#literally no air movement in this room even with the window open and the fan running

[robinsnest2111]

idk what is so shoddy about the insulation in my room in particular that makes it at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the house no matter what i do to remedy it but I guess it's that time of summer where even sleeping 90% naked with the window wide open to let the cooler night air in and the fan running on the highest setting still has me dripping with sweat 👍

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

I’ve been waiting for you, to slip back in bed

worst!logan x reader

summary: Logan couldn’t protect you in his universe, and now he’s still haunted by the missing piece in his arms.

Tags: ANGST ANGST ANGST, kinda fluffy? Mentions of death? Mentions of sex, people being naked, Logan being cutesy, nightmares, me being a hopeless CAS fan 😭

A/n: this literally came to me on a whim, so if it’s still like rough? Please do forgive me. Not proofread AT ALL. wrote in like an hour and was like “I NEED TO POST IT ASAP” PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LISTEN YO ‘k’ by cigarettes after sex while reading this 🙏🙏🙏

Random taglist: @pedroscurls @karencaribou @xenith-eats-stars @coocoocachewgotscrewed @crappy-writings

He could still recall that day so vividly—the moment he knew, beyond doubt, that he loved you. The moment his mind screamed for him to marry you, until the thought consumed him entirely, and he did. In his universe, you were everything. The only thing he needed.

Under the soft glow of dim lights, you sat across from Logan in the small, cozy diner. He’d wanted to sit beside you—close enough to feel your warmth—but the booth was too cramped. The leather seats groaned with every movement, while the air hung thick with the scent of greasy burgers and sugary shakes. Across the table, he reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together as you absentmindedly sipped from your milkshake. His gaze softened, unfamiliar and tender.

You squirmed under his eyes, the intensity stirring something deep inside you. He could tell—you were already flushed with heat, your mind wandering back to the hours before.

The memory of your bodies tangled in his sheets came rushing back: your head resting on his bare chest, the mattress still carrying the scent of passion. Your legs entwined, the remnants of desire still palpable as sleep tugged you under.

His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, and the soft rhythm of it soothed a deeper restlessness in you, something bubbling just beneath the surface, something familiar and unspoken.

Later that night, as you rested against him again, he pulled you even closer—though it seemed impossible, with how closely you were already pressed against his chest. His lips brushed your forehead as he murmured into your hairline, words barely louder than a breath.

"So sweet to me, bub. Do you even know what you do to me? Hmm?"

You were lost in sleep, your breathing deep and even, the rise and fall of your chest steady against his own. He thought you were far gone, deep in slumber.

But when the words slipped out—"Love you so much"—your eyes shot open, bright like a Christmas tree.

He froze, momentarily stunned as you gave him a sleepy, radiant smile. Even in the darkness of the room, you seemed to glow, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window, the energy between you palpable.

"Really? Say it again," you whispered, eyes wide with excitement.

Logan chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, pulling you closer still. His fingers gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before he leaned in, kissing you softly.

"I—" his lips grazed your cheek,

"Love—" a kiss on your temple,

"You."

Each word punctuated by a kiss, a tender rhythm as he worshipped every inch of your face. You giggled, the sound light and sweet, as you whispered it back to him. The words flowed between you like a secret, a promise. And that night, you showed each other over and over just how much you meant them.

For days to come, every night, he would pull you into his arms, hold you close until sleep overtook you both.

But the energy between you never dimmed. Whether in a quiet diner, the softness of his bed, or the way you moved together through the world—it felt like you were always in sync, like the two of you were caught in an unspoken dance. His hand would brush against yours as you walked side by side, and you'd give him that knowing smile, the one that said you understood exactly what he was feeling.

Even in silence, your bodies spoke, each touch, each glance a step in that intimate dance. It was there in the sway of your hips as you moved around the kitchen while he watched you with a lazy smile, captivated by the way you effortlessly drew him in without a word. It was in the way your head would rest against his shoulder, his fingers grazing the small of your back, as if leading you through some invisible waltz. No music, no steps. Just you, moving together, as though time itself bent to the rhythm you created.

And in those moments, Logan felt weightless—like you were pulling him out of the heaviness of the world, guiding him into something lighter, something beyond the noise. It wasn’t always about words. Sometimes it was simply about being close, finding the rhythm of each other's presence. The quiet sway of your bodies, the electric spark between your fingers—there was nothing more profound than that.

But as time passed, the once-bright moon in your universe was swallowed by dark, looming clouds. And then they came.

Logan took a deep breath, long and steady, as he lifted his body off the cold, hard surface beneath him. His eyes shot open, reality crashing back.

He wasn’t there anymore.

And you weren’t here.

He lay still, his breathing shallow, as he tried to shake the remnants of the dream. It was always the same. The warmth of your skin, the rhythm you created together, the feeling of being weightless in your arms—gone. The dance you’d started, unfinished.

His mind lingered on the memory of how easily you'd once led him, as if no one else existed. Even now, he could feel the ghost of your presence, the way you’d press into him, guiding him with nothing more than a look or a touch. He could almost hear your voice, the way it used to make him feel alive, as if you were still moving with him, still leading him through the darkness. But the cold, empty room reminded him that you weren’t.

Still, somewhere deep inside, he felt it—like you were still there, just out of reach. The echo of your laugh, the phantom warmth of your body. And despite the silence, despite the emptiness, the rhythm continued. Even without you, he was still moving to it.

Wishing for you,

To come right back.

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 12.8k

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing for me I appreciate it, bestie

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spitting ideas and giving feedback.

Warnings: Degradation/praise, eating out, public sex, daddy kink, and several scenes where smut is mentioned but not described. There is about 1k of words just from Dylan's perspective but its worth it trust me.

Eddie is a bit of a sugar daddy in this part, but its ok cause we all want him to spoil us anyway.

Author's note: Some of y'all are gonna make me cry with how kind you are with your words for this fic. I cannot believe how much this story has truly taken over my life. People have expressed sharing it with friends and I just cannot get over that. Thank you.

-

Your hands held a home-made cocktail on ice while The Princess Diaries played on the tv, a soft blanket covered your crossed legs as you sat with both Sky and Bethany in your living room, scattered along your couch.

Bethany often snuck a joint or two while she visited, the window staying open to minimize a smell with a 20-dollar fan in front of it to promote air circulation. It was nice to have a girls’ night, to order bags of chips and candy over SkiptheDishes, wear face masks, do your makeup for the hell of it, and just let loose.

Bethany made her way over about a movie and a half ago, and she was now explaining a stupid mishap from her office administrative position that quite literally pulled the company to a halt for 45 minutes. “I swear, you could not pay me enough to put up with those drivers.” She claims, taking an inhale from the joint in her two painted fingers.

Sky makes a sudden movement in her seat, reaching to the remote next to her to pause the movie. “Holy shit. Did I tell you I saw Eddie?” Her question is directed across you to Bethany, and you’re left wondering why the hell your boyfriend is the new topic of discussion.

“Wait, what?” Bethany asks, wide green eyes moving back and forth between you and Sky. “When and where?”

“Our date?” You interject her, a little weirded out by the turn this conversation has taken. “When Eddie picked me up, she was here.”

“Oh, I see.” She hums to herself. “Well, since she won’t show us a photo, please tell me what the man who’s old enough to be her father looks like.”

You roll your eyes at this, a cheeky thought occurring to you. “Well Dylan might be great; but he is a sequel. Ain’t nothing compared to the original.”

Sky nods, agreeing. “Eddie is… very good looking.” You shoot her a warning look, for some reason, her just alluding to his good looks makes you feel territorial. “Show her a picture if you don’t want to hear it, damn! Just telling the truth…”

“It’s not that I won’t show you guys,” you explain, unlocking your phone. “It’s that he doesn’t use social media, so he has no good photos of himself.” On the internet, at least.

“What, no throw back photos from Dylan’s insta?” Sky asks, mostly joking.

You go to Dylan’s insta, and you can’t view it. Fuck, you forgot. He blocked you. Even though he seems to be on better terms with you, simple reminders like being blocked from his social media or him refusing to tell any details about his life remind you he’s still nursing a healing wound. “Still blocked.” You look up, and their faces tell you they’re not letting up on it. “Fine. I’ll go to Eddie’s Facebook.”

Eddie added you as a friend the day after your date, adorably waiting as you went on your phone to accept it. The moment you did he went onto your profile and dove into your photos. His eyes were comically wide as he scrolled through them, and after the first few swipes he lifted his head to you. “You just put these on here? Fuck.” The photos weren’t even particularly bad, just you in a bikini on the beach or in a summer dress, he’s just that obsessed with you. You asked him if he minded and he shook his head comically, his dimples so prominent from his wide smile, he looked manic. “Oh, I never said to stop, sweetheart.”

Your thumb slides into Eddie’s profile, and while you were afraid of the calls from a judgemental relative about the relationship with him the word single on his relationship status still hits you hard in the chest. You move to his photos, past the useless profile picture that was his company logo of Munson’s Garage and swipe through the regular posts, past Dylan’s graduation from college, from high school, a picture of a nice car, an old one of his ex with Dylan, (barf), until you finally got through to a throwback, one posted in 2011.

It was taken in the 90s, so a picture of a picture of him sitting at an old kitchen table arm in arm with another dude. One of his feet was up on the table, and he was clutching a beer, lifting it to the camera. His friend was talking to someone off camera, distracted for the moment, his slightly freckled face in a scowl. His friend had brown hair down to his neck styled specifically in a swoop, and they seemed about the same age.

His friend was quite attractive, but younger Eddie made you fucking drool. God, he was so gorgeous. He wore a leather jacket under a denim vest, ripped blue jeans over his big black boots. Fuck. You almost didn’t want to share this photo.

You go to the next photo, and a giggle leaves your mouth as you see him posing with a friend, tongues out and devil horns on their heads as smiles peek through. The background is a stage at an Iron Maiden concert, and they both look ecstatic. It’s a different friend in this one with curly hair, but it looked like he had posted from the Iron Maiden concert. A few more scrolls told you that the throwback photo would be the best option.

“Ok.” You finally say, and both girls have been waiting so long at this point they’ve started scrolling on their own phones. “Guys. You wanna see it or not?”

You hand your phone to Bethany, indicating he was the one on the right. The possessiveness that hits you when you see her reaction, her wide eyes and jaw literally dropping, stunted you. “Holy shit. This is him from how long ago?”

“In the late 90s, I guess.” You tell her.

She hands the phone to Sky, who was asking for it repeatedly as soon as Bethany let out her reaction. “Oh, yeah. He was a cutie. Honestly, he’s hotter now.” Your teeth grit, and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“How?” Bethany asks, gesturing to your phone.

“Ok. Enough. He’s very good looking. But he’s fucking taken.” You bark out, holding your hand out for the phone.

They both stop talking, your sudden anger very uncharacteristic of you. Usually when you find someone particularly good looking, you’d show them off, agreeing with your two friends when they would praise their good looks. This wasn’t anything like those times. Hearing their praises just makes you want to sink your teeth into Eddie’s neck and mark your territory the next time you see him.

“Woah, girl.” Sky says, laughing lightly to diffuse the tension. “Never seen that side of you before.”

“Well, I didn’t even know she existed until a waitress looked at Eddie on our date and I wanted to throttle her,” You admit, grabbing the nearly empty cocktail and taking a sip. “I just…I don’t know why I’m so territorial over him, but God, the thought of him with someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

Bethany holds her hands up in surrender, “Alright, we won’t compliment him anymore. But you did good, girl. You did mighty good.”

-

As per usual, the girls'-day-in resulted in the three of you falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows scattered across the three of you. The sun cascading through a window by the couch wakes you up, disgruntled, as you pat around for your phone. The screen greets you harshly, your notifications indicating you have three messages from Eddie, two from a manager at work, and the several random ones, which you clear out, not caring about Instagram stories for the moment. Eddie texted to say he was going into work for a few hours. The next two messages indicated if you were there when he got home, he wouldn’t be against it.

Basically, he just told you to please be there when he got home. Fuck, the feeling of him reaching out first was enough to send a wide smile to your face, staring stupidly at your phone. You message him back, letting him know you’ll be there.

The messages from your manager were one from two hours ago, asking if you’d be able to come in for 10 o’clock– Which was thirty-five minutes ago– and the second asked if you were able to come in at all. You quirk your eyebrow, glad your read receipts are off for her, because you’re planning now to text at 3 o'clock to let her know that, oops, you just saw this. No, you’re not going in on your day off, you’ll be spending it with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

You leap from your couch, running into your room to pack another overnight bag. You’re out the door before the others even stir.

As you pull into Eddie’s driveway, you notice Dylan’s truck there, but Eddie’s is still gone. You wonder when he’ll be back, because although Dylan is civil towards you, interactions with him are still stunted. You open the front door, grateful Dylan tended to leave it unlocked. You drop your overnight bag and pillow off at the staircase, its usual spot, before you trot off to the living room where Dylan sits watching tv.

As you plop down next to him on the other side of the couch, Dylan looks to you, startled by the movement, but his eyes roll in exasperation when he realizes that it’s you. “Hi.” You sing-song to him, knowing you’re annoying him, but having fun with it anyways.

“Hey.” He deadpans, watching the tv instead of looking over to you.

“Oh, wow you’re almost caught up.” You say, indicating to a show that you had recommended he watched a while back.

“Turned out to be a good show.” He comments, sounding annoyed.

“Well, how about that?” You retort, and Dylan rolls his eyes before a small smile lands on his face.

Progress.

Less than an hour later, the front door closes, indicating Eddie’s homecoming. He walks in, and as you pay attention to a particularly good episode in this series, you hear a big stretch come from him. “Hi, Ed!” You call out, finally turning towards him.

Fuck. Holy shit.

A few grease stains paint Eddie’s hands and chin, and he’s wearing a pair of blue coveralls from work with a patch on his chest of his name. The grease monkey suit shows off his muscles beautifully, both sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair is tied back into a messy bun, and you’re sure he forgot about the reading glasses on his head. Oh god, he is mouth watering.

A throw pillow hits your face, completely startling you. You whip your head around, glaring at  the culprit. “Little drool.” Dylan mouths, pointing to his chin.

“Oh, little drool?” You mock, getting up to hit him with the pillow hard. He chuckles, fighting you off.

You push his shoulder off, shuffling into the kitchen. You turn to see Eddie moving around the kitchen, making himself a quick sandwich. “Hi baby!” You greet him, reaching out for him.

“Oh, hi baby.” He says, following up with an air kiss. He breaks into laughter at your scowl. “Sorry, you don’t want this grease on you. It smells terrible and it’s not fun to wash off.”

“But there’s no grease on your lips.” You point out, staring at those pretty pink lips of his.

“Baby, I cannot kiss you without touching you and there is grease all over my hands.” He chuckles, holding them out.

You want to point out that he’s getting things dirty with grease in the kitchen, including his sandwich, by his own logic, but you have a feeling you won’t get away with it very easily. “Fine. Come see me when you’ve had a shower then.” You tell him, attempting to waddle back to the living room.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie tuts, grabbing your hand. “Come with me, after I shower, I need time with you in my bed.”

“In your bed? Or, in your bed?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing suggestively at the second option.

“If you didn’t know the answer by now, clearly I haven’t done my job right.” He says in a lowly, his eyes darkening in an instant.

Eddie turns around to the sandwich he made as if he hadn’t said a word, grabbing it quickly before tugging on your hand to take you up the stairs.

He hops into the shower, you scroll through your phone on his bed as you wait, somewhat impatiently, your panties already uncomfortable from his stroll into the house in his work uniform.

Fuck, he was hot. You thought about him. His muscles, the slight glisten of sweat, and your phone was tossed aside before you even realized your hands were roaming over your body. You close your eyes, the image of him busy at work on his back on one of those…rolly things in your head. His forearms flexing, the look of concentration on his face.

Your hands itch for your center and you can barely hold back anymore, thankful you opted for a pair of stretchy shorts. Your fingers graze your center easily, rolling around in small circles as you picture the easy access his coveralls would give you, showing up with a dress and no panties and just riding him in his office. Fuck, maybe you wouldn’t even make it there. Goddamn, the images were too hot, your panties finding their way around your ankles as you grind up against your own fingers.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes fling open to see your boyfriend in his towel. You were so wrapped up you didn’t even notice the water from his shower turn off. He’s staring, open mouthed and eyes dark, and Jesus… This was a fantasy of yours from the beginning. You continue, staring half lidded back at him, hand grabbing up at his bed frame when it started to feel so fucking good.

