gaze towards you, "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

You grit your teeth, the small phrase feeling more like an accusation than a question. You aren't ashamed of that fact, no, before tonight you had intended to keep it that way. But the deep knowledge of your inexperience pains you in the face of Joost, who you're sure has done this time and time before. Jealousy, maybe.

Joost sees the tension in his face, his smile faltering, not entirely, but just enough to show something quieter, gentler- not that you notice.

"It's not such a bad thing, you know?" His hand slides up to your chin, fingers pushing up to get you to look at him, but even as your eyes meet his level, you avert your gaze, staring past him, out at the window that's opposite you, taking in the misty, red glow, "I'll try to be gentle," He pauses, "If that's what you want, I mean- Well, I'm hardly ever anyone's first."

You fixed your gaze, his words settling uncomfortably in your ears- a confirmation of how many times over he's done this before. You blink a few times, wondering if you should stay, for as much as you wanted him you couldn't stand the thought of this not meaning anything, of you just being another fix.

"I didn't mean it like that," He says, softer now, "It's kind of sweet, you know? If you'll let me…"

You don't speak, deep i thought about what's to happen next,

"I know what I must look like to you," His hands slipping back down to your neck, thumb brushing over your pulse again, his touch feather light. He ducks his head slightly allowing you the chance to look down at him the other way around, to be something other than a predator, "That I'm careless… I am… I've fed, and fucked, and ruined and been ruined… But I need you to know I feel too."

His words echo, he feels too, still it's hard to believe, even for how many times tonight he's repeated it. You search his face for the detachment you'd feared, trying to grasp what he really is. But you don't find it, even in the depths of those lifeless blue eyes, there's something there, something that almost makes him feel human.

"I want to know what you feel." Your voice full of longing, desperate to know what this means to him- if it's all really worth turning your back on your faith for, if he's worth forsaking everything you'd ever believed in, "If it's something more than hunger."

"I couldn't put a name to it," Joost shakes his head, "Not hunger, it's a need far deeper, less primal- I-" He stops for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, you watch as he seems to attempt to decipher his feelings in real time, waiting with baited breath for what he says next, "This feeling… it reminds me of who I used to be."

Your eyes widen, intrigued, desperate to bring whatever life was still left in Joost to the surface, anxious that feeling within him will flee once the moment passes.

"I'm worried," You sigh, voice small, "That this is just a fleeting feeling," You bite the inside of your cheeks, unsure of how to proceed, "What if, whatever happens tonight- what if I like it, what if I want it again?"

Joost had done little more but kiss you tonight, yet still, you could feel what was beginning to burn inside you. If you had been so willing to give everything up for him, you needed him to do the same, to relinquish any desires he'd have for anyone that wasn't you. Never wanting him to spill the blood of another again, only you, you craved the feeling of being his.

"Isn't that the best part of being with a vampire?" Joost asks, his lips curling into a rigid smile, "That you can have me forever."

You swallow down Joost's words, the weight of forever sinking straight into your stomach. Forever, you know it's as much a curse as it is a gift.

"Will that be enough?" You ask, timid, "Me, forever?"

Joost's lips remain upright, still bent into a smile,

"There's only one way to find out…" He trails off, hand falling from your neck, his palm traces down your arm, you shiver, hoping one day you'll get used to the cool of his touch. Your skin pebbled with small goosebumps under where he's touched, hairs standing on end, his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, "Can I bring you somewhere more comfortable? To your room?"

You nod, slowly, allowing him to get up and lead you out of the living room. The apartment is silent, save for the creak of the floorboards beneath your anxious steps, and the heavy patter of the rain outside.

You're so caught up in what's to come next you've hardly realized you've reached your room until Joost is stopping, just before the threshold. You know by stepping in you're sealing your fate, that you'll be damning yourself by welcoming him in.

Your jaw clenches as you take the first step into the darkness of your bedroom, the streetlights outside providing enough light to just barely make out the surface of things.

You turn back at Joost, who's still standing just outside the door frame,

"I thought vampires only needed to be welcomed inside someone's home," Your statement is said half in earnest, curious about what Joost's affliction actually entailed, what rules he was bound by and what was merely a product of Hollywood's imagination.

"I don't usually wait for an invitation… but now it feels wrong not to."

"Please," You sigh, your hand still in his, digging your fingers into the valleys between his knuckles, pulling at his arm, a beg for him to join you in your room.

Wordlessly- Joost complies, stepping through the threshold, closing the door behind him. The thunk of the door echoes in your ears, signaling to you there was really no turning back now, and that the night had really only just begun.

It's like the temperature of the room shifts with him- colder now. But it only makes you all the more eager, to feel more than just his presence.

"Lay down with me?" You ask, meek, unsure of how to go about these sorts of things, but you know you want to get to your bed and to share that space with Joost.

Joost tilts his head in the direction of your bed, beckoning you to walk over, your hand still clasped over his.

As you near the edge of your bed, Joost slips his hands from yours, to reach for your waist instead, guiding you down to sit with him, the mattress giving slightly under the weight- creaking softly.

Joost hums, the sound low in his throat, as he begins to lower himself beside you, the bed once again shifting under the length of his body. You follow his movements, his hand still pressed to your waist to guide you with him. You lay at your side, head propped up on your flimsy pillows, facing him.

What little light seeps from the windows is just enough for you to make out Joost's features, but you can hardly take a moment to marvel at him, distracted by the way your lips ache, puffy and throbbing, eager to feel him on them again.

"Please, can I kiss you again," Your voice is hoarse, ready to plead for the opportunity.

Joost's grip tightens on your waist, pulling your hip closer to him,

"Oh," He smirks, his voice low and even, a stark contrast to the nerves in yours, "You don't even have to ask, come here." He finally pulls you to him, your hip connecting with the thick leather of his belt.

It's quick- the way his lips stick to yours, finding a perfect rhythm. Each kiss is deliberate, savoring the way the space between your lips close, as if it will be your last. That vague metallic taste remains on Joost's tongue- and for a split moment you're struck worth worry, that you'll grow to enjoy its bitterness, even as a mere mortal, on account of the way it reminds you of Joost.

Joost's fingertips dig further into the slippery silk fabric of your nightgown, pressing further into your flesh, massaging gently as he rocks you back and forth in the kiss. You push yourself into his touch, hips steadily gyrating, almost instinctively.

Joost's teeth catch your lower lip, giving it a slight pinch before returning to the kiss. A small, high pitched whimper escapes your mouth between movements at the twinge, and you can feel Joost smile into the kiss at your reaction.

Your hand snakes up his side, finally getting to really feel Joost under your touch. You want your hands all over him, for no surface of his flesh to go unscathed by your fingertips. You grip onto his shoulder, fingernails digging deep into his bicep, surely leaving little indents as you crane your neck to deepen the kiss.

Your movements begin to become sloppy, each kiss less deliberate and more hungry, tongue escaping your lips, just as eager to consume as he is. You almost don't realize how cold he is under your touch, and for a moment he seems just as alive as you are.

Joost shifts slightly, rolling you with him so your back fully hits the mattress, his body hovering over yours. He holds himself above you, forcing you to stare up at him once again. He's much more intimidating like this, as if that was even possible. He stares down at you, eyes still striking even in the dark of the room, his hunger apparent in his glassy gaze, eyes trained on your body, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

But even as Joost is damn close to feeding on you again, you can't help but feel like you need this just as much as him, that you'd let him feed on you again and again- desperate for you and you alone to satiate his hunger.

"So impolite of me," Joost's voice soft as silk as that familiar smile creeps onto his face, "Sunk my teeth into you and I never even told you…" He shakes his head, pausing for a moment, "How beautiful I think you are."

Even as Joost is ice cold, you feel yourself growing hot, the mixture of the intensity of the moment, Joost's sharp gaze, and sweet words are enough to make you feel like you are burning up. You let your lips curl upwards, reveling in his compliments as he continues.

"Really," His voice earnest, eyes staring deep into yours, "Beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen."

You almost want to turn away, to avert your gaze and cower into the pillow as the blood rushes to your cheeks, a small giggle leaving your lips, a testament to your shyness in the situation. You'd never been called beautiful in such a way before, sure, platonic compliments from friends, or cheesy remarks from family- but not like this.

Not in the way where you wanted him to see more of you, ready to bare it all just so you can hear that word again.

Joost's weight shifts as he leans down to kiss you again. Once more, his movements beginning, tender and slow. You kiss him back with equal tenderness, legs parting so he can better fit between him, his weight shifting to his knees. Your thighs stretch to either side of him, knees bending, cradling his hips, the fabric of your nightgown lifts up, pooling at your upper thighs. At the side of your head Joost holds the rest of his weight on his forearm, using his freehand to trace down the freshly exposed skin of your leg.

At first his hand remains on the outer part of your thigh, brushing back and forth, a shiver coursing through you as goosebumps litter your skin. Joost allows you a moment to get used to the chill of his touch before his hand slowly rolls down to your knee, thumb tucking in at the back of your leg, gently guiding it down more, spreading your legs further.

It's a move so small, but you can't help but gasp, messing up the rhythm of the kiss as you try to catch your escaped breath.

Joost's hand begins to trace further up your leg, and you feel a twitch in between your thighs. The sensation almost makes you gasp again, your back arching into the feeling- you'd never come so close to experiencing something like this, your nerves now exposed to something entirely new, the pulsing between your legs is almost entirely foreign. It's almost like an ache, something that desperately needs tending to.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, your body tensing with each slight move Joost's hand makes upwards,

"Tell me again that you want this," Joost suddenly breaks away from this kiss, his voice breathy- the coolness of his demeanor slipping for just a moment, revealing his utter desperation.

"Yes, please" You inhale, the pitch of your voice raising, you arch your back again, the control your body seems to have over you is startling. Your whole life you'd worked to not just deny, but overcome your flesh, but now you were held captive by it, your every move controlled by instinct and pure carnal desire, "Please," You mewl, "I want this, I want you. All of you."

Joost hums, gently nuzzling his nose against yours, lips just barely brushing against each other, his breath is cold as he exhales,

"Okay, needy girl," You can't quite tell if he's mocking you, but it's true, you are needy for him, "I'm gonna hold you to that." By now he's holding the innermost part of your thigh, right where it connects to your hip, fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear.

He's yet to resume kissing you, the only audible sound in the room are your trembling breaths, chest heaving as deep as it can, your breath surely hot on Joost's face. It's pathetic really, but you can't help yourself, far too caught up in the moment to attempt to collect yourself, or at the very least pretend to.

Joost's head suddenly dips, his lips now at your jaw, pecking lightly before beginning to place, slow, languid kisses to the bone. Your body curves into his touch, back raising off the mattress, chest raising to his. You throw your arms around Joost's back, desperate to keep him close to you, fingertips once again digging into the skin exposed by the back of his tank top.

The pace of your breathing only intensifies as Joost's lips trail down lower, leaving your jaw and beginning to suck at the throbbing artery in your neck. You tip your head to the side, allowing him greater access to you, welcoming whatever was to happen next.

It almost surprises you how well Joost can pace himself, so close to what he desires more than anything- the very thing that keeps him alive, and yet he denies himself again and again as his teeth don't even do as much as graze your neck, with kiss after kiss. That same restraint cannot be said for you, squirming beneath Joost, each kiss from his lips, or lick from his tongue only making you more, and more desperate, hips bucking in an attempt to get Joost to move his hand. Yet he doesn't budge.

At the same time you begin to feel Joost's hips pressing into you, yet from his position kneeled between your legs you can't feel much, the mere sensation of his fingertips brushing against the edge of the fabric of your underwear utterly overwhelming your senses.

Joost nuzzles his face into your neck, his cheek rubbing against you,

"You're just so warm," He sighs, "So full of life, I almost feel bad to take that from you, and fill you with anything else."

"No," You huff, "Take- take it I'm yours." You don't stutter out of anxiety but out of the way your desire begins to consume you, your brain becoming fuzzy as the only thing you can think about is him.

"Trust me," Joost purrs before pressing a quick peck to the inside of your neck, "I will."

Immediately, a breathy, high mewl escapes your throat as Joost's hand finally moves, a single finger brushing over the crotch of your underwear. The single touch, as Joost grazes your core sends a sharp, intense pang through you, your body twitching.

"Wooow," Joost muses, "You've really never been touched like this at all, have you?"

You cannot muster up a verbal reply, you only thrash your head back and forth against the pillow, bumping into his cheek a few times, signaling a no.

"Yeah," Joost breathes out, "Maybe you'll be too sensitive then… maybe I shouldn't-"

"No. Nono- I'm, please, I'm fine." The thought of this stopping now, of Joost slipping through your hands, it's all too much to bear, and all you can do is babble mindlessly, begging him to keep going.

Joost chuckles, his short laughter- dry.

"Kidding, of course," You can all but hear the smirk in his voice, "That would be evil of me. No, I wouldn't do that to you." Joost places a thumb to the soft, cotton fabric of your panties, tapping right above your clit, each short movement sending jolts down your legs, you can't even get out a sigh of relief, breath getting caught in your throat.

His tapping turns to long, gentle circles, at a pace, even for your inexperience feels agonizingly slow. Still, all you can do is grip into the back of his shoulders, savoring every drawn out touch, Joost's fingers every once and awhile tracing down the crotch of your underwear, before returning. With your head tipped back on the pillow, and your jaw slacked open, short breaths and little whimpers leave your mouth.

Perhaps Joost was right about your sensitivity, legs beginning to tremble around him despite him still only touching above fabric. Maybe you wouldn't be able to handle the real thing. But you have to try.

"More," You rasp out, anxious to take things further, "Please, more." You couldn't believe yourself, it was like someone had completely taken over your body, someone you didn't recognize. But it was you, you who was begging for sin, to indulge in this wickedness with someone who strayed so far from the divine.

"What do you want?" Joost asks, voice low, a certain liquidity to it, "This?" His finger slips into your underwear, pulling them to the side, the sudden rush of air in contact with wet skin sending a chill through you, making you feel all the more exposed. Your legs almost instinctively snap shut at the feeling of Joost's cold finger brushing between your slick, a slight yelp leaving your lips, a feeling unlike anything you ever felt before, forcing your eyes to screw shut. "Hey!" Joost chastises as your knees bump his side, a result of your legs attempting to close, "I know," He sighs, "But if you can't keep your legs open I can't go any further."

Slowly, your legs begin to part again as you nod, knees returning back to their original position. Joost continues to run a single finger up and down your folds, his motions still slow, on the brink of teasing. Nevertheless, it's enough for you to get some sensation out of, your eyes remaining shut tight as your face switches between screwing up tight, or your jaw almost becoming entirely unhinged.

Your small, soft, whines begin to build into something louder, more reactive as Joost's movements become less and less lazy and more deliberate. Nudging you with the side of his face, he knocks your head to the side, giving himself access- once again, to your neck. He returns his lips to you, laying his tongue flat against a throbbing artery before he presses a wet kiss to the same spot. The feeling of having Joost in two places at once is almost too much, but he seems to pay no mind to your squirming, almost mindlessly continuing on with what he's been doing.

You feel Joost's hand slip from where it had been, his palm suddenly pressing against your clit. He takes a moment to find where he wants to be, still preoccupied with his head in your neck. You feel a finger beginning to spread your folds, another sliding towards your entrance, circling for a moment before beginning to slip in.

The sensation is nothing like you've felt before, it's only a finger, yet the stretch is noticeable, foreign- not what you had been expecting it to be. You wince, at the sensation, Joost suddenly stopping.

"Shit-" He mutters against your neck, before pressing another kiss just below your ear, "Please, please sweetie, relax," He breathes, the simple pet name sweetie ringing in your ear, like you were something to him- you are something to him, "It will be uncomfortable if you keep being so tense."

"Oh- uh" You mumble, unsure of how to suddenly just loosen up, years of being taught to fear and prolong this very moment, were hitting you all at once. Every single echo of priests, or Sunday school teachers drilling it into you that this was meant to be saved for marriage, that it shouldn't be done out of pleasure but purely for the sake of having children rattles down the corridors of your mind. Your eyes begin to well up with tears, guilt beginning to creep back into your body.

With a sniffle, tears are beginning to spill out of your eyes, and no longer are your fingertips digging into Joost's shoulders, but you've fully wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer to you, his weight collapsing onto your chest.

Joost stops kissing you for a moment, clearly caught off guard for your sudden, seeming need for, a more wholesome form of affection. His hand falls from between your thighs, sliding up your leg to rest on your hip now.

"You're okay," He assures, "Let me sit up, mkay?*"

You nod, letting go of your grip on him, his free hand making your pillow dip as he uses it to prop himself back up. Resting on his shins, Joost still sits between your legs, looking down at you. You can hardly look up at him through your tear-stained eyes, for as guilty as you felt about betraying your faith, you had still felt all the more guilty for Joost having to deal with it- to make him bear the brunt of your anxieties.

"My poor crybaby," A smile pulling at his mouth, half mocking, half affectionate. He outstretches his hand, brushing your cheek with his thumb, far too affectionate for him to be genuinely mocking you, "What happened, huh?"

"Nothing," You sniffle, turning to lay your head on the side, so you don't have to look at him, "Just give me a second- it's just all so new-" You nuzzle your head against the pillow, attempting to dry your tears, "I don't want to stop… but it's just…" You move your head once again, looking back up at him, "I'm scared." You whisper, barely able to muster the confession out.

Joost nods, as if he could possibly understand. He tilts his head, lips slightly parted,

"You've been so good your whole life, haven't you?" his voice low, but above a whisper, "Scared of stepping out of line now, with me?"

You swallow hard, throat growing tight- his words cutting straight through the noise in your mind. You nod. Exactly

Joost brushes his palm against your upper thigh, rubbing affectionately, betraying the darker look in his eyes,

"You want this though, don't you?"

Once again, you nod.

"Good," He murmurs, "That's good." It isn't so much of a praise as it is approval, "Let's try again then, hm? Something different this time."

You smile slightly, blinking away the remaining tears in your eyes.

"Sit up, pretty."

You oblige, firmly planing your hands on either side of you, rising up from your spot on the bed. Joost's palm returns to your cheek after you sit up, thumb dragging down your bottom lip, an almost cruel smile on his face.

"How about you take the lead for a little bit…" He suggests, and this puzzles you- you, take the lead? As if you had any clue what you were doing.

Joost must notice your face, the way your eyebrows furrow, eyelids squinting as if you can't figure out what to do next.

"Just…" He starts, "I think you'll feel better if things start on your terms, tell me what you want, sweetie, anything."

You blink for a moment, eyes wide, like there isn't a single thought behind them. Oh but there was, your mind reeling, looking for the right thing to say,

"Anything," He repeats again, his smile softening to something more reassuring, "No shame."

"Um…" You start, "Okay," You sigh, "Well, I think I'll feel more comfortable, if we're both undressed."

"I think so too…" Joost nods, slowly, measured, "Do you want to undress me, or should I?"

You pause for a moment, but you don't really need to think about it,

"C-can I?" Your voice is meek, as if Joost hadn't emphasized there was no shame, as if he hadn't just asked if you wanted to do this.

"That's what I hoped you'd say."

Joost gets off the bed, the mattress shifting slightly as his weight lifts from it, moving to stand in front of you. He's so much taller now, his crotch just below eye-level as you move to swing your legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm all yours." Joost smirks.

You take a moment to look Joost up and down, before reaching your hands out with trepidation. Your arms in front of you, your eyes suddenly return to your wrist, almost forgetting the wound Joost had left on it, a not so subtle reminder of who he really was, what you were really dealing with. Yet it doesn't make you hesitate, not as your fingertips settle on the waistband of his jeans, feeling the rough denim beneath them for a moment before tracing down to the large metal buckle of his belt.

