#like it seems like its only a matter if time before half of max content ends up becoming lost media

[chilewithcarnage]

[mv1simp]

I’m so in love with your writing style and I think for a suggestion max and the reader being toxic asf exes but can’t get over eachother yk and try make eachother jealous but just end up in eachothers bed always 😭 sorry i suck at explaining but id die if i seen u write something like that 🥰

PLS I ALWAYS LOVE THIS CONCEPT nothing more juicy than some toxic tension with exes 🤭

Wicked Games ♥️

Max Verstappen x Toxic Ex!Reader

but baby let’s face it, I’m not into dating, all these hearts I’ve been breaking (come through, I'm not living like i did before)

no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stay away from your toxic situationship with playboy millionaire Max Verstappen after he breaks it off to be “just friends”. At least you can expect him to have more discipline than you, given his skillset as a 3 time F1 champion, right? Too bad he can’t seem to stay away from you either…

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, jealousy, toxic playboy! Max, smut, cheating, hate sex, just the usual classicsTM

You’d heard about Max Verstappen well before you first met him. Having recently moved to Monaco to start your new job working for a software company, you had quickly become familiar with the world of F1 - including its’ current top driver who was known for his aggressive style on the track and his lavish, playboy lifestyle off it. You hadn’t paid much heed to it until you were at a friend of a friend’s house party one night, after being peerpressured by the threat your coworker Bianca delivered that you were apparently “doomed to die alone as an old dog lady who sat in front of her 4 wide screen computers all day.” Bit dramatic, but it did the trick and soon you were walking through the doors of a raging party that night.

You had been warned that Monaco was a small place, filled with many of the rich and elite, and you were bound to run into some politician, actress or influencer sooner or later. You just hadn’t expected the first celebrity you met to be Max Verstappen, three time world champion, freshly out of a highly publicised breakup with a Russian supermodel! Bianca snarked next to you, yet he was laughing loudly in the middle of the living room, surrounded by his friends without a care in the world.

You shrugged, honestly quite disinterested in the celebrity thing, and had forgotten completely about the F1 driver until a few hours later when you found yourself alone on the outdoor balcony wanting some fresh air, tipsy from a bottle of white wine. Hearing the balcony door open and close again behind you, you started talking, assumed your friend had followed you out - I am never letting you convince me to drink that wine again Bianca, oh my god -

Only to turn around and come face to face with the infamous Max Verstappen himself. You hadn’t realised you had squeaked his full name out loud until he smiled bemusedly, saying just Max is fine, sweetheart. You blushed profusely, apologising and didn’t notice the way he looked you up and down in your cute, conservative outfit of light jeans and a fitted pastel cardigan. Instead of going back inside like you had expected, he struck up a conversation about how that white wine was truly deadly, which then led to a debate about the potency of red vs white vs rose, and before you knew it you two had been talking for hours about anything and everything, including your pets (you were very strongly pro-dogs while he preferred cats, which was just diabolical since they ignored humans half the time. He laughed and said that was the whole point). When he found out you worked in software - specifically, for one that specialised in developing e-sim racing tracks, his blue eyes lit up in genuine excitement as he animatedly began discussing specifics with you, an attractive pink flush on his cheeks from his drinking. He was insanely good looking, with his tall broad build and soft smile, and you were pleasantly surprised he was so down to earth. When it was time to go he had easily asked for your number, Bianca gawking at the scene as you typed your details into his phone, your caramel skin all flushed from the attention of a handsome man like Max. She dragged you off after, hissing at you to be careful, he’s way too much of a player for you, don’t expect much from him, okay? After a couple days went by and you had indeed, not heard anything from Max, you accepted that was that and promptly forgot about it.

But then, 3 weeks later in the middle of your Thursday afternoon Pilates session, your phone dinged with a text. Monza track is down in the system wtf. You guys gonna sort this out? You had panicked initially thinking the unknown number was your boss before your phone dinged again. This is Max btw. Wanna come over and fix the glitch here? Just this once plz 🙏

“Here” turned out to be Max’s insane penthouse apartment overlooking the Monaco marina, and just this once became a monthly occurrence whenever Max was home between races and on his rig with you beside him, sharing your technical knowledge about the online track to help him set new records. Monthly became weekly when Max realized you had never actually driven the rig yourself and you found yourself in his lap - for teaching purposes, of course Max stated unconvincingly - and weekly became almost daily when you started to become a little too good on the track and his hands moved down your body, into your cute short shorts and he expertly slid his fingers into you until you fell apart for the first time, still sitting right there on his lap. Think you need some more practise, schatje, Max had smirked. You crashed into the barriers barely 100 metres in. And the rest had been history.

10 months later, this - situationship? relationship? friends with benefits? gaming buddies who fucked on the side? - had you confused. Sometimes he acted like your boyfriend, having homecooked meals together and watching movies on the couch, his head on your thighs asking you to rub his hair in the way he liked. Other times he acted indifferent, giving you the cold shoulder at parties or the rare times you would join your friends at a race. And when you would be stressed about work he would appear as the caring friend on behalf of your now shared group, rubbing your shoulder and offering you comfort and advice. But the worst would be when he would disappear for weeks, obviously busy with work but would cut off all communication and you would be forced to stalk his fan pages to get updates and read rumours of all the models he would be seen with overseas - only for him to turn up at your doorstep randomly wanting to be let in. You tried to be mad each time, yelling at him to explain himself, knowing this wasn’t healthy, really you did - but it was hard to resist his oh so talented tongue when he would lay you back and whisper sweet apologies in between your legs, making you come over and over again on his fingers, then with his mouth and finally on his thick cock that you had ended up losing your virginity too. You hadn’t realized how attached you had become to the champion driver until you were on a group trip to Amalfi coast and were caught making out on a moonlit beach by a stray papparazzi, making Max freak out.

He had been the one to very clearly insist on keeping things secret - for both your sakes, he said - given his very public status and you had been happy to agree, being a private person yourself. But as time has passed and Max became the only guy you wanted to be with, you had started to assumed he had been feeling the same - judging by the expensive diamond jewellery he would turn up with to pair with his wicked apologies, when he would always be the one you called to pick you up when you were too drunk to taxi home, and in the quiet, domestic moments when you were curled up together he murmured you understand me in a way no one else does, liefje.

Apparently though, Max has not been on the same page at all, which he made very clear when he publically dismissed the multiple viral pictures of you two - which now circulated the internet as finally some juicy gossip about the unusually single F1 driver had emerged. All your friends had sent the interview clip to you, with Max’s clear dismissal of I don’t know really know her, just an acquaintance from my friend group. My priority is my career, not entertaining the fangirls, he had said without an ounce of guilt on his handsome face.

You’d been desperate to give him a chance to explain himself, thinking it was a PR tactic, but Max had been ignoring your calls for days and you ended up knocking at his door. He’d let you in with a sigh, watching your eyes fill with tears as he said it had never been that serious, c’mon baby, when had I ever said it was exclusive, just a bit of fun for you too wasn’t it? Got a good fucking from me and a bunch of Cartier jewellery. Let’s just stay friends from now on, yeah?

God. What a fucking prick. You made sure he knew it too as you screamed it at him before storming off. You still hadn’t fully accepted it, checking your phone afterwards and expecting him to call and grovel for your forgiveness, until your friend group’s Sunday brunch a couple weeks later, where Max had made a rare appearance - and this time, with a pretty girl you vaguely recognised from a magazine cover right by his side. You had met his eyes across the table briefly, looking for any hint of remorse but finding none, as he quickly looked away, laughing at the girl next to him. You fled straight to Bianca’s after, into her arms and sympathetic gaze as she rubbed you through your sobs. It took you weeks to get out of your depressive slump, your heart completely broken and humiliated publically. You promised yourself, you were never going to shed a tear over Max Verstappen again.

You were a young, hot, and very talented woman living in Monaco - and now that you were no longer hung up on Max, you were free to monopolise on your single status. Althought he has left you with a broken heart, he’d undeniably made you a lot more experienced and confident when it came to navigating guys - without become too emotionally invested, of course. You only needed to get your heart broken once to learn never to do it again. You traded in your cute conservative outfits for more trendy, fitted pieces that show off your body just right as you started going on dates with different guys every weekend.

After a lunch date earlier that day, you were walking into a friend’s house for a group potluck one evening, still dressed in an off shoulder summery minidress and kitten heels, with matching makeup done to complete the look. You’re absentmindedly replying to a text from the guy who had said he’d love to see you again when you catch sight of Max for the first time in weeks, along with a new girl you hadn’t seen next to him. Before, this would have sent you into a spiral, but now you just push down on any unwanted feeling and greet everyone warmly. Conversation is flowing, wine poured and everyone digs into dinner, and when the topic of dating came up your friends were curious to hear about all the dates you’d been spotted on recently. You start telling some of them one of the funnier first date stories where the guy’s ex had been bartending and he had been paranoid the whole night about being poisoned. At some point you notice Max has been glancing in your direction. You look back, raising an eyebrow to say What? and this time he doesn’t break eye contact, staring at you before slowly drifting his gaze up and down your body. You flush and turn around, ignoring him the rest of the night and also ignoring the butterflies that swirled in your stomach from seeing him. Fucking asshole, checking you out while his girlfriend is right next to him on the couch.

Max’s heated stares across the room continue at the next gathering and the one after that and you continued to purposely avoid him. And if anyone noticed that you were dressed in cuter and tighter outfits each time, in the pastel colours that you knew he liked with matching heels, revealing more of your tantalising tan skin for Max’s gaze, they wisely chose not to comment. It all came to a head at a party on Max’s yacht one weekend. You greeted him politely as you stepped on, having come to terms that you two ran in the same circle and had to act like civil adults. He greeted you back easily, arm around a different eye candy model this time. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his usual playboy ways and went to go fix yourself a drink.

After you had all gone swimming and eaten dinner and were now relaxing watching the sunset, your phone dinged with a text to signal the arrival of Anton, who was the latest hire at your workplace and had recently been coming to a few events with your friends. He was also your newest hookups in your recent string of casual relationships - most of which had been average in bed at best, and you had your fingers crossed that Anton was going to deliver. Your group greeted him warmly as he came upto the deck, coming straight to your side and you leaned in to rest on his lap, all relaxed from your cocktails. You didn’t miss Max’s glances at Anton’s hands that lay on your thighs. The night went on and more drinks were drunk and people wandered off, yet Max’s agitated gaze was now firmly fixed on Anton’s fingers moving up your legs, lifting your skimpy sundress and rubbing your thighs. His own latest fling was completely ignored as she sat next to him, clinging onto his biceps. Smirking with satisfaction at having riled Max up for once, you excused yourself to head to the toilet downstairs.

You had barely entered the hallway when you were yanked into a side room and slammed against the door as it closed. Max?! you gasped, looking up to find his stormy blue eyes staring at you heatedly. You push him back with full force, What the fuck do you think you’re doing-

He cuts you off with a scoff, Oh, what I’m doing? You’re the one practically getting fingered by that fuckwit in front of everyone! He steps forward, now even closer into your space, and you can’t deny how turned on seeing him get all hot and bothered has made you. What, jealous Verstappen? Missed me that much? you tease. Too bad, you already fucked it up with me. Otherwise that could have been your hands on me instead.

Max looks positively murderous at your jab before a predatory glint emerges in his eye. Schatje, he says, making you bristle and demand stop calling me that but he ignores you. Schatje, you’re the one who wants my hands on her, hmm? I heard you, you know. Earlier when you were talking to Bianca about how none of the guys you’ve been fucking have been able to do it for you. Making you cum was never a problem for me, remember? don’t you miss it? Shall I fix that problem for you?

Oh, you do remember. For all his arrogance Max was an absolute god in the bedroom and you missed the sex dearly - and it seems Max had been missing it too. He easily lifts you up against the wall, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as trails his hands up your dress and you’re rolling your eyes and denying his words, telling him he was a cocky asshole and you hated him but not stopping him as his fingers slid into you, finding you already dripping. He smirks, all ego, but you quickly wipe it off his face by telling him it’s probably still wet from when Anton went down on me earlier. A complete lie but Max didn’t need to know that, did he?

And no one else needed to know that Max angrily swore at your lie as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, grabbing a hold of your tiny dress and whispering how you were such a dirty girl for wearing these slutty outfits and teasing him.

No one needed to know when he yanked his raging erection out his trunks and began thrusting into you, moaning in your ear about how you were just as tight as the first time he had fucked you, right here on the same yacht, and just like that night he’s going to make you come again now-

And no one needed to know that when you both emerged hastily upto the deck a while later, sitting down next to your respective latest partners but your eyes still fixed on each other, it was his cum that was now covering the inside of your thighs.

Once you had started you both couldn’t stop. Everytime you saw each other things got more and more out of control. A new influencer at Max’s side who was left alone when he fingered you to completion in the dark gardenshed outside a friend’s house party, his other fingers shoved inside your mouth for you to suck on and keep your moans quiet. An ex client of yours left wandering trying to find you, his date at his own charity gala, while you were upstairs riding Max on a plush chaise in the office up, heels still on and silk dress pulled up, making him swear in a way only you could get out of him as you took him in deep. You’d tell him you hated him, that you were only using him to relieve your sexual tension and he meant nothing and he would laugh, whispering in your ear Don’t lie, baby, I know you love this, your sweet pussy just needs my cock inside it, huh?

This went on and on for weeks, a twisted competition where whoever would concede first and drag the other one away was the loser - and you and Max both despised losing. It wasn’t until you were almost caught on camera by paparazzi yet again, this time in the back of his Aston Martin Valkyrie with your head between his legs, deepthroating him messily, using your tongue just the way he liked it- that Max freaked out again and demanded you two break it off at once. You’d rolled your eyes at his melodrama, thinking he was bluffing, but true to his word Max hightailed it out of a room the next few times he saw you, despite your best efforts at picking an outfit you were sure would make him crumble.

Time for you to up the ante, you mused. You weren’t going to stop until you walked away as the winner of this wicked game. You licked your lips as you devilishly thought up your plan.

Maybe this time you’d go flirt with one of his handsome driver friends and really piss him off?

—————————————————————————

A/N: love seeing requests you guys send, pls send as many as you want I need inspo!!! Hope you enjoyed this anon lmk what u think, will write Part 2 soon if u keen 🫶 soz I made it too long ahahah had to split it up

[laceyjane44]

GaaSaku 2023 FanFest Day2

Prompt: First Time/First Kiss

(AU)

He’d been hoping for the break in weather to last just a little longer, but the six-day streak they were on came to an abrupt end when Gaara stepped out of his house and observed the darkening skies overhead. He grabbed his rain gear before leaving, it hadn’t begun to sprinkle yet, but when it did, he wouldn’t have much time before the skies opened up. Quick steps would close the gap between his residential block and the east end of campus in no time, he knew all the short cuts and which backyards to cut through when he was running late, and he double-checked the contents of his bag as he went.

Late or not, Gaara didn’t want to be caught in the rain, he hated the rain.

When he first moved up here for school, he thought he would like experiencing different weather more often. Where he was from, rain was a rarity and the clouds were merely for decoration. They passed by without ever spilling a drop, but now that he couldn’t seem to go a week without this bleak atmosphere and droning drizzles, he missed those parched skies desperately. The American southwest had been his whole world until he flipped it all on its head to move to northeast Oregon and pursue his talents in art. Rocky soil and arid plants had been his home, clear skies with stars for miles, the smell of heat in the air, that was what he yearned for again.

First period was Life Drawing, a coveted class that he’d finally been able to convince his advisor to help him get into. He’d been trying since freshman year but it maxed out quicker than anything else in his major, and now that he had gotten one of those seats, he couldn’t afford to miss any of it. Quite literally; he’d taken loans and received grants to afford moving up here for art school.

Arriving before the start of class, and just before the start of the downpour, he set up his station at his usual spot; at the back by the door, first easel by the center aisle. It provided the best view of the subject with the isle next to him no matter where his classmates set up, and he preferred being in the back anyway. He took his sketchbook out and warmed up his hand while the class filled in. Soon, when the model arrived, the professor gave their instructions, and class went underway.

For the first half hour, the classroom was silent save for the charcoal scratches on paper and the rain drizzling on the roof. The monotonous pattering always made him feel so sluggish and he didn’t appreciate how tired he became during his first class of the day. One of these days, Gaara had thought since beginning this class, he was going to pass out right there at his easel.

It may have even been today, but the doorknob to the art room clicking and the old hinges creaking open caught his attention.

“Sorry, sorry,” came an embarrassed whisper as someone slipped into class. “I had a hard time finding- Oh!”

He, and everyone else in the class, all jumped a little and looked over to see who had just walked in to class late and gasped like that.

She had her pastel pink hair done up in a messy bun with bedhead fraying out at the sides. A grey campus sweater was damp across the top, she clutched a textbook to her chest, and had a fully stuffed backpack pulling at one shoulder. She’d been wearing sweatpants and slides, and she’d clearly caught herself in the chilly morning rain. Coming in the door right next to him, just a few feet away, he could see a distinctive blush cover her face as her eyes widened at the sight of their nude model. He watched them move up and down, mouth agape, only to tear away a moment later as she ducked her head and brought her hands up to her face.

“Oh god!” she gasped again, her voice shaking with embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I – I must be in the wrong place.” As she whipped around, shielding her eyes from the naked man stood dumbfounded on the center riser, her backpack slid off her shoulder, pulled at her arm, and tossed her book to the floor. It also ran straight into his easel and nearly knocked it over.

“Watch it!” he spat, an impulse reaction as he steadied his easel and dodged a textbook to the foot.

She flushed even deeper and dove after her book, he could read Anatomy on the spine before she snatched it off the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized as she stood and backed up from him. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to get to-” she broke away from his disgruntled stare and saw the rest of the room watching her, effectively silencing her with social mortification.

The professor stepped forward then, standing between her and their volunteer model for the period, and pointed to the door she’d left open. “Miss, if you’re not part of this class, please leave,” she said firmly.

“Of course,” the student agreed, repositioning her backpack and fidgeting with the book in her arms. “I am so sorry.” She glanced back at Gaara with an apologetic half smile and fumbled with the loose doorknob of the classroom.

Her footsteps could be heard receding down the hallway and when Gaara looked back to the professor she made a gesture to the door, to which he responded by latching it shut and locking it.

That was the first time he saw her.  

After that he had spent the next few weeks working on a couple pieces and he’d had to spend extra time on campus in the studio. Thankfully the cafés were usually stocked well enough with quick meals and coffee round the clock, they’d been his lifeline this week while he put in the extra hours. He’d been sleeping like shit and he assumed trying to work on his projects at his place would only tempt him to procrastinate for the sake of sleep.

It was on his way back toward the door during one of these visits that he noticed a familiar messy bundle of hair bent over the table at a corner booth. There were papers strewn about beneath her diligent hands scribbling away, and two textbooks lay open for her reference. She sat alone, with a few crumpled wrappers and an empty bottle at the edge of the table, he could see the cord of a singular headphone dangling from her ear.

He hadn’t thought about running into her again, but with his dinner in one hand and his drink in the other, he found himself walking toward that booth she sat in. Gaara hadn’t made a habit of being outwardly social, especially if he didn’t share a class with someone, and she clearly hadn’t even been part of his major given the textbook she’s nearly thrown at him. Though, it was a good thing, he figured; she was avoidable enough if things bombed, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind a last-minute addition to her study table, there were plenty of open seats as it were.

She hadn’t noticed his approach but when he slid into the booth opposite her and placed down his coffee, she stopped her writing and peered across the table. She seemed confused upon first glance, but when she lifted her head and straightened her back, the recognition to cross her face was complimented by his own greeting.

“Well,” he said with a smirk. “If it isn’t Miss I’m so sorry.”

He could see her shoulders drop with her steady exhale as her ears turned pink. She pulled the headphone out of her ear and put her pencil down. “Lovely,” she mumbled with a glance to the side. “Can I help you?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest and mirroring his slouched pose. “I’m trying to study.”

“I just had a question,” he stated, keeping his voice smooth, appreciating the opportunity to take in the color of her eyes. She raised an eyebrow as he took a casual sip of his coffee. “How does someone show up to the wrong classroom nearly four weeks into the semester?”

She furrowed her brows in response and answered his question with her own. “What’s it matter to you?”

“You’re medical?” he guessed, gesturing to the array of papers she was working on. “How’d you end up at Life Drawing in the art building?”

She scoffed and straightened her papers, now embarrassed of her messy spread. “They’re on the same side of campus,” she said in her defense. “I went to the wrong building and asked an art student where Anatomy was.”

He stifled his laugh but he couldn’t hold back his grin. She looked away. “They did you dirty,” he jested. “But you should have known your way to class by then.”

Again, she glanced at him before speaking her explanation to the empty seat next to her, avoiding his eyes. “I hadn’t been on campus yet this year,” she huffed with a bit of attitude coming through in her voice. “I had to take most of my classes online while I was back home with my dad taking care of my mom, so I’m trying to catch up.”

Hesitating with the snarky response after that, he instead asked, “This your first year on campus?”

She shook her head. “Second, I’ve been…online a lot. You?”

“Third,” he answered as he opened the wrapper to his food and settled in across from that tempered look she gave him, though she never told him to leave.

That had been the first time he sat with her in the café.

He had a newfound appreciation for his time spent in the art studio, as over the following weeks it offered him plenty more opportunity to crash her solo evening study sessions in his new favorite booth. It took a couple times of him calling her Sorry for her to give up her name more or less unprovoked, and he’d given over his even though she hadn’t asked for it. Sakura – he wouldn’t be forgetting that – always sported the same messy updo and comfortable athleticwear, a classic look of socks with slides that he didn’t care for until she had worn it so well, and it was only twice that he’d seen her studying without that singular headphone in. Her note taking started to slow when he came around recently, she looked up from her books more, and even allowed his company long enough to take his book out and sketch in between projects. The winter was also beginning to settle in, and the icy rains and biting wind gave him plenty of excuses to stay longer when he came by, even when he didn’t need to put in the studio time, and he used them.

One evening, Gaara had gotten there before her and sat at the back of the booth, welcoming Sakura to the seat next to him upon her arrival. After an hour and half of scribbling and silence nearly the whole time, Gaara felt confident enough in the skills he’d honed thus far in his curriculum to reach across the table and put the open page of his sketchbook in front of her. He’d spent that evening sketching the way she looked as she studied; hunched over the table with her pencil straight up, her face inches from her paper, concentrating and focused beyond distraction. He’d grown to love that meticulous and analytical look in her eyes, and he wanted to show her the best that he could do.

Sakura had glanced over only to doubletake, her pencil dropping as she slid the book in front of her. She looked up at him, those round eyes reflecting the dim lights of the campus café, her lips slightly parted, and he wished he’d had the perspective to sketch those features as well.

“Is this me?” she had asked, earning an uneven grin from him that, like many of his others had before, made her cheeks tinge just a little.

“Who else would it be?” he replied as he leaned back in the booth, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his feet stretched out in front of him. He didn’t bother moving his foot when his boot knocked against hers and rested there under the table, and neither did she.

She responded by simply admiring herself on the page a little more, a free hand now playing with a lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun.

He could have sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest, but he took a steady breath while she admired his work. “I have a project at home I have to work on,” he said, gauging how her soft smile fell a little bit as she looked at his sketch, showing just a smidge of disappointment in the casual way he’d brought up his departure.

“All right,” Sakura said, her tone light as she folded closed his book and slid it back to him.

Without reaching for his sketchbook, he continued, “My roommate’s girlfriend is gonna come by later, said she’d pick up takeout on her way.” Gaara knocked his boot against hers more deliberately this time and Sakura glanced up to him, visibly swallowing. He willed himself to keep his cool and, trying his hand at the bold approach – as it had been working in his favor so far, he made a show of admiring the blush settling across her cheeks and tinting her ears red. “She’ll pick something up for you,” he said, her eyes going a bit wide when he asked, “Why don’t you come over?”

She hadn’t answered right away, and had only begun stammering an o-okay when she looked down to start straightening her papers.

Gaara couldn’t hope to understand which papers went with which, but he scooped them up all the same and shut them inside her textbooks, grabbed them with his sketchbook and tossed them all in his bag to carry for her. Still trying to play it cool even in his haste, the anxious excitement hadn’t fully set in until he heard the zipper of her parka slide shut and saw its fuzzy-lined hood come up to frame her rosy face.

That was the first time he’d asked her over to his place, and he’d been building up the courage to do so for weeks.

When they left the café together and were met with the wet sleet falling quietly in the streetlights, his heart nearly flipped in his chest when she remarked that her dorm was so close to the café, she hardly ever brought an umbrella and worried about her backpack getting wet in the rain. Knowing he’d see her today; he was fully prepared for this miserable weather and even welcomed it. Slipping his umbrella out from the side sleeve of his bag, he opened it over them. It was a large umbrella given that he often had to carry his portfolio to and from campus, but he welcomed how she still drew closer to him to fit under it, and how she bumped into him a few times as he showed her the way to his house.

He’d let his roommate know that he was bringing someone over later but hadn’t gone into details, he didn’t know if she would actually accept his offer, and he slipped him a twenty for an extra entre order that evening. But she had accepted, and he hoped the heads-up text he’d sent him when they were walking over would be enough for him to make a good impression. When they arrived at his house though, he should have known he’d have nothing to worry about; his roommate had a dog, a puppy no less, so he was huge hit with Sakura for a little longer than Gaara would have liked.

But, to his credit, during that time he read the room and figured out what Sakura wanted from their takeout restaurant, passed the order along to his girlfriend, and took the dog out for a bathroom break after the excitement of meeting a new person. She turned so coy when the door shut and they stood alone in the living room, perhaps she could feel the energy burning off him, or maybe she was just nervous in new places.

Lifting a hand, he tapped the back of his fingers against the arm of her jacket and she gripped her backpack straps just a little tighter, the cold air they had walked through was her only excuse for the color on her face. “Come here,” he said, motioning through the living room as he led her to the back hallway. “You can put your stuff in my room, all my supplies are in there.”

She chewed her lip and nodded, her eyes wandering and taking in everything on display in his rental as she followed him. He opened his door for her, took her backpack and jacket, and set them on his bed. His door had always swung shut a little on its own, but it wouldn’t close, and he let it be.

Not wanting to look anxious, he gave her his sketch board to lay her notes flat on and brought out his current piece to showcase his progress. Perhaps not the best idea, since the thoughtful way she looked over his work had him nearly sweating bullets, but he breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she said she liked it and continued to study it for a moment.

Goaded on by his small success, he stepped next to her, as if to observe his piece from her own perspective, and he could practically feel the way she tensed as he got closer. He bent down slightly, his face level with hers, and asked as he glanced over, “I think I did pretty good this time, what do you think?” His voice had dropped and turned raspy upon seeing her here in his house, in his room; he thought he’d been fantasizing to pursue this outcome.

Sakura had apparently felt the same.

Free from her backpack and puffy jacket, and compelled by weeks of indecisive desire, she had reached for him without warning and pulled him close. She pressed her lips against his and fisted her hands in the collar of his shirt, desperate to hold onto him, and she was shaking because of it.

That had been the first time he kissed her; an unexpected and treasured payoff to the time he’d invested withstanding her skeptical and arduous vetting, all the while casually sowing the seeds that had led to this moment. Sakura was gasping when she pulled away at first, he’d almost been able to tell her to calm down, but then she pulled him back again and he grinned against her lips.

She had melted, welcoming any touch that he gave her, and allowed herself to be pressed against him. Bemused, Gaara thought over how he might turn this first visit into the first night she would spend at his place, as she appeared eager enough to be convinced.

Thanks for reading!