Eddie’s towel drops when his brain catches up, jumping into his bed to lay next to you. “Couldn’t even wait, huh?” He asks, and you let out a whimper as he lightly kisses your neck. “Just couldn’t fucking wait.”

“You were so hot—” you gasp out, moving faster on yourself now. “—in that goddamn uniform. Wanna…wanna ride you in it.”

The very indication that you were playing with yourself because you found him that hot in his uniform is too much for Eddie to process. He nearly moans, leaning for another kiss on your neck. His hands are itching to help you, itching to take off the rest of those clothes that hide your gorgeous body, but he holds back, needing to know more about it. “What—what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

“You, in the uniform…” you tell him, your hips starting to move when your want grows. Why isn’t he helping?

“C’mon, baby. I wanna touch you but I just gotta know.” Eddie tells you, his voice gruff.

A gulp moves through your throat before opening your mouth to tell him. “Your dick out of the uniform, and me with no panties and a dress at your shop, riding you anywhere…your office, the rolly thing, god, just you in that uniform…Ed…”

Goddammit, was that an idea Eddie certainly had before. He has wanted to show you around his workplace, but also christen it with you, and he had had the exact idea with his uniform and you in a dress, to boot. “Fuck, my horny, eager little slut, hey?” Eddie asks, watching your closed eyes as you continue to work yourself.

“Please…please touch me?” You ask him, the torture of his voice there but not actually helping you is too much. “Want…want you.”

“Hmm. Horny little slut didn’t wait for me…I dunno if she even deserves my help.” He bluffs, wanting nothing more than to reach out and feel the slick of your wet pussy.

You nearly cry out in protest, not calling him on his bluff. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself…you’re just so…fuck…you’re so fucking hot, Ed.”

He leans in to kiss you and you accept it gratefully, a smile against his lips. As his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss to easily work his tongue against yours, his hands land on yours against your pussy delicately, gently pulling your fingers to the side. He slides a digit in and you whimper into his mouth, your hips thrusting up. “Oh, so fucking desperate.” You nod your head, agreeing with him. You’re desperate for more. Even with Eddie on your mind, your fingers never even compared to his.

He leans into your neck, the scent of his aftershave and body wash strong but oh-so-goddamn good. He slides your shirt up your torso smoothly with his free hand and pulls it from your neck fiercely. You feel his hand somewhat desperately go around your back to unhook your bra, and as it falls casually over the edge onto the floor, he moans at the sight of your exposed tit, your nipple just begging to be touched.

He leans in to mouth the bud, and you whimper at the sensation. He pauses, breathing heavily and open mouthed onto it. You gasp, his hot breath sending waves down your body. “Fuck, so pretty.” Eddie mutters to himself, dark eyes watching your face as you get closer.

A desperate hand of yours tugs him up to your face, desperate for more of his wet and hypnotizing kisses. “Fuck me.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that his fingers weren’t enough. “Need…need your cock. Please.”

Eddie’s mouth opens at the prospect of you simply begging for him, and you can feel a shift in his energy as he starts to kiss you deeper and hungrier. “When you beg so sweetly, how could I possibly say no?” He hums, his hand framing your face.

He finishes yanking the last of your pants off your ankles. As he settles himself in between your legs, he can’t help himself. He leans down, taking one long lick along your folds, for just a taste. You whimper in response, knees springing up to your chest. Eddie chuckles, crawling up slowly until his chest lines up with yours, the tingle of him against you too much to handle. Slowly, he moves into you, and as he stretches you open, your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Eddie watches the utter bliss that takes over your face.

“Oh that beautiful face you make, sweetheart.” He grunts, smoothing his hands over your forehead. His words make you pulse around him. “This fucking tight little pussy wrapped around—” he stops, grunting as you continue to pulse around him. One hand moves down to your hip, caressing it softly he uses the leverage to buck into you.

A hushed swear comes out of you, the simple pleasure from his cock alone sending you into euphoria. Eddie continues slowly, enjoying every inch of your heat around him. “Your pussy…god how did I live without it?”

You clutch onto him, staring up into his darkened brown eyes. You open your mouth to respond in kind, but the particularly harsh rut into you leaves your mouth gasping open and your eyes fluttering shut in pure heaven. “Oh, that’s it.” He mutters, hips moving faster. “That’s my cock-drunk little whore.”

Your nails scratch down his back, and he moans in response. “Eddie, your cock. There’s…I…please.”

“I-I know, baby. I know.”

He collapses onto your chest, and you feel his cock twitch into you as your orgasm takes over your body. His hand carefully sweeps your sweaty forehead as he watches you recover, your eyes losing their haze as you return to earth. “Hi.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi.” You smile. For once, he does take his dick out of you right away, despite your protests. However, you can’t protest any further when he comes back and wraps his arms around you with his chest pressed against your back, his still steadying breaths lulling you into a quiet nap.

Somehow, you know that his arms are always going to be the best place in the world.

-

About an hour later, you’re snuggled against his side, legs intertwined as Eddie watches his show and you work on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a six-letter word for angry?” You ask him, stumped for a good minute.

“Uh…grumpy? Heated? Hmm…raging?”

“Raging! Fuck, I couldn’t get that one. Thanks, baby.” You tell him, receiving a kiss on the head as a response. “Why’d you go in for work, Ed?”

“Other than making my baby horny?” He jokes, muttering it into your hair. “Well, one of my best-known clients called and my men know that when he calls, they need to call me in, because his car is just—” he cuts himself off, holding out the OK sign. He continues talking about the mechanics/politics of handling a car like this in his job. The caliber, the horsepower, the specialized engine, and everything else.

It’s not like you know a whole lot about cars. Most of what he is saying comes out as gibberish. But you listen to him, watching as he gets more and more animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he excitedly explains his morning. You watch him, a soft smile creeping up your face as he describes…what, you weren’t even sure, to you.

He stops as he notices the peculiar look on your face, your eyes glazed over. “What?” he asks, wondering if you caught even a word of his story.

“I love you.” It comes out before you even realize. But it’s true.

With your whole chest, you love him.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he looks at you like you had placed each star in the sky just for him. Because you did. “I-I’ve been wanting to say that to you since I first saw you.”

His words feel both impossible and like they make the most sense in the entire world. Because since day one, you have been captivated by him in every sense imaginable. Taking the time to get to know, see and love every inch of him before recognizing that yes, this is love.

This all occurs to you within a second, because Eddie’s hand is framing your face and you feel his lips on yours, deep and caring to a point that takes your goddamn breath away. Your tongue collides with his, and his fingers are so gentle as they cradle your face it barely feels like he’s holding it. He tastes so good, like the air you breathe is suddenly useless, and all you need to do is breathe him. His fingers intertwine in your hair, he gasps as his forehead collides with your own, clinging onto you for dear life.

“Will you say it?” You ask, realizing he still hasn’t.

“I fucking love you.” He says in a low, soft voice. He uses a hand to force you back and you open your eyes to look into his beautiful brown ones. “I love you.”

Your chest inflates rapidly, like all the emotion just bursts into it. A giggle escapes your lips, the smile on your face seeming to be permanently etched there. He tugs you into the tightest hug, and you feel his heart beat rapidly against your own as your arms fling themselves around his torso, burying your head in his neck.

God, it’s like you fit perfectly there.

He slouches down, ignoring the book you dropped and the forgotten tv show, and lays you down, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around you as you curl into his chest. He nestles his nose into your hair, breathing you in, feeling the breath, the life in you as you breathe in sync with him.

Any sense of time, responsibilities, or the outside world become muted and pale in comparison.

It’s just you and him.  

-

The sizzling sounds of bacon for dinner mixed with Eddie’s humming to some oldies fill the kitchen. Every time he turns around from the stove to grab something, he shoots you a smile that captivates his face, something that you wholeheartedly return each time. The acknowledgement that this is love somehow didn’t feel like it had tied you to anything or that any new expectations were put on either one of you. You simply want his company and he, yours.

You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, though the sight of his hips in his low sitting sweatpants are much more enticing than anything your phone’s algorithms have to show you. Playfully, Eddie keeps dancing a little too hard to the music, head banging and swinging his hips to even the softest of Dad Rock.

God, it’s Heaven. As Eddie serves up a few plates, Dylan comes down dressed in one of his better date night outfits.

“Ooh, hot date?” You ask him, leaning forward onto the kitchen island.

Dylan’s brows furrow, stopping mid stride. “Yeah. Not talking to you about that. You’re still my ex. And you’re still seeing my dad. Weirdo.”

Eddie sends a glare his way, eyes darkening in a split second. Dylan rolls his eyes, sneaking around him to grab a bite of bacon. Ignoring it, Eddie places a plate in front of you with eggs, bacon and toast, and you thank him as he leans in for a kiss.

“Love you.” Eddie mutters, and you smile into his lips and feel him do the same.

“L-love?” Dylan spits out, his voice exasperated. He shakes his head, still chewing on the bacon. “Fuck right off.”

“Dyl.” Eddie starts, leaning forward as he takes a bite from his toast. He has a devious smile on his face, chewing on his idea. “Quiet. The adults are talking.”

If you had expected something out of pocket, it certainly wasn’t that.

The brown eyes Dylan shares with his father widen in pure exasperation. “What?? Dad, I’m six months older than her!”

You barely keep in the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. Eddie grins at you and lets out his own chuckle. “That’ll teach you to be an ass, huh?”

Dylan doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and yanks one more piece of bacon before leaving through the front door.

-

Dylan Munson got dealt a dirty fucking hand from whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.

It was only a mere nine weeks ago when you made your way across the mixer to say hi to him that he thought things were going his way. The more he saw you, the more he thought that this had to be leading to something. It made sense to him, but as he had started mentioning long term plans or anything of the like, he could feel you clam up. Every time he mentioned something requiring commitment, your shoulders tensed up, your face winced by only a smidge, but when it became a regular occurrence, Dylan realized you might not have been ready as you thought you were.

He was willing to accept it. So, he took matters into his own hands. Honestly, he would’ve been fine paying the daily fee for parking, but he knew his dad was there, and he was excited to introduce you to him. Boy, what a shit show that turned out to be.

As he woke up to an empty bed, he had expected you to be downstairs. Instead, he was faced with a bowl of cereal without the milk, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been there. He searched the whole house. Your bag, clothes, and shoes were still there, so he knew you couldn’t have gone far. Turns out, he was right. You didn’t. You went two doors down from his own.

The sight of you and his fucking dad in the white sheets was already too much to bear, and then the stab of betrayal from his own father hurt more the initial shock of yours, tugging angry tears from his eyes as he ran to his room. The torture of hearing your whimpers, a sound he knew well, while downstairs trying to cheer himself up was fucking brutal.

When you finally left, his dad came home with a terribly apologetic look on his face as he walked through the front door. Dylan refused to hear a damn word out of his mouth, dismissing all his claims of ‘holding back as long as he could’ and ‘I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.’ Shit just hurt.

A day later, Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the anger finally kicking in. His dad did yell back, but mostly at the choice words aimed at you. It hurt for a moment, as it felt like he cared more about someone he had met last week, his (now ex) girlfriend.

When you and his dad showed no signs of slowing or stopping any time soon, he realized this would become a new normal. Didn’t mean he liked it.

He came home after a relatively long day at work to you and his dad sitting and watching a movie comfortably. His knee jerk reaction was to swear angrily, but the look on your face stuck with him. You had never relaxed with him. You were always looking around corners or there was some part in your body unable to lean into him completely.

As you apologized awkwardly on his bed, his hurt finally felt acknowledged by you, and fuck, he needed to hear that he didn’t do anything wrong. He genuinely started to wonder if he did.

Most of his nights he spent going out, his friends asking where the hot new girlfriend he was bragging about now was. He just said you cheated on him and it was over and they called you a bitch and moved on.

Yes, even Ethan. (The one friend you actually liked)

He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, always making his way back to the house where his ex was expected to be at any given time. God, it was so shit.

After your apology, though, he had to admit, you looked good together. It seemed like his dad’s smile just hadn’t left his face for days, and goddamn, was it annoying to admit that you were good for him. That remaining anger seemed to itch at him, unable to forgive or forget, a buried hatchet with an X to mark the spot.

Ethan eventually brought his girlfriend to boys’ night out, which was met with disgruntled groans from the collective group. Ethan’s girlfriend invited a friend who would be joining, and Dylan fought hard not to roll his eyes.

An hour into the night, a drink, and a few good dances in, Ethan’s girlfriend brought her in, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, no one said she would be fucking gorgeous.

If Dylan thought you were out of his league, then Maya wasn’t even playing the same game. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he knew he had to grab this girl a drink and get her number, now. As he pulled into an easy conversation with her, the hairs stood on his arms as it felt electric just being near her.

Maya met his enthusiasm, agreeing to a date within the first hour of conversation with him. One of his buddies mentioned Dylan had been cheated on by his most recent girlfriend, and Maya was floored. If any girl was lucky enough to have him, how could they even think of cheating?

As Dylan rode home in the backseat of his friend’s truck, drunk on her undivided attention and, well, plain ol’ drunk, something his dad had said came to mind. “I can’t explain it, I just had to know her. In every sense of the word.”

He felt the same way about Maya. Everything about her drew him in. Her smell, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the shine of her red hair. God, she was fucking beautiful.

As he smelled bacon on the way down the stairs, he decided to grab a piece on his way out to his first date with Maya, jitters galore. You asking him about the date was kind, but still too weird for him to gush about the gorgeous girl from the bar he met when that ‘gorgeous girl’ was once you.

Love you, his dad said. The word struck him, it occurred to him he doesn’t truly understand how much you and his father cared for one another. The L word didn’t come easily to Munson men, after all. Dylan walked to his car, disgruntled as the interaction rolled over in his mind.

What a mess he would be bringing her home to, if he ever got lucky enough.

-

Since you worked the next day, you had to go home for the night. The lingering kisses at Eddie’s door were too much to bear.

Too much for Eddie, too. You get a text about twenty minutes after you get home, Need you.

You grit your teeth, you need him, too. Working four days in a row sounds manageable, at least it usually does. Without Eddie to come home to or to wake up with, it’s nearly torture. You ignore Skylar’s comment of codependency. Fuck co-dependency, it isn’t that you depend on him too much, you just need him too much. You need to come home to him, to sit and watch tv with him… It’s the domestic bliss you miss.

Somehow, just reading a book at the end of the night without his even breaths has you on edge. You shoot him a text letting him know you’d be there soon.

As you walk through the doorway of Eddie’s house, he welcomes you and you hop into his arms, inhaling his shampoo as soon as you get close enough to, his familiar scent bringing you an indescribable feeling of safety.  “Need you to stop leaving for so long.” He mutters, feeling nearly crazy for missing you so much while you were gone.

You hum in response, staring into his pretty eyes as they stare down at you lovingly, resting your chin on his chest.

“Move in with me.” It’s impulsive.

You blink, unable to register what he just said. “Uh, what?”

He chuckles, hoping the stunned look on your face is a good thing. “It’s stupid for you to keep moving back and forth between here and your apartment all the time. Move in with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Could you do it? Realistically, could you bring your things in, set up your skin care routine in his bathroom, have a horde of snacks at your disposal, bring Bethany over for sleepovers…is it possible? He watches as you think it through, and his heart skips a beat as he watches it falter. “I-I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

His head tilts curiously, eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm?”

“I’m still tied to my lease for another three months.” You can’t abandon Sky, not after all this time. “Skylar would be pissed if I just up and left her to either scramble for a new roommate or for a new apartment.”

Was that it? “Oh,” Eddie says, relieved. “I can pay that.”

His answer momentarily stuns you, and a gorgeous laugh escapes his lips as he takes in your slack jaw and wide eyes. “W-what?”

He leans in, kissing your lips sweetly. “Sweetheart. I’m not gonna wait another ninety days when I can just pay it now and get you here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay my half?” You ask, eyebrows raised, a light smile on your face.

“What’s your rent?”

“1800 for the apartment, we both pay 900 plus utilities.”

He does the quick math. “Oh, so 54 (hundred) to buy the lease out? Yeah, I’ll pay it. Might relieve Sky from being pissed at me for stealing her roommate.”