It's too dark to make out the design on it, but you let yourself feel its bumps and grooves, pausing for a moment, deciding how to make your move. You slide your thumb under the buckle, twisting your uninjured wrist to slowly pull the leather from the loops of his jeans. You then place the palm of your other hand against the metal buckle, steadying yourself, wincing as you apply pressure against your injured wrist. Still- you continue, tugging at the end of Joost's belt to fully free it from his jeans.

It startles you slightly, once the buckle hits the hard wood of your floor, body twitching at the high pitched sound. It calls you back to the moment, what you were doing, thumbing the button on his jeans. You don't bother to look up at Joost as you fumble with the small, circular metal, you can already feel his eyes searing into the top of your head, and you fear you'll crumble entirely under the weight of his gaze.

Finally, once the button is undone you can un-zipper his jeans, you anchor your opposite hand to his upper thigh as you tug at the zipper, sliding down its length with very little force. You hear Joost inhale deeply as your fingers brush over his crotch, feeling him beginning to stiffen under your light touch.

Once Joost's zipper is undone you finally manage to look up at Joost, eyes searching for permission to carry on, despite already knowing you had it. Still, even as Joost suggested that you take the lead you still felt like you needed him to guide you, desiring his approval at every step of this process.

Joost knocks his head back slightly, chin flicking upward to beckon you to go forward. You make a small nodding motion with your head as Joost affirms what you already knew what you should do. You push your thumbs into the waistband of Joost's jeans, fingers lightly brushing against the soft skin of his lower stomach as they hook into the thick fabric. Carefully, you begin to pull them down, careful to not catch his underwear as you do so, desiring to remove each piece of his clothing individually. You'd assumed his jeans must have been a size or two big, with the ease you were able to slide them down, even at his thighs. You finally let go once they reach his knees, dropping them so he can kick the pooled fabric to the side to be discarded along with his belt.

You trail your gaze up his legs, back to your eye line. You swallow, gaze remaining on his lower stomach, on the tuft of hair that sits just above the elastic of his underwear, avoiding your eyes making contact with the growing bulge that begins to strain against the tight fabric.

"Don't get shy on me again." Joost laughs, reaching forward to grab your arm, just below your shoulder, tugging slightly to lift it up. With the new leverage he slides his palm down the length of your arm before grabbing your wrist, moving it to stretch out your hand, "Right there," Joost sighs, placing your open palm to the fabric that clothes his cock, "Like that…" He holds his palm to the back of your hand, guiding you to rub his underwear-clad length.

Your thighs squeeze together, your guilt once again a passing thought as you feel the way Joost throbs under your touch.

"I thought I was taking the lead…" You bite your lip, eyes flicking up to Joost.

"Back-talking me already… " He shakes his head, clicking his tongue, "Well you looked like you needed some encouragement."

You nod, agreeing, it was exactly what you needed. Perhaps even more.

Your fingertips crawl to the elastic band of Joost's underwear, eager to hook into them.

Joost hums, calling your attention back up to him, watching him shake his head,

"Not yet,"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, attempting to hide your disappointment- but you didn't mind prolonging the night, still unsure if he means it when he says this will last beyond tonight.

"Think there's a little more to take off before we get there."

You nod, placing your hands back onto the bed, steadying yourself to help you stand up.

Despite your proximity, you must admit Joost has gotten less intimidating when you've realized the power you have over him too, the bulge poking into your lower stomach a testament to the fact that he needs you too.

Your fingertips find the hem of Joost's tank top, and you're eager to get it off of him, to have your hands splayed against his chest, to really feel him. You pull at the fabric, lifting it above his stomach, and he raises his arms for you, so you can pull it above his head, allowing Joost to do the extra work to pull it all the way up the length of his arms, too far up for you to reach.

He barely has time to toss his shirt with his other discarded clothes before your hands are on him, palm resting against his chest. He's hairier than you anticipated, the small amount of chest hair that poked from his tank top had not signaled to you the extent of it. Strangely enough- it humanized him, that and the small little moles that dotted his skin, taking you out of what you thought you knew about vampires- with their almost inhumanly pale, unblemished flesh, smooth as silk. Perhaps Joost physically had seemed perfect to you, but he still had the body of a man, not of something that wasn't of this mortal plane.

Your hand slides up from his chest, to his neck, fingers brushing over the tattoo that covers it. You think it's of a cartoon character, but you can't quite recognize it, your parents hadn't really allowed you to watch television growing up, firmly believing that they would rot your brain. You feel a twinge in your chest, remembering how it felt being younger, your alienation from other kids your age, unable to wear the clothes they wore, watch the movies they watched, or listen to the music they listened to. You couldn't quite put a name to the feeling back then, but you think you understand it now, as it still lives inside you, your otherness. Maybe that was part of the reason you had become so desperate for Joost tonight- he was an other too.

"Did this hurt?" You ask softly, continuing to trace the outline of Joost's tattoo, "The tattoo?"

"I guess so, yeah" You feel him shrug, "Nothing I couldn't take though."

"I like them," You smile, it's an innocent enough comment given the situation you had found yourself in, "They're one of the first things I noticed about you."

"One of?" Joost asks, almost challengingly, "What else have you noticed, hm?" He snakes an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to him, bulge poking further into your lower tummy.

Your face grows hot, getting put on the spot like this,

"Your eyes, I guess," You rest your head on Joost's shoulder, "I've always struggled to maintain eye contact with you because of it."

"I get that a lot," He chuckles, "Even before I was turned, but that definitely made me creep people out more."

"Well," You sigh, "I don't think you creep me out anymore."

"No?" Joost raises an eyebrow, but you don't notice from where you lay against him, "Not even if I told you I can still smell the blood on your wrist… and how desperately I'm trying not to sink my teeth into you right now."

"No," You respond simply- but it isn't indifference, it's much sweeter, an affection for him, slowly unfurling inside of you- your long-buried desires now finally allowed to breathe.

Joost is silent for a moment, and you're sure all of your willingness has surprised him tonight, after all it has surely surprised you. His breath falters against your hair.

"You shouldn't say that so easily," He murmurs, but there's no real warning, it's something more weary, something tender, "You don't know what you're offering."

You nod against his collarbone, placing a small kiss to his exposed shoulder, "I would like to, though."

He exhales slowly, like he's trying to let something go, his hand pressing into the small of your back, keeping you to him as if you might change your mind.

"Well then," He starts, his hand trailing up your back, to the thin, flimsy strap of your nightgown, flicking it down your shoulder, and he continues with the other one, "May I?" He asks like he already knows the answers as two fingers slip into the neckline of the garment, ready slide it down.

You hesitate for a moment, before stepping back, nodding, allowing Joost to slip it off of you. Slowly, the silky fabric drips down your body, exposing your skin inch by inch. You gasp slightly as the nightgown falls from your chest, first exposing your breasts. You contemplate quickly grabbing the garment before Joost fully undresses you, pulling it back up, covering yourself and cowering away from Joost- but you stay, exhaling deeply, ready for Joost to see all of you.

Joost guides the nightgown down your hips, before letting it slip down your thighs, and finally pooling at your feet. Carefully, you step out the small pile its made, gently kicking it off to the side.

Joost's hands immediately return to you, palms at your waist before they slide up to your chest. He feels cold as ever, your teeth chattering as he explores parts of you nobody else has ever laid their eyes on. Joost palms your breasts with both hands, squeezing the supple flesh before letting go, his fingers one side slipping down to your nipple, gently pinching its pebbled surface.

It's a strange feeling, like nothing you've ever felt before, you tip your head back slightly, jaw slacking as a small moan escapes your lips at the jolt that runs through you.

You feel Joost's eyes as they stare deep into you, the heat of his gaze offsetting the pure ice of his touch.

Joost pulls back, just enough to look at you, his breath catching in his throat, eyes wide with awe, like he's never seen something so human.

"Oh my God," he murmurs, almost to himself, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

You blink, a flutter of nerves curling in your chest, a brief pause, a ghost of old instinct still haunting you. You almost flinch at the casual invocation, the wrongness of hearing "God" like that, so bare, so breathless, but it passes quickly, swallowed by the way he's still looking at you.

Joost's hand comes up, thumb brushing over your cheek, eyes wide, like he can't quite believe you're real. His jaw tightens, like he wants to speak, you expect something smooth, something teasing, a gentle mockery of how you've so easily allowed him to get away with saying the Lord's name in vain. But when Joost finally speaks his voice is hoarse, uneven.

"You're… so beautiful" He says, and it sounds almost like it's something that cost him to admit. He sounds like he's unraveling, losing control over each passing second. "I was going to take my time," he shakes his head, "Make you nervous, make you squirm." His hand slips down to the waistband of your underwear, two fingers gently pulling at the elastic, "But I-I don't think I can control myself," He stutters, "I'm starving for you." He says low, ducking his head to rest against your neck.

"Then don't." You sigh, "I think I'm ready now." You nod.

"Please forgive my lack of restraint when this is through."

Joost mumbles, and you don't have a chance to respond before his hands rest against your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed. His sudden fierceness knocking the breath from your lungs as you attempt to get into a more comfortable position, crawling backwards to fully lay against the mattress, arms splayed out above you, knees raised.

It isn't long before Joost is on top of you, hovering over you, arms steadying himself on either side of you, pure hunger in his eyes, reminding you that you are his next meal. He lowers himself slightly, lips colliding with yours. There's no build up to it, it's pure hot, wet desire. His teeth scrape against yours, making your body shiver, a sign of the recklessness with which he kisses you.

His kisses almost suffocate you, his breath heavy in your face, lips exploring you with a fervor you have yet to experience from him. You arch your back into him, your crotch grazing against him, granting you a feeling that was now growing familiar.

"Shit," He breathes out, pulling away from this kiss, "I can't do any more of this teasing shit, fuck" He pushes himself up from his position above you, and he's standing up again.

You blink a few times as you look up at him, swallowing thickly as you anticipate what's to come. Your body trembles, watching anxiously as he taps your knee,

"Come, on put your legs down," His hand trailing up your thigh, sticking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, practically ripping at the fabric, "Let me take these off."

You oblige with a simple hum, biting down on your tongue until you nearly taste blood as the fabric slides down your thighs, leaving you entirely bare. You almost instinctively close your legs, your utter nudity leaving you vulnerable, feeling like you needed to shelter yourself. But you don't, you let him take you in as you bend your knees for him, betraying your initial reactions, and putting yourself on display.

Joost lets out a low groan at the sight, a smile of content settling on his face at how ready and willing you are for him. Joost soon pokes his thumbs into the elastic of his underwear, quickly, pulling them down.

You bite the inside of your cheeks as his length springs from the confines of the tight fabric, your body tenses, knowing what's to come next. You watch intently, propping yourself up on your forearms as Joost slides his palm up and down the shaft, his teeth gritting as he prepares himself for you.

Soon, he returns to his position above you, almost lunging at you, like you really are his prey. You fall back, body too shaken to continue to hold yourself up, head hitting the mattress.

"You're really going to have to relax for me this time," Joost's voice is suddenly a lot more serious, a lot more commanding, and you shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath in, ready to obey. With your eyes shut you get no warning for the unexpected feeling of his tip brushing through your slick folds, the squelching sound of wet skin filling the room. You turn your head to the side, as if to look away, suddenly embarrassed by the realization that sound is you.

"Perfect," Joost mewls, lowering his head once more as he continues to slip between your folds, not yet entering you, "So wet," He muses, "So eager, it will make this easy." On reflex, you push up into him, wanting to feel more than just the tip, grinding against his length, sighing at the way the bumps of the veins of his cock provide the perfect amount of friction.

Joost's lips find your neck once more, kissing you with need, so close to everything he wants.

"Okay," He sighs, "Just focus on this, on me kissing you, okay? Relax." You know he doesn't want to wait anymore, and neither do you, and all you can do is just oblige, and try to forget about everything else in this moment besides the soft, comforting feeling of his lips on your neck. They're plush, more gentle than they should be, each kiss deliberate, calculated. You keep your neck craned to the side opposite him, allowing Joost as much access to your neck as he needs.

Yet you're suddenly ripped from that feeling, an unfamiliar stretch between your legs, one that forces your eyes to screw shut, your hands flying to Joost's shoulders' fingertips ripping into his flesh to ground yourself at the feeling. It stings for a moment, feeling like you're being torn in two, before it suddenly stops, becoming nothing more than a dull throb as you open your eyes, realizing Joost had bottomed out into you.

He doesn't pull back quite yet, instead raising his head to get a good look at the expression on your face. It's a lazy smile, head dizzy from the new sensation, you've never felt so full, it's a satisfaction unknown to you. He seems proud, or maybe he's just altogether too excited to finally have plunged into you. It doesn't matter, the satisfaction you both feel clearly fills the room, shifting the mood, your senses suddenly heightened.

Joost begins to pull out, your eyes rolling back into your head, back arching as a long, high pitched whine leaves your mouth. Your hands trail down his back, fingernails not leaving his skin, surely leaving deep scratch marks in Joost's back.

He thrusts forward again, and your breath is taken from you once more, and you struggle to regain it as he finds his pace, surprisingly slow at first, allowing you to get used to his length.

"You're so warm," He sighs, pushing himself back into you, at a pace that is almost agonizingly slow. You get the feeling that Joost misses the warmth of being human, that this is exactly what he needed. His desire for your vitality was far beyond just his lust for blood, it was a longing for life.

"You are too," You say back simply, not meaning it in the sense of temperature, but in how he makes you feel.

"You shouldn't say things like that," He groans, eyes closing tight for a moment as he speeds up his pace, his voice hiccuping, "Make me feel like there's something human left in me."

"Maybe there is." You gasp. Even as a mortal, even you have never felt so alive, you've never been so aware of the blood in your veins, the sensation that sparks each nerve with Joost's thrusts.

"I told you I could still feel," He chokes out a laugh, voice raw.

You believe him now more than ever, especially at the, drawn out groans and grunts he lets out, head hanging once more as he's finally given into your softness.

"What do you feel?" He asks, "Do I make you feel closer to death as you make me feel closer to life?"

"No, no!" You suddenly squeal as Joost slams into you, struggling to maintain a train of thought, much less a coherent response to his question, "No… s'full… so alive," It isn't the full breadth of your thoughts, but it's close enough, unable to squeak out a full sentence under the pure pleasure that overtakes your senses.

You should feel guilty, push Joost off of you and run to confession, beg for repentance- wondering how you could ever even serve any penance for this. This was pure selfish, indulgent sin- your first taste of hedonism.

"Good," Joost says, sensing your new found lust for life had been forged from relinquishing your old ways, "You needed this didn't you, to be broken open? God, I'm so glad it was me."

"Me too," You agree, holding Joost tighter, fingernails settling into his back once more at the intensity of every sensation. Joost isn't holding back now, not with the way he rocks into you, not at a back breaking pace, but fast, and deep enough for you to know this is exactly how he wants it.

You're restraining the noises that almost force themselves out of you, what would be cries nothing more than mere high pitched whines. It's all too intense, everything, all the emotions, and the way Joost buries himself so deep within you awakens something you can't even fully understand, you're not in control of yourself anymore. Your body is shaking, squirming beneath him, you can't help yourself, your pleasure possessing you, a demon you never want to be exorcised out.

"It's okay," Joost says, sensing your restraint, "Let it all out, be as loud as you want angel."

Angel, an ironic nickname, as you felt far from it. Yet compared to Joost, he must have seen you like a saint, his own slice of heaven. Like he wasn't why you had so suddenly fallen from your path of righteousness, taking your innocence, your restraint. But worse, you had given it to him so willingly, despite the guilt clawing at the back of your mind, you could never leave, not when every part of your body screamed that this was where you were supposed to be.

The realization only adds to the overwhelming sensation, and with his beckoning you finally let everything out, a loud sob ripping through your throat as Joost continues to fuck into you, tears spilling down your cheeks. Once the tears start they don't stop, and you can't wipe them away, hot and relentless. Your throat tightens painfully, strangling every breath into a ragged gasp.

Your stomach tightens with each wave, drawing your knees further inward, your whole frame curling as if to protect yourself from the rawness of it all, but you can only move your legs so far with Joost between them.

The sound is strange, foreign to your ears, the mix of your sobs with moans of pure pleasure. It's intense, nothing like the shallow gasping and whimpering you had usually heard coming from Joost's room at night. You wondered if you had just been far more sensitive than them, or if he had just been fucking you so much better than he had ever bothered for anyone else. You hope it's the latter, you don't want him to see you as weak, as just an innocent thing to ruin without another care in the world, before he returns back to old habits. No, you want to be the best thing Joost has ever had, you want him to come back for more, to be the only one, forever.

Joost begins to kiss your neck again, movements becoming slopping, losing any pace, this groans vibrating against your skin.

"I need this," He mumbles to your flesh, before returning to your neck, his kisses becoming furious, lips sucking at your veins, pulling the skin. Your breath fails to find you, short, relentless stutters falling from your lips as your body begins to tense, shaking harder than before.

You feel like you're about to burst, far too full and overwhelmed. You screw your eyes tight, expecting to pop at any moment, the tension building inside of you, your voice becoming louder and louder, despite Joost's coldness you're hot, the simmering pressure inside you about to roll over into a boil.

The feeling is cut for a moment, but by relief, but with a sharp pang, a prick. Your head falls to the side as the ache in your neck spreads, slow and warm. Joost had finally done it, he'd bitten you.

You can't keep your legs up much longer as they begin to thrash beneath you, your entire body trembling at the feeling of all the ways Joost has buried himself deep inside you.

It wasn't just a bite- you'd been claimed, the final declaration of your ruin as his hands, his mouth tethered to your skin. Your blood burns in contrast to the coldness of everything else, your neck just as warm and wet now as your cunt, which Joost still mercilessly pounds himself into.

Every nerve in your body had been woken up, the bite wasn't just in your neck, it pulsed. Your breath caught, fingernails breaking the skin of Joost's back, the very pulse Joost feeds from pounds in your ears.

You feel yourself growing weak, limbs tingling from the loss of blood, tension leaving your body along with your strength. You lay there, like a rag doll, vision becoming spotty, without a thought in your head. You were losing blood faster than your heart could pump it out, your eyes beginning to roll back in your head, body on the brink of unconsciousness.

Surely Joost was able to feel it, the way you suddenly fell limp beneath him, your sobs and moans ceasing as you lost the strength to even make as little as a squeak.

Joost pulls himself from your neck, steadying himself on one forearm above you. You can make out some of him, as you begin to nod off, eyes fluttering, vision half blacked out and blurry. You notice the crimson that stains his lips, only able to make it out in the stark contrast it has against his pale skin.

Joost's palm hits the side of your cheek, it's not a slap, nowhere near hard enough to sting, but enough to call you too him, he repeats the gesture a few more times,

"Come on," He urges, "Come back to me, baby, you're almost there."

His voice is enough to help you retain some consciousness, it's something to hold on to.

Until eventually another sensation hits you, almost out of nowhere, your adrenaline kicking in, a near scream suddenly leaving your lips as your legs begin to quiver uncontrollably.

"That's right," Joost smirks, "There you are, oh" He coos, "You're there."

It's almost as intense as Joost's bite, the feeling that rips through you, your pussy fluttering, clenching around Joost. You shut your eyes tight as the hot wave of pleasure washes over you, your consciousness brought back to you.

You thrash against Joost, grinding onto his cock, like you somehow want him even deeper as you ride out the final seconds of your orgasm, not wanting the pleasure to cease.

And it doesn't not quite… but it becomes something so much more intense as Joost returns to your neck, lapping at the blood that still spills from the wound he's created. Your thighs ache, your quivering pussy so much more sensitive as you come down from your high. It's far too much, as the tears continue to spill from your eyes, and you want to shove Joost off of you, unable to take it.