LaceyJane44 Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

[casspurrjoybell-19]

TORN - Chapter 5

*Warning: Adult Content*   

It felt as if they drove for hours with how many thoughts went through Berlin Cahill’s mind, even if it was in reality only a couple of minutes. He kept his eyes closed and his hands in his lap comfortably, attempting to tune Alpha Oasis Amador’s intimidating presence out in the background. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't go against the will of his Alpha, Mate or not. On top of that, Berlin is an Omega, which made him even more susceptible to Oasis’ influence. Because of that, the young man was stuck in this expensive car with his bare thighs sticking to the leather and an annoyingly attractive man to his left.

‘I'm betraying Max.’

Berlin jumps in his seat as he feels a slight pressure on his palm out of nowhere. It took less than a second for him to recognize exactly what it was and when he did, he felt like fainting. The sparks that erupted throughout his body was only half of the problem. As Oasis’s large, warm fingers intertwined with Berlin’s slim and slightly chilly ones, the young man had to fight back a sound of protest. The metal of the locket that rested against his chest burned uncomfortably against his skin, it’s usual calming coldness gone as it only served as a reminder. 

‘This is wrong. This is so wrong.’

There was a steady flow of negative thoughts that refused to let Berlin breathe and every muscle of his body tensed with a strong feeling of remorse. Closing his eyes for a few minutes at a time helped but he was undeniably hyper-aware of the feeling of Oasis's palm pressed firmly into his. He knew that he shouldn't have looked down at them, it would only make this harder but he wasn't even close to being in his right mind as all too familiar tingles took a hold of his nerves and sent fireworks shooting up his arm. His breath hitched at the sight before him as he flickered his eyes down. His slender and effeminately dainty fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between Oasis’ rough, tanned and comfortingly calloused ones. Just the sight of their hands embracing one another was enough to send Berlin’s emotions over the edge again.

"Berlin?" Oasis spoke with a surprisingly soft tone and the young man blinked, surprised that he hadn't noticed that they had stopped in the middle of a path bordered by lush foliage. 

He quickly wiped away a few tears that he hadn't realized had escaped with his unoccupied hand before more tears threatened to follow in its wake. 

"Hmm?" Berlin mumbled softly, taking the opportunity to slip his hand from the older man’s grip. 

He clasped it with his other hand before turning towards Alpha Oasis but refusing to meet his eyes as he knew it would only make this harder for him. But Berlin couldn't miss the worried frown that overtook his Alpha’s features at the sight of him. Berlin flinched as the Alpha reached out to cup his cheek and brush his thumb underneath his watery eyes. He wanted to protest but realized that it would be for naught, as he could already tell that this man was beyond stubborn. 

"Shit..." Berlin heard Oasis mumble fiercely as a fresh wave of salty water began sliding down his cheeks. 

A voice in Berlin’s head wouldn't stop reminding him, he was betraying the one man that he'd ever loved. The only man who had ever loved him. Berlin couldn't even gather the energy to protest to the Alpha’s curse as he buried his face into the long sleeves of Max's sweater in an effort to hide his tears. Oasis slipped out of the driver's seat, inhaling deeply as Berlin tried to reign in his pathetic sobs. It seemed as if he never stopped crying these days. He registered that he was being carried through the dense trees as his tears died down, breathing in the fresh air of the forest around him. His skin felt a little too warm today, probably because of the heavy sweater he wore on this warm summer's day. 

The loud swoosh of water gushing from what sounded like a waterfall soothed Berlin’s hypersensitive nerves and the light mist whirled along his skin, cooling his clammy forehead. Berlin pulled his sleeves down from his eyes, peeking timidly through his fingers, only to be astounded at the beauty of the place that he was currently being carried to. He'd never seen a clearing more beautiful. The grass radiated a bright green at the Alpha’s feet and Berlin couldn't help but smile inwardly as he thought of slipping off his shoes and running through the soft blanket of it. His eyes soaked in the beauty of the clearing but by far the most beautiful of all was the large pool of crystal clear water, fed by a never-ending flow of a waterfall. Oasis sat at the edge of the waterfall, being careful not to jostle Berlin’s body as he set him next to him on the rocks. Although the Alpha male was still too close for the young Omega’s comfort, he didn't bother to protest this time as he was still thoroughly entranced by the magical beauty of the clearing.

"Kitten? Why do you always wear those sweaters?" asked Oasis, as he gingerly reached out, brushing Berlin’s blonde bangs from his eyes. 

"If you like wearing them I could buy you more. These ones look days away from falling apart."

A lump formed in Berlin’s throat as he pondered how to respond to Oasis’ question. He looked down, playing with the hem of said sweater as he answered. It was easier to talk to the Alpha when Berlin wasn't looking directly at him. 

"It belong to someone who was very important to me," Berlin answers after a moment of contemplation, unconsciously moving to tightly grasp his locket in his hand. 

He wasn't ready to give all the details yet. No... not yet... and maybe not ever. Oasis nodded at Berlin’s response and the young man could feel his Alpha’s piercing gaze locked onto him. 

"Hmm," he simply stated, the baritone of his incredibly deep voice causing a shiver to involuntarily shimmy down Berlin’s spine.

His mind and body were at a terrifyingly strong tug-of-war. His mind told him to run as far away from this dangerous man as far as possible but his body obviously had a completely different plan, as his sensitive nerves reveled in Oasis’ intoxicatingly close proximity. At one moment Berlin’s mind would have the upper hand until a spark shooting up his spine would erase all of its progress. It was all so confusing and left his mind reeling. 

"What's your favorite color?" the Alpha randomly asked a moment later, his blue-gold eyes remaining on Berlin’s face, causing him to squirm underneath his heated gaze, although he appreciated the change of topic. 

‘This was easier.’

"Pink," Berlin answered, feeling his face heat up embarrassingly bright at his answer. 

He looked up at him through his lashes, not yet able to make direct eye contact. Some found Berlin’s color preference to be quite odd and brought some bullying his way in high school. He was surprised, as by the look on Oasis’ face he was not phased by it in the slightest. His eyes, bright and gazing down at Berlin with interest.

"Favorite food?"

"Chicken nuggets."

"Favorite movie?"

"Coraline but it does scares me a little."

Oasis continues rattling off random questions for the better part of ten minutes and because they were mostly harmless, Berlin didn't see a problem with answering them. He carelessly spurted out his answers as he looked down at the sparkling, crystalline waters in the pond, the crashing sound of the small waterfall in the background and the alluring scent of nature and Oasis' cologne swirling in the wind around him.

"Favorite game?"

"Monopoly but not when I have to deal with the money."

"Favorite sex toy?"

"Vibr..." 

Berlin freezes in his spot. 

‘He did not just...’

Snapping his head up, Berlin finally met the Alpha’s eyes. He felt his whole body flush with frustration. Just as he was beginning to get used to the feeling of being alone with Oasis, he does this, completely knocking Berlin off guard. He felt so embarrassed and humiliated.

"You sneaky... butt-head," Berlin screeched angrily, tackling Oasis off of the rocks and onto the soft grass with a sudden burst of energy. 

He hit Oasis’ chest continually with his small fists and the Alpha’s amused chuckle rang in Berlin’s ears, teasing him at his meager attempt to use violence only caused him to sit back and cross his arms across his chest with a frustrated pout. Berlin was legitimately angry and he didn't seem to care.

"You're beautiful regardless but when you're angry... It just multiplies tenfold," Oasis whispered out with a hint of seduction in his tone.

He gripped Berlin’s hips and the young man realized, in horror, what position he was in.

‘Oh no. I didn't even realize...’

He was straddling the much larger man in the grass, his bum pressed directly on top of his impressive manhood. Berlin squeaked out in surprise, pressing his hands down in the grass and attempting to stand up and out of Oasis’ grasp. However, that only made the situation worse as Oasis pressed his hand onto his Mate’s slender back, causing him to fall forward, only catching himself on his hands when his face hovered inches from the older man. Berlin’s breath hitched in his throat as they both breathed heavily, realizing that the gap between their lips could be filled with one small, fluid movement. The Alpha’s eyes swirled with gold as they sat in complete silence for a long moment. Berlin’s body vibrated with anticipation as the electricity between them spiked.

‘I hate this.’

But he couldn't pull away. He was locked in Oasis’ hypnotizing gaze, a pained whine escaping his throat as he felt the tip of the older man’s thumb slip underneath his sweater and graze over his hip. The touch sent a shockwave of pleasure through Berlin’s system and his legs trembled with trepidation.

‘I loathe this.’

He could taste Oasis’ breath as it danced through the tiny gap between their lips, a mixture of mint and cinnamon hitting the back of Berlin’s throat. It was delicious, the young man’s toes curling as he dared to linger closer to the Alpha’s inviting lips. 

‘I can't do this.’

But he did. The tingles throughout Berlin’s body became overwhelming as he bridged the small gap between their lips, his entire body coming to life as a Fourth of July show began in every synapse of his being. His Wolf, Casey, howled in his mind, pushing to the forefront as he begged for a taste. Berlin knew he would regret this when his mind pulled back in this tug-of-war but in that moment he felt as if he was operating on autopilot, his body having a mind of it’s own when it came to capturing these addictive tingles he hadn't felt in ages.

‘It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.’ 

Logically, he knew that. But he wanted this to keep going so badly. 

A warmth began to expand from his heart as their lips moved together in sync. It became brighter, hotter. Berlin kissed Oasis deeper. The warm sensation spread throughout his limbs, licking at his arms, his legs and neck. He gripped his Mate tighter. It grew and grew as their tongues brushed and lips locked became hotter and hotter. As the Alpha bit gently on Berlin’s bottom lip was when the heat between them became utterly unbearable. Berlin pressed his body against Oasis' hard chest, practically mewling with pleasure as he tried to rip at his shirt in an effort to touch his skin to his, craving more of these tingles like a man in the desert without water. 

"Please..." Berlin breathed out, wanting more. 

‘No, I need more. I need every inch of him.’

Berlin was suddenly burning up, feeling as if he was engulfed in flames as he began frantically rolling his hips against Oasis, only sated at the places where his bare skin touched his Mate’s bare skin. Berlin looked down at the Alpha in his position underneath him through hooded eyelids, his lips swollen and parted from their intense kisses. Oasis had a dumbfounded look on his face, frozen in his spot in the grass as he watched Berlin ravage his body from below. It took a moment of the young man grinding against him and an embarrassing loud moan, before Oasis suddenly snapped to his senses. He sat up as Berlin straddled him, grabbing his hands in his much larger ones and holding onto them tightly in order to stop him attempting to tear off every article of clothing on his delicious body. Berlin wanted to lick every inch of his tightly muscled...

"Berlin," Oasis yelled out, shaking his mate gently with a panicked expression in his eyes. 

Berlin almost moaned at the contact of his Alpha’s hands on him, leaning forward to nuzzle his neck and pressing his lips against it repeatedly. He knew what he was doing was wrong... he couldn't do this to Max but he physically couldn't stop. His body was screaming at him and he couldn't fight it... he didn't want to fight it.

‘I'm sorry, Max... Just this once...’

"Please Oasis... fuck me..." Berlin begged, struggling against Oasis’ tight hold on him as he continued vigorously rolling his hips in a desperate attempt to create friction between them. 

Berlin moaned wantonly, his entire body feeling as if he was thrown into in the mouth of Mount Vesuvius, hot lava coating every one of his cells. Oasis' eyes flashed with confusion for a moment, followed by utter recognition and he immediately stood up in the grass, holding his Mate against his chest as Berlin’s legs wrapped around his waist. With a grunt, the Alpha ripped off his shirt along with Berlin’s sweater, tossing them both over one shoulder before pressing the younger man tightly against his chest.He quickly ran back to his car, setting Berlin into the passenger seat and releasing him completely as he rounded the car to get back to the driver's seat. Berlin screamed bloody murder.

‘What is happening? My body is so hot, yet cold at the same time. I am in so much pain.’ 

His teeth chattered as he curled into a ball in the seat, attempting to warm himself up at least a little bit without Oasis' touch. He felt as if he was left out in a blizzard of dry ice, naked, as icy flames licked at his skin, so cold that it burned. Berlin latched onto Oasis' arm with a shiver the moment he sat in the front seat, letting out a humiliating moan of pleasure as he felt some of the icy flames dissipate and his nerves come alive.The young Alpha grabbed his cell-phone from the center console, quickly dialing a number as he drove like a maniac back towards the pack house. Not that Berlin noticed that much. There were far more important matters at hand, like getting as close to this delicious man as he possibly could. He rubbed his cheek against Oasis’ strong bicep with a whimper, wanting more. 

‘Needing more.’

Oasis growled possessively as he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Berlin could tell he was having a hard time holding back his Wolf because he was too. 

"Whaddup, dumbass. To what, do I owe the pleasure?" a deep, playful voice sounded through the receiver. 

Oasis was anything but playful in that moment however, his voice steely as he replied to whoever was on the other line. 

"Ortiz, get the pills and call the pack doctor. Berlin is in heat and I won't be able to control myself or York for much longer." 

[ridestomars]

SUNNY DAYS THAT WON'T EVER END ─ S. HARRINGTON

𖥻 summary: in which you and steve take the kids to the beach. 𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x reader. 𖥻 warnings: none except bad grammar and lousy aesthetics (not my best ik). not proofread.

💭 liv's thoughts: i am in pain and i am suffering. this is how i decided to make myself feel less sad. i wrote this in reference to steve's road trip dream in s4. everyone's alive & well in this one :) title is also a reference to james taylor's fire and rain iykyk

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU’RE UNDER 16.

"Oh my God, not this again!" you exclaim once you feel a hand brush your shoulder, sneaking its way to the van's radio. Turning your head around, you found Mike looking at you with that mischievous grin of his, which made you roll your eyes and go back to gaze at the road ahead. "Will you stop doing that?"

"It's not my fault you only put elderly music on. Why can't we listen to Talk Talk?"

"Um, actually I would be very content with Metallica, thank you!" Eddie exclaims from the back and everyone grunts in response, making him frown slightly. "What is wrong with metal?"

"It's not music, dingus," Robin answers like she was stating something obvious. "Besides, I don't get why you didn't put my mixtape on." 

"To listen to Ian Curtis moan for two hours and a half? I don't think so." Steve states from behind the wheel, staring at them from his rearview mirror. Robin and Eddie were pairing up on the last seat of the van, like the two naughty kids of the classroom, and were making it their mission to annoy the fuck out of everyone in that vehicle. Along with Mike, of course, who was sitting right behind you and your boyfriend, squished in between Eleven, Dustin, and Lucas. 

"Then you should've put Kate Bush like I asked you to." Max retorted, in an as-a-matter-of-fact manner. You could feel Steve's stare at her, a warning look that burned your upper body since she was sitting right beside you. 

"I think I've had enough of Wuthering Heights for now" he comments, nodding his head almost aggressively, sparing the girl another glance. "Maxine, will you, please, take your dirty shoes off of my dashboard?"

She rolls her eyes as he repeats the request for what seems to be the thirtieth time that day. Your body slowly sinks into the cushioned seat while Max smooths out the paper map she was holding, trying to remember the quickest way for you to get to the beach. 

"Are we there yet?" Will loudly asks from the middle seat that he was sharing with Erica, Jonathan, and Nancy. "Do you see any sand here? It's like we're going into a jungle!" the youngest girl exclaims while looking out of the window. And you really couldn't disagree with her, since all you saw from the time you entered the little coastal town were green trees and even greener lawn in the midst of small suburban-like houses. "I thought Max couldn't read maps." 

"I can! This one is just… different, " she replies quizzically. 

"Different!?" Everyone asked in unison, with the same confused tone. That made Max's blue eyes widen while she looked at you and Steve for help, only to find the both of you staring back at her with incredulity all over your faces. 

"I knew I should be the one reading it! I fucking told you!" Dustin screams in Steve's direction, with his hands going over his curly hair in exasperation. You could hear the 'we're in deep shit' and 'Jesus H. Christ' from all over the automobile, coming from everyone's mouths. Harrington could only 'tsk', placing his head on the hand he rested on the driver's window. 

"Tone, Henderson!" Eddie tells him from the back of the van. "But yeah, I really think he should trade places with Red."

"Fuck off, Eddie! I'm not leaving." Max pushed her back further into the passenger's seat, crossing her arms and pouting like an angry toddler. 

You took a deep breath before asking her softly, "And do you have any idea of where we are?" 

"Yeah, I think. Here." she pointed almost shyly at the map. You nodded and followed the blue line she traced across the roads before you started this (once) exciting adventure. 

"Alright. Enter the next right, Stevie."

"This right?"

"The next."

"My right or your right?" 

"It's the same, Steve." You could see the concentration on his face when you looked at him, slightly amused by the conversation you just had. Feeling your body tilting to the left as your boyfriend makes the accentuated curve, you hear Erica's faint complaint that Will's squishing her, but you were too distracted to listen to the rest of the exchange since your head couldn't stop worrying about the route Max selected. 

If she was right, it would only be a matter of minutes before you got to the miraculous beach, the one that you all have been dreaming about for months, talking about it nonstop until Steve finally rented the van. You could only pray that the redhead was correct about all of this, because, in all honesty, you don't think you can handle Mike's bitchness for much longer, or Dustin's insufferable grunts for that matter. 

So it was almost impossible not to sigh in relief as the sight of sand invaded the horizon, with only the thinnest line of blue right in the distance. You were not the only one who was happy to see it, in fact, the whole van erupted in cheers once Lucas announced: "Land ahoy!". Giggles mixed with screams and 'fucking finally's'. El's laugh was the one who stood out to you the most; that bubbly and loud chuckle of hers made a big smile grow on your lips. 

And it only got bigger once you noticed Steve's face glowing in all its glory under the summer's sun. Bright, great, and striking, as always. There wasn't a prettier sight than him smiling so big that you couldn't even see the brown of his eyes no more, only eyelashes and cute wrinkles. It was rather relieving to see him look so happy… that was a sight you didn't see often anymore since he is always so worried about his job and his academic life. A warm feeling spread quickly through your chest, making your heart beat faster just by the vision of him. You couldn't believe how lucky you were sometimes. 

"See? I told you I could read a map." Max triumphantly says as she rests her knees on the cushioned seat, turning her body around to look at the happy faces behind her. Mayfield had one of her rare big smiles plastered on her face, in a mix of satisfaction and pride, and her cheeks were slightly flushed; a great contrast with her countless freckles. The happiness that radiated from the girl was sensed by everyone in the van, especially Lucas, who stared at her like she was the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his life. And if you ask him, he'll tell you that is true; there was no one more charming than Maxine Mayfield. They shared a quick look, and if that was even possible, her smile only grew bigger. 

"Good job, Max!" Eleven praises her friend, in that sweet way of hers. Even from miles away, it was easy to see her eyes beaming, emitting her cheerfulness for the whole world to see. 

"Thank you, El! It's nice to know that someone acknowledges my talent". 

"Well, then I think we should all say thanks to Max, you guys." Nancy suddenly says, while looking around the whole van, like a teacher encouraging her students to participate in the day's activity. She had Jonathan's arm wrapped around her shoulders, and he was laughing silently by her side. "1, 2, 3…"

"Thank you, Max!" You all exclaimed, some more excited than others, but the intensity of the burst of laughter that contaminated you was the same. 

"You are all welcome." She sheepishly accepts the recognition and takes a quick bow before dropping back to her sit. Now, she stared at Steve, who was concentrating on parking the van the best he could. "Can we please have some ice cream when we get out?"

"Hell yeah." He immediately agrees and receives another van-shaking cheer from everyone. 

"I really want chocolate. Will, do you wanna share?" Dustin turns to face the boy sitting behind him, who excitedly agrees to the proposal. You hear Eddie asking Robin if she likes cotton candy flavored ice cream, to which she replies with a vomiting sound. Guess that was a no. 

"I really wanted strawberry." Max mindlessly comments by your side.

"Then I'll buy you the whole freaking stock," Steve responds as he turns off the vehicle. The redhead emits a surprised sound, thinking that no one would actually pay attention to that. 

"You'll buy us the whole stock? Fuck yeah!" Mike chimes in and then ushers everyone to get out before Steve changes his mind. 

While they were making their way out of the van, stretching and yawing lazily under the sun, you ask your boyfriend, "You're not really thinking about buying them the whole thing, right?"

"I'm not insane, you know? I think that if we put enough sprinkles that might distract them from that fact, so don't say anything."

"I won't, promise." You proclaim as you got off the van through the driver's door, landing right next to Steve. Stretching your arms, you ask him: "Do you think you can handle babysitting them for the rest of the day?"

"Fuck no. Can't even handle babysitting them back home." He shakes his head while his arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. "But there's nothing in the world that I would rather do than this."

He gives you a soft kiss right at your temple, muttering the last word into your skin. And when you look ahead, you understand exactly what he means. You watched as Eddie gave Dustin a piggyback ride to the sand, jumping every time his feet encountered the shore since it was burning hot; as Mike raced against Eleven and Will, rilling them up until he tripped over and almost fell; as Max failed to mediate another one of the Sinclair's squabbles, laughing more than actually trying to help; as Robin had a difficult time trying not to fall when she tripped on the sand, only to be helped by Nancy and Jonathan who held her arms until she was safely walking by the seashore. 

Yeah, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world.

edit: now there's kind of a part two to this. you can read it here! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation𖤐 hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep ─ currently accepting requests for eddie munson and steve harrington.

𖥻 main taglist.  @oncasette; @kinqsteve; @virgoyves; @stevesmixtape;  @thedixon04; @joekeeryismyuncle; @datingrobinbuckley if you want to be part of my taglist, just click here!

𖥻 fic taglist. @phinafucks

[infinite-orangepeel]

a whumpy af steve harrington excerpt from ch. 2 of my soft dom eddie fic

aka this boy has a lot of unresolved trauma & eddie munson is going to help him heal

(the rest of the chapter that contains the actual smut will be linked below, i’m scared of tumblr shadow banning me again for posting the full thing in here)

READ THE TW BEFORE YOU PROCEED PLEASE !! THIS ONE IS HEAVY !! : angst to the max, panic attacks, self-injurious behaviors, blood, suicidal ideation, vomiting/nausea (as symptom of panic attacks), head trauma/partial memory loss, disordered eating habits, ptsd, heavy themes, smut, lots of emotions & general sadness for stevie

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

Steve wakes up in clothes that don’t belong to him, struggling to the surface from the dark recesses of yet another nightmare. His linen sheets are drenched in a cold sweat that makes it seem like he was running away from a real physical threat instead of a discarnate mental one. He doesn’t remember the exact contents of the dream.

Only distantly aware that it must have been somehow related to The Upside Down, because his heart is racing, his blood feels thin beneath the layer of blue veins, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck are standing straight up–like that of a cartoon cat spooked by its owner. The need to throw up his knotted guts, to purge the diseased thoughts in his brain, arises before he can even release a proper yawn or check the clock on his bedside table.

He has no idea what time it is, no memory of crawling into bed, no recollection of how he ended up in a faded Judas Priest band tee and navy briefs.

Or, at least he doesn’t, until he’s shaking from the drying sweat on his chest and can’t handle the itchy overstimulation of the tag sewn along the back of the shirt. It scratches ruthlessly against his skin and that’s going to send him into a whole other level of crisis if he doesn’t get it off his body right this instant.

Crossing his arms over his front and pulling at the hem, he frees himself from the prison of thick cotton and inhales as deeply as his shallow lungs will allow him to. Oxygen is apparently in limited supply today–not a total surprise post-nightmare, but still frustrating to confront depletion on a constant basis. Everything about his existence feels watered down, barren, and sapped of purpose–it’s been that way for a while. Never can the glass be half-full, there’s always a leak somewhere or a chip in the side–draining the liquid no matter how many times Steve bends over backwards to patch up the problem.

It’s unfixable.

He’s unfixable.

At that thought, acid burns in the basin of his esophagus and Steve recognizes that it’s only a matter of moments before the ugliness living inside him paints a putrid surrealist scene across his duvet and becomes tangible. Maybe it will be olive or yellow or translucent; that part’s invariably up to chance. Luck of the draw. Anyone’s game.

The act itself is the constant. Eyes flutter open–mechanized by his fucked up circadian rhythm–and then one, two, three pitiful almost breaths are taken as he reenters reality.

On most mornings, Steve’s throat is still swollen and scratchy from his nightly routine. As a boy, he was never scared of the dark–ran past the tree-line in his backyard until the moon was his sole source of light, unbothered by what may lurk in the shadows. As a man, he dreads the fall of the sun, mourns its disappearance like a devoted follower would grieve a lost prophet.

Night is black. Night is void. Night is terror. Night is fear. Night is shame.

The creatures that disturb and haunt his withered soul draw their strength beneath the cover of dusk. The darker it gets the more powerful they become. Naturally, Steve vomits from the torture they inflict. His body attempts to defend from the attack by luring the invaders out from the fortresses they have built between his organs.

It’s no use. Their poison lingers and eats him alive no matter how many times he kneels in front of the porcelain bowl and unearths the truth–that he is useless, loveless, worthless, and so, so very alone.

Through the hangover of fear and loathing–and a generous helping of unresolved blunt trauma to the head–Steve forgets about Eddie’s visit from the night prior. He forgets the whispered confessions and breathless kisses shared on the couch downstairs. He forgets moaning into each other’s wanton mouths and Eddie’s strong hands coaxing him out of his head.

He forgets and forgets and forgets and then–suddenly, dizzily, all at once–Steve remembers.

It’s an out of body experience–automatic by nature of careful practice–pressing his nose to the borrowed t-shirt and breathing in the distinct, musky scent of cigarette smoke and caution thrown to the wind. It’s the sweet, filtered fragrance of risk and flame and ringed fingers gripping his hips. Rolling them down with control onto firm, grounding hardness and delectably licking each whine out from behind Steve’s teeth. Waves of passion and pleasure and belonging and Eddie’s broad chest providing a safe place to land when all was said and done.

Steve remembers and he wants.

There’s a blip in time–like the thin pause of a lucid dream–in which the corners of Steve’s smart mouth twitch up in memory. Beaming golden light from cheek to blushing cheek; like the bliss of the setting sun warming the remains of the day with one final pink hued glow. A last hurrah, a gentle kiss, a bid farewell as childhood horror ensues in the form of shadowless creatures.

Feelings of euphoria and desire are torched by the sudden realization that Eddie is gone. The left side of the bed appears untouched–pillows fluffed, sheets tucked in and—

Oh, there it is again. Hello, old friend.

Acidic vulnerability merges with confusion and tears sting his aching flesh. Every nerve is ablaze with pain and hurt and the abandonment that Eddie promised wouldn’t happen. He’d sworn it up and down, palm practically pressed to the exoskeleton of a Bible with the way he’d taken Steve’s heart in his hands.

I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?

Never, Stevie. Never leaving you again.

He’s out of his mind with the hyperfixated belief that this is to be his permanent script–the character written out of the story the moment act two begins.

Why give lines to the actor who can never seem to speak them correctly? Why write them for the anxious wreck of a man who stumbles on every word and can’t follow a single stage cue without fucking up miserably?

Morning arrives as a stab in the back. A knife that goes from spine to heart, severing connection.

Eddie left. Eddie promised to stay and promised to care and promised to protect and still, he left.

Eddie showed up on his doorstep with the offers of comfort and presence and certainty and still, he left.

Eddie left.

Like Tommy.

Like Nancy.

Like Robin.

Like the kids.

Like Mom.

Like Dad.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to peer behind the curtain and see what everyone else always has–that Steve Harrington’s a fucking mess and cleaning him up is pointless work, because he’ll just ruin the effort and puke all over himself again the second the job is finished.

Thankless and tireless, just like what he’s doing right now. Except, he’s the maid in this version of the tale.

Capillaries break from the force of the raw hurt, as Steve retches into his own lap and coats Eddie’s forlorn t-shirt with the ideation of his betrayal. Vitriol burns and burns and he’s sick to the core.

It’s gross. God, Steve knows it’s gross.