The casualty of his words drench your underwear, his urge to take care of you sending a heat to your center you can’t explain. You lean in, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, showing your appreciation. “Can-can we go upstairs?” You ask him, out of breath.

Eddie smiles, taking in your lust-blown eyes and slack expression. “You know that’s not why I offered, right?”

The overwhelming happiness bubbles up from the inside and you shoot a wide smile up at him, chin resting on his chest again. “I know. Still, baby. Want you. Please,”

Eddie smirks, framing your face with his thumbs lightly. “When you say it so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

You tug him by the hand and start running up the stairs. A yelp echoes through the house as Eddie grabs at your ass near the top, and when he lies down on the bed, you can’t get his cock down your throat fast enough.

-

To say the least, Sky couldn’t find it in her to be angry. She was going to miss you, more than she could describe as her roommate. She also had a three month warning to find a new roommate or a new apartment and had ample time to put at least some money aside while she didn’t have to pay for rent. She really had nothing to complain about. Still, she was gonna miss you.

As soon as the lust of him offering to take care of you died down, you went into overdrive, remembering how stressed you were when you had to move in your current apartment, a lease you’ve renewed twice now. You started making a list of things you needed, working between your phone and a random spiral notebook you found in a junk drawer. How many boxes did you need to get? If you used both Eddie and Dylan’s trucks how many hours would it take to move down the stairs-only building you had?

“What’re you working on?” You hear his voice over your shoulder.

“Oh, just working out the kinks of moving. My car won’t be enough, I’ll need your guys’ trucks to help. I also have my own furniture to worry about. The entertainment center is hers, but the couch is mine. My dresser, my bed, my bathroom shelf, all my bathroom junk—”

“Baby.” He interrupts you, a hand sliding up to your neck. “Relax. I can hire someone to take care of all of this for you. Just focus on packing your things and directing the men around on where to put them.” He places his hands delicately beneath your chin. “Ok?”

Fuck, you might just blow him again.

“Ok.”

And you did just that. You shared your list to Eddie’s phone, who called a smaller moving truck with three men to assist, hired an organizer to assist in organizing what you do or don’t need and who will handle selling your furniture, and finally, paying the rest of your rent to your front office without blinking an eye to get you out of the lease.

Soon, you were on the driveway on a hot day, watching as all the boxes containing your clothes, shoes, makeup, and other junk went up the stairs to Eddie’s (and now your) bedroom, a few staying downstairs.

He stands next to you in a white muscle shirt with a band you don’t know pictured on the front and some sweats, hands on his hips as he watches the movers go back and forth between the house and the truck. He radiates authority, each mover couldn’t be much older or younger than you, but they all look to him with respect, all of their words followed by the word ‘sir’.

“Sir, huh?” You ask, teasing him.

Eddie slightly grimaces, rejecting it. “Yeah, they insisted.”

“Dunno, kinda suits you.” You tease, and you walk back to the house, missing the audible gulp that comes from his throat, imagining it. You, on your knees, begging for him, calling him sir…

“Sir?” One of the movers asks, getting his attention. He flicks back, seeing the clipboard held in front of him. “Need you to sign.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He mumbles, picking up the pen to sign.

As he signs his name, Dylan pulls up, taking in the men, the truck, the boxes on the floor visible past the open front door. “She’s moving in?”

Eddie looks at him, apologetic. He had asked you yesterday, and since then, he hasn’t had time to sit down and tell Dylan in person. “Sorry, bud. Kind of just happened all at once.”

Dylan thinks of his new girlfriend’s apartment, the night he had just spent wrapped up in her sheets. “I-I get that.”

Eddie blinks, expecting more of a push-back. “So, dad. I met this girl.” Oh, that explains it. “She’s…” the smile that lands on Dylan’s face is peaceful, and Eddie feels both curious and reassured. “Anyway. I wanted to bring her over for dinner to introduce her. Is that okay?”

A firm hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, bringing him for a hug. “Of course, bud. When did you want to bring her over?”

“Friday at 6?”

It’s Wednesday, so that gives you both ample time to unpack and get the house ready for a dinner guest. “Friday works. Bring her over.”

“Hey, do you guys need any more help with the boxes?” He asks, running into the house.

Eddie doesn’t answer as he stands, stunned at the change in his son over the last, what, week?

The next two days make Dylan realize although he was in a much forgiving mood, he’s going to need to move out and fast. Just when he thought the two of you were bad, he didn’t realize how much worse you’d be when you moved in. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming.

Soon, he texted a friend he knew who was looking for another apartment about maybe moving in together after realizing your moans were not coming from your bedroom as he grabbed his keys and booked it for the front door.

You were on Eddie’s laundry room floor, wrapped in his arms, with only your shirt around your torso and his hair halfway out of its ponytail. You were still in the middle of recovering; Eddie edged you twice before finally letting you finish. “Did you hear the front door close?” Eddie asks, still breathing heavily as he does.

“N-no.” You gasp, moving your head up to face him, his chest hair tickling your chin. “Were we that loud?”

Eddie laughs, letting a thumb pet your face lightly. “Have you ever tried to be quiet, sweetheart?”

You shut him up with a kiss, slippery, but filled to the brim with everything you had. “Shut up.”

“I love you.” He mutters as you wrap yourself in his arms, and you whisper it back into his chest. “We do have company coming over, so we should probably finish unpacking.”

You groan lightly, but Eddie takes your hands and forces the two of you onto your feet, your knees lightly buckling. “I have so much stuff! There’s so much left to unpack.”

“Oh, I’m sure unpacking yourself into the second half of the walk-in is so hard, baby. C’mon, I’ll help you out.”

Again, Eddie’s house looks humble from the outside, but it was nothing to snark at. As he made more money, he slowly upgraded and renovated instead of just moving into a bigger house. The one upgrade that wasn’t really for him, but a constant reminder of what he lost, was the his-and-hers closet he had made for his ex, something she only enjoyed for six months before leaving him. He was excited to see your dresses, skirts, pants, and underwear in his closet, and especially your smell. Basically, he was excited for your invasion of the house.

You walk over to his–your–room where there are still boxes sitting, waiting to be unpacked. You start unpacking the one labeled dresses/skirts. As you start laying out a pile, separating the skirts you knew you weren’t gonna wear from the ones you would, Eddie sidled up beside you, pulling one you knew looked good on you up from the pile you weren’t gonna wear. “Hey, hey. Why haven’t I seen you in this one?”

You hesitate in your answer, pulling two more dresses out before answering. “Dylan fucked me while I wore that.” You admit, and he drops it immediately. He pulls another one up, hands moving over the silky blue fabric. Damn that one looked great on you. “That one, too.”

He drops it unceremoniously, hands moving to his hips. “Which ones hasn’t he touched you in?”

You put your hands on the much smaller, less appealing pile. “These.”

Eddie sighs, scratching his head. “Alright. We’re going shopping.” He announces, placing the pile of your old ‘rejects’ onto the floor.

“Huh?” You ask him, not sure you heard him correctly.

“Yep. Just leave all the clothes in a pile right there, and on Saturday I’m taking you shopping.”

“Baby, I work Saturday.”

“So call in.”

After Eddie helps you settle in for the next day and a half, you spend a good portion of your Friday in the kitchen, working in tandem to make supper together. You place plates at the dining room table Eddie and Dylan barely used, straighten up the napkins and the utensils when Eddie comes from behind you, and you feel his cock press right up against your ass. You grind back into it, closing your eyes and whimpering.

“Ed, they’ll be here in like,” you let out a sigh, “half an hour.”

He turns you, giving you a dirty kiss and gripping your hips harshly. “Then we better get moving.” He slips your dress up your hips and your underwear down.

“Hmm…take off your pants.”

He slips his cock in, bending you over the table, making you gasp. “Already off, baby.”

-

Dylan pulls up in his truck, now having to park in the same spot you did in the street since you took over his spot on the driveway. “So, this is my house.”

“For three more weeks?” Maya asks, teasing him.

He lets their hands intertwine, leading her to the door. “I did grow up here.”

“Yet your dad is kicking you out.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“No, not kicking me out…” He drifts off, when Maya’s green eyes silently ask him, he dismisses it. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” He unlocks the front door, and as soon as it’s open, a very peculiar, very annoying sound is heard echoing in the house.

“Fuck, Ed, oh shit.”

Maya’s eyes go wide, it takes her a second longer to understand what they were listening to than it did for Dylan. Dylan shuts the front door, shoving his hand into his pocket for his phone. He dials his dad right away. “…Hello?” Eddie asks after three rings.

Dylan puts him on speaker. “Dad, wrap it up, we’re here.”

“Shit, sorry. Give us five—” the sound of your giggles interrupts him, “sorry, ten minutes. W-we’ll call you.”

He hangs up.

Maya’s face is the picture-perfect expression of what the fuck. “Dyl, when you said your family dynamic is odd…”

“I meant it. C’mon, let’s go for a walk to the corner store.”

Maya is taken aback, but she easily falls in line as Dylan holds his hand out for her. “Can’t believe the first thing I heard from your dad was that.”

“Darling, I have never meant it more than I have right now.” Dylan assures her, and she can see how much he means it in his brown eyes. “My dad has met my girlfriends in worse situations. Just be glad we didn’t see anything…’cause that was not coming from their bedroom.”

-

Eventually, you had to go upstairs to find a new dress to wear, Eddie having completely soiled it during your tryst as he phoned Dylan to let them know they were in the clear. Turns out, the two of you had time blindness when it came to one another, because neither of you were even close to done when Dylan had called.

As you climb down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie meets you there in time to open it to face Dylan and his new girlfriend. It was an intriguing feeling, opening the door to Dylan while Eddie’s arm was behind your back. Like a couple welcoming their son home. It was…bizarre to say the least. “Hey, sorry about—”

“It’s fine, dad. Rather not talk about it.” Dylan insists, his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Sure. Come on in.”

They step in, Maya taking a look around at the place as she does. “Maya, this is my dad and his girlfriend, Y/N. Guys, this is Maya.”

You weren’t used to Dylan being suddenly so cool with you and Eddie being together. He’s never out loud said that you were his dad’s girlfriend before without rolling his eyes or gagging. Whatever he had with Maya seemed to bring him some peace.

Thank god, you didn’t know if you could handle more eye rolls from Eddie’s 25-year-old teenage son. “Maya! Nice to meet you.” You hold your hand out to her, which she accepts graciously.

You remember meeting Eddie as a father to Dylan, and while your thoughts were occupied, whatever you were expecting for Dylan’s dad, it certainly wasn’t Eddie. You could see it clear in her face she wasn’t expecting this metalhead, either.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to Eddie, and Eddie just about loses his mind.

“Ew. Don’t. Call me Eddie. Please.” Eddie gags, the same reaction he had when you addressed him that way when you first met.

“Oh. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back, purposefully dressing himself down as a parental figure. You could tell he was poising himself differently for them. Whether it was self consciousness over the last time he met a girlfriend, or making it clear to Dylan he had no plans for a second contender, it did the job.

“Alright, the dining room is this way.” You extend your hand out down the hall, leading the way out of a somewhat awkward situation.

The four of you sit at the table, both men at the heads of the table while you and Maya sit across from one another. Eddie picks up the salad bowl, plating himself quickly and handing it over to you. “So, Dylan. Tell us how you and Maya met.”

They both start the story, eager to share. “Oh, can I tell, Dyl? You always get to.”

“Fine by me.”

Maya giggles softly before facing you and Eddie. “Well, my best friend sort of ditched me to tag along to guys’ night, and I refused to be ditched, so I got myself ready and ended up being fashionably late. When she invited me, I was already done for the night, pajamas and all but I got dressed up out of pure spite.” You chuckle, that’s something Bethany would do. “I got to the club, and suddenly I saw Dylan, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.” She looks over to him, her eyes soft and her pink lips in a sweet smile. “He just drew me right in. We talked for so long we didn’t even realize it was time for last call.”

“Wow.” You comment, taking the last bowl in rotation from Eddie’s hands, the stir-fry vegetables. “Sounds like you guys have a great connection.” You look at Dylan at the last word, hoping he receives your message.

“Oh, we truly do.” Maya grins, Dylan shooting a wink at her in response.

Eddie grabs your hand under the table, and you hold it, petting at the tough skin and colliding with his rings.

“Our first date was incredible.” Maya mentions off-hand but doesn’t elaborate. If it was anything like your first date with Eddie, you knew better than to pry further. “So Dylan told me how you guys met, tell me about that.”

You and Eddie share a look of surprise at how casually she mentions it. You weren’t expecting her to know yet, in fact you were wondering if Dylan was going to tell her at all. Eddie lets out a chuckle. “A shitshow, let’s just say. When Dylan found us, it just became real messy in here.”

Unfortunately, Eddie missed the continuous waving Dylan was doing across the table to stop, please!

“How would meeting online make things messy?” Maya asks, the story Eddie had just told her and the story Dylan explained not exactly lining up.

“What?” Eddie asks, now unsure himself.

Your hand meets your mouth in understanding, facing Dylan with his head in his own hands. “Baby, I don’t think he told her, yet.”

“Nope.” Dylan musters out, annoyed.

“Oh.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Maya asks, watching everyone’s facial expressions one by one.

Dylan sighs, not ready to explain this part. “They didn’t meet online. Remember, my ex? The one who cheated on me?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Of course I remember that bitch.” She says, giving you a look that says, ‘am I right’.

Dylan sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s her.” He says, pointing to you. “She cheated with my dad.”

Maya looks at you, dumbfounded, as you wave with a tight smile on your face. Being called that cheating bitch behind your back was certainly a new development from him. Not the…greatest feeling in the world. She looks to Eddie, who isn’t smiling, somewhat insulted on your behalf, but gives a friendly wave nonetheless.

“O-oh.”

“I said my family dynamic is different, didn’t I?”

“I thought you meant with how young she is…”

“There’s that…and there’s this. It used to hurt me a lot more, but honestly, since I met you, I don’t really feel that pain anymore.” He says to her. “I wish we could’ve had this conversation in private, but I guess I didn’t warn them.” A new hardness reaches Maya’s eyes as she looks at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by it. “Don’t be mad at them, because I’m not anymore. Well, mostly anyway. My dad said when he met her that he had to know everything about her or he was going to lose his mind.” You look to Eddie, and he winks at you slyly as you mouth the words I love you to him. “I used to think that was bullshit… But when I met you, Maya, I felt the same way, and I realized I couldn’t blame them for pursuing it if it was half as strong as what I felt when I saw you.”

The ice in Maya’s stare all melts the gloss in her eyes. “That’s still super messed up.”

“One hundred percent.” Dylan looks over to you and Eddie, and you’re wondering if the two of you were supposed to leave the table and give them privacy. “But now…they look good together. They’re good for one another. She puts this smile on his face that I never get to see anymore, and she seems more happy with him than she ever was with me.”

Your phone buzzes in your chair under your thigh. A text from Eddie. For the record, no one feels as strongly for anyone as I do for you. No one ever will.

You look at him and he nods once, his lips in a firm line. Your hands reach for his, interlocking with his. “Maya, I know you didn’t mean to but I would appreciate you not calling her a bitch.” Eddie tells her, parent voice on. “Now that we have all that out of the way, Maya, tell us what you do for work.”

-

Maya was a peach, and she seemed great for Dylan. As she helped clear the table she asked Dylan a question and it led to him announcing he was moving out. Out loud, Eddie gave him a proud hug, telling him it was a great idea.

To you, Eddie pumped his fist in celebration. As you washed the dishes that night, insisting Dylan and Maya go enjoy a movie on the couch, Eddie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “When Dylan finally moves out, I’m fucking you on every surface in this house. I might just tell you to stay naked for easier access.” He leaves a wet kiss on your neck, and you’re left to imagine the possibilities as he adjusts himself while clearing the rest of the table.

True to his word, as Saturday dawns, Eddie wakes you up two hours before you start work and tosses your phone to call in sick for it. You text your manager at his request, and as soon as you hit send, Eddie sends you to his bathroom to get ready for a shopping day. In your first outfit, a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, Eddie looks up and down at you exasperated and tells you to go get all dressed up and put some makeup on.

When your hands land on your hips at this he backtracks hard. “Of course you can wear what you want, baby! I just know that you love to get all dressed up, and I thought it would be fun for you. That’s all. We’re going to be trying on lots of clothes and I want my girl feeling her best.”