But you can't, you don't- you don't really want to.

"Just a little longer," He assures, his breathless voice almost inaudible against the backdrop of your ceaseless whines.

HIs tongue drags up against your neck, savoring every drop he takes from you, the feeling makes you shutter.

A string of expletives fall from Joost's mouth, he's louder now, the loudest he's been all night, and you whine once more as he pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness feeling strange.

"Fuck," He mumbles once more before you feel the warmth of his release on your inner thigh, having been mere seconds away from cumming inside of you. It some how feels filthier like this, feeling the warmth drip down your thigh, so close to your spent cunt.

Joost collapses next to you with a heavy breath, and you immediately cling to him, everything finally hitting you at once. You wrap your legs around Joost, arms held around him even tighter as you begin to sob into his chest.

Your breath comes out shallow, stuttering. The pain in your neck twinges with each heartbeat, the echo of his teeth still there, sharp, yet impossibly gentle, like the act was sacred.

But there was nothing holy about what you had done.

"It's okay, angel," He attempts to comfort, hand splayed on your back, rubbing soft circles into your skin.

And there it was, angel, so innocent, as if your blood didn't stain his lips.

Your chest heaves with another sob, something ugly that tears through you. You press your forehead to Joost's chest, afraid of what you'll see there.

"What have I done," You breathe out.

Your mind reels, knowing how far gone you were now. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. The fragile pieces of who you thought you were shattering in every direction.

"Nothing you didn't want." Joost responds, so casually, so assured.

And it's because he's right, you did want it, and even now, as you lie here sobbing, you'd still do it all again.

[bower-quinn]

Where you are is home

Steve x Reader - Fluff, friends to lovers, modern!au Steve is your best friend, but what if... purely hypothetically... you feel more?

The sun over Hawkins hadn’t set yet, but golden light was already creeping through the leaves of the old trees behind the trailer park. You were sitting on the hood of Steve’s BMW – the one he somehow still drove, even though you regularly laughed about how it was basically a moving joke by now.

“Do you think your car will die on its own someday, or do I have to take care of that?” “Disrespectful,” Steve said, chewing on a straw and giving you a mock-offended glare. “This is a classic.” “Classically rusty.” He gave you a playful punch on the arm, and you let out an exaggerated sound, just to grin right after. “You’re such a baby,” he mumbled, leaning back against the windshield and closing his eyes. The wind blew a strand of hair into his face, but he didn’t move it.

That was the thing about the two of you: you didn’t have to say anything. You could be outside somewhere, between trees and chirping crickets, and just… be. You’d been best friends for two years – ever since you’d slipped him chips under the bench during a boring school play. He hadn’t really left your side since. The rumors that you were his latest fling had faded quickly. Like a boring song no one hums anymore. Over time, your friendship had only grown deeper.

He’d taken you on late-night drives, helped you forget your idiot ex (“I almost punched him.” “Come on, Steve, you would've broken your hand!” “But with dignity!”), and you’d helped him write his college applications (“I’m not a college guy.” “You’re just lazy!” “Exactly my point!”) And every time the world felt like too much, one of you was always there. Always.

“Remember when you fell asleep in the kitchen ‘cause you tried to make spaghetti at 3am?” “That was a tactical power nap,” Steve mumbled. “I was waiting for the water to boil.” You laughed – rough and honest. Steve looked at you briefly – just for a moment – but something in his eyes lingered.

“What would I be without you,” he murmured. You felt a lump in your throat. “Probably dead. Or still a terrible cook. A terrible cook with awful taste in music.” “I have fantastic taste in music.” “Steve, your playlist is just Foreigner. Nothing else.” “Romantically speaking, that’s a stroke of genius.” “Romantically speaking, it sucks.”

More laughter. More closeness. And when his head leaned on your shoulder, there was no thunderclap. No explosion. Just a warm, quiet feeling: You loved him. Like a best friend. But also… more.

A few days later, you were sitting with Steve on the roof of his garage. An old wooden ladder, a picnic blanket, two cans of Coke, and a rusty Bluetooth speaker. Your little, crooked paradise.

“Is it sad that this is the highlight of my weekend?” he asked. “No,” you said. “I’m here too.” He grinned – that half-serious grin that hurt if you looked at it too long. “You know you’re irreplaceable, right?” “Obviously,” you replied. “Were you about to confess your undying love?” “God forbid.” A pillow hit your arm. “Robin would’ve declared her eternal love by now. She’s more romantic. And smarter!” “Hey! I successfully built an IKEA cabinet today.” “Steve… I was there. You put the same screw in the wrong place. Twice. Twice, Steve.” “Artistic interpretation!”

Laughter. Deep breaths. Silence.

“You know…,” he suddenly began, “sometimes I feel like I’m missing something. I haven’t dated anyone in over a year. I just want to hang out with you.” You looked at him. “Would you rather go back to dating Cynthia?” “The one who called Chewbacca ‘the roaring bear’? I don’t think so.” You laughed loudly – one of your favorite memories. You’d never forget Steve’s face.

“You need a girlfriend who knows the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars.” “Yeah,” he said softly, leaning closer. “I think I like this. With you. You get me. You know me.” You placed your hand on his. Nothing big. Just… exactly right. His eyes wandered to your face and stayed there.

“You’ve got something,” he whispered, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Eyelash. Make a wish,” he murmured. “I did.” “What was it?” “If I tell you, it won’t come true.” His gaze flickered. “What if I wished for the same thing?”

There it was. A moment. One second. Two. Three. And it passed. Neither of you made the first move. But still, something had changed. The spark that had only lived inside you was suddenly outside, too. Every touch felt like lightning, and you could see it in his eyes – he felt it too.

Those big puppy eyes. So open. So honest. So vulnerable. And still, weeks passed. Weeks full of longing.

One night at his place. The world outside was quiet, but something inside both of you was boiling – something that had stayed silent too long. Steve looked at you – and in his eyes were the words he couldn’t hold in much longer. He’d never been good at hiding anything.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “What do you mean?” “This... almost. This constant almost. Almost kissing. Almost saying how much I want you.” He stepped closer. “I can’t sleep. I only think about you.”

Your heart was racing. “I think about you too,” you whispered.

Then he pulled you into him – not gently. Not carefully. But like someone who’s been in love forever. His mouth found yours, hot and urgent, his hands on your back, under your shirt, pulling, searching – like he had to make sure you were real.

“I want you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Not just now. Every day.” Your fingers ran down his chest, your breath hot on his neck. His grip tightened. He looked at you, half speechless, half overwhelmed.

“You’re everything I want.” When his lips met yours again, there was no more doubt. Only desire – built up over weeks. Months of glances that had never dared to speak. Now, they were screaming. In every touch. Every move. Every trace of skin on skin.

You didn’t fall on each other. You fell into something that had always been there – and finally had the space to catch fire.

[nakylvr]

— GLOW ✧ D.A

summary: a short drabble with dealer!dani expressing her feelings and vulnerability for the first time

warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, dealer!dani au, f!reader, mild language

part of the substance series

just a little something to expand a bit on dani's feelings 🤗

"dani?"

"hm?" daniela looks over at you from her spot in bed next to you, her eyes low lidded and slightly red.

"can i ask you something?" you ask.

"anything." she nods.

you roll onto your side, one of your arms draping over her torso as you rest your head on her shoulder. "do you...am i clingy?"

"what?" daniela lets out, glancing down at you. "what do you mean?"

"well," you pause. "i guess i just think i make you uncomfortable by being affectionate and stuff," you mumble. "you always kinda freeze, and you don't look like you're all the way there with me. i just don't want you to be uncomfortable."

the words take a moment to process in dani's brain. going through it all, she does notice she does freeze. panic, almost whenever you're close to her. even now, two years later her heart still beats rapidly out of her chest just being near you.

hesitantly, she grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers, causing you to look up at her. "you could never make me uncomfortable, mi vida," she says softly, bringing your hand up and kissing your knuckles. "i just...have never felt like this with anyone before." she admits quietly.

you don't say anything, waiting for her to continue, so she does.

"in all of my relationships—if that's what you would even call them, i wouldn't let them really get close to me. and i don't mean just physically, but emotionally also," daniela starts, averting her eyes to look at the tv that wasn't on. "i haven't told you this but...that wasn't the first time i got arrested. one of the girls i was with basically sent me out to a fake deal so she could take the money while i ended up in jail for a month until manon managed to get me out." she takes a shaky breath. "and i didn't let anyone get close to me for a really long time. then manon told me about this really nice, beautiful girl who was looking to find some weed from someone who 'wasn't a creep'. that girl was you." looking down at you, you can see the tears forming in her eyes, but she keeps going before you can say anything.

"i hadn't let anyone get close to me in so long, that i was scared in the beginning. i knew i was in love with you and that scared the shit out of me because i have never really loved anyone like this before. it always went to shit. nothing ever worked out. but, i couldn't let this one not work out. i was in too deep by the night you stayed over. i knew that, and i knew that if i didn't try then nothing would work out, like always. i love you so much, and i'm never going to stop loving you even when i'm dead. you mean the world to me. you never make me uncomfortable, i love the affection and the way you are with me. i just am still getting used to it." she finishes, pressing another gentle kiss on your knuckles.

you move your hand to cup her cheek, looking back at her with softness and warmth in your eyes as you wipe away the stray tear that fell down her face with your thumb. "i didn't know that," you say quietly. "i'm so sorry, daniela."

daniela can spot the signs of guilt seeping through your expression realizing you essentially made her relive that experience, and she shakes her head. "it's okay, you don't have to apologize," she tells you.

"i love you," you whisper. "more than anything else."

"i love you too," she says in the same voice. "i always will."

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 ☆ 𝐁.𝐁

Synopsis: There was a demon on the loose, wreaking havoc in the small village that Father Barnes was a priest in. And he was going to stop at nothing to find who and where the creature was. Good thing he has a little helper to aid in his efforts.

Word count:  4.03k

Genre: 18+ Supernatural. Angst. Gore. Suggestive.

Pairing: Priest!Bucky x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Blood. Gore. Mentions of assult. Weapons. Demons and angels. Religion. Death. Making out. Sinning. Dirty thoughts. Thick flirtatious tension. Listen, I was deep in my feelings when I wrote this argh.

Note: I'm a sucker for destructive angsty priest with a morally grey streak, okay... sue me. I may or may not make a part two. Who knows.

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Bucky paced around his office, feeling himself grow more and more frustrated as the minutes progressed. He had been in this tiny, god-forsaken town for the past three months, searching far and wide, under every rock and pebble, and still, he was not any closer to finding this wandering demon. His agency had put him undercover as the new priest in the local church since sadly the old one had passed away from...sudden circumstances, which Bucky later found to be the said demon’s doing. He had hopes to find the creature and kill it before it hurt anyone else, but sadly, the challenge seemed bigger than he anticipated.

Placing his hands on the large spruce table, he takes in all his notes for the millionth time. The demon had a distinctive pattern, killing only men, twenty-five and over, locally born, ranging from all classes and backgrounds. But what did they all have in common? Why did the creature choose these men in particular? What was the trigger? Bucky felt like he was about to rip his hair out if he couldn’t figure it out by the end of the fourth month. He slammed his hand down onto the table in a fit of rage. Feeling the heat shift into his spine at the thought, the demon could be anyone. That he had passed by it without knowing. It could stand right in front of him, and he had already probably missed it.

“Father…” Your sweet velvet tone snapped him from his thoughts. You were tightly holding onto your bible with one hand against your chest, prayer beads lacing through your fingers while your other hand held the large door open. Your expression was filled with innocence and worry. “I heard noises. I… Are you okay?”

His heart skips at you, the sweet church girl, his face tainting a dusty pink ever so slightly. “Uh.. Yes. I'm just…working.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He wouldn't admit it, but through these past months, he had fallen quite infatuated with you. Your smile began an addiction he sought out every day.

Every early morning, you came into the church alone to pray before skipping to his office to ask if he needed any help. You were so kind and caring in welcoming him into the community. Making sure he had everything he could ever need shortly after he arrived. You were the only good thing to seemingly come out of this dull, mopey town.

Looking at you cautiously step into the room, your eyes wandering to the decoration on the shelf that you had no doubt memorised already, an idea came flooding into his head. You were locally born, as far as he was aware. And you know of everyone, so maybe he needed to gather some intel from an inside source and who then, you, the sweet sunshine that cascaded over the grey hills of this village. “Actually… I would like to ask you a question.”

You stopped in your tracks to glance over at the man, showing no sign of any emotion. You were still, pondering even. Your eyes wide and curious but your lips held in a thin firm line. “Ask away, father.”

He almost lost the question from his shuttered tongue as he watched your mouth creep up into a loving smile. But alas, he cleared his throat, quickly looking down to graze over his notes. “I must confess something…”

Your body tingled in inquisitiveness, taking a step closer. “Yes…” you bit your lip slightly, fiddling with the beads in your tight grasp.

“I am not just a priest. I'm.. a hunter of sorts.” He lifted up a piece of paper for you to take in your free hand, letting you look it over. The paper was old, aged marking the edges and face. It was information about demonology. Words that seemed to pop out the most on the page were ‘dangerous’, ‘demon’, ‘sinful’. This thing... This demonic creature was in your home, killing the men of your village. One by one.

“...So it’s true. There is devil work lurking in the town.” You gulped your hands, shaking slightly, handing the piece of parchment back to Bucky. “Is anyone else aware of this?”

“No. You are the first and only person I’ll tell. This town doesn’t need to start going on witch hunts to try and find the creatures themselves.” Bucky pinched his nose, just imagining it gave him a headache. He let out a sigh, picking up a few more sheets to place in front of you, "This is all I know. I was sent here to capture and eradicate the beast that has been luring men into the outwest woods. But for the life of me, I can't find the connection to all of the victims other than them being male."

You looked over all the names, reading each autopsy report carefully. Your mind to a thought, no, it couldn't be.. could it? Looking up at Bucky, you gulped. "Umm, F-father."

"Please just call me Bucky." He grunted, tugging on his white band around his neck, feeling himself grow hot being frustrated and also being near you.

"I think I know the connection..." You picked up another piece of paper scanning while Bucky stared at you intensely, waiting for you to proceed. "The first five victims. They had been accused of misconduct prior to their deaths."

You pointed to one of the names showing Bucky, "For example, John Hart, he was reported for beating his wife." You pointed to another name further down the list, "Edward Smith's wife called assault on her husband, saying he raped his daughter, but there wasn't any such evidence."

You turned the paper back to yourself, raking your hand through your hair, "All of these men have either beaten, assaulted, and raped women or have been at least accused of it."

Bucky slumped down on his seat in defeat. A conflict shadowing in his view. All these men were pigs. That was the connection. "Great, so I have a demon playing god and smiting men for misdeeds...perfect." he placed his palm on his face, groaning in annoyance.

"What are you going to do now, fath—I mean Bucky?" You took a seat on one of the chairs opposite the deck, resting your bible down on your lap as you sat up pin straight.

Bucky clicked his tongue, glancing at you for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to himself. The way you said his name was music to his ears. A tone he would never get tired of. But he shook his thoughts to look at the papers littering his desk. "We're gonna catch a demon.”

-

Following the next few days, every evening you and Bucky would meet up to discuss the case while also slowly gathering materials for the trap. You had told Bucky any more information you’ve heard or if you heard of any more allegations about any of the town's men. Luckily no one had spread any new rumours about anyone which was good, leaving you both to focus on the task at hand. Capturing and then eradicating the demon. One particularly cold evening, you and Bucky had spent a little bit too long searching through town books, not taking any notice of the sun lying to rest. It was only when you started to feel the chill on your exposed arms that you gazed out the window, seeing nothing but pitch night.

“When did it become so late?” Your voice barely above a whisper. Bucky, who was only a few feet beside you, looked up from the book in his lap, suddenly feeling the coldness creep down his spine.

"We should call it a night." Bucky slammed the book a little too harshly, making you jump. He caught your reaction but decided it was best to bite his tongue. Instead, he stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, "I'll walk you out."

You took his hand gently, your soft skin making him gulp. The touch of you was electrifying, like a thousand little fireworks going off at once in his chest. His fingers wrapped tightly around yours, tugging you up off the library floor, but his tug was a little bit forceful, causing you to be pulled flushed against his chest. Your free hand coming up to brace yourself on his chest. "F-father."

"I told you to call me Bucky. Please. I'm just Bucky." He whispered his breath, pooling against your cheek. He watched the blush taint your cute features, your eyes widening as he inched closer. You smelt of firewood, vanilla, and a beautiful mixture of floral scents. You were intoxicating.

"Bucky... We are still in the church." You murmured, eyes slowly fluttering as you let him creep closer until his lips were a brush away. Your hand that landed on his chest lowered, feeling his strong muscles underneath his robes.

"I know..." He grunted through his nose. He snaked his hand from your wrist to your upper arm before taking place on the back of your neck while his other found place on your hip. "We aren't doing anything sinful."

"Hmm, but your thoughts would say otherwise." You smiled.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking about." He chuckled, his lips brushing against yours.

"I could take a guess.” You closed your eyes, sealing your lips on his, feeling an overwhelment of sparks crackling down your spine. Bucky grunted through his nose as the kiss became rougher. His fingers tangled into strands of hair on the nape of your neck while he swallowed every whimper and moan from you. It was like you were a deliciously wicked sweet treat.

Forbidden fruit he was not allowed to taste.

He couldn’t explain it but it was like you were the only thing that mattered the minute he met you. Like you were the puzzle piece he had been missing “B-Buck” You tried to pull away from him but his grip was firm on you, “We are going to…” You felt his tongue against your mouth, “Get..c-caught.” You couldn’t help but smile beneath the desperate kiss.

He finally pulled away, groaning in disappointment. “I know…” He sighed letting his grip loosen. Your hands snaked up his body gently before you pulled away entirely.

“Walk me out?” You suggested what he had asked moments prior. Bucky couldn’t help but feel himself grow in his slacks as he gazed upon your swollen lips and dishevelled hair. You were stunning in every possible way.

He walked with you to the front of the church, his hand grazing your own every time your arms swung a little too close to one another. Bucky felt like a schoolboy all over again, walking next to the girl he had a crush on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bucky smiled bittersweetly, turning to face you completely. You faced him also, shyly looking up at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"Tomorrow, Bucky ." You gave him a soft smile. Your fingers tangle with themselves as you patiently wait for him to say goodbye first.

"Well, sleep well. Goodnight..." The way your name fell from his lips made your heart thump as you nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. He swore he felt a tingle dance from where you place your lips on him. Walking off into the village towards your home, Bucky never took his eyes off you until you were out of sight.

"Lord..." He sighed, feeling himself breathing properly for the first time all day. He felt a twinge in his body at the loss of your scent, but alas, he had work to do if he wanted to catch this creature. But a part of him began to second guess himself. Yes, demons are bad, killing anything they want. But this demon. It had a reason. And a stupidly good one for that matter.

It annoyed him at the confliction. All demons are bad. Right? They lust for blood and chaos. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stepped back into the large church entrance, his mind spun from all the thoughts. Something was wrong with this whole thing. Something he had missed, maybe? Pinching his nose, he felt lightheaded. His fingers danced around his nostrils, suddenly gasping. "Blood?"

Looking up to the aisle in the middle of the church, he saw the moon start to pool into the room through the round window by the altar. And then, as he took another step, his mind snapped. His eyes clouded over with black, and he fell towards the floor.

He was out like a light.