It’s rare that he doesn’t covertly and politely participate in his worst habit these days. Sneaking off to the bathroom when he’s in a public setting and the anxiety strikes. Pulling over on the side of the road to hurl into the bushes when he gets triggered driving by the bones of Starcourt. Rationing the few shreds of dignity he still holds claim to by using the toilet or trash-bin when he’s home alone.

This particular scenario has only happened once before and it was much more excusable back then, because he’d been partially drunk and thus, able to blame the foul mistake on the alcohol. Though, he knew it had far more to do with Nancy calling him “bullshit” earlier in the evening than it did with the cheap beer rolling around in his stomach. Trust issues and self-hatred won out in the end, covering his mattress in vile colors that dripped from the edges of his own mouth.

Why should Nancy have ever wanted to give her love to someone so incapable of normalcy? Someone so incapable of loving himself?

Steve really should get up at this point–to clean, to shower, to toss the filth into the laundry. Washing away his sins is just part of the process. He knows this, he’s accustomed to it. He’s built a new life around it–walls of thick, dirty concrete and bulletproof cinder blocks.

But, as much as he knows he should get on with the day and toughen up—like the man his father raised him to be—Steve can’t. He simply can’t. His body is weak, his heart is empty, and there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide from the cruel voices in his head and the poison in his veins.

It follows him, it always follows him. Knows all his tricks.

Steve’s heaving non-breaths and chewing on the guilt he has for merely existing and there’s not enough space between his stupid blood and his stupid skin. He needs to rip open the flesh and crawl out of the body and bury it under the floorboards.

Maybe then he’d be able to greet the pretty sun and her rays without crying, instead of choking himself on the idea that he’ll never be capable of creating such warmth with his own form.

Blinded by an ocean of salty tears, he crashes into the shore of his mattress. Curling into himself on his side and pinching the insides of his thighs as hard as he can. His nails are long enough to tear into the skin and he relishes this fact.

He wants it to hurt, he wants to punish himself for all the things he can’t be– functional, stable, happy.

White hot pain sears his skin, which should be reason enough to stop, but it only serves to egg Steve on. Just another fucked up thing about him. Pain shouldn’t be enticing, but it is to his defiled brain.

Sharp edges pushing deeper and tearing at the seams–only slightly satisfied when drops of red finally trickle down and mix with the rest of the mess. Stains that will take so much bleach and soap and exertion–energy he doesn’t have anymore.

It’s a new low, but he tepidly thinks that maybe he’ll sleep like this tonight–maybe he’ll stay in this rotten bed of expiration all day long. Maybe he’ll lose track of time and melt into the springs and let them slice him limb from limb.

There has to be peace at the end of the tunnel? Right? Follow the light and bleed your last and then you’re free? Isn’t that how it works? Isn’t it?

Blood pools between his legs–gory and without miracle–in a slow, steady stream. His mouth is dry, the bed smells like death, and no one is coming to save him.

He’ll die here–in this house, in this room, in this bed–and no one will be there to kiss him goodbye. No one will jot down his last words for future reference in his eulogy.

Not a bang, but a whimper–that’s how Steve will go out. A tree falling in the forest and no one around to confirm or deny if it made a sound. Blood will color him and his bed the darkest red and that will be how he leaves this Earth.

He just needs to push a little deeper. Maybe a kitchen knife or the edge of one of the nails in his bat. That might work. He’ll go grab one or the other or both once his own hands reach their limit.

Will they even wonder? Will they even care?

No one is coming to save him. No one is coming to save–

Except, well, except apparently, Eddie Fucking Munson.

“Morning!” He sings into the festering room, as if he’s blind to the crime scene and thinks this is the set of some early bird talk show, “I got us coffee and bagels–toasted of course. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to get some caffeine in you too, after last night. Uh–don’t know what you like, so I got two of my favorites. Not to brag, but I’ve been told I have impeccable taste in the–”

Eddie trails off and gasps sharply as he approaches the bed. Steve can’t look up at him, can’t begin to process what’s happening–he’s trapped by his ceaseless pain. His eyes stay shut, refusing to let Eddie in for fear of what he’ll find.

A monster, a beast, an unsightly creature with nothing to live for.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and places a hand on Steve’s trembling shoulder–shuffling around to place the coffee and bagels on the desk, “Are you– Steve –are you okay? What can I do? How can I help you? I want to help. Let me help. Please.”

Steve can’t talk, he can’t find the words to explain what he needs. His tongue feels like a ten ton brick in his mouth–it’s impossible to unhinge his tensing jaw and his teeth feel like overgrown fangs. He doesn’t want to disappoint Eddie. He wants to be good for him, wants to behave, wants to earn his praise and kindness, but he’s as good for nothing as a walkman without batteries.

A bicycle without wheels.

A car without an engine.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

Instead, he groans and rolls towards Eddie–bloody thighs cloaked beneath the sheets. A hideous surprise that would make just about anyone pass out or join him in puking on sight. It’s a lethal picture of a grisly love affair–Steve and the bed he plans to turn into a grave. Forever intertwined.

Honestly, he’s shocked Eddie hasn’t run straight out the door with the bagels and coffee in tow. How could anyone want to share a meal with him in this state?

“Stevie,” Eddie cards a hand through his greasy hair–so gentle and soft, using careful fingers, “If this is like last night–if it's bad again and you can’t talk–can you try another way for me, when you’re ready? We’ll make it simple, something you can do without using any words. You can tap my hand once if you want me to get closer, twice if you’re not sure yet, three times if you don’t want that at all and you’d prefer I leave.”

Hesitation prevents an immediate choice; but only because the slate of options is something that usually intimidates him. Fearful in all instances–mundane and complex–that he’ll choose wrong. But, Eddie’s hand is so warm and kind and safe–cradling him and keeping him present.

And he left, yes that’s true, but it seems he left for good reason. Not for lack of care, but because of it. To nourish Steve and himself. To give instead of take. Maybe it’s okay to trust Eddie. To tourniquet the quiet bleeding and reach for the reprieve of a bandaid in the form of another.

“I swear I’ll shut the fuck up soon, but Stevie-”

Steve loves that nickname. His heart swoons and skips beats at the sound of it in Eddie’s gravelly rasp. Loves the way Eddie brings his name to life like the last line of a love letter or the beginning of a delicate melody.

“Stevie, I’m–I just need you to know that I’m here, okay? I’m here and I don’t want you to be scared. I don’t know if you’re scared actually–but you sure look it–I just, I just really want to make it better. Can I do that for you, sweetheart?” Eddie coos low in his ear and the shackles loosen from Steve’s wrists–allowing him to pry his violent hands away from where they bite into his thighs.

He blinks his swollen lids open, knows this next part is gonna hurt, but Eddie’s so beautiful that the panic dissipates–numbs. The man stands beside his bed–bathed in divine light, like a God of some old world–and pets Steve’s hair in sweet repetition. Coiled electricity lives beneath his skin, bringing color to his pale cheeks and caging angelic concern behind his doe eyes.

Painfully present in the moment with Steve, painfully there to share in his pain and shield him from all that he can.

Decidedly, Steve reaches up to tap Eddie’s hand with one definitive motion. Singular and communicating what can’t be spoken aloud.

Eddie’s face lights up–like Joyce Byers’ living room four years ago–bright and verging on chaotic. Hard to contain in such a limited space.

“Yes! Okay, that’s a yes, right? You want me closer–like to hold you?” Eddie confirms and Steve nods, appreciating how thorough he is–how much he wants to maintain a safe boundary at all times.

“P-please,” Steve mutters and taps Eddie’s hand to reiterate his point, even though it’s somewhat unnecessary now.

He likes the ease of it, the simplicity. Taps seem far less likely to be misinterpreted than words–which Steve tends to jumble by using improper tone or speaking too fast. It’s a more foolproof system than the English language and there’s a large appeal in that. It makes his brain feel fuzzy and coddled, as if there are big earmuffs surrounding the pink matter and nothing bad can get inside. Impermeable.

“Okay. I can do that, absolutely. Just wanna take the covers off and throw them in the laundry real quick,” Eddie says calmly, like the vomit really isn’t all that unappealing, “I’ll be right back.”

He starts peeling back the duvet to clean and Steve whimpers without meaning to. Fresh tears spill down his face and dampen his exposed chest hair. There’s no way this is the same guy that won the superlative for “biggest heartthrob” his senior year. Something must have been chemically or genetically altered since then. Crying, bleeding, covered in his own puke, prepared to die before Eddie provided a welcome distraction—no way.

Eddie notices the sobbing, because of course he does. Pausing in the midst of his cleaning mission, he balls up the duvet and kneels onto the carpet to level himself with Steve. Letting them view each other eye to eye.

“Hey, hey, honey,” Eddie says with compassion, “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Do you want me to put the covers back on? I should have asked you first, before ripping them off the bed. Shit I’m such an idiot.”

Steve sniffles pathetically and snot joins the growing mix of bodily fluids coating his sticky skin. Eddie uses the sleeve of his leather jacket to dab at his nose and cheeks, gentle pressure that brings him strength.

How he’s not disgusted, Steve isn’t sure, but he knows for certain—in this moment—that Eddie Munson is a good man.

A good friend, a good—well, Steve’s not exactly sure what to call him after the way they kissed last night on the couch. Hot and heavy and full of need.

Friends don’t kiss and friends definitely don’t kiss like that.

“Not the covers,” Steve cries and chokes out a breath, “Don’t want you to leave, Eddie.”

A crease forms between the man’s dark brows, hidden in part by his tiered fringe. Steve recalls how it felt to take those tendrils in his hands and pull in desperation. To cling onto the soft curls as pleasure coursed through his body. Eddie’s lap so solid and safe.

“I’ll be right back. I promise. Just don’t want you to lay in this anymore. It’s not good for you and you deserve a nice, clean place to rest. I’ll bring you fresh sheets and then I’ll cuddle you for as long as you like. No rush,” Eddie reassures him, but doesn’t move away from the bed—clearly waiting for a response.

Probably lingering to see how much Steve will break at the suggestion of their temporary separation.

How weak he is, how fragile.

“No,” Steve says firmly and tears punctuate his small demand.

“No, what?” Eddie prompts lightly and sits on the edge of the unkempt bed to further their conversation–somehow he still hasn’t noticed the blood, “No I can’t do your laundry or no I can’t cuddle you?”

“Laundry,” Steve winces as he readjusts his position, the blood is drying thickly between his legs, “Don’t want you to do the laundry, because—because I don’t think you’ll come back.”

There’s no point in scaring him away by explaining that Steve’s little meltdown had quite a bit to do with Eddie’s well intentioned coffee run this morning. That he’d believed Eddie had left him—full stop–without hope of return. That it was a terminal decision that hammered in the final nail in Steve’s coffin.

“Oh,” understanding develops in slow motion over Eddie’s concerned face, “Like my deadbeat dad going to the grocery store for milk? You’re scared that it’s just an excuse, that I don’t actually mean it? Like I’ll say I’m just going to do some laundry, but I’ll run out the door instead without telling you? Is that it?”

Steve laughs a little at the ridiculousness and truth in Eddie’s analogy. He’d known Eddie hadn’t grown up with an overtly present father figure until Wayne, but he hadn’t realized just how similar their childhoods were in that sense until now. Steve’s dad may have been on endless business trips—which was code for having a multitude of affairs—but the absence held a dagger to his heart at the same angle. Aimed at the same vein.

“It’s stupid,” Steve hears himself say in a voice that sounds much closer to the one he typically associates with his public persona, “I’m being immature and you’re just trying to do something nice for me. You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess in the first place. I’m more than capable of doing it.”

No I’m not and I was planning on laying in it for the rest of the time to punish myself, he thinks, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s not stupid, Steve,” Eddie scoots closer to lean against the headboard and gently places Steve’s head in his lap, “You’ve been through a lot in your life, especially these past few years with all the monster shit. Reacting to that—dealing with your trauma—however that may look to other people shouldn’t matter. You’re doing your best to fucking survive and that’s a success in itself. You should be proud of yourself for continuing to push through every day. I’m proud of you, Steve. It’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me and if you don’t want me to leave your room yet, if you’re not ready, then I’ll stay. All you have to do is ask.”

It hurts too much to say it out loud, so Steve taps Eddie’s denim clad leg once and Eddie pulls him closer. Rubbing a hand up and down Steve’s back, like he’s weaving a fairytale to lull him to sleep.

“You can rest, now,” Eddie murmurs and Steve wonders how they got here—to this place of reversed roles, “Let go. Whatever that looks like, I don’t care, okay? You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

[secondhand-trash]

Tyrant

A/N: hi sorry to interrupt the event content but I just have to write this before I run out of motivation lol

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x afab!reader

Description: You knew you were already conquered when he looked up with an uninterested gaze, and suddenly he did not look so uninterested anymore.

Warning: vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, degredation, daddy kink, Toji is not nice, yes I used the word “cunny”, breeding kink, he called you a good girl once, creampie, might give dubcon vibes at one point depending on how you interpret it (I don’t think it is but just putting it here to be safe)

Word count: 4018

-

The most subconscious, most primal base of your instinct told you to run when you met eyes with Fushiguro Toji for the first time. 

He wasn’t even doing anything, just his hands twirling the empty shot glass in his hand mindlessly as he stared at it aimlessly with boredom. You had been avoiding this particular patron of the ragged pub you worked at for as long as you could, risking the annoyed eye rolls from your coworkers just to find whatever excuse you could to not go up to him. 

They did not understand why you were so afraid of this man who was not even affiliated with any of the gangs that were a known danger in the city. You could not tell them why too, but you were convinced that some gut feelings were best to be trusted.

A sheep would know a wolf even if it had never seen one.

The other people who frequented this place was by no means the elite of the city, anyone who would choose to come into this shady bar shoved at the very center of one of the messiest neighborhoods of the city came because any other place would call on them the moment they even tried to walk through. They were all the same, same bunch from the same world and as a result, these people that were your customers had no issue talking about what they do for a living right in front of the bar table where many others could hear.

They knew that no one would rat them out, especially not the people that worked there, because it wouldn’t be very hard to trace back to exactly who it was that did it.

These people intimidated you, but the number of people from different walks all of the same field who gathered here also meant that none of these people would bother to hurt you and ruin the perfectly tipped balance of this safe spot. You could deal with the other customers just fine, they might be dangerous but most of them wouldn’t do anything but looking at the exposed skin of your short top far too directly when you put down their drinks. 

It was an unwritten rule for the staff to stay as impersonal towards the bar-goers as possible, but the people who did the same thing always managed to find their circle and after a while, you would have a blurry image of what they do. Gang leaders would always found another man of their rank from the corner of their eyes, snippers and hired guns had their own corner of the pub they crowd at. Fushiguro Toji was not the same as the rest of them. He always came along, slipping into the far end of the bar counter without a word and just stayed for hours until most others had already left. You had never seen him interacting with any other people at the bar, making what he did for him to come here instead of any other place still a mystery to you. He was not eager to tell people what he did, how many scars he had under the same black shirt he always wore. He had never gotten drunk, never raised his voice, never showed a hint of interest when brawls broke out between the other drunken men. And it seemed the neglect was mutual, you didn’t think you had seen anyone trying to slip into the empty seat next to his at the bar even when it was the only one left. He was in his own bubble, away from the other gangs and mobs.

He did not look like he cares about anything, and that was terrifying in a man

Running away was not really an option, not when he was always here and you could only excuse yourself so many times before you started to sense that if you run again, it wouldn’t be so long until you wouldn’t even have a job anymore. 

“Sir, your drink,” You were sure your voice was near shaking when you had to break him out of his daze as you put his usual shot in front of him. It was a Wednesday midnight and it was just you working at the front, and surely he was there on the day you finally had nowhere to hide. Heat drained from your face when you walked up to him, the feeling of the cooler’s wind fanning against your exposed skin beneath the skimpy uniform you were wearing made you feel all the more self-conscious. If he looked up, he would see the way your shirt rested just below your chest, the fabric taut against the curve of your bra. The cut of your jean shorts was almost meaningly, with the fray resting at the root of your thighs and barely below the roundness of your ass.

You knew you were already conquered when he looked up with an uninterested gaze, and suddenly he did not look so uninterested anymore.

Your body could not move when his eyes trailed down from your wide eyes to your nervously pursed lips, to your collarbone and your tits that were pushed out as you crossed your arms in front of you like a child, and down the skin of your stomach before going back up when he got to the flesh of your thighs. You gulped, feeling the fever that speeded through your veins and holding back the unknown urge to clench your legs tighter together out of reflex.  

He knew you were afraid of him, and your timid posture seemed to entertain him greatly when he picked up the shot glass that looked miniature in his large hand and brought it up to his scarred lips. He was smirking now, opening his back as he tilted the hard liquor into his mouth. The knot in his throat bobbed, and you almost let out a disgraced whimper when you saw the lines of his abdomen against his shirt when he let out a sigh.

“Waiter!”

You jumped when you heard the yell from the other side of the pub, frantically pulling your eyes away and swallowing down the chills on your scalp. You gave him a quick nod before you nearly stumbled away, and your heart pounded in your ear when you heard a grumbled chuckle ringing behind you.

He was gone by the time you gathered enough courage to look at his usual seat again, but you could not stop thinking about the way he looked at you even after you were alone in your bed that night.

-

“What had you done with the man who always sat at the corner?” your coworker asked you in the changing room when you came back from your day off.

Your hands that were zipping up your hot shorts froze in place. “Nothing,” you hid the fact that you felt your skin heating up just as the familiar image appeared in your head, tugging your shorts as low as you could to hide more of your skin as you followed up, sounding as nonchalant as you could, “why did you ask?”

“Really?”

You felt goosebumps exploding on your skin when they said the one thing you had feared they would say.

“Because he asked about you when you weren’t here yesterday.”

-

Once the wolf locked onto its target, it wouldn’t stop until the little lamb finally fell into right where he wanted it to be.

He started to request for you to serve his drinks. Your owner couldn’t wait to send you his way, because the man who usually ordered two shots max was now ordering repeatedly as long as you were the one walking up to him. The more you could not meet his gaze, the wilder he seemed to grin as he started coaxing you to stay with him for longer after you put down his drinks. The primal instinct to bow down to the dominant and the one that pushed you to run from the predator battled in your head when he asked for you to sit down with him, with the former winning when you realised you were nothing but a puddle of water as soon as he put his hand on your wrist.

That was the most dangerous part about him, because he seemed to have figured out that your body wanted to obey him.

One hand on the wrist eventually turned into his palm on your thigh. His touch always soft enough for you to flinch away, delighting him all the more when you didn’t. It was only a matter of time before he asked for your name, how old you were, what you do when you weren’t here serving beer to gangs.

You told him you need the money, and he looked very understanding when he nodded and gave your thigh a pat before taking his hand back. “No wonder,” you sat up straighter when you felt the chills running along your spine from his calloused finger brushing against your skin, “I was thinking why a little thing like you would be at a place like this.”

One night, Toji did not come into the pub like he used to. He was already there by the time you walked up to the backdoor, your mouth parting but nothing came out at why he was here at the staff entrance and so early too.

“When does your shift end?” he asked, long fingers picking out a cigarette from the packet before holding it between his teeth.

Your skin crawled, before the warmth stirring in your stomach won over.

He nodded when you answered him, the sharp click of his lighter followed by a spark as he dipped his head down.

The shivers were back when he exhaled, throwing his head back as he leaned against the brick wall. 

“Good,” he said, putting the lit cig back between his teeth when he made a gesture with his hand for you to go inside.

When you came out, he had just taken his last puff. There was a glint in his eyes when he saw you standing there in front of the door, your hands gripping onto the strap of your bag.

The half-burnt butt joined the several others on the floor when he pushed himself off the wall and walked up to you.

-

The wolf showed his claws once the lamb was in his lair.

Your head was hazy when Toji backed off of you for the first time after your back hit his mattress. A manic smile hung on his face when he looked down at the figure beneath him, shaking and panting as you were trapped between his knees. 

He had an image in his head of how you would look with your body sunk into his bed, and boy were you a fragile, pretty little thing when he finally got to put his hands on you.

Your lips were puffy from his nibbling and sucking, looking awfully like a pout as heavy breaths fell from the trembling petals. Your arms remained where he had pinned them down above your head even long after his hands wandered away, your face buried to the side of your upper arm as you tried to hide your expression away. His rampant lips had left your head light and with his weight off of you, you finally remembered to breathe. 

Toji licked his lips as his gaze burned into you, darting his tongue out to wet his lips as he racked his eyes all over your exposed torso. The first thing that he tore off of you was the flimsy crop top that he had always see as a pain in the eye, pulling it above your tits roughly right after he shoved you onto his bed. The gasp that fell from your lips had him hard in an instance when he yanked down your bra, your arms completely helpless from shielding your chest from him with him one step ahead of you and pinning them above your head. You made the most pathetic noises when he sucked on your nipples, licking and flicking the bud with his tongue as you writhed underneath him. Now they were hard and standing for attention as he groped the flesh while staring right into your face, the sheen left on your peaks from his saliva as he rolled it between the gap of his fingers.

Fragile, pretty little thing, and a sensitive one too, Toji sniggered to himself as he  palmed his erection over his pants, his cock already twitching when he thought of how he could train your body to react the way he wanted you to.

A wet patch had already formed at the crotch of your panties and you let out a broken moan when his thumb pressed down on where your clit would be. “Little slut, getting so wet just from having your tits played with...” he mused, hooking the strip of fabric under his index finger and watching you squirmed when it stuck between your folds. You whimpered when he tugged it back and forth, your juices gushing out when it rubbed against your clit.

Your body jerked when he snapped it against your cunt, and he laughed. Your arousal formed a string when he pulled your soaked panties off of you, shoving it in the pocket of his pants but not before bringing the fabric near his nose and took a hard sniff. Your face burnt with humiliation and arousal at the sharp noise, but the heat dropped when he shoved the band of his wide-legged pants down roughly and his hard cock sprung up against his abdomen.

His head was already leaking with pre and a thick, pulsing vein crawling all the way down to his base from the crown. Your eyes widened when he fisted it in his hand, giving the girth a few jerks before tapping it against your cunt. His fingers dug into your thighs as he hooked it around his waist, rolling his hips slowly as he slid his length along your wet folds.

The weight between your legs was hard to brush off. He was hot, heavy, and his tip was right below your naval when his balls tapped against your ass. A loud squelch echoed in your ear when he pulled back, your wetness coating his cock from top to bottom as he dragged it along.

The fuse in your head burnt to ashes when you felt his hardness lining up at your entrance.

“Wait, please-” 

Your blood curled when Toji froze in place, the drop in his lust-riddled gaze shifting from your cunt slowly to your face.

“Huh?” he huffed, the grumble sending shocks straight to your core as he hoisted your legs higher up his sides.

“Please, it’s not going to fit,” your voice was weak as you whimpered, feeling your nervous tears gathering at the corner of your eyes when something nudged at your pussy.

You hissed when he pushed his tip in. He let out a wolfish chuckle when your body shuddered, “It seems like it’ll fit in this needy hole just fine.”

“No, no...” the tears were pushed down your cheeks when you shook your head, “please, I’ve never had anything this big. I-”

The wolf, so hungry and ready to devour you, halted any of his movements. Your eyes widened when the grin on his face dropped, and a dark cloud hazed over his sharp eyes.

You had said the wrong thing, you realised that when a wide grin split on Toji’s face.

“Never had anything this big,” he repeated mockingly, staring at your watery eyes from above when he pulled his tip out of you, “I see how this is...”

You yelped when he suddenly pushed your knees all the way back until it was right against your chest. The pain at the sides of your thighs had you slamming your head back, arching yourself off the mattress as Toji licked his hips at the sight of your dripping cunt all out for his eyes to see.

“You are such a slut for me because no one has ever fucked you right before...” he mused, gripping you by the back of your knees as he positioned himself at your clenching hole.

“Tell daddy,” your face heated up when he purred, “how big were the other people that you’ve had before?”

A sharp mewl ripped from the back of your throat when he pushed in, not even halfway through but your hands were already clawing at the sheets beneath you at the stretch. Your walls clamped down at the newfound fullness, stretching apart by a girth you had never experienced before.

His cock pulsed in you when he laughed, his lips curling up at the way your toes pointed straight and your eyes rolling back. “This big?”

You could only whimper when he pushed more of his cock inside. “This big?” he asked again, his throat bobbing when your tight walls fluttered around him.

More. “This big?”

The laugh rumbled out from the back of his chest when your voice came out high pitched and broken. The painful hiss stuck at the back of your throat when he gave one final push, his heavy balls slapped against your ass when he was finally all the way in. Your body was being torn apart by the seams, treading between the line of pain and pleasure as your vision saw white from getting stretched. He was hot inside of you, and his cock sitting inside of you was impossible for you to ignore as every cell in your body was set aflame by the numbing feeling.

“Hu- ah!” you panted when he shifted his weight onto your body, nuzzling his tip deeper into you as if it was even possible.

“Let daddy show you how real men fuck their whores.”

Loud slaps echoed in the room when he started thrusting, holding your shaking legs tight as he pounded into your cunt with feverish intent. The crescent marks of his nails digging into your skin was painful, and your body did not feel like it was under your own control as he drilled in and out of your sloppy hole. Your ass jiggled under each slap of his thighs against your cheeks, everywhere his cock had dragged against feeling like it was set on fire as he fucked you at a frantic pace. Your mouth parted when the initial pain was taken over by an undeniable lust, your brain melting into mush with his cock bottoming out in you so hard you could not even think straight. 

“Hm- mm! ‘S good, feels so good- Daddy, please please please...” 

Toji laughed at your incoherent babbles. His chest pressing up against the back of your thighs as he thrust deep into you, there was nowhere for you to hide your lust-blown gaze from his eyes. Drool was rolling down your jaw as your mouth hung wide, your tongue almost lolling out with each slam of his hips against yours. Your vision was blurry and you could barely keep your eyes open, fighting against the urge to close them up under the stimulation your body was being put through.

He only went harder when aroused tears ran down your face, the wetness of his tongue licking away the salty droplet making you whimper. “Aw, what’s wrong?” the condescending tone made your face burn, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as he accentuated each word with a roll of his hips, “Crying because this is the first time someone has reached so deep into your cunny?”

You let out a loud whine. Cunny, how humiliating for him to talk to you like you were a thoughtless child when he knew you could barely breathe properly with how he was rearranging your guts. The tantalizing tuts of his tongue made your walls clench and he let out a beastly grunt at the sudden friction around his cock.

“Any of the men you always flaunt around would kill someone to trade places with me,” he grunted, nibbling at the sensitive skin of your neck as he dragged his teeth down. He chuckled and the vibration made you roll your head back, “A cock whore like you would love that, won’t you? People killing just for a chance to pound your naughty hole?”

“No, no-” you shook your head when he suddenly slowed down, every hair on your body standing up at the sudden drop and your hands flew to grab onto his shoulders just for a chance for him to keep going, “only want you. Only want daddy’s cock- Ah! Hng!”

Your pleas satisfied him greatly, even more so when your wanton moans rang loudly in his ears as he aimed each thrust right at the spongey spot deep inside of you. “I should just knock you up, huh?” he smirked when you clamped down around him the moment his words dropped, “fuck a baby inside of you so other men can’t ogle at your tits and ass in that fucking uniform anymore.”

You could not process a word of what he was saying, the only thought your head could generate was that you would do anything for him to keep going. One strong pound tipped you off the edge, and you could not stop the rambling from falling off your tongue as his cock kept driving in and out of you while the orgasmic waves rush over you.

“I’m not gonna stop fucking you until you’re nothing but daddy’s little cumdump, is that what you want?”

“Yes yes yes yes- fuck yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop-”

Toji cackled, and kissed you square on the lips.

“Good,” Thrust, “fucking,” Thrust, “girl...” Thrust. 