Okay, he has a point. An hour passes by, Eddie moving around you as he gets dressed up himself, less dramatic than his date night outfit, but dressed up all the same. As you finish, a wing on your eye, he comes behind you, looking over your shoulder for something. “You know I used to wear eyeliner all the time?”

“I…no?” You stutter, turning to face him.

“Might put some on today.” He mutters, slightly teasing you.

“If you don’t want to scare the general public, maybe we’ll save it for a date night, Ed.” You yank the pencil away from him, terrified that if you look away for one second, he’ll go overboard.

“Not even a little on my water line?” He asks, and you suddenly realize that yes, he does want some makeup for the day.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug.

Now you walk hand in hand in the largest mall in town, starting the journey down the large aisle, leading Eddie. But eventually, Eddie ends up leading you, knowing exactly which stores he wants to go to. In the first store he takes you to, you look around the racks timidly, putting away anything you see over 20 bucks. In less than five minutes, Eddie comes by with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna get a dressing room started, ok?” He pauses, noticing the 45 dollar dress you just put back. “Ooh, can you hand me that?”

“No, it’s too much.” You insist, looking at the large pile of clothes he has. You thought he meant like, three or four items at the most.

“I didn’t ask how much it was, sweetheart. Hand it over.” He tells you, to which you do. Only five minutes later, as you have only picked out two or three more dresses yourself, does he swing by and tug you to the biggest dressing room, the walls decorated with clothing.

“I-I’m not trying all of this on, am I?” You look around, it would take you at least an hour, and that’s if you hurried.

“Yep. And you’re showing me every piece.” He says, before closing the door on your stunned face.

“Eddie, this is way too much.”

“No complaining, just show me the first one!” he yells to you, no real bark behind his command.

The first dress you wear was a bit revealing, an open back, up to your thighs with a cowl neckline that shows cleavage. He smiles at you, leaning his elbows onto his knees in the seat offered in the dressing room. “Nice… Do a spin.” You roll your eyes, spinning for him slowly and timidly. He whistles lowly. “Man, I’m good. Next!”

He asked for a spin in everything you modeled for him until he didn’t need to, you did it for him. With each new piece, you were learning to not care if you were in a store with him, posing for him as he assessed each piece. Some you thought looked decent on you, he put in the no pile, while others you thought were a sure no, he put in the yes. He told you ultimately, it was your decision and if you felt uncomfortable, you could put one in the no pile, but he knew your body better than anyone. If he insisted it looked good, it must’ve looked good.

At the last piece you put on, he can’t seem to decide, asking an attendant for her opinion. She says she thinks the shirt looks amazing on you but isn’t sure about the style of pants. “Yeah, I chose them just to see if you’d wear it.” You shook your head no, feeling uncomfortable in the business type pants. “Cool. Get dressed in your clothes, we have more stores to hit up.” You toss the shirt to him after yanking it off, and by the time you make your way to the register, the attendant is already handing over two oversized bags to him.

“Eddie, this is enough clothes, I really don’t need anymore!” You insist as he directs you to a store only three spaces over.

As soon as you walk in, they see the big bags Eddie’s carrying and immediately offer their assistance. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing he only ever gets the star treatment if he’s walking around with the occasional designer bag. (He likes their underwear). “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but the women’s side of our closet is huge, and you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill it anyway.”

Our closet. You’re so fixated on the use of the word our that you don’t realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “Doesn’t mean I need more.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what it means!” He turns to the employee who’s been following him around and hands her the bags. “Be a dear and hold on to these, will ya?” He turns back to you, resting one hand on the rack beside him and staring down at you intensely. “Baby. I want to spoil you. Let me. Please! Pick out some clothes you want, I’ll pick some out, too, and you can try them on.”

“You’ve spoiled me so much already!” You insist, gulping at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“That’s exactly why I have to spoil you.” He retorts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you. Let me show you how much. I have a stupid amount in savings. I kind of want to chuck some out just to keep me humble.”

You giggle at this, finally, fully giving in to his madness.

Madness, it is. As you go from store to store, he gets about two more bags full from each one, and you’re sure some of these outfits will never see the light of day after you see how he looks at you in them. About ten percent will just be something you put on for about two seconds before he takes it off you. He’s buying dresses he knows he’ll be the only person to ever take them off or see you in them.

At one point, he runs back to his truck to put the eight bags he got tired of carrying around away, coming back to meet you in the store he left you in. It wasn’t much of a clothing store, but you had a basket of things you were planning to buy for yourself. Earrings, a knick knack for your desk, a cute notebook and the like. (There was a shirt you found for Eddie that you got just for the hell of it.) You're waiting in line, and you’re digging through your purse for your wallet when Eddie comes behind you, wallet out, card in the machine. “I—”

“Baby. Your money is useless today. Let me.”

You roll your eyes, and the cashier’s wide eyes at his pet-name for you catches your eye, a laugh escaping you. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention my boyfriend is also in his 40s.” You giggle, having just gushed about how Eddie was spoiling you to him.

“What? 40s? I’m clearly in my 20s.” Eddie asks, acting offended.

The poor cashier looks genuinely frightened, holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s joking. He is. Likes to make people squirm.”

“Oh I love to make you squirm—”

“Eddie!” You berate him, yanking him out of the store as he lets out a bout of laughter. He catches his breath, still laughing as you cross your arms, waiting impatiently for him to stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made it too easy! C’mon, two more stores, then we can grab food.”

“Can I pay for food?” You ask, holding his hand.

Eddie smiles, petting your hand with his thumb. “Of course.”

The second to last store he brings you to is an underwear store. Eddie lets you do all the picking, following closely behind and offering any commentary when you ask for it. For once, he doesn’t insist that you model for him, claiming that just seeing you go through the lacier drawers of panties was torture enough. You walk out with a wardrobe’s worth of new underwear, bras, and a little bit of lingerie. It was the first time you were there to see the total, your eyes widening as Eddie takes out his card.

He smirks at your stunned expression. “Oh, this isn’t even the highest bill, sweetheart.” The transaction goes through and the kind lady behind the desks offers the bags to him. “This isn’t even half of it.”

The bill was at about 700 dollars, so the very idea drove you insane that he had already collected every receipt and refused to let you see them.

He brings you to one last store, wall to wall, covered in clothes. He goes a little ham this time, and you notice he focuses on basics. Sweatpants, sweaters, shorts, and under shirts. There’s one thing he chooses that has you struggling to get the zipper up, and eventually you call out for him for help after a good five minutes of fumbling .

He opens the curtain delicately so as to not reveal anything, and you look at him helplessly as your hand can’t reach the zipper sitting low on your ass. His fingers are light to the touch, as one hand rests on your shoulder, one on the zipper as it goes up to your neck, your hair held by your hands. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as your hair curtains down around your neck, and you turn to face him, holding your hands out to silently ask him what he thought.

What does he think? He thinks that this fucking dress looks so good on you that it would be a crime to get you to start trying on those shorts and sweaters. Hell, you knew your size, you were probably good to go. It was much less revealing than any dress you tried on, a number he’ll probably get you to wear on your next date. He couldn’t help himself, surrounded by the privacy of the small room, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, one hand going up to frame your neck. “Baby.” He mutters, his voice sounding desperate. “You look…fucking gorgeous.”

You smile into it, your hand tracing the seam of his shirt along his torso. “Thanks. Help me out of it? I still need to try on all these clothes.”

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, surprising you. A slight whimper escapes you as he backs you into the wall against a few clothing articles hanging there. “I will absolutely help you out of this dress.” He says, his voice husky and a touch of arousal lands in your underwear as you realize why. “But then I’m going to get my cock in you.”

“In-in here?” You ask, highly aware you’re in a public space.

“Mmhmm. Be quiet and no one will suspect a thing.” he says, hand slipping under the skirt of the dress to start palming at your folds over your panties. You whimper at the touch into his mouth, focusing all your energy on not alerting the kind sales lady that you were hooking up in her dressing room. “Oh, good girl, keeping herself quiet.”

“It’s…it’s hard.” You whimper, the light touches over your panties not enough, but still causing more arousal.

“So am I.” Eddie chuckles, watching your face as he teases you. He slips the hand into your panties, letting them drop on the floor. “Oh, so wet, huh?” He asks you, eyebrows furrowed as he plays with the slick on your folds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Does daddy buying all the pretty clothes make you all hot, baby?” He asks, voice in your ear and fingers rubbing at your clit gentle, but enough to start you to your destination. You nod your head, because on some level, this was a big turn on for you. “Oh, you horny little slut.”

“Good girl…” You whimper, and Eddie leans back from your shoulder. “Good girl. Please?” You ask him, the slut shaming wasn’t doing it for you.

“Oh, you wanna be called a good girl, huh? Daddy’s good girl?” You nod, your eyes closing as he starts to rub at your clit faster.

“Feels…feels good, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum, and since you’re a good girl you’re not gonna make a fucking sound. Okay?” You nod, holding a whimper in your throat from the finger he slides into your heat. “Oh she’s close.” He mutters to himself, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Fall apart on my fingers so I can fuck you, my good girl.”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, an orgasm shaking through you as you wither against the dressing room wall.  

“Oh, that’s my good girl, such a good listener. Now, turn around and hold on to those hooks.” You do as he says, and as you brace yourself with your hands awkwardly against the hooks decorated with hangers, he zips the dress off you, lifting it over your head and nearly forgetting to muffle his own moan when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He lets his pants fall around his calves, and as his cock pushes you, you let your jaw open and eyes close, doing everything you could not to moan out loud.

He slowly bucks into you, and you close your eyes and lean against the wall headfirst while the scent of store clothes invades your senses. Soon, Eddie leans forward, forcing your torso up against his back as he places his ringed hand around you like a necklace. He kisses at the skin he can reach sweetly, eyes open as he watches your reaction to everything he does to you.

While the prospect of being caught by someone was hot, Eddie found himself watching for your visual reactions than listening for your audible ones. Hmm. He didn’t realize he had begun to rely on them. “How’s Daddy’s cock?”

“G-good.” You whisper, leaning into his chest with your head back against his shoulder.

“Gonna cum in you.” He mutters. He starts fucking into you a little harder, and it has to be perfectly timed because if he went all the way in, the sound of his balls against your pussy would be a dead giveaway.

“How’s everything in there?”

“Speak.” Eddie commands you, and you have to tear yourself from outer space for a moment.

“Great, thank you!”

“Just a reminder we try not to encourage two people in one dressing room.”

“She was just needing help with a zipper. Almost done.” Eddie pipes out, sounding relatively normal for someone seconds away from cumming.

“If you need any help or sizes, let us know.”

 “Thanks…” Shit, that sounded out of breath.

“Cum in me.” You whisper, and Eddie does just that, slowly fucking his way through his orgasm, his cheeks flushed, shirt clinging onto the sweat.

You nearly protest as he takes himself out and tucks himself back into his pants. At this point, you were so turned on you kind of wanted to blow him while you had him in the room. You hold his face in your hands and connect your foreheads. “Is it bad I still want more?” You mutter under your breath.

Eddie swears softly, his boner fighting harshly against his slacks. “Fuck. No, I do, too.” He tugs your naked self into his arms, kissing your hair softly. “But…she was suspicious. Unless we want to get kicked out, we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Can I blow you when we get home?” You ask him, turning to grab your own clothes off the floor.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the clothes scattered around the dressing room. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

It took multiple trips from Eddie’s truck to bring in all the bags. You truly didn’t realize how many pieces of clothing he had bought you until you saw it all scattered on the closet floor, all ready to be reorganized. Eddie starts hanging them, and you notice the outline of his cock in his slacks. He was still throbbing.

“Can I?” You ask, sitting pretty on your knees and looking up at him.

“Fuck, I’m never gonna say no to that.” Eddie answers, placing a hand under your chin.

You undo his pants, giving him a hungry look as his cock springs free. “You’re still hard?” You ask, knowing you’ve gotten food at the food court and walked around the mall a bit more before coming home.

“Mmhm.” You smile, jerking him lazily as you eye the length hungrily. You have the idea to tease him more, but the need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue is too much. Eddie swears loudly as you take him in your mouth, gripping onto the center console for accessories and underwear. “Fuck”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring up at him through your eyelashes as you relax your throat and allow your nose to meet his stomach. His hands skim through your hair, moving your head lightly, and again, you find it ridiculously easy to submit to him.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet, head thrown back in bliss as he feels the spit gather at his base. His stomach starts to tighten up a little bit and under your hands, his thighs are tense. Somehow it spells out to you he’s close.

You prepare yourself, moving your head faster on your own accord, opening your eyes at him again to watch for his reaction as you double down. A goddamn whimper escapes his throat as you continue, and suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to make him make that sound again. “Fuck, baby. Fuck…” Without any warning, the warm salty taste of his cum hits your tongue and you moan around him as he rides through his orgasm.

For once, as you wipe your mouth, you can tell he’s the one that needs recovery. You move to your feet, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Need some water?” You ask him, somewhat joking.

“The fuck was that?” He asks, his face in awe as he looks at you.

You give a cheeky and quick little kiss to the hand on your cheek. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Jesus Christ—” he tugs you into a hug, habitually kissing your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Uh Ed.” You push lightly on his chest to get out of the hug, giving him a look of disbelief. You look gesture around the closet to the half of the clothes still not put away. “How are you the lucky one?”

Eddie’s face breaks into a wide smile, his dimples prominent, his smile lines deep. “You keep thinking that, darling.” He laughs, tugging you back into his arms.

As you stand there against his chest, relaxing into him with your eyes closed, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. You put away my clothes since you know where everything goes.”

“I did design this closet.” He retorts, pointing a finger at you.

You walk down the stairs to the front door, seeing a tall figure facing away through the smart glass. You open the door to a gorgeous set of brown locks, perfectly coiffed. The figure turns around, and clearly doesn’t expect to see you standing there. “Hey, Ed- whoa.” You recognize his face, but you aren’t sure where from. You subtly fix your hair; suddenly aware you had just given head to your boyfriend. “Uh, sorry, little lady. Is Eddie here?”

“He’s upstairs in the closet. Can I help you?”

The stranger smiles kindly, and you notice the freckles on his face are like constellations. “Oh sorry! I told him I’d be coming through town, but I forgot to say when. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @names-were-taken @bl4ckt00thgr1n

[valentinedaughtler]

Haven’t I Given Enough?

Kaz Brekker x GN!Inventor!Reader

TW: use of Y/N, mild, mild angst, slight ooc Kaz(?) (I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything please.)

Synopsis: You’ve known Kaz for years, inventing gadgets to assist in heists and being his right hand ‘man’. One night you ask him if you can join a heist, but it doesn’t go as planned….

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

My eyes flitted between the arriving guests in the bar. The Crow Club was packed tonight, and pigeons strolled in with restless naivety. I sat in the corner of the bustling room, sighing with exhaustion. I had just spent seventeen hours imitating mechanical watches in order to create a ‘fake’ for Kaz do swap with a real one. ‘Just something I need for a heist,’ was all he had said.

It would be worth it to know Kaz was proud of me in the end. Though, it was a long shot to think he would even do much as acknowledge anything I did.

I pondered whether I should slip through the crowd to find Jesper, but I couldn’t spot him. Instead, I pushed my way out of the suffocating bar out into the damp streets of Ketterdam. The cool air calmed my mind as I crossed toward the Slat. The cold made my cheeks rosy.

With the flick of a wrist, I flipped a switch blended into the old building’s exterior wall. It was hidden to an unsuspecting pedestrian yet, but it set off a system of pullies I had integrated into the inner walls a long time ago. A soft shlink was followed by the outward jutting of brick.

The side of the building became a rock-wall of sorts, since I could not climb up every surface like Inej. I began to grip the bricks, digging my nails into the gritty platforms.

Kaz was not always a fan of my inventions. A few had blown up in his face- literally- but it seemed he kept me around due to my many successes. I could fix any machine made by man. I didn’t have to know what it was, I could just take it apart in my mind, then do so in reality.

This was one of my inventions, a brick wall that was easy to climb, but could be hidden. Inej loved it- Kaz felt it was a waste of time.

He said there were stairs for a reason.