When Bucky awoke, he could feel the stiffness in his neck. He must have been out a while. Groaning, he held his head as he slowly sat up. But what caught him off guard was he wasn't sitting where he fell. He had moved? Looking around his fuzzy eyes, he noticed he was right on the altar, leaning against the lectern.

Looking around, he tries to get his bearings. Noticing the moon has reached its peak, shining through the top window, indicating it was almost midnight. He had been passed out for almost two or three hours give or take. But what caught his attention was the overwhelming smell of iron. He touched the top of his lip, feeling the blood from his nose had dried. But this blood smelt fresh like it was right behind him...

In horror, he turned his head to see the gruesome sight that anchored his mind in dread—a lifeless man strung up on the cross behind him, the body pallid and still. A choked gasp escaped him, slamming his hand over his mouth as the image in front of him flooded his conscience. He went to move, but that was when he noticed his legs were bound. He struggled against him, confusion spiralling into terror. What was going on?

Just then, the church doors creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was you, but the tender girl he had come to love now had an aura that chilled him to the bone. Her once bright eyes were shadowed, and your skin was tainted in a light shade of pink. "Bucky!!"

You ran over to him. This is when he could finally see you properly in the moonlight. Little horns poked from the top of your head. "Bucky. I thought... You're okay." You sighed, your voice sounding different. It was smoother, seductive almost, lacing with an otherworldly quality.

"What is this? What’s happened?” he stammered, heart pounding painfully in his chest. You were a demon. A lust demon to be exact. He'd never met a succubus in real life before, but he knew what they looked like through details in his demonology.

"I don't know. I got a letter saying you were hurt and needed my help." Your voice cracked as you reached for his bonds, but when your skin touched them, it stung, burning your skin. They were cursed? "W-who did this?"

"I could ask you that." Bucky’s bitterness caught you off guard.

"W-what do..." You looked down and saw your hands were shaded in pink, and in a flash, you ran for the silverware on the table seeing your distorted reflection. "Y-you can see me..."

"Yes.." Bucky replied coldly and conflicted. How could you, of all people be a creature of the damned.

"Bucky, listen, please. I'm not the demon you've been trying to catch, I swear." You kneeled back down to him, but he shuffled away, making your heart flinch. "I've watched you since the moment you came into this town. Your love, your promises, and your weakness. You want to save things. Not kill them. You are caring. That is how I fell in love with you.”

"Love? Demons can not do such things." Bucky’s voice felt like venom on your skin, making tears pool in your eyes.

"They...I can. I did. You changed that for me."

“No, I—I thought you were human,” he gasped, memories of laughter and warmth filling his mind, only to be replaced by dread. He missed so many signs. From the smell of you to the way you had with words. You were using him.

"Bucky, I wasn't, I swear to you. I might be a monster, but I've never hurt anyone." You interrupted his thoughts, shuffling closer, your presence both magnetic and terrifying to Bucky. "Please, Bucky, you have to believe me."

Bucky wrestled with his emotions as the reality of your true nature engulfed him. Were the demon he had been searching for, cleverly disguised and lurking in the heart of the town, feeding on the very compassion and affection he thought in no way could lead to sin? Or were you telling the truth? Were you just an innocent creature caught in the crossfire?

Looking at you, he can see the swirls of pink and crimson mixing with your human eye colour. The sweetness he fell for was still there. "I believe you."

You jumped into his arms, tears spilling down your hit cheeks as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

As the church pulsed with an otherworldly energy, Bucky realised he had known he made a daring choice—not to fight or falter but to embrace the truth of who he was, who you were. Life wasn't all black and white. There were beautiful shades of grey that he never took the moment to gaze upon before. He took a deep breath, taking in your sweet familiar scent before pulling you up by your chin to stare into the eyes of the creature he had fallen in love with.

"I was wrong about you. I'm sorry." He declared, a newfound resolve gripping his heart as he smiled at you. But before you could say anything, a new voice. A deeper one echoed in the cold eerie church.

“No, Father. You are wrong. But not for what you think.” The man's voice was a cruel tone, dark and chilling. Both of you snapped your gaze to him, seeing he was not alone. Two other men were trailing close behind him. "And here I thought you wouldn't succumb to her charms..." His face was finally revealed in the light. "My best hunter."

"Rumlow?" Bucky’s voice was laced with confusion. His mentor? "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Bucky. For an expert hunter, you never really got the wit down, did you?" The man chuckled, making the other two follow suit like some perfect chimed robots. Rumlow's gaze glances at the hanging corpse, still hammered into the cross. He couldn't help but click his tongue.

"You know it almost pained me to kill these men. But desperate times called for desperate measures." The older man cracked his knuckles as he paced slightly. You shuffled closer to Bucky, cuddling desperately next to him. For the first time in all your life, you felt fear.

With all Bucky’s strength, he pushed against the ropes, his spirit igniting in defiance. In this moment of battle between light and dark, he defied the very nature of the demon that he loves and found the depths of the confrontation. He felt a flicker of the love he had for you, now intertwined with anger and betrayal from his mentor, another he had loved or hated in a way. Whatever you were, he no longer cared. No, all he wanted was you safe. Little did you know, you could hear Bucky’s thoughts loud and clear, pooling into your brain like a tidal.

"We've been looking for her for years. Laying traps, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't take the bait. That was until we found out she wasn't like other demons..."

Without dropping your eyes from the man, you placed your hand just over the bounds on Bucky. You began to focus on the ropes, whispering an incantation in your head over and over.

"She's also a witch." Rumlow snarked, snapping his fingers. One of the men quickly made his way over to you while the other seemingly grabbed out a book from the satchel that hung over his shoulder.

"B-Bucky. JAMES!!" The man grabbed you by the horns, yanking you backwards before dragging you towards Rumlow. You cried out, trashing against his hold. Bucky went to stand, but the bounds were still tight, and no matter how many times he tried to grab the rope, it burnt him.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Bucky barked.

"Awe, Bucky. You really are a stupid little boy." Rumlow grabbed the book from his henchman, flicking through the pages with a cynical smile. "Out of everything you could have done. Falling for a beast was not what I thought you'd do."

"She's not a beast!!" Bucky could feel a tear break in his eyes as he watched you weep in pain as the grip on your sensitive horns tightened. Your claws scratch at the man's hands, but he doesn't move as if he wasn't affected by his flesh being ripped by your sharp nails.

"Well, this was all fun and all. But I think we should call it a night. I gotta thank you, though, Barnes. Without you, we would have never caught her." Rumlow began reading a page from the book aloud. The enchantment caught your attention, making you do as much as you possibly could to look over at Bucky.

Covered in blood, tears staining his sharp features. Your heart broke as you hiccuped, "I'm sorry, Bucky. I...I love you." It might have been too early to say it, but you didn't know when you'd ever be able to say it again.

"No no no no. Please. I love you too." He grabbed his bounds, his hand sizzling against the cursed rope, "Brock, don't do this. She's not a monster... you can't."

Rumlow didn't stop his incantation as the floor began to shake, and the night started to stir. That's when the man behind Rumlow stepped forward with a thick leather band in his hand. The man that held you tilted your head to the side, giving access for the man to click the collar in place. That was when Bucky knew what Rumlow was doing to you. He was binding you.

"I'll find you..." Your name rang in the air as Bucky cried, "I'll find you and break you free."

It was your turn to cry, hearing his thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind, nothing but determination and honesty in his words. "I'll wait for you."

The sound of the book being slammed closed reverberated against the walls. Yours and Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Rumlow seeing him pull out a gun, "You shouldn’t have said that, Barnes." His voice was cold, with his eyes empty.

Silence fell as the fire from a gunshot rang in your ears. Blood spilled out of Bucky’s mouth seconds later as he choked it all over the altar. You screamed, a noise so loud it would shatter the hearts in a mile radius. The floor beneath you shook, cracking before opening. The last thing you could see before the floor swallowed you whole was your lover, dying on the doorstep of the religion he so desperately trusted.

And Bucky..... he laid on his back, the wound in his chest spluttering the crimson liquid into the carpet staining and ruining the fabric. He could see the moon above him. Feeling the light raze on his skin. His eyes closed for a moment, taking in the tingling feeling. There was no more pain. Sadness washed away with every drop of blood that fell onto the stairs, and then he whispered out a stutter before taking his last breath.

"Forgive me, lord... I have sinned.”

—

© DrDawnBreaker. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[cece693]

Okay, I just got this idea and I couldn't get it out of my head. So, you know how Hannigram's whole thing is about understanding and feeding into one's dark/immoral side (I can't find the words to explain my brain process, but stick with me). What if Hannigram has a third partner that sees that and enjoys it, but to a sick, obsessive, self fulfilling way. Like, don't get me wrong, they find Hannibal and Will attractive and fuckable, but what gets them going and keeps their relationship alive is murder and tableaus (basically the reader wanting to have a murderer show them their significance through blood and gore.) Don't know how this idea comes across to you guys, but that's how this fic was born.

MURDER IS OUR LOVE LANGUAGE

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: matthew develops an attraction to the reader, hannigram doesn't like this, jealousy, reader doesn't get his hands dirty, that doesn't mean he's innocent though, reader is such a tease, no explicit mention of cheating, but emotionally cheating can be discerned

You always thought love should cost something. Not flowers wilted in a vase or rings crusted with diamonds, but weight—bone‑heavy, irreversible proof that someone scraped the marrow of their soul out just to show you its shape. Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham understood that language better than anyone else. That’s why you’d slipped so easily between them: a harmony stitched from hunger, empathy, and rot.

Tonight the three of you stand ankle‑deep in snow that glows foxfire‑blue beneath a half moon. The tableau is simple—almost quaint by their standards. A hunter strung from an ironwood, his ribcage cracked open like a cathedral door; lungs spread and frozen into two translucent wings. “Psychopomp,” you named it, because Will taught you words have gravity, and Hannibal taught you gravity can be bent.

Will kneels to photograph the crystalline blood‑flakes dusting underneath the hung corpse. His breath fogs around the lens, eyes shining with the fever that once scared him but now feels like prayer. But Hannibal watches you instead, catching the little tremor of fascination that runs through your fingers.

“Do you approve?" he asks, voice velvet over steel.

You drag a gloved fingertip along the cold cartilage, feel it click like piano ivory. “Approved, stamped, and filed under ravishing. You boys really do know how to flirt.”

A crease of satisfaction ghosts across Hannibal's mouth. Will rises, cheeks pinked by cold and arousal alike, and slips behind you, arms looping around your waist. “Then give us our grade.”

“Ten out of ten for artistry.” You lean closer so they hear the grin in your voice. “Eight for theatricality—you’re slipping, Doctor Lecter." Hannibal’s answering hum thrums down your spine. He adores being challenged, more so when that guarantees your place beside them.

Murder isn't just a bond you three share, it's the foundation of your relationship. You found Will and Hannibal handsome, fuckable, even lovable—but that wasn’t why you stayed. You stayed because every tableau, every splatter, every shuddering breath drawn in front of carefully displayed viscera made you feel seen. Loved in a way words would always fail.

Yet lately, you've felt that ache of familiarity creeping up your spine, whispering about routine. Hannibal notices first, of course, though he doesn't voice it. He simply adjusts his compositions, each kill growing more extravagant, more desperate to retain your awe. Will sees it too, reading your disinterest in the micro-tensions of your posture and the subtle way your attention strays.

And then you meet Matthew Brown.

Having gone to congratulate Alana on her position as the new director at BSHCI after Chilton's 'tragic' demise, you walked down the corridor with a bottle of Folle Blanche to celebrate the news, but was stopped by a man.

He appears out of a utility alcove like a conjured spirit—tall, muscular, with hair the color of autumn leaves cropped close to his skull. His badge reads BROWN, M. but his grin is all teeth and appetite. “Doctor Bloom apologizes,” he says, voice pitched just above a purr. “Her meeting is running long. I'm tasked to bring you to her office."

You don't speak, rather studying him the way you study every living thing: searching for the fracture lines where something tender might leak out. He meets your gaze without flinching. There’s a brightness in his eyes you recognize—an ember forever looking for oxygen.

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping into his orbit, “That's unfortunate. Please, lead the way."

The corridor yawns ahead—white‑tile ribcage, fluorescence buzzing like flies in bone. Matthew’s stride is loose and confident, a man perfectly at home among the medicated damned. “You bring brandy to a psychiatric ward often?” he asks without turning, voice velvet over a razor.

“Only for promotions.” You watch the flex of his shoulders under the thin cotton scrubs. “Most people settle for flowers. I prefer spirits—they keep better company.”

A low chuckle. “I imagine you’re excellent company yourself.”

“Depends how you define excellent.” You let the words hover, bait‑sweet. He bites.

“I like stories that end in blood.” He glances back; the grin widens when you don’t recoil. “Does that qualify?”

Oh, darling, you think, the ache of routine already easing under your sternum, that’s the prologue. After a few minutes, you reach the elevator meant for administration, yet Matthew guides you down a maintenance stairwell that reeks of bleach and ancient rust. He taps an access card; a steel door unlatches with a hiss.

“Short‑cut.”

Inside, the room is nothing more than storage: linens, old restraints, crates of expired morphine ampoules. But also, there's a patient transport gurney parked beneath a bare bulb, mattress stripped, its straps unbuckled like a half‑dressed lover.

Matthew steps close enough that you feel the heat of him through winter wool. “I’m a fan,” he murmurs. “of your work.”

You arch a brow. “My work?”

“Cathedral wings in Minnesota. ‘Psychopomp’ in the ironwood grove.” He names them unerringly, each syllable dripping reverence. “You leave fingerprints in the stitching, you know. Empathy that’s inverted. I study it. I want—” He swallows, lashes flicking down. “Lessons.”

It takes effort not to shiver. “How thorough a pupil are you, Mr. Brown?”

“As thorough as you need.” His breath ghosts your cheek. “Show me a cut; I’ll make it sing.”

Some distant part of you registers risk—Alana two floors up, Hannibal and Will somewhere in Baltimore most likely feeling the shift in your attention like changing barometric pressure—but the greater part thrills. You lift the bottle, letting the neck trail down the line of his sternum until it settles against his belt buckle.

“Earn the toast.” you whisper.

Matthew’s eyes flare. He reaches behind, produces a folded surgical towel already blooming rust‑brown. Inside: a scalpel, clean and eager. “Patient tried to gut me with that yesterday,” he says, offering the handle. “Barely nicked skin. Shall we finish the gesture?”

You test the weight—balanced, hungry. “Where?”

His hands frame his own torso, bare stretch of forearm exposed. “There’s an anatomy lab one level below. Cadavers, tools, no cameras.” He leans in. “We could write a first chapter.”

You imagine formalin fumes, greenish light, bone saws waiting like choirboys. Your pulse pounds, but jealousy is currency, and you are a banker.

Sliding the blade back into his pocket, you lean forward, lips a mere inch apart. "Soon," You promise. "But first, show me something worth teaching."

Matthew’s pupils dilate—dusky rings swallowing color—yet he nods, swallowing whatever reckless plea trembles on his tongue. The promise of soon burns hotter than a kiss. He slips the scalpel away, tucks the towel back into the linen cart, and straightens as though dismissed by royalty.

TIME SKIP

You arrive home late—Hannibal still with clients and Will whisked away by the FBI—giving you time to set your plan into motion. Matthew speaks about death the way priests speak about God, reverent and fascinated, but never quite understanding. You find his fervor charming, his lack of restraint oddly invigorating. Matthew is nothing like your carefully refined lovers; he is raw, volatile, but most importantly—new.

Fingers trailing to your lips, you let the faint smear of his cologne linger, before rubbing your thumb across the lapel of your coat until the scent bled deeper into the weave. Matthew’s aftershave was a cheap blend—sandalwood, camphor, a top‑note of something medicinal that clung like disinfectant—but beneath it lay adrenaline, hot copper, the musk of fear edged with hunger. You could still taste it when you pressed two fingers to your tongue.

In the study you drew the blackout curtains, then laid your phone on the desk. A single new message from Brown glowed on the lock screen: Tell me what color you want the insides, and I’ll match the shade exactly.

Reverent, breathless. A priest awaiting scripture.

You didn’t answer. Anticipation was the holiest silence.

Instead you crossed to the cheval mirror and shed your coat, draping it carefully so the scent wouldn’t escape. You peeled off your gloves next, holding them flat in your palm. Their leather was dusted with chalky residue from the stairwell wall—Matthew’s back had pressed there when you’d leaned in, hemmed him with your shadow, promised soon. You lifted the gloves to your face and inhaled.

Raw. Volatile. New.

The words pulsed through you like second heartbeat.

Hannibal and Will arrived an hour later, the door downstairs making noise, yet you remained silent. Your fingers continuing to drift idly over the piano keys, letting your lovers know exactly where you are. Muted notes thumped against the keys as you let one fingertip fall, then another—toneless, more rhythm than music. Each click announced I‑am‑here and, more provocatively, come‑find‑me.

The townhouse echoed with boot steps. Coats rustled. A door latched. Still you played—click, click, click—until Will stormed into the music room like a hunting dog off leash.

“You could answer when we call,” he snapped, damp hair plastered to his forehead. Rain or sweat—you couldn’t tell, but the scent was pure agitation.

“I was occupied.” Click. You never looked up.

Hannibal followed, slower, shutting the parlor doors behind him with the finality of a vault. He removed his gloves finger by finger, gaze crawling over you. “Busy with what?” The faint tremor in his voice belonged to a man suppressing the urge to bare teeth.

“Or whom,” Will corrected, pacing a tight circuit around the piano bench. “You reek of hospital disinfectant and someone else’s cologne.”

You finally lifted your eyes, meeting Will’s with a lazy smile. “Smell is such a subjective sense. You sure it isn’t imagination?”

Will planted both palms on the piano keys, trapping your hands beneath his. His pupils were blow‑black, jealousy flicking like a lighter. “Who touched you?”

You shrugged, the gesture making your wrists grind under his weight. “A friend. We talked anatomy.” You cocked your head, letting your gaze drift down Will’s throat—tracking the jump of his pulse. “He’s enthusiastic.”

“Matthew,” Hannibal supplied before stepping closer. “The scent matches his locker in the sub‑basement.” He inhaled at your hairline, lips almost grazing your crown. “Camphor and old fear. All that just from a hug?”

You laughed, breath warm against his cheek. “A near‑kiss, maybe. I could feel his pulse through my coat. Like a rabbit between a wolf’s jaws.” Your words were soft; their effect was napalm.

Will’s grip closed, bruising. “Did he taste you?”

“Not yet.” You slid one trapped hand free to trace the seam of Will’s lower lip. “But he wanted to.”

A flash of motion—Hannibal’s hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so your throat arched. “You allowed desire to linger on your skin,” he murmured, jealousy silky and cold. “Why?”

You hissed at the delicious sting. “Because it’s a mirror. I watch you watching me, and I feel alive.”

Will’s fingers left the keyboard to clutch your waist, hauling you off the bench. The piano stool clattered aside. Your spine kissed the baby‑grand’s polished edge; Hannibal’s body pressed from behind, sandwiching you. You sensed the taut reins of their control fraying. “Have you pictured him alongside you?” Will’s voice was an acid snarl. “A new toy so you can discard us?”

You let a breathy laugh slip, tilting your head just enough that Hannibal’s lips skimmed your pulse. “Discard you? Darling, I’m not insane. Even the gods keep their oldest monsters close.”

Will loomed closer, the twin lines between his brows cut deep. “Then why entertain him at all?”

“Because first kills taste different,” you whispered. “Don’t you remember? The bright, copper rush before skill dulls it down to routine? Matthew carries that thrill in every heartbeat. I want—” Your lashes fluttered as Hannibal’s teeth grazed skin. “—to taste it again.”