He kept going as his load spilt inside of you. You whined at the warmth that filled you up, the stickiness leaking out with each push of his fat cock out of your abused hole and running down where your bodies connected. Toji leaned his body back as he slowed down, his eyes gluing onto the mess between your legs as your juices mixed with his released dripped onto the sheets.

You whimpered at the soreness when he slipped his limp cock out, the fluttering of your folds pushing his cum out of you. “Ha...” you sucked in a deep breath when he put your legs down, the twitching not once stopping when he leaned down and kissed your puffy clit.

Your sensitive body jumped at the touch, and he kissed the nub again as he pushed the leaking cum back into your pussy. “Good girl.”

You were far too worn out to do anything when he took your top off of you and unhooked your bra that had been sitting uncomfortably under your chest. The things he had said to you while he was ravaging you finally sank into your skin when you had the breaths to think about it, and Toji gave your head a soft pat when your eyes followed him like a lost puppy when he got up.

“Sleep,” he kissed your temple, and it appeared you still couldn’t win over the want to listen to him as the tiredness in your lids took in.

Fushiguro Toji watched as you drifted away into slumber, the silence stirring in the air as he contemplated what to do with you. It had been a while since he had last wanted something but he had been quick to recognise the fume in his chest when he saw you walking around and forcefully smiling at people not less dangerous than himself the first time he went into that pub. 

The tyrant would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and he had no plans to let go once he took his first bite.

You did not hear him, he took your sleepy whimper as an answer on his own when he whispered against your hair.

“We talk about you and that job when you wake up.”

[cyncerity]

Sizeshifter!Tommy au where he noms SBI and Beeduo all at once? He grows just big enough to where they all fit nice and snug in there and he can feel all them. Big man just wants to hold his family close and keep them safe!

I wrote this as quickly as I could because this prompt gave me so much brain rot. It also gave me an excuse to write one of my favorite vore tropes: overstuffed preds 💖

tw: vore

“Yes!!” Tommy yelled after his 5th consecutive win against the rest of his friends and family in Mario Kart. He heard the rest of them groan as he laughed harder at their defeat. “Alright, Tubbo, you came in last, you know what that means…” Tommy snickered as he leaned closer to Tubbo. The brunette simply laughed as he shoved Tommy’s face back. “Yeah, yeah, I owe you, but I have a feeling you’re gonna wanna cash that favor in now, aren’t you?” Tommy grinned mischievously in response. “Oh, you know me so well.”

Tommy and Tubbo scrambled off the couch and went to the living room as the other 4 continued to play. In a matter of no time Tommy was a giant, approximately 45 ft in height. Not huge, but big enough so that Tubbo had room in his stomach. And as soon as he reached that height, Tubbo shoved his arm in his mouth with a sly, silly grin. Tommy’s response to this was to close his mouth around Tubbo’s torso and slurp the rest of him in like a noodle, making the now much smaller boy burst into giggles. He licked him for a few minutes before getting impatient and swallowing him down, the now familiar feeling of the warm, squirming lump traveling down his throat bringing the shifter bliss. Tommy laid back, closed his eyes, and put a hand on his stomach as he felt Tubbo enter his belly, fully content to lay their the rest of the day.

“Tommy, get back in here, we’re starting another game!!” Tommy heard Wilbur shout. He peeked an eye open. Surely they knew he was giant right now, right? They had to have known what he and Tubbo had gone into the other room to do, they’d have to be stupid not to know. Tommy sighed and made his way back to the dining room where Mario Kart was set up, laying on his stomach (which Tubbo didn’t seem to mind, surprisingly), only bothering to fit his top half in the room. “Oh, there you are! Can you still use one of these?” Ranboo held a controller to Tommy, who’s face remained deadpan as he lifted his hand to compare it to the controller, which was barely the size of his finger nail. “Right, I guess that makes sense…” Ranboo continued a bit awkwardly. “You wanna just watch this round then, Toms?” Phil asked. Tommy shrugged and nodded as Techno started the game.

A few minutes later, Wilbur came out on top, with Ranboo being the loser. Tommy chuckled as Wilbur continued to gloat his victory to patronize Ranboo, when the mocking finally died down and the attention was surprisingly turned to him.

“Alright, Ranboo, new rule for the night: you lose, youre sleeping in the giant.” Wilbur said nonchalantly. Tommy’s face turned to one of utter confusion before he laughed a bit as an argument broke out between Wilbur and Ranboo. Ok, this could be something he could get behind. He was always up for the chance to nom his friends.

Soon Ranboo stared at Tommy with tired eyes as he pushed his lips open. Tommy quickly closed his mouth around the teen and threw his head back as hard as he could and swallowed down Ranboo in one gulp, taking Ranboo by surprise and making Wilbur lose it with laughter. Tommy rearranged himself as he felt Ranboo enter his stomach and Tubbo move over to make more room so that he was now lying on his back, watching the tv upside down. He looked down at his gut.

He had noted a while ago that 50ft was the minimum height he could be to swallow both Ranboo and Tubbo, that being the minimum height where they weren’t crowded and Tommy still felt full while not showing any signs of having eat someone from the outside. At his current 45ft, though, his friends started to make a bump on his gut. Nothing too noticeable unless someone was looking for it, but there nonetheless.

A few minutes later, Techno lost. “Alright, rules of the night, Techno,” Wilbur said as he shoved his twin brother towards Tommy, “down the hatch you go.” Techno just rolled his eyes, not excited or anything but seemingly not opposed to the idea. Tommy was beginning to think this wasn’t such a great idea anymore. Yeah, having two people fill his stomach was nice, but he was fairly certain that two was his max. It was already a little cramped as it was. God, if he even managed to fit Techno in their, would it give him a stomach ache? Tommy negotiated the idea of growing bigger so there’d be more room in his belly, but he had never attempted to shift with people in him, so he dropped the idea.

Nevertheless, a few moments later Tommy found himself watching the bulge of his stomach grow slightly, maybe a half inch to him, bigger as Techno entered his gut. The organ growled around its new occupant, probably realizing (just as Tommy had) that there was already to much stuff in his belly. Tommy drowsily rubbed his stomach and felt internal rubs back as he heard Phil shout from the couch, their last race seemingly over. Wilbur stood up and began shouting for a rematch. Tommy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Rematch or not, one of them was going to end up in him, and he didn’t know if he could physically take that. He wasn’t sure where the point of unhealthy weight in someone’s stomach was, but he was sure he was close to reaching it. He’d never felt so full before, and he didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not. It’s didn’t hurt like he thought it would, and so much motion under his skin made a shiver run up his spine and melt his muscles in the best way possible. Of course, that could all change once a fourth person entered his stomach. He’d only ever eaten three at most, and at that point in time he was about 150-200 ft tall, so this get entirely different.

Phil proudly and snuggly pushed Wilbur towards Tommy, who readied himself as he picked up Wilbur and carefully placed him in his jaws. Tommy took slow, small swallows just in case any harsh or fast movements would give him a stomach ache. Phil seemed to notice his sons’s dilemma, though, and moved towards Tommy to rub his stomach, trying to push his occupants aside to make room for Wilbur, and making Tommy let out a sigh and start purring, to blissful to even feel embarrassed.

“Wil’s idea cause you a bellyache, mate?” Phil asked, continuing to rub Tommy’s gut as it swelled even more with Wilbur’s entry, giving another, louder low growl at the added weight. Tommy groaned slightly and nodded. Phil gave him a sympathetic smile and he placed his hands on the organ to rub it, and felt a second pair of hands rubbing from the inside. Tommy seemed to be on the verge if sleep, the over-stuffing making him drowsy.

“Does it hurt, Toms?” Tommy shook his head. “Then, do you mind if I go in?” Phil said as he laid a hand on Tommy’s gut. Tommy nodded as he picked Phil up, begrudgingly standing as best he could and moving to the living room where he could throw the couch cushions on the floor and make a makeshift bed, feeling the most likely equally drowsy people in his belly slide down the walls of the stomach as their surroundings shifted. Tommy soon felt them start to try and get into a comfortable position after having been moved, and out of curiosity looked down at his stomach. He was surprised to see that not only had Wilbur added probably another quarter inch to his distended gut, but he could make out their movements from inside him. To him, it only looked like his stomach had swollen about two inches bigger, but he could just barely make out when someone pushed at him or leaned their full body weight against his organ. It might have been somewhat disturbing to anyone other than Tommy, but at the moment, the young shifter was to entranced by the fact that now he could actually feel and see what was going on in his belly to care.

Once they reached the living room, Phil got gently popped into Tommy’s mouth as he began to take the couches apart before he was swallowed down, reaching the stomach within seconds, everyone else who had been eaten already fast alsesp. Phil chuckled as he felt his world shift as Tommy laid back down, rubbing what he assumed to be the front of the stomach.

“Hey, Toms?” “Yeah?” “How about next time, best two out of three?” Tommy only chuckled, poking where he felt Phil rubbing his stomach. “Oh, it’s so on.”

[valberryy]

good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya

another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me

pairing: kaeya x fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)

Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.

"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc! 

"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"

You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.

"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.

"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."

Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"

"You—!"

"...So come back safe, okay?"

A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands. 

"I promise."

With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.

Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.

"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.

Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.

(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")

One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.

The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.

Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.

Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."

As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.

His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—

"...but do you remember anything else?"

A pause, then a blunt, "No."

—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.

"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"

You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."

"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"

But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.

"—I have no idea who you are."

—

Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.

But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.

"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.

Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.

"Venti, I said no—"

"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"

There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.

Ah, you was going to dance, then. 

Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.

He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.

Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.

"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."

He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?" 

You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"

Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.

You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.

"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."

Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"

It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."

You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."

—

Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine. 

And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume. 

One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."

With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."

You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative. 

He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.

You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."

The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows. 

"I really loved you, you know."

Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.

"...Good night, Kaeya."

The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.

He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.

—

"Snrk—you what?"

"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"

You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing. 

"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.

"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."

You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree. 

(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)

Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.

"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."

When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.

"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"

Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.

"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"

[ironmandeficiency]

I saw y'all discussing potential zodiac signs for Pascal's characters, what's your take on the major ones? I personally believe Marcus Pike is a cancer, Catfish's a pisces, Din's a virgo, Whiskey's an aries, Oberyn's either a leo or a libra, Ezra's a gemini or a sag, but I lean towards gemini. Javier's the poster child for Scorpio. Don't know about Maxwell Lord.

pedro character star signs

i’m so sorry it took so long, i was tweaking this so much bc i wanted to make sure i got it right! these are just what i think based on my astrology opinions, i hope you like it! 💕 i added their moon signs for flair bc i can. gonna tag a few friends i think may be interested, hope it’s not an inconvenience

max phillips: aries sun & moon. his ambition and charisma paired with the carefree attitude and optimism are an optimum fire sign duality and despite the fact i shouldn't, i love it so much. he has an inner child that he spoils with the riches of his conquests (good and bad) & gets emotional contentment when he succeeds in achieving his goals. knows what he wants & is quick to make those wants known. you never have to worry about where you stand with him because he will not hesitate to tell you.

javier peña: taurus sun with scorpio moon (the real guy is a taurus & i can see it but w heavy scorpio influence). he has his own structure and routine and will fight to the death to maintain it. very work oriented & does his best to rationalize his emotion-driven scorpio moon with his taurean logic, it's a tossup as to whether it works half the time. has a lot of emotional needs that aren't always met day to day & thats why he smokes and drinks and fucks. but don’t let anything make you doubt his love for you because the only thing stronger than his stubborn streak is his heart and its capacity to love you so damn much.

maxwell lord: libra sun with a sagittarius moon. the charisma? attractive and engaging af. oddly adept at chameleoning himself into whatever social group he's trying to vibe with. will draw eyes no matter what because so many people know him & if they don't already, they sure as hell want to. it takes him a while to learn to balance healthy relationships and his work life but when he does, you can visibly see how much healthier he is because of it. normally tends to his emotions in private but with help, he can start sharing a bit more. more optimistic than he sometimes should be but it could be worse

frankie morales: pisces sun with a cancer moon. his caring and sometimes cautious nature (with a twinge of homicidal tendencies) make him one that you don't just casually fuck with sexually or otherwise. catches feelings very easy & makes a lot of emotionally-driven decisions. these two water signs have a propensity towards codependence & defensiveness when hurt. is at his best when he feels loved and is supported by those he loves. emotions are always fluctuating and there’s some trouble with self-discipline (which is not the same as self-deprecation). because of this, he needs someone who can ground him

jack "whiskey" daniels: his swagger!! his charm!! his generosity!! the protectiveness over people he cares about!! this has the makings of a leo sun. this charismatic sun sign paired with his capricorn moon create a living example of the most balanced "work hard, play hard" you've ever seen. has a tendency to set high standards for himself and others & is a smidge more accepting when people fuck up, wanting to help them be better in the future. his emotions are often repressed in the name of responsibility but when he feels safe, he isn’t shy about them in the slightest. very confident in his skills & one of those that he’s the proudest of is his ability to cheer you up when you’re sad

din djarin: he is the most virgo virgo to ever virgo, a double whammy of it in both his sun & moon placements. very logical, disciplined, and tradition-oriented. knows how to bargain and budget, approaches problems with as little emotional attachment as he can (doesn't always work though), and is selfless af. needs something to keep him from being a worry wart bc otherwise he will spend every waking moment fretting over anything he can find. remarkably well-rounded & somehow the most emotionally stable

ezra: everything about this man radiates aquarius sun + gemini moon and you will never convinve me otherwise. he's just enough of an intellectual elitist (the big words and flowy shakespearian vocabulary) for it to border on unique and fun & annoying as fuck. every aquarian i've met has a quirk that sets them apart from everyone else & ezra's quirk (besides murder) is his vocabulary. it takes him a long time to learn to not talk over people on accident (sometimes he does on purpose just to be a bastard), but you can tell when he’s really trying to be conscious of it.

marcus moreno: now this man is what you call a pisces. a softie with a heart of gold that is constantly being underestimated, he has more power than most think. his silly and carefree nature detracts from the badassery he's capable of so it sometimes catches you off guard when he goes into Badass In Charge™️ mode but it’s there. his moon is also in pisces, which adds to his gentility and desire to be understood by his partner. this man just needs some love dammit, give it to him already!! his empathy makes him the Cool Dad™️ bc missy and literally any other kid get the vibe of “yeah this adult will actually listen to me and value my opinions”

dave: capricorn sun, aries moon. he thrives with people who can handle their own shit competency kink anyone? and doesn’t have patience with those who should know better. his standards are higher than a stoned giraffe, and is at his best in controlled environments. has a strong sense of self & a short list of people he would risk it all for. not as outwardly expressive but he does have a couple cues that you learn over time. also knows what he wants and is very meticulous in how he goes about getting it; there are very few places where he takes no for an answer. is a very good provider but don’t expect him to be mushy when you thank him for things he does for you.

oberyn martell: gemini sun & leo moon. he’s got more charisma than can fit in the ocean and sometimes it gets him into trouble. this man thrives on validation from loved ones. there is never a worry about not knowing what he’s feeling because oh boy is this man expressive. he’s a protector and a provider (and a gossip but don’t let him hear you say that). can and will cause a scene if there’s ample opportunity, he enjoys watching shit go down. will only interfere if it directly impacts him or someone he really cares about but otherwise will just pop the popcorn and pull up a seat. somehow has all the details of everything that ever happens but you learn to not question it.

pero tovar: scorpio sun (but specifically october scorpio) & aquarius moon. he’s highly rational when it comes to emotions but does have a temper. he’s observant af of his environment & the emotions of everyone around him, and chooses his actions carefully based on those. doesn’t confront his deeper emotions as often as he should bc it’s easier to default to Angy™️ and let the rest of the world come to their own assumptions. has no tolerance for lies and other bs, wants the truth and though it makes him seem power-hungry and manipulative, that’s not his intention. it’s just his way of looking for someone he can trust with the most intimate parts of him

marcus pike: this man? taurus sun, cancer moon. has a fear of abandonment that takes a while to quell but once it’s gone, he’s all in. he’s very empathetic and observant af, will know exactly what you need before you voice said need. will feel guilty for his baggage sometimes and the guilt will make him recluse for a short period until he’s reminded just how appreciated he is. does not play around when it comes to affection & is very eager to give and receive it whenever possible

my friends that i think might be interested: @scribbledghost @autumnleaves1991-blog @dyke--grayson @max--phillips @dindjarindiaries @pikemoreno @ohnopoe @pedropasscals @forever-rogue @engineeredfiction @bitchin-beskar

[that-damn-girl]

(10) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 9

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 4800+

Summary: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an ‘electronic blackout’ during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there’s only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff. Pure smut. soft!smut. soft!Bucky.

Chapter/Trigger warning: Smut. 18+ only please. Language. Unprotected sex (this is fanfiction. Please be safe in reality). Slight breeding kink if you squint like really really hard.

A/N: This is supposedly the final chapter with the ending I had in mind. The epilogue will be up in a couple of days max. Hope you like it!

"You sure, Bucky?" You asked, fingers scratching the nape of his neck. "We can wait for as long as you need."

Bucky encircled his metal hand around your palm and brought it to his lips, kissing it. "I'm ready Y/N."

You nodded. "If you need to slow down or simply stop at any moment, just say so, alright?"

Bucky smiled. He didn't doubt for a moment that you wouldn't slow down or stop if he asked too. "Of course. You too, Y/N."

Leaning forward, Bucky captured your lips with his. Kissing softly but insistently, he curved his arms around you once again. One hand stroked your back while the other caressed your thighs. He desperately hoped that it wasn't a dream. That this wasn't a figment of his imagination which only felt real. Bucky pulled back but kept your foreheads touching.

"Say it again. Please," 

His eyes were closed. All of his attention was solely focused on his hearing, wishing to only listen to those words in your voice, directed only to him.

"I love you." You pulled back only enough to kiss Bucky on his forehead. 

"Again."

"I love you." You kissed both of his closed eyes one by one. The creases on his forehead were gone. His eyes were still closed, not from anticipation but in comfort.

"Again."

"I love you, James Buchanan Barnes." You pressed kisses all over his cheek unhurriedly. Bucky further relaxed into your touch. His lips slowly widened into a grin as he opened his eyes. You could see his mind registering the words for a second time, confirming that none of it was a measly dream. That all of it was now his reality.

"You do?" He titled his head as he softly asked.

His contagious enthusiasm took you in its hold too, you face breaking into a grin as wide as his. "Mhmm. A lot."

Bucky touched your noses and sighed in content, "I love you too, Y/N."

Your heart gave a flutter. You were sure no matter how much time passed, you would always have the same reaction to him saying those words to you. You didn't get much time to dwell on that thought though. Drawing your lips in a luscious kiss, Bucky tightened his arms around you, securing you in his hold.

A tentative lick on your bottom lip and you opened your mouth. The strong wet muscle of his tongue played with yours. Sliding over, stroking, circling the tip of your tongue, tempting it to dance to the song of love and pleasure with him. His metal hand kneaded the cheek of your butt, guiding the salacious grind of your hips on his. 

Keeping you tight and close to himself, he slowly lowered you on your back, adjusting until a pillow was secured under your head. Your body was trapped in between his broad form and the bed. There was no place else you'd rather be. One of his muscular arms was balancing his body mass beside your head; he was careful not to put all of his weight on you. You loved feeling him on top of you, craved feeling his body covering yours, shielding it from everything and everyone except himself.

The warm amber from the fireplace casted a honey-suckle glow in the atmosphere, covering everything it touched in its golden glaze. The conflagrant flames shimmied inside the brick structure with the same tranquility which had settled over the pair of souls lost in each other's love. Unforgiving, biting cold winds roared outside the huge windows, whizzing past the cabin and leaving rattling sounds in the background in its wake. But it couldn't penetrate the bubble the lovers had wrapped themselves in. As far as they were concerned, it was only them, their hands, their kisses, their love, the bed and the warmth surrounding them that mattered.

It felt nothing short of lovely, his hands gliding up and down your sides as he kissed you lovingly. Your arms were curled around his shoulders, keeping the sweet super soldier close to you. Every time your fingers scratched the short hair at the nape of his neck, the burly man would almost purr in your mouth in ecstasy. His love and warmth seeped deep into your bones, warming you up from the inside.

One of his hands caught the hem of your thick sweater, lazily pulling it up and off your body. You helped him get rid of his layers too, mentally drooling as his sexy body was revealed to you bit by bit. 

As Bucky made to push the oversized undershirt off you, the last of the clothing which hid your top half from his gaze, he slid down your body until his face rested on the round of your stomach. His lips pressed long warm kisses on every inch of your unveiled skin as he pushed the flimsy material up your body with a slow drag of his hands.

His eyes connected with yours confidently as kissed your middle and proceeded upwards. Your eyes followed his movements with a heated gaze, your chest rising and falling with the deep breaths you had to intake so as to not lose yourself completely into temptation. 

After a few long moments he finally reached your breasts, his hands pushing the cloth over the sexy swell of them. His lips pressed similar long kisses all over them, purposefully avoiding giving attention to the one specific place you needed it the most. There was a teasing glint in his eyes. He sucked the delicate skin as his lips roamed over it, but never once did he pay any heed to your hardened peaks.

His kisses trailed to the valley of your breasts and soon his face was burried in between them. He kissed your sternum before resting his head sideways on your swells. His large palms cupped your breasts, gently fondling and squeezing them. He loved the softness and the weight of your breasts in his palms. He started kissing around your cleavage, his lips still teasing in their stride. 

Clutching his hair you tugged at it, trying to direct his head towards your peaks. With a low moan lost on your skin, Bucky finally took a nipple in the moist heat of his mouth. Ecstasy filled your veins when his tongue made contact with it, the cool wetness of his tongue soothing the painfully hard nipple. 

His tongue went round and round around the bud, coating it in its wetness. Bucky lightly sucked on it, making you arch your back to push yourself further into his mouth. The tip of his tongue played skillfully with it. He loved your taste on his tongue. The other half of your body wasn't forgotten. Bucky gently rolled your other peak with his fingers, tenderly pressing it only enough to make you feel good. You shut your eyes tight at the feel, basking in the pleasure his simple touches sent through you.

Not much later, the undershirt was soon lifted off your form. Bucky and you proceeded to get you out of your respective sweats. It only resulted in a huge mess of entangled blankets and legs and bottoms which refused to let go of your ankles. Chuckles fleeted in the quiet room as you and Bucky overcame the few seconds of inconvenience. Bucky didn’t waste anymore time and picked up right where he had left off.

Trailing slow, affectionate kisses from your chest to your abdomen, Bucky gave a quick peck to your tummy and settled himself in between your legs. He couldn't not rain down small kisses on the insides of your thighs as he hooked your legs on his shoulders, all the while keeping a sensuous eye contact with you. 

His broad tongue lapped a long trail from your slit to your clit until it caught your bundle of nerves. His tongue rolled around the sensitive pearl, sending blazing sensations down your nerves.

The taste of your arousal was something forever delicious to Bucky. He couldn't get enough of it. His tongue toyed with your clit while his fingers collected some of your slick and gathered in front of your entrance. The rough pad of his finger massaged your entrance in short strokes but never entered you.

It took you a while to realize that Bucky loved teasing. He loved watching you keening for his touch, hearing your whimpers, knowing that you needed him to satiate your desires, to exploit you the way you needed to be. You didn't know if that turned you on more or frustrated you.

He sucked on your clit, but still didn't relent, his fingers still teasing your entrance. You needed him inside you. Bucky knew that too, but he wanted to tease you some more.

"Bucky…" you mewled, tugging at his hair to signal that you needed him to move. That seemed to do the trick, because with a hearty groan Bucky plunged one finger inside your core. Perhaps tugging at his hair was his weak point, you concluded from then and previous experiences.

Bucky was careful to start slow, wanting to make you wet enough to enjoy it. His finger pummeled into you leisurely, giving your insides a taste of what was to come. Not sooner than later he carefully inserted a second digit when he thought you were wet enough.

You keened at the stretch, liking how his large fingers filled you. His pace increased as he continued to bring pleasure to you. His warm tongue pressed against your clit, swirling it this way and that. He paused every so often to lap your arousal from your drenched pussy greedily.

Bucky loved the moans that fell out of your mouth. It boosted his ego to know that he was the one to make you mewl needily. They were a melody to his ears in the truest fashion. The thought of drawing out those moans from you when he would impale you on his cock sent a rush of blood to his hardening member constrained painfully in his pants.

Hungry to taste more, feel more, Bucky doubled his efforts. His fingers inside you curled in the angle that he knew would make you see stars. His tongue, strong and wet, worked your bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure and pace you needed to come undone. He moaned along with you, his vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your moans growing in volume. Fingers grasped his hair tightly as you pushed his head closer to you, grinding your core against his face shamelessly. Your release was near and you were eager to claim it. 

With eyes tightly shut and a lewd groan of his name, you were finally pushed over the edge. Your orgasm came crashing down, rolling through you in waves. Your legs on Bucky's shoulder tightened, heels digging into his back and thighs nearly clenching his head. Bucky wouldn't have had it any other way. He didn't stop, letting the sensations he gave you prolong your pleasure as much as he could. 

When the waves rolling through you seemed to subside, Bucky let go of your legs and sat back on his knees, smiling gleefully. Your wetness shone on his lips and around his mouth, but he didn't give a damn. He climbed on the bed and over your form, admiring the blissed out expression on your face.

You opened your eyes when his fingers tucked the stray strands of hair behind your ear. "It was lovely, Bucky," you said breathlessly.

He licked his lips, his smile widening, "I'm glad you enjoyed it, doll."

Pushing his chest you rolled him over, making him lay on his back. You said with a smirk. "It's your turn to have some fun." 

With a quick peck to his lips, you slid down the bed and between his spread legs. Your palms rubbed his thighs as you balanced yourself on your knees.

Bucky groaned with need when you pulled down his pants and his cock bobbed in front of your face. It was thick and heavy and leaked a few drops of precum. 

You licked your lips at the sight, thirsty only for him. A sharp breath left him when you took his thick base in your hand. Adding a little wetness to your palms, you stroked him slowly at first. It was enough to itch the desire, but not enough to satisfy. It was evident on his face.

You wanted to tease him as he had teased you. You kept the pace slow with both your hands stimulating him, adding a bit more wetness every now and then. Bits of his precum dribbled down his head and fell on your fingers that were curled around him. Oh, he was excited alright.

Raising on your knees, you didn't give him the time to anticipate your move when you pressed a long wet kiss to the little slit on his head. His hand shot forward to your head instinctively, grasping your hair tightly. He applied the littlest amount of pressure, but you relented, the need to taste him far greater than watching him suffer a little longer.

Bucky let out a loud moan as the heat of your mouth enveloped his painfully hard length. Your tongue came to his aid, soothing the pain away as you licked him. He didn't know whether to push your head or pull it when your tongue swirled around his sensitive head, paying special attention to his slit. You liked feeling him withering as you rained down overwhelming sensations on his bulbous head. 

"Y/N, fuck-" Bucky groaned, his eyes shutting tight in bliss. You inwardly grinned. 

Leaving his head for the moment, you let his cock out of your mouth with a pop. Your tongue traced the veins protruding on his length, tilting your head this way and that to get all the angles. Bucky sighed in ecstasy. 

Few moments later you took him back inside your mouth, bobbing your head up and down his cock. You took him as far as you could, your palm stroking the rest of him. His cock was heavy on your tongue and you absolutely loved it.

You hollowed in your cheeks soon. Judging by the breathy moan that left Bucky, he enjoyed it a lot. You flicked your wrist as you stroked him, gripping his length a tad more tightly.

His cock hit the back of your throat every now and then as you tried to take him deeper than the last time, small gagging noises escaping your throat. You moaned when his hold tightened on your hair. The vibrations sent Bucky afloat. You fondled his balls with your hand, rolling them in your palm and tugging them slightly. He moaned deliciously. 

Bucky wondered that if the heat of your mouth felt so wonderful, how good would the heat of your pussy feel wrapped around his cock? He couldn't help but groan at the imagination, his member growing somewhat harder inside your mouth. 