I shimmied the window of Kaz’s office open, the latch flipping and the glass sliding. I hopped off of the ledge and into the office, making sure to reset my brick contraption. I turned around and cleared my throat, but Kaz did not glance up at me. I rolled my eyes as he squinted at the blueprints that lay on his makeshift desk.

“Good evening, Brekker,” I greeted with a jokingly enticing tone. His eye twitched and he proceeded to turn his attention to me.

“Hello, Y/N,” his gravely voiced rasped in response. I smiled slightly, regretting so, and dig into my left pants pocket. I pulled out a shiny, gold watch with engraved initials. Whose they were was unknown to me, but if I asked, Kaz would most likely just shut me down. I had to respect his odd secrecy after all he had done for me. Out of all the years I’d known him, it has always been as if he kept me at an arm’s length. He was careful to never be vulnerable, as if that was the same as his skin touching mine.

I gestured for him to catch the watch when I tossed it, but he glared. I let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” I teased while handing the fake to him.

“You’re… difficult,” he retorted, but there was no malice behind his words- surprisingly. I huffed and plopped onto the blanket sprawled out on the windowsill. My eyes followed Kaz’s movements as he tentaviety inspected the watch. After a few minutes he placed it onto his desk and resumed his work. I waited patiently for any sign of recognition, but it never came.

“You’re welcome,” I mumbled while stretching out my legs. I opened up my leather sketchbook to doodle a new invention design. That or I’d just draw Kaz. But I was too annoyed with him to do so.

The dark haired boy sighed as he looked over at me. “You did good. It looks identical.”

I didn’t say anything in response, but I smiled slightly, my face heating up. It was embarrassing how easily I was flattered by Kaz, who could barely do the bare minimum.

“What ere you using it for— the watch, I mean,” I asked with growing curiosity. Kaz halted his work for a moment, most likely deciding if he felt like sharing or not.

“A local banker,-“

“The more-of-a-wanker-than-a-banker one?” I cut off his response, immediately feeling embarrassed. Kaz looked at me with mild confusion. “Inside joke with Jesper,” I elaborated.

He hummed in response, then continued, “He’s more of a swanker. For the past few months he has been flaunting his wealth a little too much. Especially his watch. It’s his most prized possession. I plan to take it from his vault; a simple swap.”

“What would you do without me?” I asked with a sly smirk. Kaz huffed, perhaps laughed.

“I’d have less of your inventions explode on me.”

“It was one time, Kaz,” I said with exasperation. My eye glittered as I met his gaze. I open my mouth to speak, but immediately close it again, pressing my lips together firmly.

“Kaz?”

“Y/N,”

“I want to go on a mission with you and the crows,” I blurted out. Kaz froze, only for a fraction of a moment, but Kaz Brekker froze. He nodded towards my left arm, where a tattoo of a crow craning over a guatlet was etched into my skin.

“You are a crow,” he finally rasped, dodging my question until I glared daggers into his skin. “And I have everyone we need for the mission-“

“Wylan is sick. You need someone who can easily disable complex machinery- the alarms, the traps-“

“I said no,” Kaz’s voice raised, sounding threatening.

“Why not?”

“Y/N,” his voice sounded as if he meant, don’t push it. But I did. I always did, and Kaz always kept me by his side anyways.

“I don’t understand- ever since I got hurt on that one heist you haven’t let me participate-“

“Exactly! You got hurt,” he said. His jaw clenched and his eyes avoided mine. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped.

“Dregs get hurt all the time- saints, some of the crows do too-“

“This is different,”

“How?”

“You’re an investment,” he stated blankly, “and I protect my investments.” I felt heat flush my face, my fists balling up and my shoulders tensing.

“That’s rich, Kaz, real rich,” I spat. Embarrassment pooled in my stomach and my eyes. “But that’s all you want, right? Kruge? Money? Power?” He didn’t say anything as I slitted my eyes and scrunched my nose. “Saints forbid the people who help you get to that point.”

Before Kaz could respond, if he even chose to, I got up and walked across his office, my shoes clacking against the hard, wooden floors. The old floorboards moaned and groaned at the pressure I subjected them to.

“Y/N-,” Kaz tried to get up, but his bad leg involuntarily spasmed at his abrupt movement.

The door slammed behind me. I knew it wasn’t a big deal, it felt like the last thing to topple a delicate card tower. Each card was a jab or a deny Kaz made regarding our… relationship, if you could call it that. He and I had been friends long before the other crows came along, yet I felt I’d come to know him the least. I sighed.

I turned back around on my heel, opening the splintered office door. On the other side was Kaz, reaching for the handling on the opposing side.

“You’re not an investment,”

I kept any snarky comments bottled up inside, along with my tears. I could tell what he was convey was eating away at him, so I let him speak.

“If I lost you, I’d have to burn Ketterdam down, and then I’d have no kingdom to rule,” his words soared through the air between us and to my heart.

“I just keep feeling like I’ve given enough, Kaz. I know I deserve to go on heists. If you see my as an equal, you have to treat me like one.” I met his deep, coffee-brown eyes.

He nodded. One of his gloved hands hesitantly, begrudgingly, came up to touch my face. He cupped my cheek and I leaned into the cold, leather touch. I knew this was the best answer he could give me at the moment. It was a more meaningful gesture than anything he could’ve said. He’d let me help on the heist, and for once in a very long time, it felt like he had let his high walls crumble a bit.

I knew I’d given enough.

____________________________________________

Word Count: 1460

____________________________________________

Part 2????

-Valentine

[504py]

He, with those piercing eyes, gaze up at you from beneath.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You haven't seen grass in almost a month now.

It was near impossible to find windows or doors that led to the outside in the ever-changing architecture of his palace. Hallways, winding like the arteries and veins in his heart. Walls creaking and compressing like lungs, and a never-ending fireplace burbling and roaring like a stomach. The palace seemed to be alive, and he was intent on keeping you within it.

Today was different, though. That feeling of constant movement stopped, and in this eerie, uncomfortable stillness, a door creaks, and you feel cold hair brush against your cheek. You expect to see him there, used to him seemingly appearing out of thin air, but you're greeted by empty space. Goosebumps scatter all over the surface of your skin. Your head turns to follow wherever the source of the noise was, and, in all of its literal absurdity, a door is there. It sounds ridiculous, but it was the last thing you expected to see. Your hands have gone clammy and damp.

You felt very bare. Like a million eyes were watching you, to see if you would act on the appearance of an exit. You freeze, and for a few moments, you think about what to do. But with each passing second, it felt like the palace was getting more and more suffocating, more and more intent on trying to constrict you. You finalized with the thought that it'd be better to push your luck instead of staying here, with these walls that wanted to cage you in.

As you grasped the uncomfortably warm door handle, you wondered where he was... Was he behind you, watching every action? You turned to check. Nothing. Could he be studying at the library? Still asleep in his bedroom? It's possible he was in some new room in the palace you didn't even know about yet. You almost expected him to lunge at you the moment you were to open this door.

You decide you'd be as good as a prisoner forever if you were to ignore this chance, so you turn the knob, and push the wooden door open.

The flood of sunlight makes your eyes sting, but you can't help but smile. It's warm, you can smell wet dirt, and it feels like you're home again. It's been such a long time.

You blink the ache away, and as your vision clears and settles, you can make out a large, swath of green under a clear, blue sky. A large tree stands out dramatically against the otherwise plain field, and beneath it, laying on the lush carpet of greenery, was him.

You can see the grass once more. The wind is howling in your ears.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

hey! this is a series i decided to start which is based off of a dream i had, which was basically howl's moving castle, but in a slavic setting and he's creepy LOL. the way this will work is, i'll post a painting with a short piece of writing underneath, and with each post (however, not in chronological order, so it's up to you guys to put it together, hoho..), more and more of the story between you and him will be unraveled!

this first part was pretty tame, but for reference to future parts, he is a yandere, so heed all the warnings associated with that LMAO. i wanted to start posting more original work (though i feel like i should state that this is very heavily based off of hmc, so you could see this as an au i guess LOL), and just try to find people who like the stuff that i myself create.

updates will be inconsistent, so fan speculation is encouraged to fill in the gaps LMAO. anyways, i hope you guys will like this!!

[call-sign-shark]

In the Heat of the Night || Modern!Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: As if blazing summer nights weren’t already annoying enough, you’re here to make Arthur’s insomnia even worse… 

He's a former soldier and a drug addict trying to get better. You are an unhinged punk girl living in the streets. You weren't supposed to meet... And now Arthur's fate and yours are forever entangled. Check the Masterlist here if you wanna read more about AU Loose Cannon, Or how a blue-haired rebel wrecked a soldier’s life and stole his heart.

Words: 2.8K

TW: Quick allusions to sexual abuse

Notes: Each part is individual and can be read as one-shots in no particular order.

A growl reached your lips as you rolled on your side, for the sensation of the sofa’s leather sticking to your sweat-covered skin was deeply irritating. Prior to coming to this country, you had been told that summers in the United Kingdom were usually not that warm. Somehow, you believed in the ever-lasting cliché of the UK always being under clouds and rain. Yet,  here you were, soaked up despite wearing nothing but your underwear. No matter how the windows were open and how many times you gulped cold water like some kind of thirsty girl lost in the Sahara desert, the hot air still felt thick and suffocating. 

You’ve been trying to fall asleep for hours now, but the temperature was preventing you from doing so and nothing seemed to work to overcome it. Besides, the huge malinois that was literally sleeping on you did not help in cooling down. When Arthur offered to take you home he had warned you about sharing the sofa with his dog, Hannibal, so you were more or less expecting him to sleep somewhere at the end of the couch,  What you did not expect though was that the dog would use you like some kind of pillow. Bringing your hands to your face, fingers clenched on your own skin, you kept yourself from screaming in frustration.  Moreover, the maddening sound of the living room clock was seriously rattling your nerves. No — it was definitely too much to handle. Gently dragging yourself from under the malinois without waking him up, you decided to walk to the bathroom to sprinkle cold water all over your neck and arms in the hope it would cool you down. You discreetly made your way through the corridor, your bare feet ghosting the floor as you moved in darkness like a swift shadow. Suddenly, an odd sound caught your attention and made you stop. It was coming from Arthur’s bedroom, whose door had been left ajar.  Even if curiosity killed the cat, you could not help but slipped your blue-haired head into his bedroom to check what was the cause of this mysterious background noise.  Suddenly your eyes widened, for you witnessed something you hope you’d have never witnessed.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

Your voice roared so loudly in the room that Arthur sat up straight on the mattress in one movement, panic visible on his face and right hand ready to reach for his gun. The soldier’s piercing blue eyes had to scan you for a little while before his traumatized mind understood you were not an enemy coming to kill him, “Here we go…” Arthur’s shoulders relaxed. “What’s the matter now?! Can’t even sleep at night!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You screamed right away, storming into the bedroom. You were so infuriated that your skin heated up even more but you could not care less: what you had just seen deserved some immediate explanations, “You had a fan the whole time and you did not even tell me,” You said with the most outraged tone you could do, “Worst, you kept it for yourself and left me to die in the living room! You’re one fucking selfish motherfucker!” 

“Oi! Do I look like fookin’ Mother Theresa?! I  gave you a roof over your head and food on your plate! Can’t you survive without a fan? Now get yer ass out of my room, you damn crazy bitch!” He surprisingly yelled louder than you, his husky voice making the whole house shake. Still, you did not follow his order. When he saw that you weren’t moving, Arthur grabbed a pillow and threw it at your face with a perfect sniper aim, “And don’t you enter the room without knocking! Could have been jerking off and seeing your stupid face at that moment would have been a real turn-off!” The soldier grunted, just wanting to go back to sleep.

“The fuck did you just do? Are you crazy? You wanna die?” Your voice had become suddenly quieter when you emphasized each word of your sentence, right after that awful affront. In truth, you did not let him have the time to answer your question nor to insult you for you jumped on the bed as quickly as a jungle cat and immediately start to mercilessly beat him with another pillow, “THE FUCK DID YOU DO??” You repeated, giving in to your destructive rage — well, not that really destructive considering that your weapon was a soft and squishy pillow but still you did try to look convincing.

“FOOK!” Arthur’s hoarse voice exclaimed, more irritated than anything, “Stop it! Stop hitting me or you’ll regret it!” He tried to warn you but it had no effect — you were still trying to murder him through a great deal of pillow smacks. Little you know, handling your small and little body was something he could do with closed eyes. After all, he had beaten the shit out of a trained elite soldier, so a little psychotic Smurfette won’t impress him. But you were blinded by your rage, hence you did not take into account the fact he was part of the elite forces of Special Air Service. Nor did you notice the smooth way he positioned himself to, all of sudden, turn you around and overpower you without the slightest effort.  A little scream escaped from your lips as he dominated you. When you realized what had just happened it was already too late: you were firmly pinned to the bed, Arthur’s hands holding your wrists above your head and his body weight keeping you still, “What are ye gonna do now eh, little one?” He snarled, teeth bared and fury blazing in his sharp blue eyes. Now you were fucked. Your enraged pout suddenly turned into a shocked expression.

“Let me go!! Let me go!!” You screeched, wriggling like a snake under him to set yourself free but you knew it was vein.

Arthur’s lips stretched in a sadistic smile as he saw you struggling under his grip, “Did not expect you to be that weak eh?” He taunted, enjoying the moment and having fun now that the table had turned. Maybe it was time to teach you a little lesson? He brought his face closer to yours, his cold eyes diving into your irises and his scorching breath fanning over your face, “You know I could do everything I want with you now that you’re trapped in me bed? I could snatch your throat with my bare teeth… What do ye think, me cute little prey?” 

“Arthur, let me go!” The beating of your heart was now chaotic. It pounded so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage. You started to quiver, feeling trapped. After all, you were so tiny compared to him…

“Want me to eat you alive?”  He purred in your ear, grinning like a hungry wolf. His husky voice sent tremors down your spine.  

And suddenly, it was not anger that was burning in your eyes anymore… It was terror. Genuine terror that coursed through your veins and petrified your whole body, just like a doe in front of a car’s headlights. You felt his bruising grip painfully tightening around your wrists.

 “Please… Stop…” You managed to beg, despite the almost choking lump in your throat.  It was all it took for Arthur to grasp the desperate tone of your voice and stop teasing you the moment he understood he had taken it too far.

“Shit!” He cursed, freeing your wrists and moving from the top of you to sit on the bed, “I’m fookin’ sorry, stinky rat. I was just playin’ ye know?” Slightly panicked at the sight of tears in your eyes, Arthur gently pressed his hand on your shoulder and helped you sit next to him. Still, you remained silent, requiring a little while to calm the creeping anxiety that had started to draw you into a pit filled with venomous bad memories. “I was just playing, really. I would never hurt ye…” Arthur’s gravel voice broke the silence, coated with the softest tone you had ever heard. Now he was starting to get really worried — he would have preferred  you to curse at  him, scream or even kick him rather than face your freezing silence, “Please, don’t be scared of me.” Something broke in his voice. Arthur wanted so hard to hug you but he didn’t want to scare you more, “I would never …”

“I know.” You cut him. Gently coming back to your senses, you looked at him and soon notice the gleam of fear that was glowing in his steel irises. A little sigh escaped from your still quivering lips,  “Tsss calm down, I wasn’t scared. I was just messing with you, fucker.” You mumbled, hoping he would believe it because, on the one hand, you did not want him to feel bad, and on the other hand you hated to display any sign of witness in front of someone. Especially a man. But unfortunately for you, Arthur was more than attentive to little details. And the way you had looked at him had betrayed your true emotions. Nevertheless, he did not want to hurt you more so he did not make any comment about it and just kept observing you to ensure you were feeling better, “Maybe you can do something to apologize like… I don’t know, giving me the fan?”

“Get fucked.” He straight off replied. As well as he wanted to make amend for the little fright he had just given you, giving up on the fan was out of question. Moreover, Arthur always tended to have a high body temperature, which rendered summer nights even more insufferable. 

“OH COME ON! Gimme the fan now!” You insisted.

“My ass yeah, you ain’t taking the fan out of me bedroom or I swear to God I’ll handcuff you to the radiator.” He threatened you, definitely breaking the brief moment of softness between the two of you. The fan was the house’s treasure and he wasn’t willing to let it go for the life of his.