Hannibal’s hands slid down, thumbs hooking your belt to keep you still while he spoke against your ear. “Do you crave novelty or worship?”

“Both,” you confessed, arching when Will’s thigh crowded between yours. “He’d bleed a rosary if I asked. Maybe I’d let you string the beads.”

Jealousy cracked across Will’s face—equal parts fury and hunger. He grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze to his. “You belong to us.”

“Then prove it,” you challenged, lips curling. “Stake your claim before the altar-boy rings his bells.”

The provocation snapped the last thread.

Will’s mouth crashed onto yours—open, savage, tasting of storm. Behind you, Hannibal set his teeth to your shoulder, most definitely leaving a mark in case you decide to give into Matthew.

Your breath stuttered, pleasure and mischief tangling in your throat. You could feel the bruise blossoming beneath Hannibal’s teeth—a violet signature no cheap cologne could mask. Will’s hand fisted in your hair, wrenching your head back until the chandelier light flooded your vision.

“Say it,” he growled, lips a razor’s breadth from yours. “Whose?”

You swallowed a laugh that tasted like lightning. “I’m yours.”

Hannibal’s tongue soothed the bite, the low rumble in his chest equal parts pride and warning. “Pluralize, beloved.”

“I’m both of yours.” Your gaze flicked between them—Will’s eyes blown black, Hannibal’s molten gold. “For now.”

Will’s nostrils flared; jealousy flashed like sheet‑lightning. “For always.”

“Convince me,” you whispered, deliberately arching against Hannibal’s front, grinding spine to mahogany and hips into Will’s thigh. “Make me feel it.”

Will answered with teeth, biting the hinge of your jaw—claim staked in living flesh—while Hannibal’s palm slid to your throat, a velvet collar of intent. “You feel this?” Hannibal’s thumb graced your pulse, languid as a garrote. “That’s our music. We dictate the tempo.”

“And if I prefer a faster rhythm?” You let the taunt drip like warm resin. “Matthew’s heartbeat was—”

Will cut you off with a brutal kiss, swallowing the name like poison. “His heart stops tomorrow,” he hissed against your lips. “Yours keeps playing for us.”

“You’ll stain it ultramarine?” you panted, half‑mocking, half‑pleading. “The shade of a drowned lung?”

Hannibal chuckled, dark silk. “We’ll give you a cathedral of blue—lungs fanned like wings, every vein a ribbon for your hair.”

A ripple of desire shuddered through you so hard the piano strings thrummed in sympathy. “Then show me now,” you dared, voice hoarse, “how a maestro rehearses before opening night.”

In a single movement Will gripped your thighs, hoisting you onto the piano. Wood groaned beneath sudden weight. Hannibal pressed in from behind, caging you between bodies and black lacquer. “Hands on the keys,” Will ordered. You obeyed, fingers splaying across ivory. The cold bite of the keys grounded you—one wrong twitch and you’d crash a cacophony through the quiet, an exquisite risk.

Will leaned forward, breath searing your ear. “Play something.”

“What?”

“Anything,” Hannibal murmured, lips ghosting your nape. “We’ll accompany.”

You struck a hesitant chord—D minor, aching and unresolved. Will matched the rhythm, mouth descending to the hollow of your throat, sucking a bruise in perfect meter. Hannibal’s hand slid lower, fingertips tapping your ribs in sync, each note an incremental invasion.

Another chord—A minor. Will’s teeth. Hannibal’s palm cupping you through fabric.

You gasped, a discordant trill that made both men smile—predators harmonizing over prey willingly caught. “Keep playing,” Will commanded, voice a rasp of thunderclouds. “You stop, we stop.”

Challenge accepted.

Your hands shook but you kept the melody staggering forward—something baroque and broken, exactly befitting three monsters starved for novelty.

Hannibal’s free hand found your chin, tilting it until you met his gaze. “When the lungs bloom blue,” he promised, “we’ll lay them here, across these keys, so every note tastes of devotion.”

Will’s answering hum vibrated against your sternum. “And you’ll play us a love song on them.”

Your pulse hammered wild arpeggios under Hannibal’s thumb. “Then I’ll need a full octave,” you whispered, voice frayed with want. “Both lungs together.”

“Greedy,” Hannibal chastised, though delight shone in his eyes.

“Insatiable,” Will corrected, teeth grazing your ear. “Exactly how we like you.”

You struck another chord—E minor—and let the resonance wash through the room. It was met by the low, feral sounds of your lovers devouring jealousy and turning it into worship against your skin. Tomorrow, Matthew’s lungs would sing ultramarine under moonlight. Tonight, the three of you composed the overture—each gasp, each bruise, each trembling key a promise that art would always cost blood, and love would always demand more.

[cherryblossms]

he should have known better than to think the conversation about darius was over, especially when he was the one to bring the other man up to begin with. but it still surprised him that angel immediately offered darius up to help install the camera. garam's brows lifted as held his breath, though only for a moment before he started nodding his head. "oh, is he handy like that?" lord knows garam wouldn't have been able to do it. his handiness came in through technology, but not that kind of installation. he definitely wasn't a builder but he'd be able to set up whatever accounts, connect the device to their wifi, and give access to both of their phones. "if you think he can, definitely ask him if he's willing to do this for us. last thing we need is me screwing it up. i'd likely end up breaking something or putting a bunch of little holes in the wall trying to get it in place." garam knew he couldn't stop the two of them from being friends nor would he ever ask that of angel, he'd just have to get over any sort of discomfort he had in regards to darius sooner than expected. "we should probably go with a smaller one, too. if you-know-who tries to come over ever, i don't want him acting all fake nicey-nice because an obvious, overly-jumbo camera is watching him. i'd rather he act on impulse so we'd have physical proof he's dangerous." even if that meant putting himself at risk. he let out a soft, childish giggle before repeating, "my room," as he looked down to the ground. even though he knew his staying with angel was a temporary situation, that it'd still feel like a guest room because it didn't house his own furniture nor decorations, having angel refer it as such made not only his cheeks flush but his ears and the back of his neck as well. garam pulled his phone from his pocket so he could get a head start on ordering the doorbell camera along with other things he would need, so he wouldn't have to be holed up for too long, only to be bombarded with dozens of texts and missed calls when he opened his phone up. he'd completely forgotten to take it off silent, granted he never thought it would have been a bad thing to leave it on. and, of course, they were all from the same person. the man he wished to avoid for the rest of his life; his ex. it made garam question what exactly was going on. axel was supposed to be at work, he wouldn't have had the time nor could he sneak away to try to contact him. he figured that's why axel's brother was there, to keep an eye on garam and angel and act as a makeshift spy where axel couldn't be. so where did all this free time to repeatedly reach out to garam come from? he looked down to see his hand enclosed with angel's, just that small squeeze being enough to calm the anxiety that starting creeping into his chest. when he looked back up to angel, he flashed a small smile— much more sincere than the previous. "i'd really like to go back home." he tried not to sound as worried as he was, he didn't want to give angel anything to worry himself over with, but it was hard to keep it all hidden. no amount of smiling could disguise how he truly felt and he hadn't even read any of the texts yet. garam quickly laced their fingers together, not waiting for angel to take the lead as he began tugging at the taller man. he lead them through seas of people, only looking back to angel once they'd put a comfortable distance between themselves and that store. he figured if they moved quick enough, didn't stop anywhere else throughout the mall, maybe they would lose axel's brother entirely.

“I’ve taken fewer shifts with everything going on…Can’t risk that idiot showing up at the bar.” Angel watched Garam closely, even as he spoke. He gave a soft chuckle, one corner of his mouth lifting. “We’ll leave in a second,” he said gently. “I know you were excited to come, so I don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing out. Besides, I’m kind of enjoying the people-watching. It’s like a zoo, but with worse fashion.” Angel tried his best to make light of it as he did his best to push down his panic. He reached out and tugged Garam just slightly closer by the sleeve, guiding them both toward one of the quieter wings of the mall. The scent of perfumes and coffee faded a bit, giving way to the colder, metallic smell of the floors and distant electronics. Angel didn’t need to hear Garam say it to know he was blaming himself. It wasn’t in the words—never was. It was in the way he kept offering to leave or do the dishes. Angel appreciated the kindness. “Hey,” Angel said, pausing and looking at him, tone suddenly softer. “What about this one? It's simple and it’s one that can’t be easily removed. I could have…well, Darius could install it.” He let the words settle before smirking lightly, trying to ease the weight of them with humor, “Or we could get this massive one. Make it as noticeable as possible.” That earned him a look, but Angel only grinned and walked on. His eyes flickered now and then, instinctively scanning the crowd for signs of Axel—or worse, his brother. Angel hadn’t forgotten the uneasy feeling from earlier, but for now, it seemed quiet. Safe. And still, even through the relative calm, Angel could feel that same desire pulsing through him—not desire for flesh, but for closeness. To protect. To soothe. Garam seemed anxious, and it sparked something primal in Angel, the need to curl around what was his and make sure nothing could touch him. What he needed was for Garam to feel safe, to feel seen. A soft laugh escaped him when he thought about Garam mentioning ordering online. If the man offered to leave, why was he trying to convince him to stay? “Amazon’s the real MVP sometimes,” Angel said gently, brushing his fingers briefly against Garam’s arm.“Let’s go. You can do your shopping in peace from your room, and I’ll make sure to prep everything while you do so.” And that was that. Angel didn’t need grand speeches or guilt-laced reassurances. Just the quiet, consistent way he stood between Garam and the world when it became too much. Angel took his hand and squeezed it, smiling, “Whatever you want, we will do.”

[karikarasuno]

part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen

making law blush is a difficult task. he doesn't blush. it's not his thing. it's never been his thing. he expects most things, so catching him off guard is quite the task. yet you try and try. often times failing. but there have been a few occasions where his cheeks have burned. where he's looked in the mirror and saw an unfamiliar stain of red creeping across his cheeks.

the first time it happened was when you drunkenly stripped for him. it was cute at first. the way you tugged sloppily at your own clothes. he didn't think you would actually be able to pull off your top after your arm caught in the sleeve. he laughed. but his laughter died quickly when you finally tugged the fabric over your head and revealed a red lacy bra. law has never been the biggest fan of red. until you kicked off your pants. matching underwear. red. somehow and suddenly red became law's favorite color.

that was until he looked in the mirror after tucking you in and faced himself. the red on his cheeks matched the red that adorned your body.

the second time was at cora's apartment. it was his turn to host family dinner. you were obviously invited. your attendance was actually a requirement per cora's insistence. he said having you around made law less irritable. law didn't agree, but he extended the invitation anyway.

you were just about to sit down beside him after having gotten up for a third time because you forgot to grab a napkin. but before you sat down at the table where his entire family was already seated you grabbed his jaw and lightly, casually said "you have something on your face."

law felt his nose scrunch up in distaste. "what is it?"

and instead of answering you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "a kiss, but i got it for you."

law's mom giggled. he heard it but he had a hard time registering it. not with the loud, overwhelming sound of blood rushing to his cheeks. you smiled to yourself. satisfied. smug. meanwhile law's mind buffered. he felt dumb. and law was far from dumb.

but this time. his blush is a slow burn. one that stemmed from annoyance more than anything else. it's your lotion. you bought it over the weekend when you went shopping with the girls. it's an unassuming bottle. one that he thought was normal until he saw you apply it under the bright lights of the bathroom.

"why are you shimmering?" he says, eyes tracking the way your hand massages the lotion into your shoulder.

"huh?" you're watching a video on your phone, so you use your knuckle to pause it before turning your undivided attention to him.

"your skin," he says slowly, "there's glitter on it."

"oh yeah! isn't it fun?" you twist your arms to watch as the light catches your glittery skin. law doesn't know about fun. what law sees is a problem. especially if that glitter likes to transfer.

and it does. everywhere. the first time he notices it on his black tshirt. he stepped outside to grab the mail and when he looked down he realized he too was shimmering. it's on the pillowcases. the sheets. the blanket you use on the couch. just fucking everywhere.

"do you have to use that lotion every night?" he asks one evening before bed as he watches you apply it to your legs.

"yes, my love, i do. makes me feel pretty," you respond, placing your foot on his thigh as you massage the moisture into your calf.

"i promise, you're equally as pretty without it." he's staring at the way your hands follow the curve of your legs. trailing your fingers from your ankle to your knee. you know how easy he is to distract. but he won't fall for it this time. not when he's seriously concerned with the fact that he might be ingesting the stupid glitter.

“oh don’t be a grouch,” you laugh, swapping one leg for the other. “it just makes me feel girly and sexy.”

“you’re always sexy,” he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. he feels the way your muscle twitches beneath his lips.

“you’re never not sexy,” he continues, trailing two more kisses up your thigh.

“stop trying to butter me up,” you complain breathily. your hands have already found his shoulders and if you really meant what you said you’d push him away. but the closer he gets to your center the more you open up to him.

“come here,” he groans when his nose nuzzles your crotch. and in an instant law is on his back and you’re sitting on his face. he doesn’t bother removing your underwear. doesn’t push them to the side either. he flattens his tongue against the fabric that covers you. and he licks until your hips twitch in his grip.

you grind against his tongue when it meets your clit, pressing down harder for the sake of friction. he groans and it’s starts in his chest. gets caught in his throat when he begins to taste you through your panties. the cotton is sticking to you, molding against the contours of your lips.

“you gonna keep teasing me or are you gonna do something?” you look down at him, eyes locking where he’s caught between your thighs. and this is a view he enjoys. he indulges in.

he slips a finger into the side of your underwear and pulls the wet fabric away from your cunt. his fingers barely graze you and you flinch from sensitivity.

“and what do you suppose i do?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes up at you. and he knows after all this time that the back and forth turns you on. you ask him not to tease you, but every time he does you’re wetter than before. his knuckle traces your slit. slow. agonizing.

“you could move my stupid underwear out of the way,” you rise slightly onto your knees, “and kiss me.”

his tongue drags along his lower lip. “ask me nicely.”

“will you kiss me?” you ask and he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls it out of the way. fully exposing you to him. and he’s dying to tilt his head up and taste you. dying to lick into you. but he doesn’t.

not until you “say please.”

“law,” you laugh incredulously because he never makes you beg. it’s not really something he needs to hear. but tonight it’s what he wants. and he wants you to give it to him.

“come on, pretty,” he breathes, kissing the crease right beside your cunt. “say it for me.”

you tense up above him. and your chest is rising heavily with each breath you take. your nipples hard and poking the fabric of his t-shirt. your favorite one to wear to bed.

“will you please kiss me?” your voice pitches up when you ask. dripping with need. with desperation. “please, baby, please kiss me.”

there’s no restraint left in him. no urge to tease or delay. his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks it into his mouth. you cry out when he flicks his tongue against it. whine when his lips leave your clit and he drags his tongue to your entrance. your upper body tilts forward. your hand jumps out to grasp the headboard and the other cards through his hair.

you tug on him when his tongue slips inside of you. he moans at the pressure it applies to his scalp. he can’t help it. you only hurt him when you feel good. when you can’t control how good he’s making you feel.

law’s dick leaks where it’s caught in his sweatpants and his hand moves to grip himself without thought.

“ah, that’s it,” you moan when he flattens his tongue so you can ride him. your hips roll with urgency against his face. and he matches your motions every time he strokes his cock. faster when you grind harder. slower when your hips draw back.

it’s hard for him to watch you the way he wants when his eyes keep closing from the pleasure of being used by you. so unashamed. without care.

“need you to come,” he mumbles into your pussy. his other hand manages to slip beneath your thighs, two fingers parting your folds so he can focus on you. feel you better as you rut into his mouth.

“keep doing that and i will,” you respond. and there’s a pleasant amusement in your voice. one that sends tingles down his spine and he shoves his hand in his pants, fisting his cock as he you work yourself to orgasm on his face. thighs straddling his cheeks and muffling your noises from his ears.

and when you come, the sounds are distant. your moans are playing right above him but all he can focus on is the way your entire body seizes over his head. how your fingers tighten in his hair. and when the pain blossoms across his scalp, he finishes in the palm of his hand. it shocks him. the strength of his orgasm. it catches him off guard.

you body finally relaxes as you sit on his chest. his own endorphins are still wracking through him. his abs tense once more and the feeling of a cramp erupts in his side.

“shit, get off,” he hisses, slapping the side of your thigh. when you’re off he rolls onto his side, his free and clean hand massaging at the space below his ribcage.

he feels your eyes drag down his body and when he looks at you, you’re grinning. flushed and delirious. “did you get a cramp after you came?”

he glances down to the mess in his other hand. and his head falls back onto the mattress. “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

you laugh. freely. joyfully. without shame. and when law’s no longer in pain. he laughs along side you. kisses you. touches you all over again.

the next morning law is so satiated he doesn’t remember the glitter. he doesn’t give a shit about the glitter. he doesn’t even notice the glitter on his neck and cheek until he’s at work and changing into a fresh set of scrubs in the bathroom. the bathroom light is harsh, but when he shifts in front of the mirror he sees the the way it shimmers across his skin. and funnily enough, instead of the annoyance he expects to feel, his dick hardens. and a blush, real and true, erupts across his face.

[k0mmari]

I can answer some of these questions now!

how did SY and LQG meet? LQG had been on his way to pick up 2 year old LMY from their family state after their parents' death, and he was so griefstricken that he didn't notice he was flying too low and crash into a forest, where he just lay dazed. Shen Yuan, already amnesiac, found LQG and started treating his wounds, but as they were making their way back to the village SY was staying at, they got hit with a monster/aphrosdiact that hightens feelings of free, so that people will retreat to a more "primative(?)" "instinctual(?)" mentality to avoid the pain and yeah, SY has some vague recollections of the ordeal but LQG remembers NOTHING.

why is SY amnesiac? A bug in the system, SY was reincarnated and had vague recollections of his previous life where he read PIDW but none of it was very clear. he went through the Qiu Manor alongside SJ and both got pretty jaded personalities before they got separated during their time with WYZ (i think the old man tried to kill him but memory is foggy). A couple of years later, the system tried to reboot itself to make SY a host just like SQH while SY was in some mountains for cultivation, and this happened at the same time Shen Yuan was in the middle of a breakthrough. The system's attempt to reawake SY's previous memory ended up with him losing ALL of them and when he left the mountain, confused and injured, a small village took him in, the same where SY lived when LQG crashed.

how the hell did he get pregnant AGAIN? Funny, actually, I'm still having trouble outlining that part, but basically, because SY's daughter with LQG is, well, a copy of her dad, which means she is like LMY, which means men can't help but be creeps, SY gave his daughter a veil and went on a journey to a sect that would take in him daughter so she could learn to defend herself. he remembers very vague technics of cultivation, since he has a golden core but no clear of memory of how he got it, so he doesn't want to accidently give his daughter a wrong lesson. Surely a good sect will take her in! They end up travelling half the country because the sects either aren't interested in her because she's poor or an interested in her in a way SY rather not. when they are in the HHP territory, he comes across ZZL, absently mindly mentions something that helps TLJ escape since he think ZZL is a regular weird creature, and as he is on the road again with his daughter for *another* sect, they are followed for a while by ZZL and TLJ, the latter wanting to somehow repay for the debt, or idk. I do know that at some point while ZZL is babysitting the girl, TLJ and SY, surprise surprise, get aphrosidiac, they go their separate ways once SY is again near cultivation sects, and even thought SY *did* take something to avoid pregnancy again, it didn't work and he went "*sigh*, guess i am having another kid, *cries himself to sleep that night*"

is binghe's brain going to explode? Nope, because LBH will actually be in another peak and he will get his own love interest! a boy and a girl, thought i am pretty sure i am confusion their characters with ANOTHER two love interests i have for him for another fic. They are OCs. And thought LBH won't fall romantically in love with SY in this fic, he WILL a kind of need for comfort and affection from him, specially when he sees SY being all sweet with his daughter and LBH's sister

Prev

Anon your mind

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // signifying nothing (prequel)

summary: before everything, there came the reaping.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

close enough WELCOME BACK COLD NIGHTS I MISSED YOU!! :)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

"Don't worry, bug. Your year won't ever come."