Your ministrations brought him to the brink of an orgasm. It wasn't long before he was tipped over the edge with the sinful play of your hands and mouth. He tried to warn you that he was about to cum. You took him out of your mouth but kept his head inside, your lips sealing around it. He groaned hoarsely as he released on your tongue, his bittersweet taste filling overtaking your tastebuds.

When his orgasm had passed, you gently let him go. Climbing the bed, you laid beside him.  Turning his head, he panted heavily as he said, "That was - breathtaking, doll,"

You grinned at the appreciation, your hands automatically finding their place in the crook of his neck, "And you were delicious." You made a show of licking your lips with hooded eyes.

Chuckling, Bucky rolled over you, instantly taking your lips in a heated kiss. He didn't need to ask for permission this time as your tongue chased his instead and played with it. It was an enticing mess of dancing lips and clashing teeth and playful tongues. Bucky's length hadn't gone completely soft yet, laying half hard against your thigh. Though it didn't take long before he was fully hard again. 

When you broke away, you found his ocean grey eyes looking into you. "Are you ready?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything else but nod. "I am, Bucky. Are you?" You asked without any hint of judgement in your voice. Your hand stroked his cheek, "We can stop anytime you want. Anytime. I stand by it. I won't be mad at all, I promise. We have all the time in the world for you to be comfortable, Bucky."

Bucky's heart thumped hard in the confines of his ribcage at the thought of what was to come. It made him equal parts nervous and excited. He was ready, he didn't doubt that. But that didn't mean it wasn't an important step in your relationship. It had also been so long for him, he worried about not disappointing you. 

He tried not to think anymore and only concentrate on the moment he was in. It was only him and you on the bed, in the same place he and you had confessed to each other, about to make love for the first time. It made him completely vulnerable in a wholly different manner, but he trusted you and you trusted him. You loved him and he loved you. It was all that mattered.

Bucky nodded, giving you a sweet kiss. "I'm ready." 

Gripping his base, Bucky stroked his cock a handful of times before lining it up with your center. He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick and coating himself in it. Foreheads touching, Bucky breathed hard in anticipation before taking the final step.

With a shuddering breath, he directed himself inside you. The blunt head of his cock entered you slowly. Hands tightening around his shoulders, you burried your head in the crook of his neck with a gasp, your eyes shut tight.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, worried about your reaction.

Despite the nakedness and your past actions, your cheeks flushed for a different reason. "It's been a while for me too, Bucky. I just wasn't expecting you to be...so thick. But I'm good, I promise. Please, please continue."

Oh lord, was he thick in the truest sense. You had known he was girthy, but you never thought he'd stretch you so good and make you feel so full, that too only with his head. You keened thinking about what all of him would feel inside you. You unknowingly clenched around him.

Bucky buried his head in your neck too, your tightness overwhelming him. Hot puffs of air hit your ear. His hands stayed by your head. One of his palms tenderly stroked your hair in a comforting manner, in a way calming himself too.

Inch by inch he gradually worked himself in. "Fuck- feels so good," He let out a broken moan as your heat enveloped him, involuntarily clenching him from time to time. Being inside you felt heavenly. 

Gradually Bucky was seated fully inside you, your pussy engulfing his cock wholly. "Ah, Bucky, fuck," The feel of his thick cock stretching your walls and filling you to the hilt was glorious.

"Relax baby," Bucky soothingly whispered in your ear. He slowly rolled his hips to get you accustomed to his girth. Listening to his advice, you took in deep breaths to calm yourself mentally. Automatically your body followed suit, your walls relaxing around him. Bucky was thankful for it, or else he knew he would have come much sooner than he initially thought he would.

"Move, Bucky," you pleaded. 

Bucky drew back, slowly entering your again and then repeating. The pace was set slow as he simply enjoyed the feeling of you surrounding him.

Soft moans and whimpers left you and him in the quiet of the cabin. It felt nothing short of amazing, the drag of his hard cock against your sensitive spots. The throbbing of the veins on his cock could be felt against your walls, the combination of it all sending your senses dancing.

It was lovely to say the least, his body covering yours, his bare skin brushing against your own as he rocked into you leisurely. He laid in between your spread legs, balanced on his forearms by your head. A part of his body was leaning on you, his weight on your form grounding you to him. 

Bucky pressed a long, loving kiss to your forehead. The moment was nothing short of magical to say the least. He was the closest he could get to you, both mentally and physically. Your bodies were conjoined as he made sweet love to you. 

With the eager desperation satiated with your first orgasms, reaching the end was lost in the back of your minds. You and Bucky only wanted to focus on the journey instead, simply feeling each other and the love you shared. 

He was in love with the entirety of your existence.

He rocked into you with the same leisurely pace as before, relishing in the feels as he felt one and the same with you. His lips littered kisses down your face, starting with your closed eyelids, down your cheeks and to your lips. 

The kiss was slow and soft, filled to the brim with love and affection. Bucky smiled into the kiss, his heart immensely happy to be totally and completely free and open with you. He didn't need to downplay or hide his true feelings any longer. He could kiss your pretty lips when he wanted, he could love you when he wanted, shower you with affection when he wanted. Along with all that, he would also receive your love without any limitations. What was not to love about this change in your relationship?

You smiled along with him, loving that softness he treated you with. You knew he could be rough when you needed him to be, and it was the best part, that you and him could adjust somewhat easily to each other's needs as and when required. 

His plump lips kissed you just like his thrusts, slow but immensely passionate. It was sensual and sensational. You knew you would remember this moment forever. It would be framed in your brain just as it was, beautiful and irreplaceable, being replayed again and again, touching all the soft corners of your heart.

His lips moved down to your neck, littering soft kisses all over your skin. You craned your neck to give him more space. Seeking the sensitive spot below your ear, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, he left his mark all over you. His lips travelled down to your clavicle, giving it the same affectionate treatment. You moaned at the sensations rolling through you.

While his lips adorned your neck with kisses and hickeys, his hands roamed every nook and cranny of your body lovingly, caressing you. Occasionally, his palms would cup your breasts, fondling the round swells and squeezing them delicately. It felt exquisite. His touch ignited you from the inside, leaving a warmth in its wake, brandishing your skin with his deep love, leaving only his name to be moaned on your lips.

Your fingers were entangled in the mess of short hair at the back of his head, raking through the strands. Bucky purred into your skin, feeling elated. 

His hands sought yours, wanting every inch of his skin to be flush with yours. In the manner of a passionate lover, his fingers intertwined with yours, your hands fitting into each other as if they were meant to be from the beginning. He brought your conjoined hands up, beside your head. A little more of his weight was leaning onto you now, and you loved every second of it. 

Nothing could have been more perfect in that moment. The two of you were drunk on each other. The atmosphere smelled of sex and tasted of adoration. His naked body moved along with yours in harmony brushing every inch of bare skin. A bubble of love and trust, of peace and bliss wrapped the pair of you in it's lush, protective hold. Bucky thrust into you passionately, not just to attain the sweet release of the end but to enjoy the journey along with you, to sear the moment in your memories, to cherish and treasure you as you deserved to be. It was a perfect combination of love and lust.

You didn't know for how long you continued like that. All that mattered was you had enjoyed it with him. 

His thrusts gradually gained some speed. Soon he was pummeling into you harder than before, touching all those spots inside you which made your nerves sing. He didn't go as hard or fast as he could have, but enough to itch the desire within you.

"Just like that, Bucky…" you moaned.

Bucky complied by grinding his hips into yours, his pubic bone providing the perfect stimulation for your bundle of nerves. Moans left him as well when he felt you clenching his cock. It only made him rock into you harder.

"You're - ah - make me gonna cum, doll." He said. He was sure his precum was already leaking inside you.

"Then let go, Bucky. Cum inside me."

You might as well have given him a heart stroke then and there.

With choked moans, Bucky focused on holding out, determined to make you come before him. He increased his efforts until he had brought you to the brink of your orgasm. Your pussy was clenching his cock so tightly, he understood you were close to your edge. He made himself keep going until he tipped you over the edge.

Your orgasm came crashing down on you in powerful waves. Jagged breaths left you along with sinful moans of Bucky's name.

As your walls pulsated around Bucky, he couldn't hold back any longer. With a hoarse cry of your name, Bucky came inside you.

He wasn't yet done with you though. 

One of his hands coursed down your body until he found your clit. He massaged your bundle of nerves to pleasure you while not letting the desire die down. Rolling the pearl between his fingers, he never let his pace falter but only increased it substantially.

His cock was still hard inside you. Not as hard as before, but enough to make it work. Balancing himself on his knees, Bucky wrapped your legs around his waist before pummeling into you with abandon. 

"Bucky, yes!" You moaned, your blood rushing inside your veins with pleasure.

A carnal desire overtook him, invoking a similar response in you. Your hips lifted of their own accord to meet his hips thrust for thrust, the craving for a second release growing inside you too.

He rocked into you much harder and faster than before, so much so that the bed thudded hard against the wall. A distinct thumping sound along with the creaking of the bed could be heard beside your moans - which were already quite loud. You loved the transition Bucky made from soft to rough in the blink of an eye.

You thanked the lord that there were no neighbours around you, or else they would have had a very good idea of how good you and Bucky were doing each other. 

He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated, open mouthed kiss. Your noses bumped into each other as you kissed wetly and noisily. You breathed the same air, the common goal of reaching the end blaring in your minds. Squelching sounds filled the room as Bucky fucked your cum drenched pussy.

All the sensations flowing through your body overwhelmed you. It didn't take long for another orgasm to claim you. This one was much more powerful than the last time. You came with a shuddering breath, your legs shaking from the sheer force of it, pleasure blazing through your veins.

Bucky was not far behind, cuming in short bursts inside the heat of your pussy, his thick cum adding on to the load already inside you. Hoarse moans left him, his eyes contorting in pleasure. 

Panting heavily, his body sagged over yours, but he was careful not to crush you with his weight. He carefully pulled himself out of you. His forehead was leaning against yours. Both your eyes were still shut from bliss and exhaustion. Your hands were resting on his shoulders and around his neck. Giddy, satisfied smiles played on both your lips as you calmed down from the high. 

Bucky would have lazed about for longer if it wasn't for the horrified gasp that left your throat a few moments later. Preparing for the worst, Bucky opened his eyes and followed your gaze to the bedside table. The torch projected a divergent beam of white light on the opposing wall. It meant only one thing.

FRIDAY had solved the blackout problem!

If that was true, then-

Shit!

Bucky scrambled for the comms kept beside the torch in a hurry. Handing you one of them, Bucky quickly put the other in his ear and rushed breathlessly, "This is Sergeant Barnes. Does anyone copy?"

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway

Epilogue

{Extra scenes #1 (right after ch. 10) ~ just for fun which I hadn’t intended on adding. You can skip to the epilogue and come back to it later if you wish}

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Thank you for reading!

[jonsa101]

Yes, There’s Only 14 Episodes in Season 3 But Sharpwin is On Track and Progressing How They’re Supposed To.

There has been so much talk about this season’s writing and the lack of Sharpwin scenes that I thought I would just address everything in this post.

First, the writing this season is NOT BAD! In my honest opinion I actually think this season has some of the best writing in the series. Compared to season two, the writing is head and shoulders above what we got last year. More than ever before we are diving into these characters stories, seeing friendships form, getting a better look into their home life and seeing secondary characters shine! This is a good thing! These were the things that were so desperately needed in season 2 but we didn’t see this play out. I’ve said this before in my infamous season 2 rant and I’ll say it again, a show can’t solely depend on a ship! It has to have great storytelling and good character development for all of it’s main characters. This is what New Amsterdam failed to do in season two and they’re now making it up for it in season 3. The only area I would say the storyline suffered was the Cassian, Helen and Max “love triangle.” There was definitely more intent with that plot before the pandemic. Cassian was not only supposed to be a catalyst for Jealous Max and Sharpwin but he was also supposed to come in and challenge the way Max did things. Cassian’s whole thing was self care first=great patient care which was the complete opposite of Max and the two of them were supposed to clash. Obviously this completely changed due to the pandemic. You can’t have a storyline about a doctor prioritizing himself first for “better patient care”in the midst of thousands of doctors globally throwing themselves on the frontlines and even loosing their lives to COVID-19. It would have been a terrible look to have that storyline so they clearly scrapped it! What we saw was probably them trying to salvage whatever was left from the original plot while they still had Daniel Dae Kim in the limited amount of episodes for season 3.

Apart from that, I think the writers are doing a fantastic job in terms of character development this season. Arguably I would say that Iggy probably has the best storyline so far and that’s incredible for his character. Tyler Labine is acting his ass off and Iggy’s scenes with Lauren, Vijay and Martin were top tier!!! We are finally getting a Max and Reynolds bromance that was teased in season one but literally know where to be found in season two! It’s great seeing them bond on screen and I hope we get more moments with these two. We’re also seeing Reynold’s “life plan” blow up in his face and we finally have some closure with Bloom. They kept us in limbo for so long! We didn’t know if him and Bloom were truly over but now we finally know. Also, it seems like he and Evie are officially done as well and he might have a new love interest on the horizon. For Lauren, she’s clearly seems to be having a coming out story which is something I didn’t see coming at all. I’m really curious how they’re going to play this out for her and can’t wait to see it unfold. Last but not least, for Max and Helen they are both going through massive character development phases which leads me to my second point.

I love a good Max and Helen scene as much as the next person. To me they’re the ultimate ship and I want to see them thrive and flourish but just because we don’t see Max and Helen interact doesn’t mean that the show isn’t properly developing or investing in their relationship!!!!!!!!The relationship between Max and Helen is so nuanced that their relationship doesn’t hang in the balance because they don’t have more witty, flirtatious, or emotional dialogue. Don’t get me wrong, I adore those moments. Those scenes between them make us the passionate sharwpin shippers we are. At the same time though, we have to truly take a look at why the state of their relationship is where its at now and why from a narrative perspective their current interactions make sense. In order to do this, we have to take a look at where Max and Helen left off last year.

At the end of season 2, Max made a move on Helen and almost kissed her in her office. After this moment occurred he never addressed it and at the time he was still dating Alice. There’s no doubt in my mind that this was the catalyst for why Helen started dating Cassian in the first place. She had practically laid her feelings out there and told Max he was the reason she gave up half of her department. After this revelation and the massive, intimate moment he initiated in her office, he didn’t even have the decency to address it. He swept it under the rug and wanted to keep the same relationship that he had with her like nothing ever happened. Even though Helen was aware about Alice, we now know from season 3 that Helen felt a type away that Max never “officially” told Helen that he was dating her. This is IMPORTANT!!! Max and Helen did not end on a high note in season 2. In fact, the very last scenes we see of season 2 is Helen blowing off Max to go on a date with Cassian and Max breaking off things with Alice. I know this wasn’t intentional due to the season being cut short but it definitely contributes to where they are now. 

Fast forward a year later, and not only do we still have a massive almost kissed elephant in the room between Max and Helen but also the trauma of being on the frontlines of a pandemic and going through the biggest social justice movement the world has seen. This is something I’ve said many times over but I’m not sure the fandom recognizes how much these events have permanently altered these characters and changed the dynamics of this show. COVID-19 changed everything. The Black Live Matter Movement for the first time grabbed the attention of the world and changed everything too! Max and Helen are in the process of trying to heal and rebuild their lives the best they can as individuals after such a tumultuous year. At the same time, they are acutely aware of the feelings they have for each other and the UST between them and are carrying the weight of that as well. Naturally guys, the combination of all this is going to change most dynamics in a relationship. Things are awkward and distant  because Max and Helen are awkward and distant!! They have a lot of shit that they’re going through as individuals and subconsciously as a “couple.” They are clearly not in a healthy place to be as vulnerable as they once were to each other. And how can they be when their feelings have literally been eating at them for over year?! It’s hard to ignore that and try to force yourself to go back to the way things were. Especially when their feelings have “technically”  been out in the open since the end of season 2. They both know what it is! They were steps away from unleashing years of built up sexual tension between them and they went on with their lives like it never even happened. Max walking in on her and Cassian kissing in HER OFFICE and subsequently having that convo with Helen was not for shits and giggles. It triggered the BEAST of his feelings that he had fought so hard to suppress. There is no doubt in my mind that when he saw them in her office kissing, he was having some serious dejavu to their almost kissing affair last year. He‘s in love with her and she’s in love with him but this what happens when you continuously try and run away from those feelings and let it fester instead of trying to deal with it head on. The dynamic  were seeing between them now is a result of their unresolved issues and it absolutely plays into Sharpwin’s story. It doesn’t take away from it. It makes sense for where they are NOW! 

If we look at season three holistically, you’ll realize that a momentum for something significant happening for Sharpwin has been set through the acting and writing. I got to give it to Ryan Eggold. He has that fire and desire, Mr. Darcy type level acting down to a tee so far. It is so satisfying seeing Max so overcome with his feelings that you can tangibly see it in his body language and hear it in his voice. We have seen Max taken aback by Helen before but we have NEVER seen him like this. I keep on saying it but this is different guys. Something has shifted and it seems like Max is on the verge of exploding. His feeling are burning hot right underneath the surface and it’s a beautiful thing to behold. Last night’s episode was ripe with this type of content and Ryan was in his acting bag! It wasn’t an overtly “Sharpwin” episode but the writing and the acting is so clever and methodical, it will have you thinking otherwise. At the beginning of season 3 Max told Helen that he wants to build something better for Luna and something better for her. Was last night not a beautiful reflection of that? One question asking Max if he has ever loved a black woman put him in the shoes of his patient’s husband and had Max advocating for his wife like he would advocate for Helen if it was her! If that’s not fucking romantic I don’t know what it is and if the alarm bells aren’t going off that there is something deeper at play here with a huge payoff around the corner I don’t know what to tell you! Another moment that sticks out to me like a sore thumb is when Helen was telling Cassian that her brother died. I wrote about this in a previous meta of mind but Helen at her most vulnerable telling Cassian that she feels like she’s running out of time is SO SIGNIFICANT guys!!! It’s not only tell us that she fears that she’s missing out on the windows of opportunities for the wants and needs in her life but it literally sets the pacing of how quickly Sharpwin is going to progress. It is the beautiful freudian slip that tells us exactly where things are headed for these two. To me this is equivalent to Max telling Helen “I love my doctor” and “what if I want you?” in season 1. This episode had no interaction between Max and Helen but it was a MASSIVE Sharpwin indicator through and through! These are just a couple of examples but even their respective journeys in parenting is so Sharpwin driven. So in all I’m not mad in the direction the show has taken to showcase their relationship this season because Sharpwin is deeply interwoven in the storyline this year even if it’s not overtly obvious through emotional dialogue/ interactions. 

Also, one thing you have to realize is this, season three is wrapping up a lot of loose ends from season 2 and when it comes to Max and Helen these two points will be/ have to be addressed in the next six episodes.

The Almost Kiss

Whether or Not They Want To Be Together

The showrunners know without a shadow of doubt that the resolution for these two points is owed! If Sharpwin is talking about their almost kiss, there is no way that they aren’t talking about what they mean to each other and what their future looks like together. Both solutions literally go hand in hand and I promise you they are not delaying the resolution for that till season 4. It’s not happening fam. We will see this play out within the next six episodes. So in hindsight, more Sharpwin interaction are on the horizon. 

When I was making predictions about this season I wasn’t aware that this season would only be 14 episodes. I’m sad that season 3 is so short but that still doesn’t change my mind for where I think the story is going. Call me crazy but I’m sticking to my guns. There is something about how Ryan is portraying Max that is signaling something huge. Also I just trust the context clues that i believe the show is giving. I trust it! Anyway y’all! If you have any sharpwin question just DM here or message me on Twitter! my username is @oyindaodewale. 

Love you guys! ❤️

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

The Strange Case of The Strangetown Metamorphosis

There is a mysterious Sim that appears in Strangetown.

That's like saying "there is a fish that appears in the ocean", I know, so I'll be a little more specific.

They are an adult whose memories show inconsistencies with those of their family members. Something is missing!

Alright. That's also not saying much, that's like half of the premades in vanilla, non-clean hoods.

They are immediately recognizable by their appearance and, dare I say it, have distinguishing features unique to them.

Well, that also kinda fits everyone...

They feature in more than one installment of the series.

Again, not that helpful. I mean, almost everybody from the base game hoods is (for better or worse) represented in TS3 or TS4.

They appear in TS2 for PSP!

Hmm...

They are a member of a wealthy family connected to science and paranormal.

And...

They are somehow connected to (possible) cloning.

I imagine that now you’re probably rolling your eyes and asking: Why didn’t I just simply say I was going to talk about Bella Goth?

Because... I’m not!

It’s Loki Beaker. In this mini-essay I’m going to speak about Loki, what is the mystery around him, what hints are there and what are some of the theories and which one do I fancy.

It’s basically a routine round of the popular game “connect EAxis’ oversights and glue them together into a headcanon”.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to:

The Mystery of Loki Beaker!

0: Preface: Loki who?

“As soon as he perfects his latest invention, Loki is sure to get the recognition he knows he deserves. In the meantime, he keeps himself busy by trying to assemble a nuclear reactor out of common household items.”

On the first glance, Loki as a Sim seems quite straightforward. He is a Knowledge Sim with a very eccentric personality. All his trait points are in the extremes, as you can see:

He is a scientist, a competent one at that, as proven by his high career level and the fun fact that some of the game’s horrible machinery you can buy for Aspiration points is attributed to his creation.

(It explains why are the Beakers the only ones who have the stuff lying around by default. It is normal for a Strangetown family to own a non-buyable reward object or two but those are career rewards, the Beakers are the only one who canonically own Aspiration points rewards.)

Even though he knows his stuff when it comes to his profession, he is very corrupt and tests his questionable projects on his captive, Nervous Subject.

To say that Loki is unpopular would be an understatement. No one but his wife Circe likes Loki, even his own sister is indifferent towards him. Yes, he has a sister. Her name is Erin and she also lives in Strangetown with a colorful collection of roommates.

Nothing mysterious about him so far. (apart from his eyebrows)

1: Characterization fallen apart

And then The Sims 3 happened. It was actually quite late into the game’s life cycle, the early 2013, when a beautiful nordic-themed world was released on TS3 Store. Its name was Aurora Skies and it featured Loki, Erin and their parents.

TS3 Loki is a child and Erin is a toddler.

Now I haven’t actually played Aurora Skies. I own (and love) TS3 but the price range for the Store worlds is too high for me, content-to-money wise. So there might be some hidden clues about the Beakers in their house or relationship panels that I haven’t been able to inspect but... not to sound cynical but I doubt it. I doubt such attention was given to detail of this family in Aurora Skies, as they don’t even have individual bios.

But... that is... fine? I mean, we have Loki’s TS2 bio...

Nope. Sure we do. And it would be fine if hair color and ambitions weren’t the only thing Loki and his younger self (from now on referred to as smol Loki) had in common.

Let’s take a look on smol Loki’s personality.

The first noticeable thing is that there is not a trace of Loki’s trademark villainy. He’s not Mean Spirited, he’s not Evil, he’s not even a No Sense of Humor Sim. His extreme neatness and hyperactivity are nowhere to be seen either. While it is true that TS3′s capabilities of defining personality are very limited as it picks “outstanding points” rather than a position of each trait on a scale, and it only has 5 slots (and tiny teeny 3 for children), it doesn’t make any sense still for the devs not to pick some more loki-esque traits for the precious slots they had.

Unless...

They didn’t care about Loki’s personality and there were no deeper intentions.

Unless the devs were trying to purposefully show us new angles of his character that either got suppressed while he was growing up, or manifest in ways that TS2′s scale system wasn’t able to show.

Could the Lucky trait in particular have had something to do with the change?

(Also, those traits of smol Loki are reason why I usually go for a Family Secondary Loki in TS2 and thus make Strangetown the purgatory of two unstable blonde Knowledge/Family sciency guys.)

We also must not omit that even though smol Loki didn’t display any of them, he still had all of Loki’s signature traits in him, as Loki in TS2 has his actual personality synced with the genetic one, meaning that there was something in there that caused him not to act so mean that got lost as he grew up. In other words, something brought up the worst in him.

And that’s not all. Smol Loki is not a regular TS3 child. You see, in TS3, premade children aren’t particularly known for being highly skilled experts. Neither are in TS2, for that matter, and it’s okay. It’s realistic.

Smol Loki has a skill maxed.

It is very rare for a premade regardless of age to already start with a maxed skill and I personally don’t know of any other premade children that do.

And it’s writing.

What does writing have to do with Loki? Does Loki write? Probably he has to, those academic papers aren’t gonna spawn out of thin air, but that’s not what the writing skill in TS3 (or the hidden writing skill in TS2) are about. They’re about creative writing only.

Ok, ok. How high is Loki’s Creativity skill, then? In TS2, skills are much broader, they more resemble skillsets than individual skills, and writing categorizes under Creativity. Bring out the skill panel!

Two. He has 2 points in Creativity. That is... low. That is actually very low, especially for a Sim that has supposedly been writing for fun since childhood. (and was a prodigy, while we’re at it) It is safe to say, I think, that if the player doesn’t make him do it, Loki doesn’t write anymore and he hasn’t been doing that for a long, long time.

While I would cynically admit that the dissonance in personalities might be just the lack of damns given from EAxis’ side, this seems to me too on the nose to be unintentional.

They would have no reason to bring the Beakers back without the “evil scientists” thing in mind. I mean, that’s what they’re iconic for. That’s what they’re recognizable by. (apart from their eyebrows)

So the person who was in charge of creating smol Loki probably knew they were recreating “Loki the mad scientist”.

So when they were picking the skill they use to demonstrate that this kid is gonna go far, they thought... “evil scientist = writing”...?

I would understand going for Creativity in general. I mean, Loki’s an inventor. That comes with the territory. But creativity as such isn’t really a skill in TS3. It’s divided to different activities.

Wouldn’t it make more sense just in general to pick logic, then? I mean, Loki isn’t that extremely logical by default but it is his second strongest skill and a feature unmistakably connected to being a scientist.

That’s what leads me to believe that writing plays a role in the story and it was chosen on purpose.

So how did a sweet little family-oriented boy talented with words transform into the ruthless catboy inventor we know and love?

And that, my friends, is the mystery of Loki Beaker.

2: A closer look at our environmentalist friends, the Beakers

If we want to get the full picture and come to a satisfying conclusion of some sorts, we need to inspect smol Loki’s surroundings. Maybe there is a clue to the continuous force or a traumatic event that shifted smol Loki’s direction in life?

Loki’s and Erin’s parents are named Gundrun and Bjorn. Even though their age would still allow it, they’re not present at the start of TS2′s Strangetown play, they’re long dead. Bjorn died before Erin became an adult and Gundrun died shortly before her son’s engagement to Circe. Because they died by the time Loki had (presumably) already long enrolled in his current life-path, we can safely rule out any tragic early death of parental figures scenario as a possible answer.

Gundrun is the only Beaker that canonically also writes. She has 5 points in the writing skill. She also shares some traits with Loki, namely the smarts and ambition.

But she has little to do with science and is way more business-oriented which is a trait she shares with Circe’s ancestors, for example her father. Maybe the families knew each other from business ventures even before they moved to Strangetown? It is stated in their memories that Loki and Circe first met when they were children. But I digress!

Anyway, I don’t see anything in Gundrun that would suggest any abusive behavior towards her son that might have triggered his drastic change. Possibly but not necessarily she might’ve been a bit absent but nothing out of ordinary.

And now the father, Bjorn.

Bjorn is the sciency half of the couple and works as an Aquatic Ecosystem Tweaker. Again, he has zero traits that would raise any red flags and he shares 4 out of 5 traits with either smol Loki or Loki. (I don’t know if Loki is a “natural cook” but he cooks quite well, so I think that counts.)