“Fine, you’ve left me no choice.” You concluded. To be true you did not want to use this solution but you really had no other options left. Hereby,  you lay down on the bed and closed your eyes under Arthur’s confused gaze. Perplexed by such a weird move, he scratched his chin wondering what the hell you were doing.

“Eh?” He asked.

“I’ll sleep here then.” 

“What?!” Arthur almost choked at such unexpected news, “No yer not. Absolutely fookin no.” 

Confronted by the refusal, you raised your gaze toward him and bit your lower lip, crocodile tears suddenly filling your beautiful eyes like you had learned when cops sometimes caught you in the midst of a little mischief, “First you keep the fan. Then you hurt me. What did I do to deserve all of this? Do you really hate me that much, Arthur Shelby?” You lamented with the most heartbreaking pout he had ever seen in his entire life… And that was how guilt started to kick in. It was true he had scared you so, maybe, maybe, he could accept your request? Besides, he could not resist your puppy eyes.

“Fine! Just for tonight.” He said, defeated.

“YES!” You joyfully exclaimed in an almost frightening mood swing. You rolled on your other side to turn your back to him and closed your eyelids. All you heard was Arthur’s long sigh. At least you were shutting your mouth and he could go back to sleep without giving up on the fan.

Silence had fallen in the bedroom for a while when Arthur woke up soaked up in his sweat and almost suffocating from the heat. He sat on the mattress, slicking his hair back, and understood the reason why the room was suddenly so hot: you had moved the fan during his sleep in a way that all the fresh air blew in your direction. Rolling his eyes, he fixed the situation by moving it to his side, “Better,” He grunted. He lay back on the bed. The thing was that the soldier had barely closed his eyes when he heard you moving the fan again.

“Are you bloody serious?” The gravel in Arthur voice made you jump, for you did not expect him to be awake, “If you move that bloody fan one more time...” He left his sentence hanging for more dramatic effect.

“But you’ve got all the fresh air!” You exclaimed, your tone adorably hoarser with sleep.

“Sounds like your problem.”

“Arthur, the fan’s small. I can’t feel the fucking air because you take everything.”

Another loud sigh. At first, he wanted to retort something but he was definitely not in the mood to argue with you anymore. Plus, he knew you would not have it. If he wanted to have some peace, Arthur needed a find a good idea right now — And he did find one, “You’ll be the death of me... ” He simply said. You were about to ask him what he meant by that when, all of sudden, Arthur’s long arms wrapped around your body and pulled you against him in a way you could both enjoy the fan’s fresh air. 

Your beings snapped together and your blood immediately boiled in your veins as his hips crashed against your bum, perfectly hugging your shape. An uncontrollable and feverish exhale escaped from your mouth at the sudden sensations as if someone had just lit a fire in your core.  Your thoughts started to bump into each other in your skull — should you punch him or should you sink deeper in this sweet, oh-so-sweet, and comfortable embrace?  You stopped breathing, focusing on every little sensation.

His chest against your naked back.

His breath caressing your neck.

His legs entangled with yours…

In less than five seconds, your whole body relaxed as if you had always meant to be there. Maybe that was why you instinctively snuggled a bit more against the soldier, whose musky scents and powerful grip made you feel safe. For the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to believe you were shielded from everything… Because contrary to everyone else on this damn planet, you trust Arthur with all your soul. You finally closed your eyelids, soothed by the fresh air and by Arthur’s presence all around you.  Admittedly his skin was warm and you were both covered with a thin layer of sweat, but it was far from unpleasant. Quite the contrary, you low-key wished to stay in his arms forever and surprised yourself by thinking you wouldn’t be angry if he touched you a little more… But you’d rather die than confess it.

“And I don’t hate ye.”  He whispered.

“Yeah. I guess I don’t either… But I prolly will if you tell anyone I’m the little spoon.” 

He could not help but chuckle, “Alright, love.” The way he called you “love” made you feel fuzzy, “But yer definitely a cute little spoon.”

“Oh shut up, Arthur.”

No words were spoken after that because words weren’t needed anymore. Arthur buried his nose in your wild blue hair and enjoyed the peculiar fragrances of your sweet perfume, fragrances that were almost getting him high… It struck him all of a sudden: he did not feel the need to snort coke anymore tonight.

It did not take long for you to fall asleep, all comfy and safe in the soldier's arms. In truth, you had not been scared of Arthur but rather of the man you had seen instead of him when he had been pinning you to the bed:  Jack Nelson.

But if you slept well, it had not been Arthur’s case despite the fresh air of the fan and the comforting silence of his bedroom. And for once, it was not his PTSD nor the thought of Linda or his drug cravings that kept him awake: it was you. Only you. The sensations brought by your two bodies perfectly interlocking together drove him to the edge of madness, for far too many sensations stimulated him. The frictions caused by your slightest movement stirred surges of electricity through his core and made his blood boil in his veins. Also, what about that lovely face you had when you were sleeping? Arthur sighed in your neck, causing you to shiver in your sleep. He was well aware that tomorrow morning you’ll both start to fight again, insulting each other and fighting over trivial things, but in the meantime he just wanted you to wake up and, by an unexplained miracle, kiss him with passion, then pull him under the bedsheet for a more intimate way of knowing each other.  He swallowed the knot in his throat, trying to get the image of his hands exploring your gorgeous body out of his mind. Yeah, he just wanted you to love each other until the sun rose.  But you didn’t wake up and that was fine with him, for he was already glad to have you in his arms, all quiet and peaceful, despite the torture it was. 

Just one night, he told himself. He had to keep it together just for one night and then, you’ll be back on the sofa. 

Won't you?

♠️ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

♠️ Tag list: @cljordan-imperium @1nterstellarcha0s @raincoffeeandfandoms @babaohhhriley

[inkfamy]

So if we're going to be talking about hot weather in the UK again, I have a story of USAmericans Also Being Unable To Tolerate Hot Temps In The UK.

I worked in a hotel, and it was summer and probably somewhere ~20°C, gross and hot and sticky and as soon as you moved you were sweaty and cranky. We had a family from Texas coming to stay in one of our apartments.

As soon as the family arrived, I could see they were hot and bothered (literally) from travelling from the airport (our public transport also doesn't have very good air con), they were flushed and carrying big suitcases and told me they were surprised at how warm it felt because they were used to summers in Texas.

I took them to their apartment and started showing them around and helping to bring in the bags, and I think they had a moment of mild horror when they stepped over the threshold and realised the temperature inside was almost the same as outside. They asked me how to work the aircon and I apologetically explained that we didn't have air con and tried to reassure them that opening some windows to get some air movement would help a lot. They honestly kind of freaked out about the no aircon situation, and were really quite flurried opening windows and being a bit worried about how hot and uncomfortable they were. At one point one person triumphantly pointed to a panel on the wall and said to me "it DOES have air con!" and I had to gently explain that it was a central heating panel and how that worked.

(A quick note, they were not at all rude and I completely understand their worry about not having air con in the heat. This post is not to make fun of them)

Seeing they were very stressed and hot I offered to bring them a fan. They asked for a fan for each room and I told them that we only had 3 entire fans in the whole hotel which were meant for staff rather than guests, and that I would be giving then the one from reception. They were quite taken aback but grateful. I brought them the fan and softly encouraged them to ensure all the doors in the apartment were open, windows at each end were open, and to sit down in the room with the fan and drink some cool water.

Thankfully they felt better! But they told me several times through their stay that they couldn't believe what the heat was like, given that they were used to (and normally able to cope with) much higher temperatures at home.

But my point is! it's always looked on as a bit silly that the UK can't cope with 26°C but the thing is that the UK really can't cope with temperatures like that, it's the humidity and the buildings and the lack of infrastructure for heat and that people don't know how to safely navigate hot temps (most people here will see the sun and go to a beer garden to drink for as long as possible) and did I mention it's really really humid. Those poor Texans ^ aren't an outlier either, I consistently hear the same surprise at how hot <30°C feels to people well used to temperatures that hot and higher.

The unusually high temps we're seeing across the world are concerning everywhere, even if some places have comparatively "low" temperatures that are normal elsewhere.

[switchspencer]

good evening yes i will would you like to discuss middle of the night “it’s raining outside and i got lonely” sex with spencer?

okay YES because middle of the night sex is sex with IMMACULATE VIBES and ESPECIALLY if it’s raining this is literally the most elite combination of things??

this went a little bit far and there’s actually two sort of blurbs under here.... yikes

word count: 1.5k (the first blurb is 500 words and the other is 1k)

ship: afab! reader x spencer reid

warnings: a storm, penetrative sex, implied creampie, neck kissing, sleepy sex, i think that’s pretty much it!!

i imagine it in one of two ways:

if you’re dating, he’s cuddled up to you. being the big spoon, pressed against your back, his crotch against your ass, his face nestled into the crook of your neck.

he whispers, “are you awake?” his voice is raspy and low, thick with sleep even though he hasn’t been successfully in drifting off yet, and so quiet you can barely even hear it over the pitter patter sounds of the rain at the window. you nod, barely visible in the dim lighting, but he feels it.

his fingers move from where they’re interlocked with yours, skimming over the exposed skin at your waist where your pyjama top has ridden up.

you use your right knee to shift yourself, pushing your body further into his, properly facing him. he doesn’t say anything. neither do you. but your eyes meet, and you can just about make out the outline of his nose as he leans in to kiss you. soft. his fingers following the trail upwards to your nipple, and rolling the left one between his thumb and forefinger. you lift your hips upwards, and feel him grin against your mouth. your hand comes to rest at the nape of his neck, using the hair there as leverage.

his crotch meets yours. he’s hard, really hard, and you gasp. he revels in the noise, it only spurs him to kiss you harder, wiggling his hips to make quick work of his pyjama pants. clumsily, with the hand that isn’t in his hair, you do the same with your own.

surprisingly (or, perhaps, unsurprisingly) you’re wet already. who could really blame you, your incredibly hot boyfriend is so insatiable for you that he’s forgoing precious hours of sleep.

neither of you strip all the way off. he slips inside of you. it’s almost unceremonious, like you’re just meant to slot together like that, nothing out of the ordinary happening. and in a way, it isn’t, you’ve had sex plenty of times. but there’s something different about this time. the way his mouth devours you, the way every move feels measured and thought out.

there’s no loud moans. no cries of each others names. there’s a veil of peace and content shrouding you that neither of you wants to pierce. it’s all quiet gasps, swallowed by his mouth or breathed into his neck while you adorn it with kisses. not harsh ones that will leave marks, just light ones. a small trail down to his collarbone before he captures your lips with his again. his breathing increasing in tandem with your own as he thrusts, your hand threading through the one resting next to your head. the other pulling desperately at his back. to hold him closer to you.

his thumb rubbing over your clit as he slips in and out of you. your head tipping back, biting back a moan as your releases find each other. the pitter patter of the rain never intruding on the moment. just serving as a peaceful backdrop as you lose yourselves in one another.

-

OR version two: you’re on a case together and he can’t sleep. he hears you leave your room, so he pokes his head around his door. you’d gone to the vending machine at the end of the hall to get a snack.

you almost jump out of your skin when you turn around and see him, tousled bed hair, head peaking around the frame of his bedroom door.

“oh,” he breathes, a mock whisper, “sorry i didn’t mean to frighten you. i just wondered who was walking around.”

“just me,” you reply sheepishly, briskly walking the four steps down the hallway to meet him so that your voices don’t draw out the rest of your team on the floor, “sorry, did i wake you?”

he shakes his head, “no. no i was already awake.”

“you can’t sleep either?”

“no.”

“do you want to come and sit with me?”

he tips his head, considering it for a moment. it really isn’t that big a deal, you’ve hung out on plenty of occasions. even shared a bed once, although that time every single breath he’d breathed had caught in his throat whenever you came within an inch of him, his heart leaping out of his chest.

“you don’t have to,” you follow up, and watch his eyes widen, “you just could if you want to. i know it’s no fun being awake alone.”

he presses his lips together thoughtfully, “um, if it’s not too much bother. i wouldn’t want to impose.”

“i invited you,” you say, turning around and using the key card to open your bedroom door, “come in.”

he follows you into the room. there’s a double bed, and your lamp has been left on. you’d had it off when you were trying to sleep, but the storm outside is pretty bad. as if to illustrate your point, there’s a loud rumble, and you’re so startled you almost jump, your hand flying to your chest.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” you laugh.

“there’s a storm coming in from the east,” he informs you, walking in and hovering awkwardly by your bed.

“sit down,” you instruct, “make yourself comfortable.”

you clamber onto the bed yourself. the curtains are shut, but you don’t miss the flash of the lightning that comes two beats after the thunder.

“did you know it takes the sound of thunder approximately 5 seconds to travel one mile?”

“i didn’t,” you reply, crossing your legs, “is it true that you can guess when the lightning will strike based on the thunder sound? i remember hearing about that as a child but i didn’t know if it was true.”

he doesn’t reply for a second. mostly because your pyjama shorts rode up when you crossed your legs, exposing a sizeable amount of skin that he hadn’t been privy to seeing before. he swallows, and your eyes fall down to where his gaze is sat, approximately a milisecond before he tears it away.

the tips of his ears turning pink, his voice cracks on the first syllable, “y-yes, that is actually true.”

“huh,” you nod, “do you want to look at the lightning?”

“w-what?”

right on cue, there’s another rumble. it lasts one, two, three, four, five seconds.

you pull back the curtains, wiggling forward. he follows your lead. the window is only small so you end up pressed against one another as you look at it. all darkness, the window pane smeared with rain that’s beaten down against it. his body is warm, and your heart hammers in your chest at the sensation of your shoulders pressed together. you swear his knees shake before he settles down more properly, sitting on the balls of his feet.

flash. the lightning lasts all of five seconds, but you’re not looking at it after maybe three. instead, you’re looking at him, the last fragments of it reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

“do you like storms?”

“i’m not the biggest fan,” he admits.

you’re staring right at him. you see his adam’s apple bob. it does twice before he caves and looks at you. in the lamplight, you can see his pupils dilate, the honey absorbed right before your eyes. there’s a static in the air that the storm can’t be blamed for.

neither of you move. a game of almost chicken. you don’t want to be the one to make the first move incase it’s something he doesn’t want, something he’s unprepared for. but his gaze drops from your lips and back to your eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip and it’s so obvious that it must be deliberate. it must be deliberate because he’s a profiler and he knows better, knows what those kind of non-verbal cues suggest. so when you tilt your head, the faintest bit, and his follows in the same direction you know what’s happening.

there’s a warmth in the air between your lips, searing hot, and your heart thrums with nerves. your nerves couldn’t possibly be quelled, it’s too much, but your knees can’t quite adjust to the movement of your weight and you tip forward, hand resting on his shoulder. if he wanted to stop you, if he didn’t want to do this, now would be an opportune time to stop you but he doesn’t. he stares at you, imploring you to come closer, pursing his lips.

he’s a blur. you’re so close to his face that the features can’t be made out anymore and it’s him, it’s spencer, the one who finally closes the gap and kisses you.

really kisses you. it starts off slow. gentle. tentative. the heat radiates off his hand but he doesn’t bring it to your waist until you lean in to deepen the kiss. and then he holds you.

it moves so far so fast. the kissing is hurried, enthusiastic, as if now you’ve started you can’t quite fathom how you’d go about stopping. shedding clothes, thrown behind you in your haste. the rumble of thunder is the soundtrack as you pepper kisses all down his body, sucking marks that will purple right above his hipbone. pressing him back against the headboard. when he looks up at you, glasses slipping down his nose, he’s no longer the picture of innocence.

it happens so fast you’re not sure how you get there but what you do know is you’re on top of him, riding him, both so fucking loud that you’re not sure even the sounds of the storm can drown you out.

LINK TO JOIN TAGSLIST (for this blog and @reidyoulikeabook )

NSFW Spencer tagslist: @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @holding-on-to-my-youth @spencerreidat3am @muffin-cup @ssareidbby @reidyourmind @lumosemily @reidaissance @hauntedinsomnia @averyhotchner @sunkissglow @reidsacademia @gingertea6460 @opheli-yeah @meganskane @idonotexiste @thosecriminalminds

[hajimesh]

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡 — pro! oikawa / fem reader

after visiting oikawa's family, you both spend a relaxing weekend at an exclusive onsen—enjoying the warm bodies of water. but what starts as playful banter, turns into him reminding you why you love him and no one else.