In the peaceful quiet of your bedroom, cicadas buzzing outside your window, you lay curled up under the quilts with your brother hoping they can coat him like a shield of armour. Impenetrable. Warm. Safe.

You only had two years left, this and the next, before you would be safe from the reaping. Lennox had four.

He wouldn't ever dare to show it outside of the safety of this room under the cloak of night, but he was terrified. And you were as well, knowing you couldn't save him if it was his year.

"I feel it. I feel it, something bad is going to happen. I'm going to- they're going to call me." He was crying as he spoke, his voice, only recently broken, shaking you down to your core.

You offer him a sympathetic smile in the dim light, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. "Remember last year? We had this exact same conversation. And the year before that, and the year before that, too. They're yet to call your name, and they won't. Not ever, bug."

You knew it had the potential to be an empty promise. That you very well could find yourself in the crowd of other kids tomorrow morning and hear your little brother's name echoed over the speakers- a summoning to death, but the odds of that actually happening were slim. One in close to three hundred other boys in the District aged between 12 and 18. He would be okay, you were certain.

When you're only met with sniffles in response, you pull the quilt up over your heads, pressing your forehead against his. "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow," You whisper, and Lennox stops his sniffling.

"Don't give me a monologue right now." He grumbles, and it pulls a slight smile to your lips. You continue anyway.

"Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!"

You can see he's smiling too, even just a little bit as your eyes adjust to the dark.

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale..." You pause, and he sighs.

"Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." He whispers along with you.

You let the silence swallow you both for a moment, looking at the redness in his cheeks and eyes from tears of fear. "It's signifying nothing, Lennox." You whisper again. "You will be okay."

Come the morning, his tears have dried and he puts a brave face on for your parents. You eat breakfast before the sun rises, before your father has to leave for work in the mines, and Lennox laughs and jokes with them as if he's never been less afraid in his life.

Your mother always has this look in her eye on reaping day. Her eyes are red-rimmed, puffy around the edges much like your brothers. You think that on this morning every year, they never look more alike. She's quieter as she makes something special, wheat toast with crushed berries and boiled sugar on top. Even a few chocolate shavings, if the year can spare it. This year, you can.

But then your father has to go, and you can see the hesitation in his look before he even moves to get up from the table dimly lit by a few lanterns so early in the morning. He chews on the inside of his cheek, looking down at his empty plate. He doesn't want to look at you. You know that, but you sit next to him at his spot at the head of the table, wishing he would.

"I should probably get-to-steppin'." He says, just like every normal morning when one of you happens to be up early enough to hear it. It's missing the cheerful note it usually carries, though.

Your mother nods, and both you and Lennox stand as your chairs push back simultaneously.

Your brother goes first, stepping around the edge of the dining table and shoving himself into your father's arms without a word. The air in your house feels multitudes thicker as you watch them.

"Be good for your mother," Your dad whispers, unable to help getting choked up already. He's holding the back of Lennox's sleep shirt so tight you know he's truly afraid he'll be ripped from his arms at any moment. "I love you so much. I love you more than anything. My baby boy..."

The nickname is reserved for days like today, of which there are very few. Your brother is fifteen now, and should be turning sixteen in just over a month. But on days like today, he's still just a baby.

Eventually, with a pat on his back, your father lets him go and Lennox knows he has to do the same even if neither of them want to.

His spot in your father's arms expands and shifts into your own, and before you're even aware of your feet carrying you those short three steps, your face is buried in his shoulder and his calloused hands are in your hair and on your back.

"Be good for your mother," He echoes the same sentiment to you, but his voice cracks. "My beautiful girl, I love you. I love you so much."

And into your hair, he whispers: "Be great in act, as you have been in thought."

You got your penchant for reading from your father. Most of your books, as well. You don't know where his family had acquired such a collection of by now ancient texts, but you were endlessly grateful. And together, he was determined that you both would read every last one. With the loss of a more than a few nights of sleep, that is.

"I'll see you tonight." You whisper back, a quiet reassurance that neither of you can fully, wholeheartedly accept. He nods anyway. "I love you, pa."

"I love you too," He replies, because saying it only twice wasn't enough. "Think about what you want to read tonight, and we'll all head out to the meadow, yeah? You and ma make some of those cookies I love, I'll be expecting them when I get home tonight."

"They'll be ready." You promise him, trying not to let the possibility that this is your last ever conversation choke you. Like last year and the year before, you were confident you would see him tonight. Both of you would, and to act as if you wouldn't, to say any kind of real goodbye would only result in the worst. But still, you couldn't take it. Maybe Lennox had gotten in your head last night, saying he felt like something would happen.

As your father pats your back in signal that he's going to let you go, you only hug him tighter. "I love you." You say again, but you both know it means something else this time.

The narrow, unpaved road and outskirts of the town are deathly quiet when the sun rose, and remained that way even close to noon as you held your mother's hand and walked down to the city centre. Lennox drags his feet a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he kicks along the same rock he had been since you left the house.

Tybalt, bless his little heart, has decided to join you as well. You'd made it out the door, sans saying goodbye to him in manifestation that you would be back in the afternoon, before he jumped out the window of your bedroom and followed you out to the street. With a huff, your mother returned inside to grab his makeshift leash to be able to at least keep him close during the reaping if he wouldn't allow her to hold him.

You wanted to hold him, of course, but God forbid your name is pulled and then you would just have to hand him to Lucy Gray and say goodbye. You knew he would be fine if that was the case, but the odds of you being strong enough to let him go in a moment like that were slim to none.

Walking into the square and up at the stage ahead, grey and brown and dreary, you linger by the surrounding buildings for a moment.

"We should wait for the Covey." You suggest quietly, wrapping your arm around your mother's.

"Good idea, sweetheart." She agrees, entirely unwilling to let either of you go yet either.

But that excuse didn't last forever, and they came running into the square just as peacekeepers came rounding up the stragglers, forcing kids out of the arms of their parents and into mildly organized rows. Girls on one side, boys on the other.

Starting with the little ones, your mother hugs each of them and whispers something to them. A brief "I love you", if you had to guess, or some assurance that they would be okay. That it wouldn't be their year. When she gets to Lucy Gray, your friend grabs you by your hand and pulls you in to share in it.

"Oh, I love you, my girls... We'll see you both after. Dinner at ours tonight, Lucy Gray, we wanna hear that new song you've been-"

Her attempts to calm you both with normalcy is cut short by a peacekeeper grabbing the back of your dress and yanking you off them, nudging a gun into your shoulder. "Line up."

Lucy Gray was getting much of the same treatment, but she was able to grab your hand once they released the back of her corset. It was a beautiful dress, her mother's that she wore every year just like you wore yours every year. Hers was much nicer, that if she were to get picked it would scream to the world that she is not erasable. You'd commented on it years ago, the first time she'd been eligible and had to join you in the lineup, with the rainbow ruffles getting caught under her boots from it being too big for her. She'd offered to share it with you, to trim the bottom and make that into a shawl or a skirt or a scarf for you to wear so you could match and so she wouldn't step on it anymore. You said no, though. You knew she'd grow into it, and you liked the one your mother had stitched for you anyway.

You look for your brother in the crowd as you make your way with the Covey girls over to the rows and rows of other young kids.

Somewhere in the middle, you end up in the row behind Lennox, though he's obviously on the other side. You can see him, which comes as a comfort. He can't see you, though, unless he turns his head. Which he does.

You meet his eyes and give him a small nod, and little CC next to him looks over as well. You give him a subtle wave and what you hope is a reassuring smile, blowing him a kiss which he pretends to catch. You pat your pocket, nodding for him to "save it for later", and he grins. What little you could do to make the little ones feel better was extended eagerly and at every opportunity.

Lucy Gray's hand is shaking in yours, and she leans in closer as the Mayor starts speaking, ignoring him completely. "Billy Taupe is upset with me." She whispers, and you'd welcome the familiarity of her boy troubles happily as a distraction.

"Why?" You ask quietly.

"Jessup Diggs." Apparently they were cutting right to the chase today. You knew him, sort of. You weren't close, but you often helped your ma fix up clothes for his family, or she stopped to chat with them in the market on days where you weren't in a rush. He's a lovely young man. It's heartbreaking.

But it isn't any of your boys. You spare Lennox a weak smile and a nod just after Jessup is escorted down the middle between you.

Lucy Gray continues, though, rushed now to get her words out. "He's cheatin' on me again, with Mayfair." Your eyes widen and your jaw locks as you find the mayors daughter in the crowd. "I gave him hell for it and he said we're done."

"Oh, hon-" You want to try and comfort her, but you don't get the chance.

"I'm scared they're gonna call me. That she told her pa, and-"

She stops dead in her tracks when your your name echoes through the square instead.

Your eyes snap up to the stage again, feeling oddly calm considering you're certain you'd just been handed a death sentence.

Still, you smile, eyes getting watery. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you- not that it was a concern of yours, but the gaze of Maude Ivory and Clerk Carmine and Lennox felt particularly heavy. Lennox's relief had been so short lived.

Lucy Gray whispers your name, sounding horrified. You can't look at her, but you know the expression on her face. Similar to yours, minus the smile. Hurt, angry- you're sure. "Give 'em a show. Don't go down quiet." She whispers, and you can hear the crack in her voice. The last words your best friend would ever share with you.

Heart pounding you nod a little, pushing your shoulders back as you drop her hand and walk down to the middle aisle, cameras tracking your every step. For as long as you've been eligible for the reaping, that had been exactly your plan. To get into the arena and lay down and take whatever would come to be your end. You couldn't fight, you couldn't hurt anyone. It was all wrong, anyway. Even if you could, you didn't stand a chance. She must have known that, though.

You'd always said that when you were younger, since the games were established almost in myth, and every year older kids would disappear to the Capitol and never return. 

"I'd take one of them guns the 'keepers got, and I'd win in a minute!" Lennox said, holding a broken stick to his shoulder like a weapon, squinting as he pretended to look down the sights.

You eyed him with suspicion, remembering what ma always said. "Boys will be boys," But your baby brother always seemed so separate from that when it came to violence.

"No you wouldn't." You giggled, shaking your head as he turned the stick gun on you and little Lucy Gray.

"Yes I would! Bang, bang! The first victor of District Twelve! We'll have a party!"

Your parents, guiding you down the wooded path to the lake with the Covey kids in tow, didn't like this joke. "Len, don't point guns at anyone."

"It's just a stick, pa!" He groaned.

"Never point a weapon of any kind at anyone." Your father stuck to his point, grabbing the stick from your brother's grip. "It's never a joke. You wouldn't be laughing if they called your sisters name in a few years, so don't laugh now."

Your father was right, Lennox most certainly wasn't laughing now. Somewhere you hear a sob, and you know it's your ma. Peacekeepers block either of your sides so you can't run, and the march to the stage feels like it goes on forever. A tear falls down your cheek, but you don't wipe it away.

"Thank you." You nod to the peacekeepers when they come to a stop with you at the bottom of the steps, but you have to continue. You have to.

You never had much experience with crowds, not the way Lucy Gray and the Covey kids did. They could command a space, change the energy in any room at the drop of a dime. Finally you can spare a glance at your mother, who's clutching Tybalt close to her chest and crying into his fur. It's deathly quiet. With a brief scan of the crowd, you can see tears on Lennox's cheeks that match your own, but his face is stone cold. You look at Lucy Gray, Barb Azure, and Maude Ivory. It was a jarring difference, seeing them from on stage. Lucy Gray nods at you, now holding her little cousin close to her side. Lifting one hand she taps the bottom of her chin.

"Head up, shoulders back. It takes confidence to hold a crowd, but even more to get your ass up on stage in the first place!"

Her voice from when you were just kids rings in your ears. The day you'd told her you could never do what they do, and she'd insisted they'd adopt you and you'd learn it like second nature soon enough.

You'd never quite gotten the knack for performing, though.

"May I?"

"Please," as the mayor nods and gestures to the mic, stepping out of the way to give you a minute.

You're not sure how to feel, what to say- but you couldn't disappoint Lucy Gray and the others, you couldn't let your brother go without hearing your voice one more time.

"Hello," You settle on, your voice calmer and smoother than you expected. "Thank you all, for being the village that raised us."

With a glance back at Jessup who just looks shocked, you hope he's okay with you speaking on his behalf.

"There's nowhere in the world with kinder people and kinder souls." You continue, wiping away a tear when it tickles your jaw. "My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile."

"Don't be sad," you want to tell your loved ones, or everyone. This was the only way you knew how to say it, with so many eyes and cameras on you. Frozen were your own words, left to rely on the comfort of your beloved books. You know they understand, anyway.

The clock is ticking, and goodbyes cannot be forever. "I must go in, the fog is rising." You say in finality, and a fresh set of peacekeepers flank you again to guide you and Jessup back away from the stage, away from everything you'd ever known and loved.

This would be the beginning of your final act.

You couldn't bring yourself to look back, and you wished that you had when you're corralled into the dark and cold train car. For a while, you and Jessup travel in silence- the train wheels rattling beneath you as it drew you further and further from your family.

Even still, you sat side by side, shoulders bumping often with the sway of the car.

"I'm sorry." He whispers into the dark after what must have been hours, and the words sound more like a breath than a tangible statement.

Looking over at him in the dark your eyes have adjusted to, you give him a small smile. "Don't be." You whisper back, shaking your head. "The way I see it, I'm lucky today."

Jessup cocks his head to the side slightly. "How do you figure that?"

"It could have been my brother, or any of my sisters." You explain with a slight shrug, and though he knows you aren't related to the Covey, he knows what you meant.

"I guess..." He agrees hesitantly, scrubbing his hand at the back of his neck. "I mean, I wouldn't want it to be my siblings either, but that doesn't mean our cards are fair. It shouldn't have been any of us."

"It shouldn't be anyone." You nod. "But there's some... peace, I suppose, to be found in going off today knowing that all those kids are safe another year, at least. They all get one more birthday, one more Christmas... feels kind of worth it. Like we've done good, by giving ours up."

"Let's just get this over with." He grumbles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, as gentle in touch as you knew he was in soul. Even yet to meet the other tributes, you hope that Jessup makes it home to his family.

You hear shouting as you blink your eyes open, head resting against Jessup's warm shoulder in the previously droning train car. You must be stopping. Sure enough, the train jerks as it stops and you're rocked onto your side, even sitting down. A rude awakening, to be in the Capitol.

"Everybody out!" A voice bellows, followed by banging on the outside of the doors. You're shivering as you stand, brushing off the back of your dress as Jessup holds your arm to steady you. It had been a long journey, and a while since you'd stood up to stretch your legs. You tried to sleep most of the journey, to eliminate the possibility of overthinking as much as possible. You didn't want to cry anymore- it wouldn't change the past, and you wouldn't want to change it anyway. Bid me farewell, and smile. You think to yourself as the doors slide open, and Jessup hops out first before peacekeepers would get the chance to jump in and drag the two of you out by your collars.

He extends his hands out to you to lift you out, but with that smile you shake your head and sit down on the edge of the train car before making the small jump down to the paved ground of the station. Patting Jessup's shoulder you quietly thank him, looking around and taking in your new surroundings. It didn't look too terribly different from the station at home, which surprised you. The Capitol, in all its superiority, was a myth at best back home. No one knew what to expect, really, no one ever returned to tell the tale. In your own mind, it would have looked more like a Shakespeare play- the opulence and royalty of castle walls, but so far, all you could see is concrete and military uniforms.

Except for the flash of red that appears before you in an instant, attached to the body of a boy. Blonde hair that's curly like Len's when he hasn't cut it, kind blue eyes, a determined step, and a white rose extended in your direction.

"Hello." He says, clearing his throat. You smile wider.

"Hi there."

For the rose, though its petals be torn asunder, still smiles on.

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[everythingne]

this little life - dr3

Three moments in the girls lives when you and Daniel support the girls through thick and thin. And one where they come to support you.

Rosella, learns the second definition of 'Shark Week' on the week of her thirteenth birthday.

Sienna's first boyfriend at sixteen, and subsequent heartbreak.

Different move out days for your girls, big emotions that cannot be contained.

warnings/notes: period talk, cheating, this fic is so old danny was in f1 when i started it... this shit is LONG so buckle in!!!

Ever since Rosella was able to kick in your stomach, she always preferred Daniel. It was funny, the second Daniel would start speaking she would kick, and when he stopped cooing at her she'd stop. From birth she only reacted to his voice, she wanted to be near him 24/7, 365, he was the only one who could calm her down, and the person she went to for everything when her problems became more than just hunger and sleepiness.

And now you had a pouty Daniel to deal with because for the first time in her whole life, Rosella didn't want to go on their little father daughter date this week.

Usually around the second week of each month, Daniel took Rosella out by himself on one night and Sienna out the next. This had started back when the girls cried to you around five years old, upset they never got to see him due to how much he was racing and how they had to stay back due to having school now. A plan was hatched and between races, Daniel would shower the girls with as much love as possible, and every weekend that was close enough you'd bring the girls to him. It was expensive and tiring, but it was worth it to see them smile. And it was originally just until the girls were older, and they understood why he was gone so often.

But then it just became habit, which Daniel was a creature of, and now his habit was being broken because Rosella was moody and didn't want to go. Daniel is the best father you've ever known, you've seen how much he sacrifices for his girls, but fourteen year old Rosella's gotten her first period and feels awful and feels too embarrassed to tell him.

You'd tried hinting, vaguely mentioning things you assume he would've picked up from Michelle or from you, but nothing. He was clueless.

So when Rosella texts you and asks for you to come to her room, he asks you to figure out what's wrong with her. You say you will, press a kiss to his cheek, and then make your way to your eldest daughters room. Knocking, you wait for the soft 'come in' and make your way into the room.

"Heya, baby, how are you feeling?" You move to the side of the bed where shes curled in a ball, holding out one of her reheatable stuffies.

"I feel awful." she hiccups and you soothe her, gently placing your hands on her face and rubbing your thumbs along her wet under eyes. She'd gotten the worst of it, the terrible acne, the horrible cramps, the nausea... she looked sick as a dog. You briefly wonder if she actually is sick on top of her period.

"Do you want me to have Dad come sit with you?" You offer, the TV in her room is paused on whatever episode of Friends she'd paused when texting you. Rosella shakes her head, but a small smile creeps on your face. Friends was the show she and Daniel were watching together. Daniel had been able to quote it since you met him, but there was something special about him watching his daughter react to it all for the first time.

"Why are you watching your show without him?" You ask, rubbing her stomach and hoping to alleviate some of her cramping and you press rhythmically into her skin.

"It's stupid." She starfishes out, welcoming the gentle massage as you tut.

"If it's bothering you, it's not stupid." You say, "And I have you and you have me, so what's really going on?"

"I miss him," Rosella admits, as if her father is off in Vegas racing and not downstairs on the couch, when she sees your confusion clearly written on your face, she continues, "He's a guy, he doesn't wanna be here when I'm all... bleeding and shit. And I didn't wanna explain why I didn't wanna go out because I thought it would gross him out and now I feel bad."

"Don't feel bad, Ells. He might be a guy, but he's your father." You say, setting the plushie on your lap, "And before he was your father, he was my boyfriend, so trust me when I say he won't mind. He gets it, I think Aunt Mickey made sure of that. If anything, it might make him upset because he thinks you're growing up, not because he gets grossed out."