What’s interesting about Bjorn, though, is his speech that serves as a flavor text for the Aurora Skies store page.

(Image transcript: “Do it for science! Science is everywhere around us, but at Aurora Skies it’s not just something you learn; it’s something you do!  We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality. Even now we’re finding more uses for garbage to help the planet. Charging batteries, powering machines - the sky is the limit. Just this last year we created a modified Hot Air Baloon using garbage as fuel and turning it into pure air with a pine breeze scent.  Now you can have efficient travel and an amazing romantic adventure with no cost to the ozone (or your nose)! Every year we’re creating more and more exciting things in the world of science. Garbage-powered hearts, heart-powered cars, solar-powered cats; what will you think of next!  It’s all up to you. Do it for Science! Did you know? Hot Air Balloons are an epic form of travel based around the simple principle that hot air is lighter than cold air.  They lift in the air based on the heat system in the balloon. Increasing the temperature of the air inside the balloon makes it lighter than the air outside and the balloon begins to float.  More air is required to lift heavier things; that’s why the balloons have to be so huge! How cool (or hot!) is that?”)

From this piece of text we can see Bjorn’s passion and dedication to “green” science. Nothing in his traits suggests he fakes it, so I think it’s safe to believe that this peppy idealist is a glimpse into Loki’s father’s genuine self.

He might have encouraged his children to follow in his footsteps (”We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality.“) and smol Loki, who later in life seemed to have similar levels of enthusiasm (science is his One True Hobby), might have been receptive to that.

Now just close your eyes for a second and imagine an alternate reality in which Loki picked up where Bjorn left and instead of a energy-refilling machine that electrocutes you if you’re not happy enough, he invented “solar-powered cats”.

Still no hints on what could’ve messed Loki up, though.

Let’s take a look at the parents in TS2. Even though they’re not present and aren’t even resurrectable, they’re still coded in the game for purposes of genetics, memories and family trees, so some of their characteristics are salvageable.

And by the Watcher, they were both Romance Sims.

They were workaholic Romance Sims who cared about the environment and liked recycling (and Hot Baloons).

And they were both extremely Nice and very Sloppy, if their personalities on wiki are something to go by. Which they unfortunately aren’t, at least not completely because most ancestors don’t simply have “their own” personalities and use presets instead, so they tend to be quite similar.

The same goes for most of the Beaker clan, unfortunately. Fun fact is that there is no Knowledge Sim in sight (before Loki, of course). Maybe they weren’t a scientist family, but a bunch of Romance Sims who used to spend their free time in between woohoos saving the planet with eco-science. (3 out of 6 of Loki’s and Erin’s ancestors were Romance Sims, 2 were Fortune and 1 was Family)

But! There is one outlier. Her name is Gertrude Beaker. She is Loki’s paternal grandmother.

And similarly to her grandson, she certainly has a personality to remember.

She doesn’t use a preset, this is a personality that someone went and manually assigned (...or generated) for her. And she is Neat, Outgoing and doesn’t have a nice bone in her body. But unlike Loki, she has a sense of humor (which makes her even more dangerous, in my opinion) and is extremely Lazy.

She is a Fortune Sim and the only Beaker who shares the darker sides of Loki’s personality. (to be clear, I don’t mean their taste for cleaning but the round 0 of Nice points)

Because she doesn’t feature in TS3 at all, it is safe to say that she wasn’t in her grandchildren’s lives until the family moved to Strangetown. Could she be the corrupting influence on smol Loki?

As far as personality comparison goes, she seems to be the only possible culprit, the only one who’s personality shares the same unpleasant qualities he became infamous for. But! That’s not saying much. There is no evidence she actually did anything.

There’s not even any evidence that she ever met her grandson, given he has no memory of her dying which means she might have died before he was even born. That would be a solid evidence on the contrary and would rule her out. But I’m leaving some maneuvering space for theories here because she is the only Beaker ancestor with custom personality, after all, and that is suspicious.

That’s all the Beakers we know of if not counting Atom and Ceres, who came after Loki, so they’re not relevant to the question of his childhood. Or... are they?

3: And that’s when the trouble began

Another part of this question that might help us discern what happened to Loki is the when. All we know so far is that there is a big void of unknown between smol Loki and regular Loki and the point of transformation happened in there somewhere.

Thankfully, we have something to give us an idea. It’s this snapshot in storytelling pictures for the Beakers:

It shows smol Loki destroying a dollhouse. It seems to be in an impersonal environment of some sorts. The cheapest bed in the game is against a bare white wall, the window is hid behind blue curtains and there doesn’t really seem to be anything else but the dollhouse, a teddy bear in the background and that... very unpleasant bed.

It clearly tells us that Loki’s shift started in his pre-teen years.

And seeing that room which is definitely not in the Beaker Castle at 1 Tesla Court, it makes me think of a hotel or a cheap apartment the family was staying in while moving from Aurora Skies to Strangetown. Maybe the castle-like something the household inhabits at the start of the game wasn’t a property of the Beakers at all, maybe that was where the Salamises used to live and now it belongs to Circe?

Anyway, could it had been leaving Aurora Skies that sent smol Loki down an existential crisis and settling in the not exactly welcoming environment of Strangetown, enrolling in a local school, that sealed it?

But why all the stuff with writing? This would work with any other hobby but somehow it had to be writing and it’s our task to find out why.

4: Not your average tragedy

Now in our search we already have some ideas but it wouldn’t be thorough if we didn’t take into account smol Loki’s actual personality. I mean, we went into what traits he doesn’t have but what about those he has?

Namely Lucky and Family-Oriented.

I think Lucky is a very interesting choice. There’s nothing inherent about Loki Beaker that would make you go “that’s one lucky guy!” (if you don’t count his relationship with Circe as a stroke of luck, that is) and the same goes for smol Loki.

But... it could be a clue. His metamorphosis either couldn’t be triggered by trauma because he’s lucky and it would avoid him, or it must’ve been something tremendously horrid so he’s lucky he’s still alive.

Now we know we are searching for something that happened in his late childhood, verging on the start of his teenage years. His family was going through the turmoil of moving to a desert and he has already known his future partner Circe. Meanwhile Erin-

Oh, wait. Erin.

Smol Loki was Family-Oriented which implies he would probably have a good relationship with his little sister, as he would’ve naturally inclined to protect her and help his parents take care of her. But!

Not only do they have an amicable but distant relationship as adults but Erin seems to forget that Loki even existed in her childhood.

He has the usual set of memories of a sibling growing up well but she doesn’t, she has no Loki-related memories at all, not even of his marriage, which was a quite recent event.

Could the reason for Loki’s “downfall” be somehow related to his sister? Was there a dramatic event in which she lost a part of her memory?

5: Theories!

Ok, we’re finally here! Now I try to present some theories about what might’ve happened.

1. Burdens of the golden child

In Aurora Skies, Loki used to be the little wonder every relative was gushing about. With his father as an acclaimed scientist and a very liked person in general, there was little to no adversity his son had to face. He followed his passion and having nobody to really compare himself to, nor anybody who would terrorize him, he prospered.

But then the Beakers moved. Strangetown was... different. It was way smaller than Aurora Skies, so everybody inherently knew everybody and everybody had to interact with everybody... because the small space of a desert community didn’t leave them with any choice. And it was bleak and unfriendly. No one except for the Salamises knew the Beakers, so they found themselves under scrutiny from their new neighbors.

So Loki, who used to live thinking he was unique, was now sitting everyday in a much smaller classroom with Pascal and Vidcund Curious, whom he was immediately being compared to. But he wasn’t like the Curiouses. He was a kid of a scientist but wasn’t a science kid. He didn’t have much in common with Pascal who approached him and tried to befriend him at first but he wanted to. In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Pascal’s and Loki’s communication attempts were rather poor, though, and in the end, they never made friends. Loki slowly began to disdain the oldest Curious boy and it culminated a few years later in high school when Pascal made an attempt to woo Circe. It was even worse with Vidcund. Ever since Loki’s first day at the new school, Vidcund had been eyeing him with a disgusted look and Loki became quick to reciprocate.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Even Circe was on it! She was the only person his age he has know in Strangetown before his family moved in and he liked her. Not “like” liked her, yuck! But he thought she was cool. Her family used to visit the Beakers in Aurora Skies and they played together. She was a friend! Or so Loki thought. She seemed to like hanging out with the Curiouses much more.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science, yes. But not in the eyes of Buzz Grunt, the son of a general who lived in Strangetown. Their family were the self-proclaimed protectors of the hood but at the same time they weren’t shy to show a strong distaste for all that made Strangetown an important desert settlement in the first place. And little Buzz, although Loki doubted he understood the nuances, was very fond of asserting his dominance over his less sporty and hyper-masculine classmates.

Suddenly jealous of the Curious brothers, under pressure from both the adults and his peers comparing him to them and bullied by Buzz, Loki’s social life fell apart. He started having problems... and he came up with solutions. He has always liked science but from back then on he hyperfixated on it to prove everybody who picked on him for being a worthless parody of a science kid wrong.

Not only his social life and self-confidence were busted, though. Moving away from Aurora Skies to Strangetown that had much higher prices for housing because of the limited space, the living standards for the Beakers lowered. It was chaotic and uncomfortable. Plus, almost everybody in Strangetown was loaded. Why, Circe and her parents lived in a small castle! Loki felt like they’re the only “poor” family around and it played into his new-found insecurities.

And then there was Erin’s accident. She suffered a severe head injury and even though she fortunately survived, she was never... the same. She had issues with her memory. Loki tried to convince himself that he’s big enough not to cry but when they were visiting Erin in the hospital and she didn’t recognize him, he cried. It was his little sister! And... it was all his fault anyway! If he was quicker and pushed her to safety, she would’ve been fine! Or even better, he wished the car would’ve hit him instead.

Loki was becoming more and more snappy, focused on his grades and projects, unavailable. The siblings never mended their relationship, Erin, even though she recovered, never got to make new memories with her brother. Not remembering them growing up together, he was like a stranger to her. A scary mean teenage boy she didn’t know and, even though she was a very friendly child, she was too intimidated to willingly spend time with him. And Loki was always busy and moreover, he felt guilty and inexplicably angry, so he postponed approaching her, until it was too late, he was in college, she was in high school and it was too awkward.

And... there was no time to write anymore.

2. Gertrude the Neat and Mean (and Lazy)

Ok, Loki doesn’t have any memories of his grandma. But hear me out! Erin does not have any of him either and yet they met. This theory doesn't require any additional write up – he simply got under the influence of his 0 Nice points granny and she cultivated him to be just like her.

My personal take: This is maybe my least favorite theory of them all, even though it is quite straightforward. It doesn't take much into consideration and demonizes Gertrude, who as far as we know, might not done anything wrong.

3. The accident

This theory takes advantage of TS3's canon sciency machinery, namely Cerebralizing Brain Enhancing Machine 2.0.

It can, among other things, change a Sim's personality. There is (quite unfortunately, in my opinion) no chance of consequential failure in the actual game, the most it can do is to (non-fatally) electrocute your Sim. But...

Imagine smol Loki sneaking into his dad's laboratory, most probably at his workplace.

He was curious. Ever since his father showed him all the equipment in there, all he could think of was the machine that made people smarter.

Maybe it could make him smarter?

I mean, Loki knew he was already quite smart. At least, he's been told he was and he had no reason not to believe it.

But he could be even smarter.

He could be like his dad. Or his mom. Or Erin. Everyone was talking about how clever young Erin seemed. Loki was proud of her but part of him just wanted that, too.

So what if... he went to dad's laboratory, just for a little while, and made himself smarter?

He made all the necessary preparations. It meant to memorize dad’s schedule, so he knew just the time when he could sneak into the laboratory. It also meant to get a good costume so he won’t be recognizable on the security footage!

And then finally, he was ready. To infiltrate the laboratory was easy enough but it only made Loki more nervous. He was on the edge but determined. He wanted to make it big in the world. He needed to seize the opportunity. And fear... fear was there to be ignored! Hands, stop trembling!

His confidence grew a bit once he got to the machine itself. He knew how to run it thanks to his dad and it made him feel competent and ready.

Little did he know that there was a huge oversight. Although Loki could operate the technology on a very basic level, his knowledge went nowhere near deep enough for him to detect that the machine has yet another set of settings and those currently expect an adult user. It wasn’t configured for a child patient.

But unaware of that, the boy in his patchy dinosaur costume climbed on top of the machine and with his eyes wide open and his heart racing he connected the Brain Enhancer to his system. Then, with his hand sweating, he pushed a button on a remote he was clutching to.

When Bjorn, alerted by Loki’s screams, rushed into the laboratory, it was way too late.

As his terrified father was calling the ambulance, the child was alive and even still awake. He was too weak to cry. He just watched Bjorn, wishing for death and looking for signs of wrath in father’s eyes.

There were none. Only fear.

Physically, Loki Beaker managed to recover just fine. With the power of advanced medicine and plastic surgery, the burns he suffered were reduced to nothing but almost invisible scars.

But inside, he was never the same. Literally. Even though the procedure backfired horribly, it still worked to some extend - but even that extend was warped. Loki succeeded in giving himself the Genius trait but several of his traits were replaced also, including the Lucky trait that probably saved his life.

6: Conclusion!

I like Loki very much. (no sh*t, who would’ve guessed) He’s a very controversial and over-the-top character who tends to be rather unpredictable in the actual gameplay. I started writing this giant thing to find an answer to his backstory that would satisfy me and hopefully also some of you.

With a heavy heart I conclude I’m not successful.

First I have to admit I originally planned to present 5 theories instead of 3 but I scrapped 2 of them.

First was about Atom time traveling and replacing Loki, creating himself again and again in a time loop (would explain the huge personality difference between smol Loki and Loki-Atom) and it was very far-fetched but fun, alas I realized it was out of character for Atom, since he seems to love his sister and his Plumbot so much he would hardly leave them behind to pull that off.

The second was about Nervous and the corrupting power of Death he has inside that would slowly drive Loki and Circe “evil” even though it’s unclear whether they first adopted him with being a lab-rat in mind. But it would not make sense since a change like that would be visible on their personality panels. That’s not that important, though. What made me not include this theory is that it feels uncomfortably victim blame-y. It’s not directly since it wouldn’t be Nervous’ fault anyway but any attempt to shift the blame from Loki and Circe in this situation feels uncomfortable.

(To be clear, I don’t think the Beakers deserve demonization. In my opinion, the best way to treat them narrative-wise is like eccentric people capable of feeling love and doing good things sometimes, yet irredeemably self-centered, morally bankrupt and deserving a lifetime in jail for child abuse they have done on Nervous. Not one-dimensional but still villains and still objectively bad people.)

And those 3 theories above? They could’ve been better.

I think I like the first the most, even though I still feel like something is missing. I just tend to like relatively grounded explanations and this one doesn’t feature the supernatural nor any deus ex machina gadget.

What about you? And do you have any other theories? Sky’s the limit! It’ll make my day to hear them!

Whatever your takes are, they’re all valid.

[fanficimagery]

‘Cause We’re Gonna Be Legends; pt. 2

Summary: Imagine wandering the Boardwalk with your friends. A group of boys catch their attention and while your friends are doing everything to catch their attention in return, they are apparently more interested in the oblivious girl of the bunch who doesn't care to bat her eyelashes at them. You. [Part Two]

Words: 9.5K Warnings: This is why I don’t do sequels. I think they’re a good idea and then halfway through I lose interest/have no idea what the hell I’m doing. But I powered through and this was the end product. Enjoy. Also I forgot to mention in the first part that Max doesn’t really exist in here which is why he’s never mentioned.  Homophobic slur? It happens once, but it’s in there. There’s also a dash of spice, if you catch my drift. Lol. Implied (but it does NOT happen) sexual assault. And violence.

For a few days, your fever is up and down. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as it once was, so you're able to actually wear the appropriate clothes for having guests over. Your girls are very apologetic for not being much help, but are excited when you start looking better and even planned a night to stay in with you. Unfortunately, but fortunately for them, the night they stayed in with you happened to also be a night the boys decided to drop in as well.

They squealed when Paul sauntered in and immediately pecked your lips. Their eyes widened when Marko pecked your left cheek and Dwayne your right. And then their jaws dropped when David brought up the rear, smirking, and pecked your forehead. The room was quiet- too quiet- and the girls were surprised whereas the boys were smug. Assholes.

So instead of movie night, you answered the questions your girls threw at you while the boys went out to pick up some food after everyone but you chipped in for because Marko wouldn't take your cash. Ruby was the only one extremely impressed with your situation while the other three remained skeptical. You and Ruby tried to make light of the situation, especially for afterward when you would be able to explore your relationship with the four boys, but you knew it would take a while for Emily, Becca, and Jessica to come around. If they came around.

Ruby had stuck around for as long as she could when the boys returned with the food, but the moment the other three girls ate they quickly made excuses to leave. Sadly, Ruby followed. You weren't able to hide the fact you were hurt by their actions, but Ruby assured you it would all be okay.

It wasn't. Not really. Because when you were fully recovered and called to hang out, half the girls were quick to make excuses. Only Ruby and Becca were fine with your decisions, and made attempts to hang out without Emily and Jessica around.

And Ruby and Becca? Those two were apparently a force to be reckoned with now that they knew you had four boyfriends. From one day to the next your entire wardrobe had been altered, and though it was nothing too bad you weren't exactly stoked to be comfortable in new clothes at the drop of a hat.

So walking down the boardwalk one night, you keep alternating between pulling on your tank top in hopes it'll become looser and tugging on the hem of your shorts in hope that they'll be longer. Your jackets had all mysteriously gone missing and you were going to punch your friends the next time you saw them.

Before you know it you're coming upon four familiar motorcycles. The boys are all missing, but you know it's only a matter of time before they come back. So instead of searching for them, you lean against the railing behind their bikes and wait for them to come to you. Fortunately, you don't have to wait long.

David and Dwayne spot you first, but in the few days you've gotten to explore your compatibility with each of them you noticed that these two were not into public displays of affection. So when they greet you, they smile and nod, and make sure to brush up against some part of you as they make their way to their respective bikes. Marko blows you a kiss from where he's got Paul in a headlock and then when Paul is set free he practically beams at you.

"Hey pretty lady, come here often?" He teases as he sidles up to you.

Your nose wrinkles as you laugh, accepting his loud smacking kiss to the lips. "That was so cheesy."

"But at least it made you laugh." Paul slings his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side, and you can't help but try to melt into his side to hide.

"Where'd your friends get off to?" Marko wonders, eyeing you up and down. "Your outfit doesn't seem like something you'd pick out yourself."

You sigh. "If they're smart they won't dare to cross my path for the foreseeable future. Those assholes switched out my entire closet and stole all my jackets so I couldn't cover up."

"Well if you ask me, those friends of yours are pretty smart." David lights up a cigarette, smirking around it before blowing out a steady stream of smoke. You flip him off.

"I could deal with it if I had a large flannel or something, but nope. They took everything that would offer a few inches of cover-up."

"Well why didn't you just say so, babe." Paul moves his arm from your shoulders, shaking out of his own jacket. The chains hanging from it jingle at all the movement and you smile as he drops his jacket over your shoulders.

You slide your arms through the sleeves, flexing your fingers from where they barely peek out. You grab both sides of the jacket and close it over your chest, crossing your arms over it to keep yourself hidden and are content when you realize the hem of the jacket falls a few inches further than what your shorts covered.

"Oh no," Paul mumbles. "I made a mistake."

"What?"

"You look so cute in my jacket." You huff a laugh but notice his gaze sweeping you up and down, and his tongue peeking out to lick the corner of his bottom lip. When he meets your gaze then, you gulp and shiver when you see the heat simmering there. "Come on. You're mine for the night." He grabs your wrist and tugs, and you stare at your other three boys in surprise.

David and Dwayne grin, and Marko cheerfully waves you off. "Don't get caught!"

You don't have time to process Marko's words before Paul's dragging you down the boardwalk stairs. You do your best to keep up, laughing, and then yank back against Paul's grip once you hit sand. "Hey, slow down! You have longer legs than I do and speed walking through sand is not easy."

"Sorry. M'sorry."

Paul whirls around, cupping your face in his hands and leaning down to hungrily press his lips against yours as he walks you backward. Your hands wrap around his wrists as you lean up on your tiptoes in an attempt to match his enthusiasm and you can't help but smile when you stumble along the way. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips and when they part he's quick to lick into your mouth before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth.

You moan quietly and then gasp when your back hits something solid. The moment you pull back to look around your surroundings, Paul attaches his lips to your neck. He tilts your head this way and that way so he can lick and nip to his heart's content, and down to your collarbone. Only then do you realize you're underneath the boardwalk now.

"Paul." Your hands delve into his hair, gripping and tugging when you feel him going lower and lower. "Paul!" You then laugh. He's already on his knees, face level with your stomach as he stares up at you with a hooded gaze. "All this because I'm wearing your jacket? Seriously?"

He numbly nods. "Yes. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to it."

His hands go to the button and zipper on your jean shorts, and you catch his hands with your own. "We're not having sex here. I'm not about to get sand in places it's never supposed to be."

He chuckles huskily, opening his jacket further and pushing up the hem of your tank top. He kisses you just below your navel. "No sex. Promise," he says just as he gives your stomach a kitten lick. You squirm and quietly whimper. "But I really need to get my mouth on you."

"Fine." You gulp, but then clear your throat and slowly release his hands when you realize no one's around. "But if we're called out by anyone, I'm kicking your ass after you kick theirs."

He laughs. "Deal."

Paul makes quick work of unbuttoning your shorts and yanking them down your legs along with your panties. They get caught on your shoes as you try stepping out of them, so Paul pulls those off as well. Your feet are only in the warm, damp sand for a couple of seconds before Paul's lifting your right leg and setting it over his shoulder.

You gasp as you're suddenly opened up and a little self conscious as Paul stares at what he's only heard about from Marko and Dwayne so far. One hand finds its way to the wooden column at your back and the other splays across your lower abdomen before sliding down to shield your pussy from his view. Though the moment your fingers brush over your tingling folds, your breath catches and Paul smirks up at you.

"Don't worry, baby girl. You've got absolutely nothing to be nervous about." With one hand trailing up and down the leg you're still standing on, Paul uses his other hand to pull yours away from his prize. He licks the wetness from your fingers and a whimper catches at the back of your throat as he groans in appreciation. "Fuck. Marko's right. You do taste good."

"Babe," you whine. "You need to- I need you to-"

"I got you."

Warmth covers your mound and you moan aloud, cursing when Paul's tongue then licks you from entrance to clit. Your right hand tries to find purchase on the column at your back while the other delves into Paul's hair, smoothing it back before gripping it so you can see his face properly between your legs. Teeth nip, his tongue swirls, and you can't help your thighs tensing before you're grinding against his mouth.

"Please, please, please."

Paul pulls back, obscenely licking the wetness from around his mouth as he chuckles. "You're really wet, Y/N. Do the others know just how much you enjoy screwing around in public?"

"Paul," you mewl. You try to pull his face closer once more, but he doesn't budge. Anger slowly rising, you manage to narrow your eyes at him. "If you don't get your mouth back on me, I'm gonna-" But while you were busy getting angry, you hadn't seen his hand moving towards your center. So when you feel two of his fingers tease your entrance, you pause and then moan when he slips them inside.

Slowly pumping his fingers in and out, Paul chuckles. "What was that?"

"N-Nothing. Just please. Make me cum."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

With his fingers slowly building you up and his mouth now working you over once more, you give yourself up to the pleasure and no longer care about being seen or heard.

Half an hour later, you and Paul rejoin the others, hand in hand. All three boys smirk knowingly at you and you roll your eyes when Paul refuses to let you go with any of them.

"Enjoy yourselves?" Marko wiggles his eyebrows.

Paul immediately assures them you did and you shrug, refusing to feed his ego or give the boys any details as to what exactly happened. You had a feeling they either already knew somehow or would know soon given how open they all are with each other.

The next few weeks are a bit of blur, but a good blur at that. You're a little sad that you hadn't seen your girls in a while since the boys took up so much of your time, but you eventually let it go when you realized they didn't make an effort to reach out anyway. So learning to let go, you busied yourself with working during the day and then spending the nighttime hours with your boys. You'd never been with someone who you actually wanted to spend every waking hour with, so you lived in the moment and just enjoyed the crazy shenanigans your boyfriends got up to.

You had figured intimacy with them would be weird, and in the beginning it was since there were four of them, but things just kind of fell into place after the first time you slept with each of them. Each boy was different when they got you alone, and you were pleasantly surprised each of them met needs even you yourself had no idea you had. None of them were jealous or possessive when it came to each other, but they made sure to let anyone else know you were off limits.

They'd even taken you to see where they lived and you were shocked. Given their styles and personalities, you didn't know what to expect of their living situation, but a sunken hotel was not it. But the more they showed you around and you realized they had water and generators for some electricity, the more you liked the seclusion of it all. And when you finally got comfortable being there with them, the boys made what was basically a nest for you- a mattress with numerous blankets and pillows, and sheer curtains hanging around it all. So now that you had your own bedroom of sorts, more often than not that's where you ended up with Dwayne since he was the only one who actually liked to roll around in your sheets and cuddle for as long as you'd let him afterwards.

Still naked and with sweat cooling on your bodies, you're laying in the crook of Dwayne's arm with your chest pressed to his side and a sheet covering you from the waist down. He trails fingers up and down the spine of your back, and he chuckles every time he runs across a ticklish spot that sends you arching into him with a sleepy giggle.

Just as you're drifting off, however, the curtain around your bed is pulled open and David appears with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. "You gonna stay in bed all night?"

"Hmm. You put out that cigarette and you can join us." Dwayne's hand freezes on your back and David raises his eyebrows at you. "What?" You huff. "Don't pretend like none of you haven't thought about it."

A moment passes and then David smirks. "Tempting, but the other boys are itching for a night on the boardwalk."

"A night on the boardwalk? More like Marko's itching for a fight," you muse. "He hasn't been chased off the boardwalk in about three days. He must be bored." David chuckles and flicks away his cigarette after one last drag, entering your little nest and crawling into bed so he's situated behind you. You groan as he starts to trail his fingers along your back, inching lower and lower until he's teasing just under the sheet at your lower back. "If we go out tonight, someone's gotta drive me home earlier than usual. I got work in the morning."

"What time?" Dwayne asks.

"I gotta be in the office by ten." You giggle when David's fingers walk over your waist, kicking back at him when he digs his fingers in a little. As you settle down, you sigh. "Why do I have to be an adult? You guys have it so easy here. It seems like you don't worry about a thing." Fingers cease their movement on your back, and David and Dwayne share a calculating look over your head. "Sleep all day, party all night. If only."

David smirks and hope sparks up in each of them. It couldn't be this easy, could it? It would surely take more convincing. But before David or Dwayne can ask you more about your sudden annoyance at having responsibilities, Marko and Paul are entering the main room from one of their dark tunnels they always disappear into.

Soon. We'll talk to her soon.

It's one of the rare nights that all the boys are busy and you have too much energy to remain in your apartment all by yourself. You haven't heard from the girls in weeks, even though you've seen them on the boardwalk when you were with one of the boys, but they never made an attempt to approach you even after you had smiled and waved at them. Apparently those friendships were officially over, so when the boys disappeared you had no one but your own self to do things with.

They had warned you not to wander the boardwalk or the beach by yourself at night, but you've been doing it long before you had met them so you didn't think anything of it as you headed out.

The boardwalk is busy so you find yourself heading down onto the beach where it's a bit quieter. It's lit up thanks to the many flashing lights from the boardwalk, but you find yourself wandering further and further down the beach. There's a party going on around a small bonfire and when you see the numerous surf-Nazi's, you head towards the water in hopes of skirting their group without being seen. Unfortunately, Fate has other plans.

The first catcall has your shoulders hunching. You know better than to rush away because it'll only encourage them to chase, so instead you hesitantly look over at them and offer a wave. After that, you face forward and continue walking.