⥅ word c. 2,273

⥅ warnings. brat/sub reader, brat tamer oikawa, intercrural + semi-public + water sex, degradation (mild), dumbification, daddy kink, pet names, aftercare

⥅ author n. my piece for the @bbthots-underground nsfw mini collab !! thank u @tsumue for literally giving me a plot to work with, u saved me<33 and @chibi-chanforever + @crescentsteel for taking the time to beta read ♡

dense layers of white snow coat the wooden rooftops, the sunlight reflecting on them which brightens your surroundings. you can’t help but marvel at the blinding sight before you, a breathtaking scene worthy of the title ‘winter wonderland’.

oikawa did warn you about how winters in japan are cold, but you weren’t expecting it to be this cold. thankfully, the warmth of the onsen wraps around you like a comforting blanket as you bask in its water. it’s in moments like these when you’re thankful for your boyfriend’s remarkable career and popularity, allowing you to enjoy most of the luxuries that are handed out to him on a silver platter.

a well-known onsen in the prefecture of iwate offered him a weekend getaway for two, and after spending the holidays with his family, the two of you agreed that you deserved a few days just for yourselves; to relax and enjoy each other’s company before he got busy again with his volleyball duties. the place is almost empty since you got snowed in after your first day, which stopped the usual flow of tourists, and save for the staff —who have been nothing but attentive to your needs and very respectful of your privacy— you and oikawa have the place all for yourselves.

your favorite part has to be the private rooms: spacey, indoor baths framed by glass windows that allow you to gaze at the dazzling white snow from your spot inside the water—the warm water soaking your skin and seeping through your pores, as it relaxes your tense muscles.

oikawa’s arms are wrapped around your waist, pressing his chest to your side and hiding his flushed face in your neck. his usually fluffy hair lies flat against his forehead thanks to the humidity in the air, and before you can think twice about it, your hand pushes it back—away from his handsome face. 

“this is nice, isn’t it?” he murmurs on the skin of your shoulder, placing a faint kiss on it.

you hum as your eyes switch from the falling snowflakes to his form, “i missed spending time just with you.”

a comfortable silence settles between the both of you, his breath fanning over your neck while your head rests on top of his.

“my family loves you,” he breaks the silence after a few minutes, “i think even more than they love me.”

you recall the way his family teased him, —all in good fun, of course— telling you that you still had time to escape and find someone better. so, after noticing the way he huffed out the words, it’s only natural you decide to play along with it. 

“and i love them more than i love you.”

his hold on you tightens, a low chuckle escapes his lips, making the hair on your body rise.

“we both know you don’t mean that,” his lips trace the sensitive skin of your neck, reaching your jaw and pressing a light kiss on it, “right, love?”

“mm, i don’t know. maybe i do.”

you feel his arms growing limp against you, a rush of coldness grazes your side as he moves away from your body. you’re about to complain when his hands grab you by your waist and turn you around so you can face him.

“say that again,” he challenges.

his usually relaxed face is gone, a stern look taking its place instead. but the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips spurs you on all the more.

“i love your family more than i love you,” you say, and lift your chin in defiance, watching his eyes fire up at your reply.

before you can even imagine what’s going on through his mind, an involuntary shiver runs down your spine when his hands move upwards, his fingers grazing the skin of your breasts. 

“no, you don’t,” he states, his face leaning closer to yours, “and i’m going to tell you why since it seems like your dumb little brain is getting fogged up by the vapor.”

your breath hitches at his words, excitement running through your body as he looms above you.

“feel this?” he asks rhetorically, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles on your nipples, “i don’t even have to touch your pussy to get you aroused. or am i wrong?”

you’re so lost in his eyes, the lustful look in them taking your breath away plus the sensation of his fingers tweaking your erect nipples, that you’re unable to think of a coherent answer.

he chuckles, releasing one of your nubs to caress your damp hair away from your face, “can’t even talk right now, huh? where did my brat go?”

your lips part, about to defend yourself, when he captures them with his. the kiss is messy, wet, his tongue immediately prodding between your lips in search of yours. a weak sigh leaves your mouth, his hand settling on the back of your head to keep you in place —to ensure your lips stay locked with his— while the other travels down your body until it reaches your throbbing clit.

he swallows down your squeal of surprise when his pointer and middle finger start massaging your clit in slow circles. if you had to describe his ministrations on you, you’d label them as thrilling and erotic; clouding even more your already hazy mind.

with a gentle bite on your lower lip, he finally pulls away from your mouth. but he’s still close enough for your breaths to overlap one another. you involuntarily buck your hips against his fingers, wanting —needing— more of his touch.

“patience, baby. i haven’t finished my explanation yet.”

oikawa takes a seat on one of the steps, the water reaching just below his waist, and proceeds to pull you between his legs. you try to sit down but he keeps your hips up, accommodating his erection between your thighs, so you place your hands on top of his to steady yourself.

“here’s another reason why you love me: no one pleases you like i do,” he accentuates his statement by thrusting up, cursing under his breath when your soft skin rubs against his length, “just as no one else can make me this hard, only you. is that what you wanted to hear?”

“tooru,” his name leaves your lips in a breathless way, your foggy mind filling with lewd images of him.

you can imagine his parted lips and the way his brown irises focus on you through half-lidded eyes, following every single one of your movements.

“yes, baby?” he coos and all you can do is whine. a twinge of tenderness swirls on his chest at how obvious it is that you’re enjoying it, “use your big girl words, sweetheart. i know this might be too much for you, but i need you to tell me how you feel.”

the head of his cock rubs between your thighs, grazing your slit slightly and providing you with a smidge of the pleasure you’re longing for.

“g-good, feels... so good.”

he stills for a moment, observing you closely while his hands cup your breasts, “now, can you tell me who do you love the most? or do i need to keep reminding you?”

before you can think of an answer, his thrusts suddenly pick up making your ass smack against his thighs as his fingers play with the soft flesh of your chest.

“tooru, i–”

the words die on your tongue at the sudden stimulation, your head rolling back and whimpering when his fingers give a harsh pinch to your hardened nipples.

“my dumb little baby, becoming stupid as soon as i play with your body,” he breathes out the words on the back of your neck, struggling to maintain his composure. your eyes cross at a particular thrust, at the same time his chest vibrates with his deep laugh, “that’s another reason why you love me. only i can get you to lose all coherent thoughts, making you my dumb little cumslut.”

a groan leaves your lips at the name, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you and filling your pussy with his thick cum.

“you crave it, always needy and wanting my cock inside your cunt,” he kisses your back, bending on top of you so he can hold you closer.

“i-i need you, please,” you turn your head to the side and your eyes meet his, “please, daddy.”

he stops as soon as the name rolls out of your tongue, a shiver running down his spine and making his cock throb between your thighs. he loves having you at his mercy, to see his cock-hungry baby begging for him.  

“what is it that you want, princess?”

“daddy’s cock,” your pouty lips look so enticing to him that he has to stop himself from shoving his length inside your mouth, “i n-need it so bad.”

“alright, since you’re finally starting to use your words.”

he releases his hold on you and makes you face him, climbing on his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist as the flushed tip of his cock grazes your folds.

“we can’t be too loud, okay?” he slowly eases himself inside of you, and a moan threatens to escape your mouth at the delicious stretch, “don’t want anyone to hear how gorgeous my princess sounds as she gets fucked. only i get to hear it,” he growls in your ear.

your jaw falls open, your eyes closing in pleasure when he finally bottoms out “ohh, daddy. s-so big.”

he hisses at the way your walls flutter around him. he lifts you up from his lap, leaving just the head of his cock inside, only to ram it back into you; and this time you can’t contain the moan that slips past your lips, slightly echoing in the room.

your eyes widen when you realize what you just did, looking into his stern gaze and knowing you’ve successfully pissed him off.

“what did i tell you?” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and thrusting up, groaning in your ear, “you’re such a slut, wanting to let everyone know you’re getting off on my cock.”

his pace quickens, the feel of your pussy squeezing his cock prompting him to bite down on your shoulder, which earns him a cry of pain from you. he pulls you away from him, holding your jaw in a bruising grip as he looks straight into your eyes.

“i told you to be quiet, didn’t i?” he hisses, his brows furrowing and his harsh gaze making you clench around him, “look at you, a dumb bitch so cock-hungry that can’t even follow one simple order.”

your mouth opens in a silent scream when his cock hits your cervix, “d-daddy, ‘m so so sorry! i promise i’ll be good–”

“then shut up already.”

you try to stay quiet as he keeps reaching the right spots, the pleasure too overwhelming that you end up falling limp against him. his arms circle your waist and hold you close to his chest, thrusting up into your hole and making the water slosh around you. 

you’re thankful the staff gave you privacy, otherwise they’d be getting one hell of a show.

after maintaining the same pace for a couple of minutes, he slows down and allows himself to relax, resting his back on the stone and watching you bounce on top of him, the current position causing his pubic bone to brush against your clit.

you can’t help but dig your nails on the skin of his arms, whimpering when you realize your release is approaching alarmingly fast. you don’t have time to warn him of your impending orgasm before warmth fills your belly and extends through the rest of your body.

“shit— princess, hold still,” he groans as he watches you writhe on top of him, your walls fluttering around his girth and sending him towards his high as well.

warm spurts of cum fill your cunt, his hips jerking a few more times before he finally stills with his cock still buried inside of you. your pussy throbs around him, spasming and prolonging both of your highs. once you’ve both calmed down, he brushes your hair away from your face, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose and then capturing your lips in a delicate kiss. 

his large hands cradle your face once you break apart, his thumbs rubbing the skin of your cheeks comfortingly, “are you good, princess?” he coos, lifting your face so he can see you properly.

“just tired, wanna take a nap.”

he envelops you in a hug and lifts you up from his lap, a faint whimper escaping your mouth as he removes himself from your tender walls. he pulls you out of the water and immediately covers you with a towel, kissing your forehead before fetching one for himself. once you’re both fully covered in your bathrobes, he grabs your hand and starts making his way to your room with you right behind him, looking back at you every few seconds and noticing your eyelids getting droopy.

“let’s take a nap, baby. you did so good,” he guides you to the bed once you’re in the privacy of your room. he settles himself right next to you, squeezing you between his arms as tiredness takes over you.

it’s not until you’re finally asleep when he hears you mumble the words he had teased you with, making his heart swell in delight...

...and relieved to know you love him as much as he loves you.

[ushidoux]

False Intimacy - Oikawa x Reader

Summary: You’re an escort that is quite good at her job but one particular client happens to catch you a bit off guard. (~1.9k words)

Warnings: minors dni, nsfw, fem pronouns, fem!reader, escort!reader, implied dom/sub dynamics, hurt/comfort

A/N: Ngl I was gonna write mean dom oikawa just cuz and then it got ~deep~ i’m sorry lmao

---

It was a colder night than usual in Buenos Aires, or maybe it was just the slight chill that ran up your spine when you remembered your client’s phone call just a couple of hours ago.

Please arrive at 8 pm sharp. I’m not a fan of tardy people~

His voice was honeyed before he cut off the phone abruptly - smooth and sweet as though masking some unpalatable part of his personality you hadn’t quite detected. 

Not that you would put your guard down anyway; most of the men you dealt with, either the extraordinarily rich, terribly famous, or some wretched combination of the two, were in some way dangerous. They all seemed to thrive on the same idea: that they had some power over others, and this could manifest in anything ranging from bratty behavior to a god complex.

But you could deal with these things well, you had been in the business for long enough. Oikawa Tooru was no problem.

He must have watched you arrive because the moment you stepped before his hotel room, taking a moment to adjust your hair and check on your makeup in a compact mirror before knocking, you heard the door swing open.

“You follow directions. Delightful,” he almost whispered, a sly smile on his face, shrouded in dark due to the paucity of light generated from a single lamp in his hotel room.

Had he been waiting, or was it the fact that he knew you wouldn’t disobey him?

You nodded.

“I’m quite compliant when I want to be,” you emphasized, in the sultry voice you reserve for meetings like this.

Oikawa’s smirk grew even wider. Hook, line and sinker. 

With the lack of continuation to your opening banter, you now started to wonder why he wasn’t moving; his frame, larger than you had expected in person, lingered in the doorway, seemingly blocking it and he made no indication of letting you inside. 

This was strange. Usually, it didn’t take long for your clients to undress you and have their way, at the very least a quickie before you actually went out with them, especially if they were having you meet first before the venue. There was a pause where you took a deep breath, trying your best not to look as disconcerted as you felt. What was he doing?

Oikawa was still staring at you, but not in the way your other patrons ogled you as though you were a piece of meat, nothing more than a purchased pussy. He stared at you with greed as though you were the most precious item in a set, and he were preparing to introduce his prized collection to a waiting crowd.

If it were an attempt to fluster you, you had to admit that he was close.

But not quite.

“Shall we advance to our location then?” You asked, sweetly. 

There was something like a snort that he made, derisive and slightly maddening. You raised an eyebrow reflexively, but instead gave him a wide, somewhat vapid smile. 

Good customer service. Men like him love power.

“Oh, are we planning to be fashionably late, Mr. Oikawa?” You said, tapping a finger to your lip and furrowing your eyebrows as though you were trying oh so very hard to think. 

“We’ll get there when we get there,” he replied. To your relief, he did finally lead you into the hotel room, into a wide suite that illuminated upon the clap of his hands, revealing a modern open plan setup with white on white furniture, fully glass windows that gazed onto the city skyline and bossa nova playing quietly from a speaker. You had barely heard the music it since you had been so focused on him.

Knowing that he was not a native of this country, you considered teasing him to re-stabilize power dynamics.

“This is Argentina, not Brazil, you know,” you teased, as you gently set yourself down on the edge of his couch.

He was the one to raise an eyebrow this time, as he circled around the bar island across from the living room.

“I mean about the music,” you said, with a soft laugh. He smiled.

“Of course.”

A pop of a wine bottle opening disrupted the tension between you two even further, and you crossed and uncrossed your legs with mild discomfort while watching him pour two glasses of red wine for the two of you.

“What’s your name again, darling? I have awful manners,” he said. 

You had the impression he was lying, but still you repeated your name for him.

“It’s a beautiful name,” he crooned as he handed you your drink.

---

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d watched him like a hawk as he poured out your glass of wine, you would have thought that he’d drugged you.

But you weren’t exactly drunk - not in the typical sense, but there was an altering of the senses that seemed to overcome you as the night progressed. Between the flashes of the camera as party guests filed in, a particularly lavish dinner, drinks, and a too-short dance where Oikawa literally whisked you off your feet, you were starting to feel less professional and more… needy. 

You guarded your heart well normally, so this was a new feeling for you, the sudden overwhelming need to fulfill your contract in the fullest. 

Quite frankly, by the time you had made it back into his private car, you were absolutely itching to be fucked. It didn’t help that Oikawa had grown comfortable enough over time with you to place the palm of his hand on your bare knee, his fingertips grazing your inner thigh.

He wasn’t looking at you by now, but your eyes were absolutely transfixed on him. He was talking on the phone quietly in an even Japanese, as though you weren’t even there, and by the sound of his soft laughter, his conversation must have been pleasant. 

The little bit of warmth between your legs as his hand suddenly moved up your thigh and then back down could only be called distressing.

---

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Did you or are you? The fact that he was asking this, while kneeling between your legs, slender fingers gripped on both sides of your shaking legs, and licking slow, languid strokes from the opening of your vagina to your clit made it unfair for him to expect you to answer.

His kisses were slow in between questions and through waves of pleasure as his lips pressed against your privates, you managed to eke out a “yes.”

It felt wrong to be feeling like this, inappropriate as though you were using him rather than him using you. As his tongue dipped into your center, you even dared to let out a soft moan, which only encouraged him to plunge in deeper, tightening his hold on you as you threatened to clamp your legs shut.

“Calm down,” he ended up growling suddenly, and your stomach stirred with excitement. A sound so animalistic didn’t sound fitting for a man as elegant and soft-looking as him. In an attempt to mollify the sudden tension he could feel permeating your entire body in anxiety, he whispered, “Don’t worry, you’ll return the favor soon enough. Plus, you taste delicious.”

Your heart fluttered.

Once he’d savored you to his fill, he rose to stand between your legs, inserting those same meticulous fingers into your pussy before leaning over to transfer the taste of your own fluids to your lips.