Rosella contemplates your words, her curly hair mused against her pillows, brown eyes watching you. It's like your genetics didn't even try with her. She's still for a few moments before she lets out a low sigh and nods.

"Okay. But only if you warn him before." Rosella points, before curling back into a ball and you nod, peppering some soft kisses to her hairline before getting up off her bed with a promise to send her father back up properly armed.

You pass Daniel in the living room and wave him over, plopping the stuffed rabbit on the counter before opening up the microwave and setting it inside. Daniel has rolled over to see what you're doing, and slowly gets up as you turn on the microwave and turn to the fridge.

"What's that look for?" He asks as you open one of the drawers and open a box of yogurt cups, only to pull out some chocolate from your hidden stash. Daniel walks into the kitchen slow, knowing the look on your face is one of determination as you hand him the chocolate and then two water bottles from the fridge. You shut the fridge as the microwave currently heating a stuffed rabbit dings, and hand it to him as well.

"Honey, what are you doing?" He asks as you root through another drawer and then stick a takeout menu for one of the various takeout places in your area and point at him.

"Rosella's got her first period. That's why she doesn't wanna go out. She feels like shit, and her hormones are all over the place, but she didn't say anything because she thought it would gross you out, okay? You remember how I was before the girls, how my periods wrecked me?"

Daniel just nods.

"Take that and make it ten times worse, because it's her first one. So, you are gonna go up, and be the best damn dad you always are, and make her feel better."

Daniel nods once more, kisses you in thanks, and is double timing up the stairs. You follow, stopping in the hallway just outside of the doorway so you can listen to him and Ella as they talk.

"Yeah, she told me." Daniel sits down on the edge of the bed, lifting the blanket off your eldest and laying the hot stuffed rabbit across her lower stomach. Rosella sighs softly as Danny rubs a hand along her arm, squeezing her shoulder before laying the blanket back over her.

"I'm sorry I'm being moody." She apologizes and you watch Daniel scoff and shake his head, one hand coming up to start to pull her curls up into her usual position so he can tuck her little bonnet on. A gift from her aunt, who had the same incredibly curly hair.

"Your body is kinda rejecting itself right now," Daniel tightens the bonnets top, adjusting it how he knows Rosella likes it to sit. You didn't even realize he remembered that, "You're allowed to be a--dare I say it, bitch this week."

Rosella giggles at that, and Daniel takes her and sits her up so he can have her drink some of the water. You're not expecting Rosella to nearly chug half the bottle. They split a chocolate bar as Daniel then gets up to pick up her room, having Rosella recount stories from her last few practices with Red Bull's Junior team, since Danny had missed them. While she talks, you quickly head downstairs and fill up two Yeti's. You keep one for Rosella, but briefly pop in your youngests room to check on her. Sienna's playing some old Italian music, you can almost smell the Ricciardo's home down the road with the music she plays as she works on finishing up some work. It's her final for one of her engineering courses, and she happily explains it to you while you help her stretch out her body in her seat.

Once done there, you slip back upstairs to Rosella's room, holding the water bottle in one hand and pausing in the hall when you hear Rosella laughing so hard she's wheezing. It's a welcome sound compared to her tears earlier, and you lean on the wall once more to watch.

"And you're watching our show without me!" Daniel scoffs, turning back to his daughter as he throws an extra blanket on her bed to add to the four he'd already tossed on, "Which should be a crime!"

"I needed to know what happened at the wedding!" Rosella defends and Daniel gawks at the title of the episode before getting into the bed himself.

"This is like, one of the best parts of the show!" Daniel defends, "how far into the episode did you get?"

"I finished part one, Phoebe just found the pregnancy test. I'm gonna scream if it's Monica's." Rosella claims as her father moves to sit next to her. You see a flicker of contemplation roll across her dark eyes before she shrugs and you watch the best possible thing happen, Rosella curls into his side and wraps herself around his arm. Like she used to as a toddler. Daniel, for his credit, holds himself back from a burst of tears, a hand coming to hers as he restarts whatever episode Rosella was on. She closes her eyes and relaxes into her father's touch as he begins telling her how this is his favorite episode (which he says about all of them) and when Danny sees you in the doorway he pouts and mouths to you.

'She's all grown up.'

It brings a tear to your eye and you nod, mouthing back, 'but she's still your baby.'

He nods, securing a comfortable position with Rosella on his lap as he starts the episode over again. Deciding not to disturb, you leave the water bottle by the door, texting Daniel that it's there if Rosella needs it. He thanks you, and informs you that Rosella had supposedly decided she wanted Mediterranean tonight, so you go off to order your usual from the local place and drag Sienna away from her studies so that she can get some fresh air for the first time in like twelve hours.

When you come back about an hour later with food and to check Rosella's heating pad, the sight before you makes a big grin spread across your face. The two have adjusted so Daniel's laying down over her covers, with Rosella practically starfished across her father. Stepping into the room, you set the food down on Rosella's desk and grab some stray blankets from the floor and move her leg to drape a blanket across Daniel. He opens his eyes a little, but when you stay quiet he simply rolls to pull Rosella closer. Once they've both started to snore softly again, you pick up their trash ad set the metal water bottle on the bedside for the inevitable thirsty wake-up your daughter will have.

You kiss both of their foreheads, turn off the lights, and take one last look at the room before softly shutting her door with the trash and dinner in hand.

"Is she sick?" Sienna whispers when you make it downstairs and you shake your head.

"Just her period." You tap Sienna's nose as you pass her, opening the trashcan with one hand to pop in the trash while Sienna takes the food from you so she can toss it in the fridge.

"Thank god I haven't gotten mine yet." Sienna huffs, biting into her gyro as she sits at the counter now, knowing you've banned her from working on homework while eating after the day she came to you and said she could see her homework on the backs of her eyelids.

"Soon." You hum, biting into your chicken dish and laughing softly at Sienna's pout of dissaproval.

When you check back in a few hours later, Rosella's awake enough to ask for more water and her dinner. Your voices wake Daniel, and so you bring up their food and enough snacks and water to last them the night. If Rosella's anything like you, the insomnia will kick in soon, or her cramps will keep her up. You just hope her having her father by her side eases her pain.

Going to sleep in an empty bed has never felt more fulfilling than that night. Knowing Daniel's off comforting Rosella makes a warm feeling blush across your skin.

2.

"Mom, Dad," Sienna nervously stood at the end of the counter, a bag slung over her shoulder. You could see Rosella cheer her on out of the corner of your eye before you turned around to face the now seventeen year old.

"Yeah, Si?" You ask, cleaning up the dishes from dinner last night while Danny finishes his breakfast before running off to go meet someone for some meeting or whatever he was busy doing with his wine company.

"Is it okay if I have a friend over after school?"

"I'm off today so yeah, as long as its okay with her parents." You automatically say, assuming it's one of Sienna's two best friends Giorgia or Olivia.

"Uhm. His parents are okay with it." Sienna says softly and you pause, glancing up, whacking your husbands back preemptively when he starts to cough with his tea in his mouth.

"That's fine." You say before Daniel can make some joke about a boyfriend, and side-eye him before he has the chance to say it after you speak. Sienna and Rosella had plenty of guy friends ever since they were kids, especially Rosella, since she was a racer like her dad through and through. Daniel has always joked with the girls about boys, and you know today will be no different.

"Is he coming alone?" Daniel asks and Sienna nods, going on to explain they have a project together thats due on Friday and they're running behind. They won't be able to do enough work in class to catch up so they decided to meet up after school. He lives a few doors down across the street, so he can just take the bus and then walk home after.

"What's his name?" You ask innocently, assuming you probably know his mother and that's what makes Sienna sort of stutter. You raise your eyebrows, encouraging her to continue before she mutters out and kicks her black converse against the tile.

"Nicholas Fish."

"Nick!?" Rosella shouts from the door and before Daniel can tell her to hush she starts to giggle, "No way, Si, come on."

"It's just for class, Ro!" Sienna fires back, and luckily Daniel gets them to calm down before it's a screaming match in the kitchen. But you do know the Fish's. His mother Kylie was one of the schools secretaries and his father Charles was a banker. They were kind people, nothing bad, smart and respectful, and so you nod.

"Nicholas can come over." You say, poking Daniel's back to keep him hush as you continue, "Just make sure his mom knows he'll be at ours, and ask if he likes pizza."

"Everyone likes pizza, Mom." Sienna sighs, but gives you a hug in thanks before her and Rosella are rushing out the door to catch the bus. You don't miss the giddy smile on your daughter's lips and cross your arms as you lean on Daniel.

"It's just for class, Ro!" He mimics Sienna's voice and then hums as he peppers a few kisses to your hairline, "why'd she get so defensive?”

"She might like him." You suggest and Daniel shakes his head, putting his dishes in the dishwasher and closing it as he turns to lean against you once more as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Nope. She's fourteen. Can't date until she's twenty." He grins and you laugh at his antics, the same sort of playfulness from back when you'd met him around that age. You both were a bit more subdued now, but he had his moments from time to time.

“Oh, like how your mom used to joke you couldn’t get married until you were thirty five?” You ask as Daniel kisses you jaw, then walks off to go grab his bag and his keys. You think he's going out with Scotty today, something they're filming for a Youtube video or whatever.

“Twenty six is close enough!” Daniel retorts, wagging a finger at you from the doorway. He pauses, realizing something before rushing across the room to give you a proper goodbye kiss, “See you tonight, love.”

“Bye Danny.” You smile against his lips, letting him pepper a few more to your lips and cheeks before he’s out the door. The quiet of the house is welcome after a hectic morning, and you elect to finish your coffee on the couch before doing any cleaning.

Hours later you learn Nicholas, or Nick, is a rather nice kid. He takes his shoes off at the door without being asked, greets you formally, and when the two settle in the dining room with laptops open you find he's very respectful of your daughters personal space.

You can hear Sienna laughing from the kitchen as you work on answering some emails. You let your eyes wander to where Nick is trying to glue someone to the poster they have to make, and clearly not doing well if Sienna’s laugh is anything to go by. She goes to grab it and he loudly announces he’s got it, cueing the two to wrestle a bit before he manages to snag the glue stick from her hands. Sienna jumps to grab it, stumbles, and Nick’s hand flies out to catch her. He grabs her by a belt loop, pulling her right to his chest, and you see the flush on both of their faces from the proximity. You see him ask something, and Sienna sharply nods before they share a brief kiss.

You lower your head before you’re caught watching them.

And excitedly you tell Kelly the next time you have time to call. She’s going through something similar with Penelope, the girl having brought back her first boyfriend for Max to meet. All had gone well, as far as you heard, but she was just as excited as you were about the prospect of Sienna getting out there. Sienna, unlike Rosella, was a lot softer spoken and a lot more reserved. Rosella had a boyfriend, two girlfriends, a few partners. Nothing long term, nothing serious.

You worried Sienna was giving her entire heart to this boy, considering as far as you knew he was her first boyfriend. Kelly had implored you to talk to Sienna about it, to get to know what the relationship was. It was what led her to meeting P’s boyfriend, and led to Max meeting him as well.

The conversation goes about as well as you expected, she dances around it, but admitting they’ve been dating for a few weeks. But only when you promise to keep it from Daniel for just a few days while she works up the courage to tell him—which she should’ve been more afraid to tell you, to be completely honest.

She shows you all the little things he’s made her, notes and origami and doodles in the margins of unfinished math homework. It’s puppy love, all of it, and it makes your heart burst with joy for your daughter.

Daniel received it well enough, a bit upset his second baby was growing up too. You had Nick over for dinner, he happily helped set the table and cleaned after without being asked. Daniel likes him enough to allow him to come over whenever he wants, much to Sienna’s joy, and the genuine excitement you see when she’s around Nick is contagious.

Sienna chooses to go to MIT for a double major in Mechanical Engineering and Physics. The extra classes she’s been taken transferring over and allowing her to do that easy enough.

Nick is going to Berkeley for Biochemistry. He’s gotten a wonderful scholarship, his parents immensely proud as is your family and you do a joint celebration dinner with both families.

You see the tension happen the day Sienna realizes they’ll be so far. You notice Daniel almost prepping for the inevitable, ice cream in the freezer, ensuring her favorite movies are online to stream, her favorite takeout menu on top of the pile in your junk drawer. You notice you’ve done the same, you've saved some cute clothes for her online, found one of those makeup products she swears she always gonna try and never does, washed all the blankets in the house and ensured they were super fluffy for her.

But the break-up doesn't come.

Sienna and Nick try long distance over their summer break before they leave for college. He's going to Nevada to visit some family, you're staying between Perth and dipping to Monaco for a few days to meet up with Max, Lando, and a bunch of the other drivers and their families. It seems easy, a trial run, and you and Daniel both encourage it. Long distance was difficult, it was hard not to get caught up in what you were doing physically and not to forget the other person sometimes.

They do well through the first week, the second week Nick's a bit standoffish, but he gets over it by the time you're leaving for Monaco. When you get back, they'll be able to hang out until the end of August when you move Sienna into her dorm, and she raves about being able to see Nick again after the trip.

The first night in Monaco, you notice you haven't seen the teen girls in a while after you've wrapped up dinner in Charles' house. Your two, Rosella and Sienna, Max and Kelly's Penelope and Lily, or Lando and Olivia's Cece or Ada. You get this weird feeling in your gut. Something is wrong and you know it is. Daniel's hand slides to your knee and squeezes it, he knows it too.

It's Rosella who comes to get you.

"Momma?" She pops her head in the doorway, eyes big like shes in trouble. And you don't even spare a second, your chair shrieks as you shove it back and hand your glass to Daniel. He takes it, turning to watch you follow your eldest down a hall. The kids are hovering near the doors to the balcony, and you step outside with Rosella to see Sienna sitting on the floor with Sophia rubbing her back and Olivia, Cece and Penelope all hovering nearby.

Once the girls see you, they disperse, Cece telling Adam and Lily to knock it off with the whole 'threatening the guy' thing.

"Si, baby," You instantly know whats happened, or atleast what you think has, and when Sienna holds her arms out for you theres no question in your mind as you drop to your knees and wrap her in a tight hug,

"Momma--" she hiccups, and you just hold her, telling Rosella to leave you both be for a few minutes. She takes the rest of the kids inside, pausing to ask if she should get her father but you shake your head, he can come out after you've calmed your daughter down.

"Baby, take a breath, okay? We can't talk if you keep sobbing," You whisper, wiping at her tears, "it's okay to cry, but I need to know whats wrong so I can help you, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Sienna shakes her head no, but hands you her phone. You unlock it, knowing her passcode. She'd told you a long time ago and you never had to use it, until now. You unlock to photos, a few screenshots and such compiled in a folder titled 'evidence' thats been shared to her by her friends back home on Google Drive of all places. Over the past two months, they've been collecting solid evidence of Nick cheating. One of the girls even going as far as messaging him privately to see how long it would take for him to confirm their suspicions. Sixteen messages and he asks this random burner account they made for pictures.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You hiss. Sienna's not five anymore, you don't hide your anger as well as you used to, but you know she can tell by your protective hold on her that this anger is directed at the phone screen. The further down you go on its worse, and eventually they found a girl who'd tagged him in some... interesting and touchy photos. He hadn't gone to Nevada to visit family like you'd been told, apparently this was his online girlfriend of two months who was also going to Berkeley.

Little Sienna, your baby, had been used.

She wasn't so little anymore, you note. Her dress is expensive, Dior perfume in her hair and patted into her skin, her hair was closer to your color now, eyes brown like her fathers but face so undoubtedly you from your teen years. She's going to college. She's gonna be out on her own.

Suddenly you're a thousand times more grateful for Sienna's friends being nosy. At least this realization had come when you were still able to physically hug your baby to your chest as she sobbed.

You set the phone down and just pull her in as tight as you can. There's no words to say, no amount of apologies or promises to get him back will make this better. She sobs into your shoulder until theres nothing left, and Rosella returns with a glass of water upon your request. Every time you reread the messages, you contemplate sending them to Nicholas' mother, but Sienna begs you not to, so you save vengeance for the next time you see her in person.

It takes a good hour of sitting on the balcony, the warm Monaco breeze rippling across you both under the stars as you wipe away your daughters tears. Her mascara had smeared under her eyes, luckily Charles' wife Alex had some wipes you used to gently wipe down your daughters face, applying them like you would a cold compress when she's sick, while Charles lets Leo curl up in Sienna's lap.

"What did I do wrong, Momma?" Sienna murmurs, closing her eyes and you gently wipe under them, "I was texting him, and calling him, and I was watching all the movies and shows he liked so we could talk and--"

"Si, baby, you didn't do anything." You stop, lifting one of your hands to cup her blotchy red face as she sniffles, "It was Nick's own decision to go off and cheat on you, yeah? You did everything you were supposed to do as his girlfriend and he took advantage of your kindness, and love, and used it for his own gains--whatever those gains were."

"Was everything fake?" Sienna asks and you click your tongue. This is a hard one to answer, so you take your time to think through what you're saying, speaking cautiously.

"No, I don't think someone can fake the way they look at someone. He looked at you like you were the sun and he was a starving plant, and one day, that spark was gone. What he should've done is broke up with you as soon as he realized he liked someone else, because if he truly loved you still, he wouldn't have fallen in love with another girl, or he wouldn't be seeking other girls out."

"So for two months he never loved me?" Sienna sighs, "but we did so much together..."

"And he doesn't love his current girlfriend either, because he was asking a random bot account for nudes." You huff, "so regardless of how long you were together, nine months or two, he's a dick. A cheating dick and no matter what his reasons are, do not crawl back to him. I don't care if he's 'changed.' He cheated on you, and you know what you do now?"

Sienna shrugs and you take her hands and squeeze them, "You're eighteen in Monaco. And you know I wouldn't usually offer this, but have Bluebell take you and the other of age girls out tonight, go party, go have fun because he's stupid and nothing and you're Sienna Ricciardo. You had a name made for you when you were still a fucking egg in my ovary, girl!"

"Ew!" Sienna laughs, and her bright smile makes you grin. Partying won't solve all her problems, and there will be more to discuss when you get home (and when you tell Daniel) but for the night, it makes Sienna happy. Even if you stay up until four to ensure the kids all make it home.

3.

You've been staring at Sienna's empty room for probably five hours, hands curled in little fists as you hear her and her friends partying downstairs. They're all sleeping over tonight before Sienna leaves for the airport super early tomorrow morning and you haven't been coping well. Neither has Daniel, but he's the life of the party downstairs so you refuse to pull him up.

But when two arms wrap snugly around your waist, a head propped up on your shoulder as someone sighs, you know it's Danny.

"I can't believe it's empty." He murmurs, "Like, yeah her stuff is still there because she'll come back for break, but it's still so... empty."

"The life is gone." You hum and Daniel, who you know would usually tell you to not be so dramatic, nods and kisses your collarbones.

"Don't act like she's dead." He murmurs, stepping to the side to wrap his arms fully around your shoulders and tug your mopey self to his side. You lay your head against his chest, some Taylor Swift song being belted in the basement and bringing life to the house. But for you, who had just grappled with the fact Rosella was moving to England to pursue her career with Red Bull by the end of September, sending Sienna to the States was another level of awful pain. You were empty nested before they were twenty, something you hadn't prepared for or even thought of before the girls were teenagers.

"Our babies are growing up and I hate it." You murmur into his hoodie and Daniel hums, agreeing with you silently.

"Si's gonna be fine, she's got a bunch of friends at uni already and Ella's gonna have all of Red Bull at her beck and call." Daniel reasons, "and Si's roommate is from just outside Melbourne, and they're traveling together."