More catcalls ring out and the flirtatious invitations to join them get louder and louder, which means some of them are getting closer and closer. Your anxiety spikes and dread fills you. You should have stayed on the boardwalk.

"Hey, sweet face, where are you going?" Someone asks, slinging an arm around your shoulders and turning you back around to face the party. "The fun is this way."

"Oh I'm sure," you nervously chuckle. "But I just came out here to clear my head. I'm not in the mood to party. Sorry."

"Aw. Don't be like that. The night is young!" The way he moves his free arm as he talks and the way he slurs his words a little lets you know you're in trouble. "Come meet my friends. A couple of them could use a pretty little thing like you to lift their spirits."

You make the mistake of not putting up enough of a fight and regret it the moment one of the guys around the fire somewhat recognizes you. "Hey, aren't you that girl those queers on bikes pass around?" You tense as his friends laugh and cheer. "You hoping to be passed around by some real men for a change, little girl?"

You grimace and hug yourself as if that would help protect you. "I'm not hoping for anything other than to get home. Your friend is the one who dragged me over."

"And yet here you still stand," he muses. "Sit. Have a beer before the fun begins."

"No thanks. I really should get going. My friends are waiting for me."

Just as you turn, a hand grips your wrist. "Oh, but we insist." The pressure of the guy's grip tightens and you gasp in shock.

You knew you were in trouble before, but now it's a lot more real and scary. The more you struggle to get free, the more the guys around the fire laugh and jeer. The fear in your eyes only eggs them on more and the two of the guys shove you back and forth, never letting you get more than a few steps away from them. There's a boombox playing music and the moment it's turned up to its max, you scream.

You scream for someone to help you when a couple of the guys toy with their belt buckles and promise you loads of fun, you plead for them to let you go when they pull at your shirt, and you sob when you're shoved into the sand. You attempt to crawl away, but you're quickly flipped onto your back and someone grabs at your ankles.

You scream again.. and then the impossible happens.

Something flies down from the sky, plucking the individual holding onto you before flying away with him. There's screaming, this time coming from up above, and then a shower of liquid. Your heart pounds furiously as you smear the droplets on your cheek with your fingers and then whimper when you make out its color. It's red.

All the guys who'd been so sure about themselves and what they were about to do moments ago are now screaming, being tossed around and ripped apart one right after the other. You scramble backwards, keeping low to the ground and hoping to not be seen by whatever is taking delight in their destruction.

Only one of the creatures fully steps into the firelight, laughing, and you freeze up when you recognize some of its- his features. It's David.

A whimper escapes from the back of your throat as you whisper his name in question and David's gaze snaps in your direction. His cruel smile falls and the others around the fire slowly turn towards you. Paul and Marko are bloodied around their mouths, their expressions falling when they realize what you've just witnessed.

As you slowly stand, you keep your eyes on them and inch backwards as if they'd attack you at any second. You cease breathing all together and then turn to run for your life. Only you get a few steps in before you run smack dab into a person, falling back into the sand on your ass.

"Please don't kill me!" You cry. "I w-won't say anything. I promise!"

The person squats in front of you and you realize then it's Dwayne. He's not as bloody as everyone else, but the evidence of what he's done is plain as day on his chin and down his bare chest. You whimper. "W-What are you?"

His throat bobs as he gulps, but instead of answering he asks, "What are you doing down here on the beach?"

"I- you guys just.." You stutter on a sob, shaking your head as if you can't believe what you just saw.

"You're in shock." David walks up on your left and you flinch at his close proximity. "Let me take you home."

"Why?" You sniffle. "You rather kill me in the comfort of my own home rather than on the beach with the rest of the scum?"

"We're not going to kill you, Y/N."

"No? You sure as hell had no problem killing these guys just now!" You say. When you realize just who- or rather what- you're talking back to, you snap your mouth shut and avert your gaze.

"I'll be taking Y/N home." The tone of David's voice brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You're so sure that there's no walking away unscathed from this. "You boys are on clean-up."

When David reaches for your hands, you don't bother fighting him. You feel absolutely drained and it doesn't matter if you scream or attempt to run. Whatever the boys are, you know they could overpower you in a heartbeat. But the second you're standing shakily on your own two feet, you yank your hands out of David's grasp and cross your arms over your chest.

For a second you think you see hurt flash across David's expression, but it's gone within the next blink. His expression hardens and you flinch when he grabs you by your elbow to guide you away. His grip isn't hurtful, but it's obvious that if you try to yank away from him again you won't be going anywhere.

The closer you get to the populated boardwalk, the easier it is to breathe. Your heart even calms some, but when David leads you towards his bike you start to drag your feet. "My car. I d-drove here."

"One of the others will drive it back." You frown at him, but he doesn't see because he busies himself with climbing onto his bike. You take his moment of distraction to glance around at the people walking around you, part of you hoping to catch someone's eye, but David's voice squashes that hope right away. "Do you really want me to kill whoever it is you plan to tell about what you saw? Be smart, Y/N. We have to protect our secret."

"And what exactly is the secret, David?"

Though the situation is anything but funny, he smiles at you. His smile makes your stomach churn. "Get on the bike, Y/N. It's time to go home."

Your bottom lip wobbles under his intense stare, but you quickly put a stop to it and suck it up. Hesitantly reaching for his shoulder, you then cautiously climb up onto the back of his bike. You grab onto the sides of his jacket rather than wrap your arms around his waist, and shakily exhale when David doesn't mention it and starts his bike instead.

The ride back to your apartment is a tense one and you hop off the back of David's bike before he's even cut the engine. Your arms are once again crossed over your chest and your heart starts to beat faster when you realize he intends to follow you inside.

He stays one step behind you the entire way up to your apartment door, but he remains standing in the hallway when you enter your apartment and turn to face him. "What happens n-now?"

"What do you think happens now?"

"Goddammit, David!" Your frustration mixes with your fear and you end up crying again. "I just saw you-" you pause, angrily wiping away tears and lowering your voice, "-all four of you rip apart those surf-Nazi's like it was nothing. And you- it looked like you were eating them and I- I don't- I can't-"

"Hey. Hey, shh." David takes a step closer and moves to cradle to face in the palm of his hands, but you jerk out of his reach.

"I should be running for the hills and screaming at the top of my lungs about what I've just seen."

"Yeah? Then why aren't you?"

"I don't know." You blink the tears from your eyes and sniffle. "I wanna scream and I wanna rage and I wanna cry more than I already have, but for some reason- for some goddamn reason my heart hurts just even thinking about uttering a word of what I saw."

"What do you want from me? From us? Name it and it's yours."

"Time. And space." You gulp. "I need to process everything. I'll- I'll come to you when I'm ready."

David's barely given you a nod before you're shutting the door in his face. You deadbolt it and turn to walk further into your apartment, your resolve completely vanishing the further away from the door you get. You make it to the bathroom, hands trembling as you grab onto the sink, and when you glance at your reflection in the mirror you blanch and make a beeline for the toilet.

The splatter and smears of red on your face and neck is enough to make the contents of your stomach make a reappearance, and you spew it all into the toilet. Flashes of David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul and their demonic looking features pop into your mind one right after the other, and you heave one heart wrenching sob after the other.

You don't know how long you spend in the bathroom, but by the time you leave it after having climbed into the hottest shower you could manage, your throat feels raw and eyes puffy. You take your time getting dressed in a set of pajamas and then fall into bed with a tired sigh. No matter how much you wanted to drift off into sleep and forget everything that's happened, you knew it'd all make an appearance in your dreams for weeks to come.

For the next few days all you do is sleep, work, research, eat, and shower. Staying away from the boardwalk was probably the easiest and hardest thing you ever had to do, but being alone gave you time to think about all that you've seen and all that you've read up on. You had managed to watch the evening local news for any reports of missing individuals, but were unsurprised when none were reported. After all, surf-nazi's were riff raff and the authority didn't seem to care about them.

Sleep was hard to come by because the more research you did, the more it made you paranoid. You became jumpy, were constantly nodding off when you were supposed to be working, lied to your co-workers when they asked if anything was going on, and by the end of week one your boss had had enough. So after such a long week, you're more than content to stay in and wait on the Chinese food being delivered to your house.

Several boxes are scattered around your living room, filled with articles of clothing and various other items you don't mind parting with so you can sell for some cash.

A knock sounds from the front door and you get up from the floor to go answer it. You grab some cash along the way and readily pull open the door with a polite smile. It completely vanishes, however, when you're met with Dwayne who's holding up your takeout almost as if it were a peace offering. "Um. Hi?"

He flashes a faint smile. "Hey, Y/N."

The sound of his voice makes your heart beat double, but surprisingly not out of fear. You're actually surprised and really happy to see him, even if he looks so unsure of his presence. So you fight off a smile and keep your tone neutral. "Dwayne, what are you doing here?"

"We're all worried. And we miss you. The boys don't know I'm here, so don't be mad at them."

"I.. I'm not." You gulp and finally grin at him. Sighing, you step aside and gesture him inside. "Come in. You don't have to stand in the hallway." Dwayne hesitantly steps in and you shut the door behind him. You pocket your cash, knowing he won't take it from you, and lead the way into the kitchen. "I hope you're hungry. I'm not gonna eat while you sit there and stare at me."

There's a huff of laughter behind you, but the following question asked is not one you're expecting. "You're moving?"

When you turn towards Dwayne, you see his expression is now completely closed off. Following his gaze to the various packed boxes, you shake your head. "Oh. Uhh, no. I was let go from my job, so I plan to sell some things. I have enough saved up to pay the bills for a couple of months, but if I don't find anything by the time that cash runs out then I could use whatever I make by selling my stuff."

The relief pouring off of him is obvious the moment he realizes you're telling the truth. He sets the bags of food down on the kitchen table and immediately sets out to distributing the food equally while you grab some drinks. Then seated next to you, Dwayne says, "Sooo, what now?"

Using a plastic fork two twirl some noodles on it, you shrug. "I'm not sure. I'm obviously not running for the hills, but I'm not sure of my welcome back into the group after being silent for so long."

"Well David is angry," he says. Your eyes dart to meet his gaze, hurt settling in your expression, but he's quick to soothe you. "He's not mad at you. Not really. He's more angry at the fact that you found out about us the way you did. He wanted to ease you into it. We all did."

You snort. "Yeah. Because finding out you're all murderous creatures of the night is something you can ease someone into." You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

"Marko is more hurt than anything. He thought you really liked us enough to be able to handle the monsters we are and Paul- Paul is doing his best to be indifferent about it all. But if I'm being honest, he's in the same boat with Marko. They're both lovesick idiots."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

You gulp. "How are you feeling about.. everything?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Dwayne flashes you a smile and something in your chest eases. You grin and finally take your first bite of food. "After everything was made official between us, I saw something in you. I knew our secret would freak you out, but deep down I also knew you'd come around."

"You were that confident, huh?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough."

The next few minutes passed in relative quiet, you eating and glaring every time you caught Dwayne staring. He'd smile at your glare and then take a bite of an eggroll so you wouldn't tell him anything or banish him from the kitchen while you were still in there. But eventually you finish and pack away anything left over for a midnight snack.

Then heading towards the sofa in the living room, you curl up on one end while Dwayne takes his spot on the other end. "If I ask you some questions, will you answer them honestly?"

"I can do my best."

"That's fine." Slowly stretching your legs out, you hesitantly tuck your toes under Dwayne's thigh and smile when his cold fingers dance along your ankle before wrapping around your calf. "So I think my main question is, is what exactly are you? I tried to do some research based on your features I saw that night, but I narrowed it down to two species."

"Which are?"

"Demon or vampire. The teeth, the eyes, the.." you pause and gulp, nose wrinkling, "choice of food. I guess it can pass for both, so.."

"Vampire." You immediately tense, but the moment passes and you exhale as you relax back in your seat. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Can I see-" Before you can even finish your question, Dwayne was already shaking his head. "What? Come on! I've already seen you at your worst. Well not you, but the others. Just.. show me."

"Why?"

"Because my apartment is nice and lit, and I can actually look at you in the face now rather than looking elsewhere."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Dwayne hesitates but eventually angles his body towards you. You sit up a little straighter, pulling your legs back towards you and curling them beneath you. He closes his eyes after taking a large lungful of air and you watch in fascination as his features seem to ripple right before your very eyes.

Quietly gasping, you find yourself leaning towards him. There are a few telltale differences, but the most prominent are his now slightly protruding cheekbones and brow line, and the yellow and red eyes when his eyelids fly open at the faintest touch of your thumb against his bottom lip. He seems to cease breathing all together when your thumb pulls down his lip and you huff a laugh of disbelief at the sight of his fangs.

"You still you?"

Dwayne takes a moment to answer. "For the most part."

"Can I try something?"

He hesitates in answering again, but his resolve crumbles when he notices your gaze stays locked on his mouth. Eventually he nods and you scoot in even closer until you're placing one knee on either side of his hips and your hands settle on either side of his neck with your thumbs just under his jaw.

Dwayne sharply inhales as you settle in his lap, his hands now lightly holding onto your waist. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I'm really capable of having non-human boyfriends." Slowly leaning in, you're very mindful of his fangs when you press your lips against his. Feeling the coolness of them makes you smile and you can't help the urge to run the tip of your tongue against one. But in doing so, it seems to snap any restraint Dwayne had.

You squeak when you suddenly find yourself on your back on the couch. Your legs have subconsciously wrapped around his waist, your hands on his chest beneath his jacket as he hovers over you, panting heavily. His eyes are back to their normal brown, but his other features are still on display even as he does his best to make them go away.

"Should I take this as a compliment?" You ask, nails lightly scratching at Dwayne's chest as he groans. "Do you have a fang-on for me?"

"You're making this incredibly hard for me, sweetheart."

"Ooh. I would hope so." You thrust your hips upward and smile as Dwayne finally laughs.

With one hand by your head to hold his weight just inches above you, his other hand is on your waist beneath your shirt as he runs his fingers up and down your skin. He turns his face so it's half hidden by his shoulder and hair, and when he faces you again all his vampiric features are gone. He lazily smiles at you, but his expression softens. "Are you sure about this? About us?"

You sheepishly nod. "I mean I can't guarantee I'll be super chill when you guys.. grab a bite to eat," you say, nose wrinkling, "but I can try. We'll probably have to come up with a system so I'm not with you guys when you do so."

"Being with us won't be easy. We're never-changing, Y/N. You'll eventually need to be too."

It takes a second for his words to sink in and when they do you momentarily stop breathing. You open your mouth to retort, but snap it shut a moment later and frown. You sigh when Dwayne starts to retreat and the both of you sit side by side. "I- I know. Okay? It's just a lot to take in right now."

"David won't want you to take too long."

"Of course he won't." Falling silent, you reach for Dwayne's hand and lock your fingers together. Then laying your cheek against his shoulder, you say, "I guess it's a good thing I lost my job then, huh? Cutting ties won't be so hard now."

"I'm sorry we dragged you into this."

You huff. "Are you?"

A moment passes and then, "No." You laugh and tilt your head so you can see Dwayne's face. "You had David hooked the second you smiled at him. The rest of us were obviously intrigued, but it was David who made it known that your friends were off limits because he wanted you."

You immediately sit up, eyes wide. "Wait. Were you guys going to eat my friends?!" Dwayne has the audacity to look nervous and you can't help but snort. "Seriously?"

He shrugs. "How else do you think we get our meals? But you were a loose end. You knew they were with us and it'd have been suspicious. They were lucky that we saw you though. Your presence saved them."

You shake your head in amused disbelief, chuckling softly. Slowly, but surely you end up leaning against his side once more. "I have a lot of apologizing to do, don't I?"

"Maybe not. The boys might appear angry at you, but believe me when I say they're not. I think they'll be happy if you show up."

"Tomorrow then? I'll meet you guys at the boardwalk."

"Okay."

Getting ready for the boardwalk the following night is a lot more nerve wracking than you thought it'd be. According to Dwayne, no apologies were needed because he understood that a secret such as theirs was mind blowing. But he only spoke for himself and you had no idea how welcomed you'd be with the other three. So dressing to impress, you cut up a black shirt that David left behind weeks ago. You cut it into an off the shoulder crop top and pull on a jean skirt you had hidden in one of your drawers. Next are some ankle boots that had been a recent purchase and you tease your hair a little to give it a messy look.

When you figure you've wasted enough time, you decide to just bite the bullet and go. The drive to the boardwalk is short but tense, and you feel like you're going to be sick the second you're standing outside your car and locking up. So after taking a few deep breaths, you pocket your keys and head for the boardwalk stairs.

You try not to wrap your arms over your stomach or chest, so you hook your thumbs into the back pockets of your skirt. You keep your head held high, ignoring the suggestive comments, and then almost chicken out the moment you spot your four boys. Dwayne is the only one who's actively scanning the crowd, so he's the only one to spot you. He grins and you narrow your eyes, and then one by one the others take notice.

Paul and Marko immediately cease their antics upon sighting you, and David's expression closes off as he smokes his cigarette. You stop just a few feet in front of them, nervously shifting from foot to foot under their stares. "So, um, I came here with every intention of apologizing, but on the drive here I realized I have nothing to apologize for."

David's icy gaze subtly narrows. "Is that so?"

"Yes!" You snap your mouth shut, gulping, and then take a step closer so you don't have to talk as loud. "I know I asked for time and space, but two or three days would have sufficed."

"If that was the case, then why didn't you come seek us out?"

David poses a pretty good question, but you shrug it off. "I had such a shit week that I didn't even think about it. It wasn't until Dwayne showed up last night that we talked about everything and I realized some things."

Marko leans forward. "What things?"

When your gaze darts to the curly haired blonde, you smile softly at him. "That if you guys are still interested, then I'm all in." The words have barely left your mouth before there's a vampire wrapped around you. You laugh, your hands grasping onto the sides of Paul's jacket to steady yourself. With his face shoved into the side of your neck, you maneuver the both of you so you can turn to stare at David while still holding onto the clingy blonde. "So what do you say? Are we okay?"

David stares you up and down, taking a moment to gather his wits and make sure you're not lying to him. "Just like that?"

"Um, yeah? I'd like a week or so to get some stuff in order, but I- I like you guys too much to just walk away."

Paul pulls away then, his hands grasping the sides of your face as he presses his lips to yours. You let him control the kiss, parting your lips just so, so his tongue can seek out yours. However, he gets a little too enthusiastic and bites down on your bottom lip with blunt teeth, and you groan just loud enough for him to pull back and let you collect yourself.

When your eyelids finally flutter open, you find that all four boys are looking a little smug at your reaction. So in order to knock one of them down a peg or two, you smile sweetly up at Paul. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, babe."

"Do all vampires get hard when their fangs are licked or is that just Dwayne?"

Paul blinks at you in astonishment before letting you go to turn around and it's your turn to smirk. Dwayne is no longer amused, and Marko and David are not doing anything to hide the fact that their amusement is now directed at their brother.

The brunette frowns at you. "I hate you."

"You almost nailing me on my couch last night says otherwise."

Paul and Marko finally lose their composure, and you smile as the two boys have to lean on each other as they laugh. And though they're making fun of him, Dwayne finds himself fighting off a smile at how happy you seem to be. As the two of them pick on their brother, you look back towards David and step into his personal space.

The two of you stare at one another and the way he's looking at you, you feel the urge to apologize even though you said you wouldn't. But before you can utter a word, he's asking, "What happened that your week was so shit?"

You huff a quiet laugh. "I lost my job. I have some money saved for a few more month's rent, but I seem to recall an offer to move into the cave not too long ago."

David's lips twitch. "And if you really are all in, then having the apartment isn't necessary."

"It's really not."

In a move that normally goes against David's nature, he pushes off the railing and closes the distance between the two of you to capture your lips in a chaste kiss. You smile against him before he pulls back, his gaze darting between both your eyes. "Let's go for a ride. This is cause for a celebration."

Paul and Marko whoop in excitement, the both of them kissing either of your cheeks before they clamber onto their bikes. Dwayne has to walk behind you to get to his and when he does he leans down to nip your ear. You squeak and he wolfishly smiles at you, and you find your knees trembling in excitement for what later may hold.

It's no question as to whose bike you're climbing on the back of, but you do hesitate at David's side. When you take too long to climb on, he stares at you questioningly. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh, I didn't think this all the way through." You gesture to your skirt and groan when he starts to smile. "No one's going to offer their jacket, are they?"

"Nope."

"I figured." Sighing, you glance around before grabbing the sides of your skirt and inching it up your thighs so you can comfortably sit behind David. Paul whistles and you glare at him over your shoulder before climbing onto David's bike. Once you're settled and you realize no one is moving, you frown until you see Paul and Marko hungrily staring at one spot and one spot only. You follow their gaze and glance down, and realize your panties are on display with the way you're sitting. "Stop," you whine, practically plastering yourself to David's back in hopes of blocking their view.

Marko laughs. "It's nothing we haven't seen before."

"Yeah, but.. the staring. It's weird."

"Sweetheart, your whole life is about to become ten times more weird. Best get used to it." With that, David's bike roars to life, followed by the other three.

The ride to the cave makes something in your chest ease, and you find yourself letting your head fall back and letting the wind carry away your gleeful screams. David drives a little more recklessly than usual, but you know he won't do anything that will truly harm you. But all too soon you're arriving at Hudson's Bluff and are hurriedly climbing off of David's bike so you don't accidentally flash anyone.

"So what exactly did Dwayne tell you about us?" Marko wonders.

"I didn't really ask questions other than the main one," you say. "I know you guys are vampires and I'm assuming some of the folklore is true considering I've never seen any of you during the day, but I figured you'd tell me what I needed to know when I needed to know it."

"So you don't know all that we can do?"

You gulp under their suddenly amused expressions and take a step back. "No..?"

"Oh babe, you're in for a treat." Suddenly Paul is in front of you, arms wrapped low around your waist and clutching you tightly to his front. "Hang tight."

You're grinning at him until you feel the ground beneath your feet vanish and then your eyes widen. You glance down and your arms immediately wrap around Paul's neck. "You assholes can fly!?" All the boys laugh and then Paul starts to hover higher and higher. "W-Wait. Paul, don't!"

But your words fall on deaf ears and the next thing you know the wind is rushing by you. You shove your face into the side of Paul's neck and your legs wrap around his waist. Paul's laughing and you're laughing, but it's mostly to cover up your fear. And though you can't see anything, you can feel when Paul turns or dips in a dangerous maneuver to get you to scream.

But when he doesn't get the reaction he was hoping for, Paul eventually comes to a stop mid-air. "Look, Y/N." You shake your head. "Come on, babe. Open your eyes."

"I- I can't. I'm not normally afraid of heights, but there's just something about being so high and not being buckled in properly to anything that's really kind of terrifying."

"Is that why you're close to pissing your skirt?"

"Not funny, Paul!"

His hands smooth down your bottom, sliding lower until he's cupping the back of your thighs. "Come on. I promise I will never let you fall. At least not until you're one of us."

You huff a laugh and pinch the back of his neck. "You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot."

"Yeah. I guess you are." Slowly, but surely, you lift your head. Your arms tighten once more around his neck when you realize just how high up you are and you allow yourself to look around. "Oh." Twinkling stars and low clouds are all you can see for miles, but when Paul tells you to look in one direction you can see the boardwalk all lit up off in the distance.

"See? I'm not a total jerk."

"No, you're not." Looking at Paul now, you let your forehead rest against his and smile faintly at him. "You're probably my favorite out of the four, but after this little stunt you are not teaching me how to fly when it's my turn."

He laughs and chastely kisses you "I'll take it. Now be prepared. I'm flying us back into the cave."

You shove your face back into Paul's neck, but move just so, so you can actually see your surroundings fly past you. However, your eyes clamp shut when you see Paul enter the cave entrance and they only open when you feel yourself being dropped onto cushions. Opening your eyes, you realize you're in your nest.

You smile. "You kept it. I for sure thought you might have gotten rid of it."

"Dwayne wouldn't let us," Paul says and then guiltily cringes. "I'll admit I thought about tearing it all down, but Dwayne took to protecting it."

Your smile falters. "Well I guess I deserve that."

The boys go quiet and you awkwardly glance around at everyone. Eventually David gestures to the couches. "Come eat. While Paul was off terrifying you, Marko got some food."

As David takes his usual seat on the wheelchair, Dwayne leads you towards the couch where he immediately sits down next to you. Paul plops down on a crate and Marko distributes Chinese takeout containers.

"Chow time," Marko smirks. "Eat up, girl."

You and Paul are the only two to enthusiastically dig in, and you only become suspicious when Marko can't stop staring at you with his amused little smile. You're grateful there's nothing in your mouth because the second the words how are those worms, Y/N leave David's mouth, you lower the container into your lap and refuse to look into it. You do, however, feel the container slightly moving in your hand as if something inside was.. wiggling.

"David," you say through clenched teeth, "if I look down and there's anything other than noodles in my container, I'm going to douse you in holy water. Don't ruin Chinese noodles for me. You know they're my favorite." Marko and Dwayne both laugh, and when you finally chance a look downward you're relieved to see no worms. You sigh in relief. "Let me guess, vampires can mess with the mind?"

"More or less, but only humans."

"Duly noted."

David goes on to explain some things as you finish up eating and you find out that holy water, garlic, and the lack of a reflection in a mirror could be overcome in a private home should they be invited inside. That was good to know, especially the tidbit about the sunlight and the various way a vampire could die after being staked.

Paul puts some music on, and he and Dwayne take turns dancing with you. You end up spooking a few of Marko's pigeons, but make it up to him by kissing his pout away.

Later, you're not sure how much time has passed, you find yourself falling into David's lap. You're breathing heavy as you try to catch your breath and are even a little sweaty, but David doesn't seem to have a problem with it as he brushes the tip of his nose from your jawline to your neck.

You giggle. "Is this another one of your vampire things? I now realize you guys sniffed me a lot, particularly around my neck."

"You smell good," he says before moving upward and placing a light kiss under your ear.

"My blood?"

"Yes and no." David leans back so you're now face to face. "The scent of your blood is appealing, but there's another scent that's just.. you. I don't know how else to explain it, but you'll be able to smell us when you're turned."

"You mean you don't smell like decaying bodies?" You grin to let him know it's not really a serious question, that you're only teasing, but David still snaps his teeth at you in false admonishment. You squeak and then laugh, kissing his cheek in apology. "I'm only joking." As you settle down so your head is resting on his shoulder, you find yourself saying, "Now I'm curious as to what you boys smell like. You better not stink."

"If you're so curious, why not become half? You'll be able to pick up our scents, but you'll still be operating as if you're human until you feed from a human for the first time."

His words give you pause and you quickly sit up, blinking at him. "Half? What do you mean I can be a half?"

"Half vampire," he shrugs. You frown and David grins when you startle at Marko's sudden appearance behind him, a bejeweled wine bottle in hand. Only then do you realize the music has stopped and the only sound in the cave is the occasional cooing of a pigeon. "You take a drink of this," David says while grabbing the bottle from Marko and uncorking it, "and you become a halfling. You'll still be able to do what you need to do during the day, the only downfall being your eyes will become sensitive and you'll find yourself wanting to sleep the day away until the sun sets. You can power through it though."

You can't take your eyes off the bottle and you find yourself reaching for it, bringing the bottle up to your nose to sniff the contents. It smells fruity, almost, and just underneath that is a hint of copper. "So what," you gulp, "a swig of this and I'm a half vampire? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Looking up and around, Dwayne and Paul have stepped closer to see what you're going to do. Everyone has neutral expressions and you realize you're suddenly anxious to join them sooner rather than later. "Are you sure you guys want me? If I become one of you, I have nothing and no one to turn to should you find yourself bored of me."

"Don't get insecure on us now, sweetheart," Paul muses. "If we weren't sure of you, David wouldn't have offered."