You just nod, but the tears that prick in your eyes are wiped by his thumbs as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, "Oh honey, I know."

"What am I gonna do with them both gone now?" You ask, looking over and Daniel. Your little house in Australia suddenly felt so suffocatingly huge, not even his presence could fill it. You knew his racing days were coming to an end, you had already retired from teaching last year. It was like the end of an era.

“We gotta get hobbies.” Daniel murmurs as he presses your foreheads together, hands coming to your waist to rub small circles with his thumbs, “or we can travel and actually be tourists?”

“Let’s get a cat.” You tease and Daniel scoffs, pinching your hips with a tiny grin. The girls had always begged for a cat growing up, but because their father didn’t exactly like pets and because of how frequently you all traveled, it never happened.

“I think Ella would kill me if we got a cat after she moved out.” He grins, pecking a kiss to your nose. You take his hands, still resting on your sides, and bring his knuckles to your lips to kiss.

"We'll figure it out. Together, yeah?"

You traveling with both girls is as eventful as it had been when you had taken both Rosella and Sienna on your own years and years back to Miami. But this time, both girls stick closer, are a lot calmer, and it doesn't take nearly as much trouble to get to the gate, through the flight, and into the streets of Cambridge with your sights set on MIT.

Luckily, once in Cambridge, Sienna was dragging you all to meet up with her roommates. They were living in a little apartment style place on campus, and the four girls got along like a house on fire.

Isla was from just outside Melbourne, going to MIT for Cognitive Science and had met Sienna at an MIT event hosted in Melbourne. The two had made the decision to apply together, and you'd had her over a few times already.

Valeria was actually introduced to you and Daniel by Carlos at a Grand Prix, one of his childhood friends daughter going to MIT for mechanical engineering as well. You and her mother had gotten along well, but you weren't sure if Sienna's closed off nature would work with her loud and hyperactive personality. Somehow, it just worked perfectly, and the two clicked like puzzle pieces.

Faith was actually from Cambridge, her brother currently working at MIT as a Music professor. Faith was going to MIT for computer science and programming on a legacy scholarship. Her personality was closer to Sienna's, and you learned the girls bonded over a shared obsession with Formula One.

Which that had been the selling point between all four girls, they all loved Formula One. It gave them a common ground to speak on, and it was what brought them all together.

There's about twenty people in their apartment, setting it up and cooking a dinner all at once. That night, all the girls split up to say goodbye to their families and Sienna pulls your little family into bone crushing hugs at the car. Daniel had to be back to Red Bull for training within two days, hardly giving you enough time to settle Sienna in, but she swore she'd be fine.

"I'm gonna miss you guys so much." Sienna whispers, and then the waterworks start as she barrels into your chest. You coo, wrapping your arms around her tightly and pressing little kisses to her hairline as Daniel rubs her back. She's not the only kid on the street corner sobbing their eyes out to their parents, and its melancholic.

"You're gonna have so much fun here, Si." You murmur into her hair, kissing her head once more and leaning back to wipe her tears, "You're all on your own, being an adult. We're gonna miss you just as much if not more, and I need you to know we're so so proud of you for doing this."

"You're doing something I never did," Daniel takes the hiccuping Sienna from you and cradles her to his chest briefly, "I cannot express how proud I am of you."

It takes maybe thirty more minutes of hyping her up and a long tight hug from her sister for Sienna to finally step back and move to go back inside her apartment. Daniel squeezes your shoulder as you watch your baby go, and Rosella's in the car wiping her tears away. You're about to turn, to get in the car when you hear Sienna shout your name. She comes tumbling down the sidewalk at full speed before crashing into you in one final tight hug, her head buried in the crook of your neck as she squeezes you with all of her might. You wrap your arms around her just as tight and hold on with every ounce of love pouring out of you until she's ready to step back.

"I know I'm on the other side of the planet, but you've got this, okay baby?" You swipe a few more tears from under her eyes, "I'm behind you every step of the way."

"I love you Momma." She whispers, wiping tears from your eyes and you laugh, curling her in one final tight hug before she steps back, squeezes your hands, presses a kiss to your head and slips back into housing. Despite being terrified of what could happen to Sienna now that she's out on her own, you force yourself to retire to the passengers seat of the rental car where you husband squeezes your knee in reassurance.

"She'll be fine."

For the three days before you leave after you drop Rosella off and help her set up her apartment, she’s a mess. Doing anything and everything she can with her father, practically clinging to his side when he’s home and moping when he leaves. You help her pack up, making sure she has all of her things, and after that she clings to your arms like a baby.

"I don't know how to live on my own," she complains, "like, what if my shower breaks?"

"You call your landlord, or one of the drivers in London, they'll be just down the road y'know?" You say, brushing a few wild curls back, "you're gonna be fine, think about Si! She's been fine in the states, she's been thriving there!"

"Yeah but... with racing and everything I just... I dunno, Mom."

It's Danny's voice that chimes, "Badger, relax, you're over thinking it."

"They seriously stuck her with that nickname?" You turn to Danny who shrugs, crossing the room to press a kiss to his daughters forehead.

"I think its funny." Is his defense and you just shrug at your husband, digging in your purse to find Rosella's house keys as you all plan to leave for the store. Stocking up the fridge is the last task before your flight that night back to Perth, and you can see both Daniel and Rosella dragging their feet when it comes to leaving for this. As if they can delay time. You have to nudge them along, out to hallway, like they had done with you when Sienna moved out.

Before you leave though, Danny snaps a photo of her in the living room, sending it to everyone he knows almost immediately, writing proudly 'Rosella's all moved in!' and happily reading off the excited replies to Rosella while you peruse the aisles of the stores. You stop to wave Daniel over, asking him which batch of Apples looks the most ripe when a little voice catches your ear.

A girl, a tiny little thing, mousy with unruly curls. She tugs on Rosella's pant leg, and immediately your daughter kneels, noticing the stars in the young girls eyes.

"Hi," the girl squeaks, "You're Rosella Ricciardo, right?"

You have to smack a hand over Daniel's mouth to keep him from interrupting, and wave Rosella on when she looks at you for guidance. Your daughter straightens up and nods, "I am! What's your name?"

"I'm Katie. My sister and I watch racing... and I think you're so cool being a girl in F1." The girl starts nervously, but when Rosella nods for her to continue she bursts into excitement, "My mommy let us start karting this year! I go really fast, but sometimes I still lose, but it's okay! Mommy says every winner has to lose first or it doesn't taste as good to win!"

"Your mommy is very smart." Rosella smiles, "Karting is super cool, do you wanna race forever?"

"I wanna race like you!" Katie grins, and nearly tackles Rosella with the tightness of her hug. Down the end of the aisle, another girl gasps and comes bounding over, a bit older. You learn it's Katie's sister Marlee, and the two bounce around stories with Rosella while you smile at their mother who hovers nearby.

"Come on, girls, they're also trying to shop." The woman eventually says, and you see the conflict in all the girls eyes. You know Rosella would stay and talk for hours, so your not surprised when she takes the cap off Marlee's head, and the cap off her own, and digs in her purse for a sharpie. Once clarifying how to spell their names, Rosella scribbles a quick note on the brim of the caps, and helps the girls put them back on. They both give Rosella the tightest hugs, and you can see all of the stress and worry Rosella's had about her career and future slide away as she grins.

She bids goodbye to the girls, their mother snapping a quick photo of them all, before you go your separate ways. But you aren't surprised to see Rosella had grabbed the mothers phone number, texting her and asking for updates about the girls in racing. You have an odd feeling Rosella's going to end up creating an army of little racers.

Once home from the shop, groceries unloaded, take-out dinner devoured, and suitcases in the hall, you give Rosella a tight hug and kiss, "We're always a phone call away, baby, okay?"

"Okay, Momma, thank you." Rosella murmurs into your shoulder, and then when you let her go, she slams into her father in a tight hug.

"Oi, Badger, you've got this." He pats her back, but then tightens his hold on her, "Call me whenever. No matter the time. We'll see you when you come home for the GP, yeah? Your first home race.."

Daniel looks like he might sob, and when Rosella steps back, the light catches her just right. She looks just like a young Daniel as she stands there, cap loose and barely covering the wild curls that wiggle in the wind. The apartment in London is beautiful, big glass windows that show off the landscape, smaller windows that can be cracked open for air.

In the middle of all the now unpacked place, Ro looks back at you both with teary eyes.

It's never easy, growing up, but somehow you know it's going to be so freeing for her. She's going to thrive here in London, chasing her dreams with the same determination and grit her father had back in his Red Bull days. Just like Sienna was thriving at MIT.

general tag list (open ! )

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins @armystay89 @leclercdream

[neogotmysam]

nct dream free use gf part 2

(part 1) dreamies using you, all day, anywhere but its sooooo much nastier and filthier

using you in public, letting strangers touch you and your dirty cunt, making fun of you for how wet you’re getting over some creeps getting off to you

triple penetration with the j line….you have never felt fuller in your life…jaemin thrusting in and out of your ass while jeno and jisung try to fit their massive thick cocks in your one tiny pussy

you can feel jaemin jisung and jeno’s cocks rub against each other inside of you through the thin muscle separating your ass and pussy

haechan getting horny at the park so he just puts u on his lap grinding into you while people walk by, asking you if you think they know he’s fucking you 

jisungie spreading your icky little cunny, watching how his long thick fingers alone can be enough to stretch and fill your tight hole

haechan is a bastard. a true asshole. he’ll pull your pants down, no prep or lube, thrust his cock in your ass, making you scream with so much pain, and your tears just get him off

jaemin walking in on you riding mark and then shoving his cock down your throat, cumming all over your pretty little tits, and then rubbing the cum into your skin like moisturiser

chenle, our mean dom, slapping you till you cry, shoving his fingers down your throat making you gag, all while saying “what a desperate whore” “what would your family think seeing you like this?” 

jisungie having the biggest cock but has no idea what to do with it, too shy to ask you, so he ends up fucking you every night when you’re sleeping, you wake up everyday with his cum spilling down your thighs

going to the gym with jeno and jaemin, spreading your legs open, spreading your pussy for them to see as motivation to finish the workout faster and come devour you

gooner hyuckie loves shoving things in your pretty pussy, loves seeing you whine with the stretch, the bigger the better, be it pens, cans, cucumbers, dildos, he loves seeing you all full for him

passing out after being choked, just to wake up to jeno fucking you roughly into the mattress and jaem pinching and prodding at your tits

chenle filling your squishy walls up with a monster dildo before tying a vibrator to your clit…overstimulating you till you’re crying

hyuck inspecting your cunny in the shower, mark using his fingers to scoop out all of the cum left in your pussy, all while jaemin rubs soap all over your tits, pinching your nipples

jeno slapping you and choking you till you’re a blabbering mess calling you a disgusting whore cuz hes sure you secretly like it

mark guiding you onto jisungs cock, forcing you to take him deeper and deeper, before sliding his own cock next to jisungies, forcing you to take both of them at once…

yall SEND ME ASKSSS!!! any of ur worst disgusting pervy gooner thoughts are more than welcome <3 (also should i make a part 3-)

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Vamp

A/N: You can find all the other Ambrose stories here (now in order).

Nightime activities

Minotaur (Ambrose) x chubby fem!reader || exhibitionism, masturbation, UST, voyeurism

You’d hung out a few times already. Enough times for him to feel like he was losing his mind every time you showed up. But at the same time, it made him feel amazing to be near you, to get to know you at your own pace. He knew he should say something, everyone urged him to, but he didn’t want to pressure you. He wasn’t even sure you liked him that way.

But you slowly became friends, really good friends, so it was only logical that you would spend more time together, alone or with other people. And everything with you felt so easy and so unproblematic (if you ignored is blue balls)...

That’s why, when he invited you to watch a movie and have dinner at his place, he wasn’t expecting it to be as hard as it is. You smell amazing, sweet and aroused and everything he ever dreamed of. Your scent is permeating everything in his space, and it only makes his brain short-circuit even more. By the time the movie’s credits are rolling and you smell content and tired, his own body is jittery with nerves.

Just friends, he reminds himself.

You yawn two times in a row, making him chuckle as he gets up and brings the blankets and pillows out of the closet in the hallway.

“Do you need something else?” He asks, eager to please you any way he can. “Are you sure you don’t want to take my bed? I’ll take the couch,” he offers again. You already argued (but not really) about it before.

And as well as before, you answer: “I’m not taking your bed. You sleep there, this couch is not big enough for you.” Your voice’s amused, and he has to fight the blush he can feel creeping up his cheeks.

He can’t stop his mouth from saying: “But I can…”

“No. Stop it. You sleep in your bed and I sleep on the sofa, it’s okay.” You turn to him with a raised finger and looking so cute he has to bite the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood not to coo.

“Okay, sunshine.” There’s irony in his tone, but deep down he knows the pet name is so much more.

So he deflects the butterflies in his stomach trying to be a good guest. “Can I offer you some more blankets or another pillow or…”

You are rummaging through your bag when you let out a distressed sound. “Uh-oh.”

His instincts are on alert instantly: “What’s wrong?”

“I… I kind of forgot my pajamas. Shit,” you curse. He almost laughs, but the amusement dies when you continue talking: “Could you… Could you maybe let me borrow a shirt or something?” You ask, the blush on your cheeks so endearing he loses track of thought for a second before he can fully process.

“Ye- yes. Okay. I’ll do that. I’ll be right back,” he knows he’s stuttering, but his brain’s barely running at the thought of you wearing one of his shirts.

He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing as all the blood in his body rushed to his dick as he stumbles back to his room to look a shirt that isn’t going to look like a dress on you. After looking around, he realizes there’s nothing you could wear that wouldn’t pool around your short frame. Fuck.

After very little deliberation, he takes one of his most used shirts, trying not to overthink it too much, and ignoring why he grabs one of the shirts that smells of him the most. He can’t get into it. He won’t. So he walks back to the living room, where you are sitting on the couch, texting someone furiously.

“I hope this is okay,” he says, more nervous than before, handling you the shirt and bouncing on his hooves awkwardly.

“This will do, thank you!” The second you get up and cross the distance between the two of you, grabbing the shirt and hugging his middle, he forgets how the world works, how his brain is supposed to feel something that’s not just pure elation at his mate pressing against him.

And then he realizes he has another problem, a growing problem to be exact, a big growing problem that you are about to feel against your chest if he doesn’t get away fast enough. So he gently pushes you back, trying not to feel bad about the puppy dog eyes you are sending his way, as he blinks slowly and turns around before you can anything.

“I’m going to shower, good night!” He basically runs to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself and realizing a second later that he forgot his clothes in his room, but now it’s too late to go back for them. Guess he’s going to walk back to his room with just a towel.

But as soon as his (very cold) shower is over, he realizes his mistake. Because when he steps out in the hallway, he can hear faint noises coming from the living-room.

He doesn’t fully process them until he’s right at the entrance of the living-room, the door slightly open, just enough for him to see inside. Just enough to see your body moving under the blankets as you bite down on the pillow he gave you. But even then, the fabric can’t hold your tiny whimpers and moans as he realizes a second too late what you are doing.

You are masturbating, on his living room, with his shirt on and his scent all around you.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He needs to leave, he needs to go back to his room and leave you to it. It wouldn’t be okay to stay there, right? That would be an invasion of your privacy or something. But he can’t seem to move, his hooves are glued to the floor and his eyes are glued to the way the blankets are moving as you finger fuck yourself. Even from there, he can hear how wet you are, how fucking sinful your fingers sound as you play with what he knows is a perfect pussy.

Fuck. His dick is so hard he fears it’s going to tear through the towel around his waist. Without realizing (or more like without trying to stop it), his hand releases the knot on the side of the towel, leaving him naked in his hallway.

His hand finds his dick instantly, achingly hard, squeezing the base of his shaft as he bites down on his tongue not to let out the moan threatening to erupt. You have no qualms about it, though, your tiny moans ringing in his ears as if they were thunder, sending lighting down his spine as he stares.

You push the blankets off, and he can see the way his shirt is riding up and it’s resting against your belly, your hand inside black panties that look lacy and he has the urge to rip away so he can see everything. But because he can’t exactly do that, he only puts his hand on his mouth and bites down to avoid crying out as his hand starts moving at the pace your hand does. Your head is thrown back, and your knees are far apart, almost exposing what he wants to see the most.

You are whimpering, your tiny teeth biting your lower lip as you try and fail to keep quiet. He’s losing his mind, he can smell your arousal, so thick in the air and so mixed with his that it’s almost suffocating. But so good he would die happy if it came to it.

His hand is currently playing with his balls as your wrist moves from side to side, your tiny fingers probably rubbing over your little pearl that he’s salivating to taste. Your other hand joins the first, slipping down your panties until he’s panting and his own hand is back on his shaft.

But he doesn’t jerk himself off, not exactly, his hips bulk against his hand as he imagines he’s the one fucking your tight pussy and not your fingers. He’s not even sure he could fit, but damn if he doesn’t want to try, if he doesn’t need to see your tiny human pussy take his minotaur dick until you are crying with the stretch, screaming his name until you are a mess around him.

His eyes never leave your moving form on the couch, his hand squeezing rhythmically around the base to stop the orgasm threatening to arrive too soon. But the second you whisper his name as your hips start moving erratically, he loses it.

His groan muffled by his hand as he covers the tip of his dick to catch most of the mess. You are breathing hard on the couch, your fingers lazily rubbing over what he’s sure a mess of juices that he aches to taste, but that only turns him on more.

His hand’s rubbing his seed over his shaft as he uses it to jerk himself off languidly, oversensitiveness sending sparks of pleasure and pain to his brain and making his knees go weak under him. He falls to his knees the same way he would fall in front of you if you asked, the thud alerting you and making you look his way.

He knows there’s no way you see him, but the spark of intensity in your eyes before you close them is enough to make his breath catch. Fuck. He waits there, not moving a muscle, his hand holding his half-hard dick as you relax on the cushions, until your breathing evens out and you fall fast asleep.

Only then, he cleans his hand on the towel on the floor and carries it back to his room. His body is languid as he falls back onto his bed, his knees still weak. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent that’s still burned inside his brain: the mix of you and him.

He falls asleep with a spent dick and images to last him forever, but also with the realization that he might be more screwed than he thought. And he’s not sure he cares.

[zablife]

👀

A/N: Seeing the phone at the bottom of the frame gave me a devilish idea. Quick warning for voyeurism.

Zara is an OC I created. Read more about her in Harry and the Brat.

Harry isn’t a creep…at least that’s what he tells himself when he starts watching Conrad’s granddaughter from the secret cameras he’s installed in her bedroom. After all, the governor had been clear in his instruction to keep eyes on her at all times. And who could blame Harry for taking that order literally when she was always putting herself at risk?

If he thought he was glued to his phone before, it now becomes an appendage, checking on her diligently every moment he's away from the family compound. His eyes linger a bit longer than necessary in the evenings as she struts around in her short nighties. Squinting against the grainy feed, he resists the urge to fish his glasses from his shirt pocket, the illusion of privacy making him feel morally superior to the bodyguards who look up her skirt every time she climbs into the Range Rover.

Harry is a respected professional who's only doing his job. That's how he justifies listening in on her as well. Any strange noises could signal trouble and he wants to be ready. That's what he tells himself the night he hears her desperate whimpers filling the air. He watches her writhe beneath the duvet far longer than he should, if only to be sure there isn't someone there with her. Any good bodyguard would do the same, right?

If he hadn't been watching so intently, he might have missed the way she tossed the blankets aside to finger herself in plain sight of the nearest camera. He thought he could make out a wicked smile, directed at him, but he wasn't absolutely sure until he heard Zara's breathless pants, "Are you watching, Harry?"