"Sleep all day, party all night," David says. "Never grow old, Y/N. Join us."

Sleep all day, party all night. If only. 

Your words, which felt like they were uttered so long ago, bring you some comfort. It reminds you that you once wanted what they had even if you didn't exactly know what that was at the time. So now- now you find yourself almost anxious for what the future will bring now that you're so close to having what they have.

Slowly smiling, you huff a laugh and then with a faint roll of your eyes you bring the bottle up to your lips. "What the hell. Bottoms up."

The second the too warm liquid hits your tongue, your eyes flutter shut and the boys cheer all around you.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: Praise you

(see chapter 1)

summary: you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. 

...even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, teasing, implied smut I guess? oh, and of course - ✨hand content✨

author’s note: Took me a while, but it was fun to write! Didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are - over 4,2k words of shameless hand content

The song for this chapter is Fatboy Slim - Praise you

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @vaneilla @gallifreyan-uprising​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway​ @truly-insatiable​ (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

-----

You cracked it.

It took you a good while, though. A whole sleepless night, even.

And half of the morning after that.

But maybe the absolute exhaustion was the key, pun intended.

At first, it boggled your mind so much that you were dangerously close to using brute force just to examine that lock. You tried every technique that you could think of - to no effect. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. The mechanism wasn’t responding as usual, it was more like a thing from goddamn Upside Down, or however the fuck that was called.

It became a matter of pride.

The sun had risen over an hour ago and the sunlight was pouring through the gaps in the blinds. Grasping at the last strands of sanity, you decided to take a break. You put on your headphones and danced around your apartment to the sounds of a song with that one bloody line that somehow seemed fitting for this madness.

Is it worth it? Let me work it, I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it

Because it felt exactly like that was what had happened to it. And no amount of cursing and switching tools would help in the face of glitched reality.

And when you sat down at your desk again, with your head so empty that your last brain cell was amusing itself by yodeling and listening to an echo, you bound the first pin. The sound was so distorted it almost startled you. The last thing you needed right then was to break the hook inside the keyway, so you leveled your breath and continued, even though your fingers cramped painfully. That wasn’t enough to stop you. Not as you finally got proof that the task was actually within your reach. 

With every click like a backwards version of the sound you knew so well, the next pins got set quicker and smoother. And when you opened the lock, you couldn’t help the cheerful scream that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck yes!” You punched the air, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the biggest grin lighting up your face.

That’s when you knew there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. Besides, you still didn’t know how you managed to convince that device to cooperate. You had to prove to yourself that it wasn’t dumb luck, and should you ever come upon a bloody nightmare like that, you’d be able to use the experience to crack it open. Because of that, you spent the next couple of hours reverse-picking it (which turned out to be another level of bonkers) to lock the damn thing, only to open it back again. And again. And then three times more. When you got comfortable with the process, your eyes were burning, your fingers stiff and trembling, but the immense satisfaction was worth every bit of it.

You were about to crash on the bed as your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the incoming message.

//did you pick it?

At first, you assumed you got it from Mahir, but as you were typing in a long rant, you realized that there was no history of the previous conversations on the screen, so you checked the sender again.

Neil.

Huh.

You’d exchanged the numbers the day before, but you didn’t expect to hear from him until they got everything ready to start the lessons. Oh well. You snapped the picture of the open lock and sent it back, adding a short message.

          //that was fun, hope you have more of them

As you faceplanted on the bed, the phone buzzed with a reply.

//N: you bet

You couldn’t wait to get all the answers about how they managed to manufacture the most bizarre and mind-bending thing you’d ever seen, but there was no point in asking those questions over the phone. Plus, you really needed to get some rest.

          //awesome! now excuse me, imma get some Zs - let me know when you  guys are ready to start

After a second, you typed in another text.

          //ps. how’s your nose?

//N: will do, sleep well!

//N: as for my nose...let’s say I’m glad it wasn’t the straightest one in the first place

That cheeky bastard.

          //hey, don’t try to guilt-trip me, i’m trying to sleep

You almost drifted off, but you couldn’t resist checking that last notification.

//N: ...I wouldn’t dare

Snorting, you rolled to the side.

Then you fell asleep, dreaming of the impossible locks.

-------

It took them another day to prepare all the stuff, and after several further messages you got a date and location.

The building looked like a contemporary tenement house, definitely standing out from two older ones at its sides. You always assumed it belonged to one of those fancy start-ups, but apparently it was some sort of temporary headquarters of your new associates.

It didn’t surprise you that you weren’t given a tour of the place, you assumed you needed to have some sort of clearance to walk freely through the area. For now, you were restricted to the ground floor, or rather to the lobby and your classroom - a rather cozy space, but equipped with everything you needed to begin.

Neil turned out to be a fast learner, at least when it came to covering the theoretical side of lockpicking. You walked him through the basics, but you couldn’t help the itch in the back of your brain. After the encounter with the preposterous lock, your mind started to question everything that used to be unshakeable.

And of course you asked Neil about that bloody device as soon as you saw him, but he just smiled lightly and said that The Protagonist insisted on telling you all that himself when the time was right. So you had nothing left to do but to continue with the lessons, hoping that you the man himself would decide to grace you with his presence sooner than later.

You propped the chin on your hand and watched as Neil grabbed the tools. Your gaze wandered over his outrageously long fingers as he gave the lock a try, but apparently, the most idiotic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, eyes up here,” snorted Neil, and you looked at him just to meet his amused face. He caught you shamelessly staring, and there was no point in denying it.

Trying to salvage your mental coherence, you choked out, “Dude, your hands are--”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head.

“...huge,” you finished, the wide smile not leaving even for a second. You bit your lip and glanced back at Neil. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare for a bit longer.”

A hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. My, oh my. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and proceeded to bind the first pin, pressing his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to keep a composed demeanor. The sparkles in his gaze were quite telling, though.

The sight was utterly adorable, but more importantly, it planted a rather gut-busting idea into your head.

You stifled a giggle.

All in due time.

____

One of the perks of the location was a small cafe on the other side of the street.

Neil took you there on your second day during a break, walking in with a confidence of a true regular. He knew the staff by name and vice-versa, so it didn’t surprise you as he charmed his way through the conversation.

“I’ve got this,” he said, raising a hand to stop you before you could place your order. “One black coffee and one--...” he hesitated, still preventing you from chiming in. You crossed your arms and watched as his forehead creased, the confidence leaving him with every second passed. He narrowed his eyes, and you could almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

Whatever he was doing, or trying to do, it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Iced mocha for me, please,” you said, wondering which one of you had a more puzzled expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

Neil shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” - he let out a small sigh - “I can’t read you.”

“Good,” you snorted. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

The young barista smiled, putting the first coffee on the counter.

“Oh, your colleague here has a thing.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Do tell!”

“It’s nothing,” said Neil, cringing slightly, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the enthusiastic answer from spilling from the barista.

“He likes to guess the orders of his companions, but this is prolly the first time I ever saw him freeze like that. Can’t wait to tell Doris!”

Neil groaned, avoiding your amused stare. “Spare me, Max.”

“Aww, man, I’m honored to be your first!” you teased, nudging his arm lightly and snickering at the absolutely done face he gave you in return.

That cafe quickly became your place of choice during breaks, but sometimes, if the weather was nice enough, you ordered to-go, just to spend that bit of free time between lockpicking sessions sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a bank of the river. You chatted about everything and nothing in particular, or simply sat in silence, enjoying the ambiance, beverages, and each other’s company.

The last thing took you by surprise, in a way. You’d expected those brief moments of a break during the day to be your sacred moments of solitude, the usual necessity to avoid getting too cranky around people. As Neil joined you on that second day, you found out that his presence was not bothering you, or at least your social batteries weren’t being drained in their regular manner. Sure, it probably helped that he was incredibly easy on the eyes, but a real treat were those moments when you ventured onto a territory he felt strongly about. In a wink, he was ready to drop his typical composure just to go straight into bubbly rants, gesturing wildly, the blue irises lit by the fire that he most often kept under wraps.

There was nothing more boring than people who lacked passion.

Lucky for you, that was not the case with Neil.

Moreover, he made you laugh.

A dangerous combination.

Alluring, even.

Good thing that you were not one to become smitten that easily.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun, though.

--------

“You need to listen to what the lock has to say,” you prompted, pacing through the room and watching as Neil struggled with a new type of mechanism. “It’s all about feedback.”

He pulled out the tools and rubbed his face, trying to hide the first hints of frustration.

“What if we apply heavier tension to amplify it?” he said and glared at the lock as if it was taunting him from its place on the practice stand.

“Sure, “ - you leaned over the table to rest the chin on your laced fingers - “but can you think of any reasons not to do that, my dear Physics Boy?”

“The higher possibility of breaking tools?”

“Precisely,” you said as you snapped and pointed your fingers. ”Also, you risk binding the pins too tightly and you wouldn’t want that, either.”

Neil sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“So...patience, then?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “It really comes down to one thing - you have to feel it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “I’ve heard it before,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You shrugged, eyeing him curiously.  

“Maybe because that’s one universally useful advice?”

“Would help if I understood it, too.” He gave you a weak smile, but his expression told you he wasn’t convinced.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Listen, I can smarten it up for you, but let me just show you what I mean.” You grabbed the second pair of tools from the table and placed them inside the keyway, but as soon as you opened your mouth to provide some follow-up instructions, you got struck by a better idea. Your eyes flared up. “Okay, know what? I’m just gonna-- if you could scoot back a bit--...” you said, shuffling in his direction. Neil’s brows snapped together in consternation, but he moved back. Without further ado, you sat down in front of him, nestling yourself between his spread legs on the edge of the chair, and let out a content sigh. “Should be easier now. Put your hands on mine.“

Neil tensed, and you could swear you heard him swallowing hard behind your back. He followed your suggestion, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands on top of yours.  

“Now, lay your fingers on the tools just above mine,” you continued as you slid your digits back to make more room for him. “Great, try not to press them and focus. Close your eyes, if you want.” As you gently moved the tools, you couldn’t resist but to add, “You can breathe though, you know?”

“Blimey.”

You giggled at the sarcastic bit in his tone and drew a long breath, hoping that Neil would follow it, and focused back on the lock. Purposefully slowing down your movements to allow him to feel how the mechanism responded to your ministrations, you kept sliding the hook back and forth the keyway, setting pin after pin. Neil relaxed after a moment, his shallow breath ghosting over your shoulder got deeper and more steady. His palms rested heavier on your hands, and you marveled at their size again, nibbling on your bottom lip. With all your senses sharpened, you stole a brief moment of self-indulgence, closing your eyes and relishing in the warmth radiating from Neil, the way it enveloped you, carrying a scent of his cologne - airy citrus undertones mixed with hints of powdery musk, a fresh and unostentatious combination you found fitting him so well.

The final click, more pressure and voilà - the lock was open.

“Did you feel it?” you asked softly, weirdly unwilling to move, hoping to linger in the position for a little while longer.  

“Yes,” said Neil, and his husky voice made you turn your head to look at him. As he pulled his hands back somewhat hesitantly, you noticed his dazed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good,” you chirped, grinning, then reached out over your shoulder and lightly booped his nose, enjoying probably a bit too much the way his eyes widened. “Your turn.”

-----

Days. Weeks. Or was it months, plural?

You lost track of how much time had passed since that morning in the Old Town district.

The progress was counted by the number of models you introduced to Neil, showing him all the tricks you’d learned over the years. You still waited for the meeting with The Protagonist, although, ever since your student spilled a little too much information during one of his enthusiastic rants at the breaks (seriously, how could a person that bad at keeping secrets survive so long in any sort of spying business was beyond you), your initial curiosity itch had been scratched, and you were now in that blessed moment before it got unbearable again and demanded taking further actions.

It also helped that you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. Even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

Neil was clearly feeling confident that evening. He really started to get a hang of this, and you loved watching him like that - fully focused, blonde strands falling to the eyes, with the tip of the tongue poking out...

It would be a shame if someone was to test his level of concentration.

“You know, I spend so much time looking at your hands that they recently started making cameos in my dreams.”

The blue eyes darted at you from under raised brows.

“Is that so?" asked Neil, switching his attention to the lock again.

“Yep. Mind you, most of those dreams are rather uneventful.” You pouted, sliding from your place on the windowsill. “Still waiting for one that is not so boringly PG-13.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed with effort.

...warmer...

Circling the table, you stopped behind Neil’s chair.

"I’m just saying,” - leaning over, you purred right into his ear - ”that such long fingers like yours can give a girl all sorts of ideas--"

Snap.

You bit back a satisfied smile and smacked your tongue. “Those were perfectly fine tools, you know.”

Neil turned in his seat and gaped at you.

“Why are you like this?” he complained, helpless and flustered.

You shrugged. “I thought it was a high time for a little stress test. Might come in handy later.” Snickering at his puzzled face, you added, “What? You’re not exactly in a stress-free line of work.”

He shook the head lightly and scoffed. “... yeah, I see your point,” he said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I don’t think there’s a high risk of someone trying to seduce me in the field.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” you asked, arching a brow, your tone nothing but serious.

“I-...”

The panicked look on his face as he blinked rapidly was more than enough to break your deadpan façade.

“Oh man, I’m just pulling your leg. You should’ve seen your face though.” Giggling, you grabbed a fresh lock from a shelf and tossed it to Neil. He sighed and replaced the messed-up device. “Besides,” you continued, “if there is one thing that the espionage movies have taught me, it’s that the spy always has plenty of beautiful creatures willing to keep his bed warm.”

The playful sparks appeared in Neil’s eyes.

“Is this a very elaborate way of asking me if I’m seeing someone or are you volunteering?”

Well, well, well.

“What if it’s both?”

“Then the first answer is no. As for the second one--” he hesitated, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. “...a follow-up question - is it a good idea?”

You tilted your head, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“What if it’s gonna make things… I don’t know, weird?”

You gestured vaguely. “Can’t get any weirder than all your timey-wimey, inverted entropy bullshit.”

“That’s not exactly--”

“I know what you meant,” you sighed and met his darkened gaze, a shade of smile tainting your lips. “And yet, you’re trying to appeal to my reason while looking at me like that.” You left your seat and grabbed your backpack. “It’s getting late. Finish with this one and get some rest.”

Then you left, not waiting for a reply.

It was one of the warm nights and you decided to take a walk. A promenade near the river was not as crowded as you expected, making your journey home way more enjoyable. With your favourite tunes seeping through the headphones, you took in the view, the city lights reflecting in the water only added to the ambiance.

The phone buzzed in your pocket.

//N: I can’t believe you left like that

You chuckled, texting him back.

          //why, you had any plans?

The answer came almost instantly.

//N: maybe

He was adorable. But--

          //have you finished with the lock?

//N: …no    

//N: wait are you gonna use our conversation as some sort of motivational tool now

Even if you weren’t, after getting a message like that?

You just had to.

          //maybe?

//N: jesus

          //sex is but a great metaphorical carrot. besides - it’s all about that delayed gratification and whatnot

A moment of silence.

And then:

//N: you’re evil.

That spiteful period at the end got you snickering loudly, earning you some curious looks.

A huge grin lit up your face.

          //gn <3

-----

You must admit, that game was quite exciting.

And Neil was getting better at it, and soon implying became no longer enough to make him lose his focus.

At first, it was relatively easy to prompt a blush or a slight tremble of a hand. But with every next attempt, he grew more and more resilient, and soon, the only indication that he heard you was the fire burning in his eyes.

Then you got really mean, throwing some ambitious tasks in front of him, tricky locks and complex mechanisms, as your teasing got more straightforward.

And descriptive.

It became hard to shake it off once you left the training room. The lingering looks. The accidental touches. The atmosphere, almost electric. In other words - the heat sink was ready to be popped, and it was no longer a matter of if, but more of when.

“4 minutes.”

Neil barely nodded, lips pressed together and brows knitted in concentration.

3 locks in 15 minutes. Difficult, but doable, considering his current level of skill. Too bad he’d slacked at the second one, not leaving too much time for the final push. Sure, you didn’t go easy on him along the way, but the real challenge was supposed to be a race against the clock, so now you just watched him with bated breath.

Click.

You checked the time.

“45 seconds”

“Goddamnit!” he uttered through gritted teeth, readjusting cramping fingers on the tools.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” you said, taking a step closer.

Another click.

He didn’t know that there was only one pin left to set. You did, that’s why you tried your best not to reveal it with your expression. Too early to celebrate, anyway.

“Nine... eight… seven… six… five…”

That’s when you heard a final click and you looked up from your phone, only to see the lock giving in and opening up.

“Yeah!” Neil cheered, banging a fist on the table and tossing the tools away.

You smiled, hiding the phone in the pocket. “Good job, I knew--” but before you could finish a sentence, Neil sprung up from his chair and closed the gap between you, then cupped your face with his palms and kissed you hungrily.

You froze for a second, but as your mind caught up, you kissed him back, tugging at the light blue shirt. He smiled against your lips and made you back away until you hit the wall, huffing at the sudden coldness of the surface. But he was bent on kissing you senseless until you both ended up gasping for air.

“You’re so paying for all that teasing,” he panted, running the tip of the tongue through his swollen lips. “Not to mention, you’ve given me a few fascinating ideas, and I’m very much willing to give them all a try.”

You grinned, fighting with your evidently short-circuiting brain for a grasp of coherence as his hands traveled down your body.

“My, my, all of them?”

“The night is young,” - his throaty chuckle sent a wave of heat through your body - “and I’m up for a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it,” you breathed, burying your fingers in his hair, and pulling him into a kiss again.

Actually, the challenge started right away, and that meant getting to Neil’s place, as the company conveniently rented him a room in a nearby hotel. Walking distance, but in your current quite heated state, every distance seemed way too long. Especially when you had to keep up appearances.

At least until the elevator’s door closed behind you.

The dark gaze fixed on you. Your breaths intertwining. His bottom lip between your teeth. The five o’clock shadow under your fingertips. Your hands sliding under his shirt. His knee parting your legs. The intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your quiet moan. His tongue slipping into your mouth--

A quiet sound announced you reached your floor, and you stumbled out into the corridor, giggling, unable to keep hands and lips off each other.

Your back hit the door, barely missing the knob. Without skipping a beat, Neil reached to the pocket of his pants, then into the other one. When he tried the third one, you broke the kiss, your expression nothing but innocent.

“Looking for this?” you asked, showing him a key card.

He furrowed his brows. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know how--...” he started, but when he tried to snatch his property, you hid your hand behind your back. His jaw went slack as it dawned on him and he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered as he pulled out his wallet. “Credit card?”

“Only if you’re not overly attached to it.” The roguish lights danced in your gaze. “Especially when you’re in a hurry,” you hinted, palming over the bulge in his pants. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a moan, and you stifled a chuckle. “Try any membership card.”

He glared at you. “You’re so in for it, you have no idea.”

“Promises, promises,” you pouted, trying not to burst into laughter at his wounded expression. “Work it.”

“Gladly, just tell me what to do.”

So you walked him through the process.

Fortunately, Neil really was a fast learner, making the door give way in no time.

“Good boy,” you hummed, and the blue eyes flared up.

He crashed his lips on yours, closing the door behind you.

Then he gave you a taste of what was coming for you.

And then some more.

And then…

...he gave you all.

(next chapter ->)

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 20- Rescue

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning for canon-typical violence, major character injury, and manga spoilers

Masterlist

No one had come rushing down the stairs after Dabi had alerted you a guest had arrived. Nor had Dabi felt inclined to go check who it was, much to your chagrin. “Hmm, seems our little guest is shy. Shall we call whoever they are down?” Dabi asks. You don’t dignify his question with a response and choose only to glare at him. He saunters up to you, placing a warm hand on your waist, but soon warm becomes hot and then hot becomes burning. Literally. You grit your teeth for as long as possible, not wanting to give the deranged man in front of you the satisfaction, but eventually the pain grows too intense and you can’t help but cry out.

Hawks flinches at the sound of you crying out. His heart wants him to rush in there but his head knows better. Hawks is a smart, calculating man. He knows that Dabi is intending to get a rise out of him. He knows that in a one-on-one fight between him and Dabi, the other man has the advantage. He knows that back up is on the way. The kind of back up that will make this a quick and easy job. He knows all this. His commission approved, highly tuned instincts know this. A small, unhelpful voice in the back of his head reminded him that the last time he chose his brain over his heart in regards to you it had cost him your affections. Is that why every single cell in his body is telling him to go in anyway? No. Hawks would wait. Because it was the rational and logical option. It was the option that was least likely to get both of you killed. He could wait the 10-15 minutes max it would take for one of the others to get there. But then you cried out again, and without him consciously deciding to, Hawks was speeding to your location as if his body was moving of its own accord.

The minute he had eyes on Dabi, Hawks lunged forward and slashed at the other man, aiming for the seams between his healthy and scarred skin. He manages a couple hits but Dabi had been anticipating the winged hero so he quickly moved away from you and out of the way. “Ohh I was hoping it’d be you that showed up!” Dabi laughs. “You should’ve left her out of this,” Hawks growls back. His instincts were on fire in a way they’d never been before. Not the refined instincts of the HPSC, drilled into his head since childhood. No these were more primal, more feral, than that. “We both know this isn’t a good match up for you Hawks. What could possibly have driven you to come charging in like this, hm?” Dabi taunts as he unleashes his blue flames in Hawks’ direction. Hawks rolled away as quickly as he could but still winces as he feels some of his feathers get caught in the blaze. “You gonna talk or we gonna fight?” Hawks snarks back before once again diving in to try and close the distance between he and his adversary.

Dabi had chosen his location well. The confined room severely restricted Hawks’ mobility, further disadvantaging him in a fight already not tipped in his favor. To compensate he sent several feathers out to increase the amount of areas Dabi would have to defend. If he had to take the villain down with a thousand tiny cuts instead of a dramatic final slash he would. But Dabi is smart too and so he picked and chose which feathers to ward off and which to let land. As much as Hawks was hanging in there he was literally burning through feathers at an alarming rate and no matter how much he tried to dodge, the tightness of the room pretty much guaranteed he’d take at least a little heat. This was bad. It was really bad. But he couldn’t stop now. So he pressed on and hoped back up would arrive soon.

Your heart had constricted painfully in your chest when you saw Hawks come flying down the stairs. You knew this was not a fight he would likely win. Not alone. Which is why you wasted no time taking advantage of Dabi’s focus being entirely on the winged hero instead of you. Your eyes turned to the chain and handcuffs confining you and you took a deep breath to steady your hands before getting to work. You carefully grab hold of the chain and start pressing it past the raw skin of your wrists to get inside one of the cuffs until you can loop it over your hand. Then, slowly but surely, you’re able to pull it through until you free the handcuffs from the ceiling chain. You immediately begin working the chain connecting the cuffs, trying to line up the links just right to get the tension you need to break them apart. “C’mon, c’mon,” you groan in frustration as your eyes dart between the cuffs and the ongoing fight.

It’s going as poorly as you knew it would. Granted, Hawks is certainly giving a valiant effort. Dabi is cut and bleeding in several places. A few of the staples on his arms and face are even detached. But there is no questioning who is leading. Hawks could barely fly in the confines of the room anyway but now even if he had the space he wouldn’t have the feathers to do so. He’s breathing heavy and there’s already large angry patches of red skin from the burns he’s received. He can’t afford to throw away any more feathers by sending them at Dabi from all angles so the most he can do is duck and weave Dabi’s flames as much as possible to try and get in close and get in an incapacitating hit. Then you see the determined look in his eye, despite the fact he’s fighting a losing battle, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. It’s like watching your mother’s last moments all over again. One lone hero against a force they clearly can’t beat and yet so, so determined to press on. At least back then the tv screen had put distance between you and the struggle. Now you were watching a hero fall in real time.

You watch in horror as Dabi finally gets the hit he was waiting for and Hawks goes careening to the side. You continue to fumble with the cuffs, the tension constantly falling away just before it can break the chain keeping you from helping Hawks. Dabi laughs and it’s a cruel sound as Hawks has no choice but to curl up and cover his head and vital organs from the raging blue flames. Tears are flowing down your face and your vision blurs as you watch Dabi slowly approach the fallen hero before kicking him in the stomach once, twice, three times. The links of the handcuffs catch and once again you begin to bend them in hopes this time the tension will finally break them apart. “What will be left of you if I clip your wings?” Dabi cackles as he reaches for what little is left of the appendages in question. But before he can do anything the cuffs finally snap. Your quirk comes roaring back to the surface and no sooner do you feel it swell within you are you directing every ounce of it at Dabi, your eyes glowing with the power of it. Dabi slams into the back wall and you surge forward to put yourself between him and Hawks, who looks on the verge of passing out. “Well, well, well. He wasn’t kidding when he said your quirk was strong. This makes things interesting,” Dabi smirks as he slowly gets back to his feet. “Really? Because I’m already bored of you,” you fire back before surging forward and wielding your quirk with a ferocity you never had before.

You’re not a trained hero. Technically what you’re doing is illegal, considering you don’t have any kind of hero’s license. None of that matters in this moment though. What Dabi had on you in experience, you compensated for with agility. It isn’t enough to get you a win but it can buy you time as you pray more help is on the way. Your ribs are aching, you’ve acquired several severe burns, and you’re starting to slow down but still you push and for the first time you think you understand why your mother made the choice she did. Suddenly a familiar voice echoes through the room. “DIE!” Bakugo screams as he comes crashing in, tackling Dabi in one explosive move. You don’t stop to see the result, your faith fully in your friend as you rush to where Hawks is lying unconscious on the ground. You wrap one of his arms around your shoulders and do your best to stand, half walking half dragging him out of the room. You don’t look back until you’ve managed to get him outside of the building but even still you can hear the sound of Dabi and Bakugo’s fight.

“Hawks? Hawks! C’mon I need you to wake up. I need you to wake up for me,” you plead as you lay him down on the concrete, kneeling beside him. You pat his face repeatedly until finally you get his eyes to flutter open. “Oh thank god! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Jesus Hawks!” you sigh, already cataloging his various injuries to report to emergency services. “Keigo.” “What?” “My real name. It’s Keigo. You... you can’t use it where someone might hear but you can use it.” His voice sounds so weak you could cry again. “Your eyes are glowing. ‘S beautiful,” he chuckles, reaching a hand up to cup your face before passing back out. “It’s gonna be ok Keigo,” you reply in a hushed voice, although you doubt he hears you. It’s not too long after that you hear the familiar rumble of Chargebolt’s motorcycle as he races to the location, Mirko arriving shortly thereafter. “They’re inside! Hawks needs urgent medical attention,” you tell them before they can ask. Mirko gives a curt nod and rushes into the building, following the sounds of the fight. Chargebolt hesitates as his eyes scan over your various injuries, the tear tracks still evident on your face from when you’d been crying earlier. “I’m fine, Denki. I promise. Just toss me your phone so I can call an ambulance and the cops. Dabi stole mine,” you assure him. He nods and does exactly that before racing in to help Mirko and Bakugo. As you dial the emergency services number your gaze returns to the number two hero. Almost all of his feathers have been burned away, leaving just the nubs of his wings and the immobile feathers at their base. Laying on his back the way he is, someone who didn’t know who he was wouldn’t be able to tell he’s supposed to have wings at all. Your heart aches as you can’t help but think how small he looks without them.

Author’s Note: I wanna give a big shout out to @dutchintheusa on tiktok who is the one I got the hack about escaping hand cuffs chained to the ceiling from that (y/n) uses here and how to escape handcuffs without a Bobby pin. He’s got a bunch of emergency/survival escape techniques as well as general advice to stay safe in a scary world. I would highly recommend checking him out. The fight is heavily inspired by the fight between Hawks and Dabi in the manga and the fact I have repeatedly wished I could insert myself into that room and protect Hawks (hence the spoiler tag). Also I listened to Tantrum by Ashnikko on repeat while writing this if you want an idea of the ~vibe~ of the fighting lmao.

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