How can he be so tender to a stranger? You thought briefly, as you melted into his kiss. You were getting carried away, down in dangerous, dangerous territory.

His hands kept working as his tongue teased yours.

Shifting quickly from pussy to the mounds of your breasts, his hands continued to massage your body while your lips remained locked, until he maneuvered himself on top of you. A warm, hard cock laid pressed against your belly and his, igniting more fire between you.

Put it in, put it in, your body seemed to scream, but you knew better than to demand. You’re here to deliver fantasies, not indulge in one, even if Oikawa did not seem to get the memo.

He made your toes curl and your spine curve before flipping you over so that you lay atop of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, looking up at you as sincerely as one does an old lover. It was at this moment that you found yourself leaning forward to initiate the kiss before stopping yourself.

Distance was needed desperately. Remember, this was not a man who loved you.

You broke your demure act (which wasn’t really much of an act anymore) to pull back gently against the weight of his amorous stare, and slid downwards so that you could wrap your lips around his cock instead.

A blowjob is much less intimate, you told yourself. But you didn’t jump quite to that immediately.

Steadying your hand, now trembling almost as much as your heart was (what the hell was going on?), around his readied shaft, you glided your hand back and forth, aided by a few drops of precum leaking from the head and a generous amount of spit. You focused on his well-developed abs, not his eyes that were squeezing shut and the pretty mouth that groaned softly with every movement.

He was entirely too pretty for his, or your own good.

Why not a real partner? You wondered for a moment who you were standing in for. He touched you all too tenderly to be someone who cavorted casually. 

Even as you took him in your mouth, and his fingers made their way into your hair, tugging gently and praising you for how good you worked him up, bobbing your head up and down like the expect you were, you found yourself wondering. 

You took him deep enough to the point that you had to suppress a gag a couple times, and feeling the tightening of his grasp of your locks, you knew you did a good job.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

You considered maybe getting him to finish like this, in your mouth, so that you could go on your merry way and get as far away from this man that was already getting in your head as soon as possible, but he was pushing you off of him gently before you could get far enough. You ended up under him yet again, faster than you could bear.

His cock nudging its way against your folds on its way to your entrance made you shudder, and then he pushed inside you with another groan that was disgustingly beautiful.

Every thrust inside you felt like heaven but twisted; it felt far too self indulgent the way he wrapped his arms around you as his hips rolled against yours. He moaned your name, the name he asked for just hours ago, too familiarly as though he’d known you for a decade. The rhythmic slap of his skin against yours was hypnotic and you almost ascended as his arms raise your legs to dig into you deeper.

It’s too intimate, far from transactional, the explosive way you came around his cock, clawing at his markless back as you writhed around him, riding the wave of your orgasm. He pulled himself into a sitting position as you came, carrying you with him and holding you tightly as he followed shortly after. 

You could feel his cock twitch inside you.

And finally, you swore you could hear the name of the person he truly loved mumbled into the crook of your neck.

In response, you cling to him just a little bit longer.

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Part 2

Not sure if that name is going to stick but it’s what I’ve got for now. Also thank you so much? The reactions I got for part one literally made me want to cry. I’ve never posted my writings because I didn’t think that I would get any kind of response. When we hit 7 notes in the first hour I was beyond ecstatic and I thought that that would be it. But 150 notes later and I couldn’t wait to post part 2. Let me know what y’all think of this. I don’t know if I will get a part 3 out as quickly but I do plan to work on it.  

Click here for full list of other parts. Part 3

Slow burn, no smut in this part but maybe a spicy moment. 

Taglist:  @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac

Word Count: Just over 3 k 

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Dabi had left you alone for long enough to go get food that you had already scoured his entire room, searching for any way to escape. You had learned that even though the window looked like it could open at some point, it had been sealed shut somehow and you didn’t have the strength to open it. Other than the window, there were two doors in the room. One leading to a small bathroom complete with a tub/shower combo, the other being the door that lead out of the room but was unfortunately locked when Dabi left.

As for the room itself, all it held was a queen sized bed, well really it was a mattress on top of a box spring, with holes in the blankets and sheets that looked like burn marks and a singular pillow that looked like he had owned it for years it was so flat. A dresser that was scarce in the amount of clothing it had in it, seemingly like majority of it was dirty in the corner on the floor next to but not in the torn up laundry hamper, almost all of it black or a shade resembling. The black chair that sat in the opposite corner of the bed that again looked like it had seen better days. Oh and a cigarette tray that was filled to the brim and a fan that was perched on top of his dresser pointing towards the bed. That was about it. The walls were bare other than scorch marks and burns here and there, the blinds were dusty, and the wooden floor was cold and scratched like it had been well worn for several years, burn marks from stray cigarettes being put out.

The Omega in you hated it, they wanted to start cleaning and organizing to find warm cozy things to build a comfort nest out of. The rational part of you saw it as what it was, a hideout for a villain. Not a place to get comfy in. Still you couldn’t sit here and wait. It was driving you nuts.

You had just finished picking up the discarded cigarettes on the floor into a nice neat pile on his dresser and was moving towards putting his dirty laundry into the hamper when Dabi returned. Cautiously opening the door to see what you were doing, he slipped in before shutting it and locking it behind him, takeout food in his hands.

“Look at you, being a perfect little housewife.” The smirk that was ever present on his face was bigger than normal and you immediately dropped the t-shirt that you had been staring at, turning and looking at him, your cheeks heating up at being caught.

He glanced at the bloodied shirt on the floor that was covered in soot and burn marks like the rest of his clothes and he shrugged, placing the food down on the counter before turning to you.

“Part of the job babe.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and pulling in on your self again. You couldn’t help the fact that your omega blushed at the nickname. You had never been spoken to like that. Ever. Even given the context you couldn’t help but squirm.

The smell of food made you take a step towards him though. You were starving and looking at what he had brought had your mouth watering. He had two different ramen bowls and a rice bowl to go with it. It looked like heaven. Not to mention a whole bag of other snacks to eat as well. You grabbed a water bottle from the bag, forgetting just how thirsty you were as you quickly drank almost half of the bottle in one swoop, hungrily looking between all the food.

“Take your pick princess, I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.” He gave you space to choose through everything, electing to drop back into his chair on the other side of the room, picking up the shirt you had dropped and tossing it into the hamper like he had just learned a new trick.

You quickly choose your preferred out of the options of ramen, leaving the snack bag alone for later. You might need it. Choosing to sit on the floor, against the bed rather than the bed itself so that you had a sturdy surface to put your food, you internally thanked yourself for picking up all the cigarettes.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look up as you quietly ate the food. It was a couple minutes before he got up and grabbed his own food, choosing instead to sit on the floor next to you than to return to his chair. His legs spread out in front of him, showing you just how long they were, how much bigger than you he was.  Your mouth was watering from not just the food anymore, his scent enveloping you from being this close. You briefly thought that he was probably pumping it out more just to get a reaction from you, but you refused to show it. You weren’t going to play this alpha’s game. You just needed to keep a level head until you could escape. You were just going to ignore him, just enough to stay on his good side, but not to attract further attention from him. You could do that, you had been playing a similar game for years.

“So are you going to tell me your name..? Unless you just want me to keep calling you princess?” You accidentally dropped a rice ball into your ramen, the hot broth splashing onto your hand causing you to flinch at the burn.

Dabi let out a soft hum, setting down his bowl and taking yours away before you could even protest. He took your hand into his own, wiping off the broth gently with a clean napkin that he had gotten from the takeout bag and examining the burn. You couldn’t help but watch him, entranced but how gentle he was being. It was hard to connect the fact that this man, this alpha, was a known murderer. He killed people. He was a known League of Villains member, and yet here you were, letting him kiss your hand like he was a crowned prince in a fairy tale waiting to whisk you away to a better life, his cerulean eyes latched onto your own, a teasing expression.

Your face was redder than it has ever been in your life, yanking your hand away from his grasp, clutching it against your chest like he burned you. What were you thinking? Why was he getting under you skin so easily? Sure, you didn’t have a lot of experience with alphas other than the Todoroki’s, and those that visited the house, but none of them acted like this! You scooted away from the alpha, trying to block the scent of him from your brain, trying to calm down. You weren’t sure why you were so flustered but you needed to breathe to get out of this situation and fast.

“C-can I take a shower?” You weren’t sure why you even asked. Maybe you were scared he wouldn’t let you or that he would try to follow you into the bathroom. But neither fear was necessary as he nodded his head towards the bathroom door, his eyes watching your every movement like a wild cat, a deep chuckle reverberating through the air.

“Do you want me to join you?”

“No thanks!” You jumped up and threw yourself into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, trying to calm yourself. You turned around, locking the bathroom door, hearing the alpha shuffle on the other side of it. He didn’t try the door knob though and you relaxed slightly, turning towards the rest of the bathroom you turned on the shower faucet, hesitating only a minute before stripping out of your soot covered clothes that you are noticing were definitely ruined.

You stepped into the shower, pulling closed the curtain just enough to not get water on the floor but enough that you could see the door still just in case. The only soap in the shower was a cheap alpha brand. You didn’t care at this point though. You just needed to be clean after everything that has happened. Maybe you could pretend it was Shoto or some other alpha that you were going to smell like. Maybe.. just maybe you could pretend it was Touya’s scent.

You huffed at your own stupidity. Why do you always think of him when you’re upset? He can’t just magically save you. He isn’t coming back. You don’t come back from that. You felt yourself slip down into a seated position, pulling your knees to your chest, your eyes going fuzzy as you tried to blink through the tears that suddenly threatened to spill out.

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“Y/N! Touya! Get back here!” You giggled as you heard Fuyumi’s voice ring out behind you, Touya’s bandaged fingers wrapped around your wrist pulling you behind him as he ran, his laughter spilling out. It was a Saturday, Endevor had patrol and instead of working on his training, Touya had decided to steal you away from his younger sister’s grasp.

The two of you had ran all the way through the garden in the back of the house, and hid behind a cluster of cherry blossom trees that were in full bloom. At the time you think you must have been 11 or so, him just a little bit older. He had pulled you down beside him onto the grass and covered your mouth with his hand to hid your giggles, holding a finger up to signal you to be quiet. You could hear Fuyumi run by, calling out your names searching for you both. Grumbling how it wasn’t fair that he took you while you were both playing princesses.

He finally let go of your face, a smile crossing his own as he looked at you’re winded, excited expression. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned over and kissed your cheek, just to see you blush.

“Touya!” You covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks glow red.

“What? Aren’t princes supposed to kiss the princess? Isn’t that the whole point? To bond with a pretty princess?”

“You think I’m pretty?” You couldn’t help but look up into his eyes, they were the prettiest things you had ever seen. The color of turquoise, perfect gem stones.

“I think you’re the prettiest.”  

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“Princess? Are you okay?” You heard a soft knock on the bathroom, barely audible over the sound of the water streaming down onto your body. You realized your scent had gone sour, the sadness creeping in without your permission. You needed to keep a lid on things. You turned off the water, and grabbed what seemed to be a clean towel, wrapping yourself in it, grabbing your dirty and tattered clothes to put them on.

“I put clean clothes outside the door if you want them.” Pausing, you frowned. Clean clothes would be nice. You hated being dirty. You took a deep breath, unlocking the door and waiting a second before opening it just enough to quickly grab the clothes before shutting it again, looking at what was offered.

A pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie, very similar to what he was wearing. Cautiously you took a whiff of the clothes, relaxing when you mostly smelled the laundry detergent over his scent. You didn’t want to be scented by him more than necessary. Just in case Shoto tracked you down. You wanted him to be able to recognize you. Not that this scent proof room would allow it.

You already smelled like the alpha’s soap though, quipped your Omega, and it smelled good.

You slipped the clothes on, ignoring your omega, all of it being way too baggy on you, especially the sweatpants, which you rolled up at the bottom so not to trip. The tie to tighten them around your waist was missing and you were pretty sure you were going to have to hold them up. Frowning at your clothes on the floor, even your bra and panties had been ruined. You didn’t know what to do with them, so you scooped them up in your arms and shuffled out of the bathroom, hugging them lightly.

You heard a low whistle and saw Dabi laying with his back on the bed, messing with a phone he held above him that you assumed was a burner, the mess from your meal was cleaned up and nowhere to be found, save for the bag of snacks that you had left. One of his legs bent and with his foot on the floor, the other up on the mattress.  His eyes had abandoned the screen in front of him and were trained on your swallowed form in his clothes. He couldn’t help but think how good you looked wearing his stuff, and after taking a whiff of the air he appreciated the fact that you smelled somewhat like him now, and not like that Todoroki brat. He made a mental note that you didn’t need your own clothes. You could just wear his all the time. Other than the fact that you looked uncomfortable holding up the sweat pants with one hand.

You fumbled with the bundle of clothes in your arms looking around the room for a place to settle. You wanted to curl up in bed and sleep until this was all over. But he was in the bed..

“Just toss your clothes in with mine, I’ll take care of them later.”

“No.” You were tired, you no longer wanted to deal with this alpha. You just wanted a nap, and a nest made out of your own things.

His eye brows lifted a look of intrigue settling across his expression. He sat up, eyes watching you. “No?”

You squirmed under his gaze, considering retreating to the bathroom where you could at least lock the door and be alone, but the bathroom was so small that if you wanted to lay down you would have to be in the bathtub. Which was already wet. You stood there awkwardly trying to decide which of the two you wanted to deal with more, a flirty psychotic killer, or a wet bathtub nest.

“Come here” Apparently the flirty psychotic killer won that one as before you even noticed it you were standing in front of him, him still sitting on the bed, both his feet on the ground now, legs spread to accommodate you, surrounded in his scent. Something about him had your omega waging her tail practically begging you to do things you would never even consider.

He reached his hand up like he was going to grab your face causing you to flinch, but instead his hand gripped one side of the pull tie for the hoodie, wrapping it around his wrist before yanking it harshly, pulling you forward against him slightly and pulling the tie all the way out of the hood. 

You reached up and pressed your hands onto his shoulders, dropping your bundle of clothes to the floor, to brace yourself, his eyes lighting up with amusement at your reaction. You wanted to pull away, but your omega refused. You were a deer trapped in headlights.  

His lidded eyes stayed on yours as his right hand that was holding the tie, slowly drifted down your body, his left sneaking out and gripping your hip to hold you in place. His right hand finally reached your hip, curving around the front of you, removing the waistband from your grasp causing your face to turn bright red, only for him to slip the end of the tie into the hold of the waistband, slowly sneaking his fingers around your waist, feeding the tie through, until finally it poked out the other hole in the front. He returned his left hand to your hip, his right gripping both ends of the tie, pausing to smirk widely at you, flashing his tongue ring before yanking harshly, pulling the waistband tight around your waist and effectively pulling you flush against him at the hip, nose to nose, your face tilted down just slightly too match eyes with him.

His scent was intoxicating. You were completely enveloped in it, and your omega was begging for him to scent you so it never left. And he was waiting for you to ask him oh so patiently. He could smell what he was doing to you, making him laugh internally that he was going to get his way quicker than he thought. Your omega reasoned that he was a strong and capable alpha. He had been nothing but nice to you since you woke up and he wasn’t forcing himself onto you like most of the alphas you had meet previously. He was being so kind and gentle and he smelled so damn good. Why can’t you just…

Because he’s a murderer? He kidnapped you? You have an Alpha? Oh and he’s a murderer!

You pulled yourself out of his grasp, releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Taking the tie out of his hand, he let the rope slide through his fingers, not making a move to stop you from leaving his presence, knowing that you would be back. You turned away, tying it into a bow snuggly against your waist so that the sweat pants stayed up on their own now. You took several calming deep breathes, trying to get your brain back in order. Not noticing when he reached down and snatched your panties off the floor, stuffing them into his pocket for later.

“Y/N” You barely whispered out. Your omega was still reaching out to him, trying to push you back into his arms. But you wouldn’t listen. Your brain was frazzled and you felt like the world was spinning.

“Hmm?” The soft hum behind you, made you shiver, wondering if he was going to reach out and touch you again. You wanted him to. God you wanted him to. He didn’t though. Just leaned back on the bed, using his hands to prop himself up, enjoying the view of your  backside as the inner turmoil raged in your head.

You snapped yourself out of it, clenching your fists as you crossed the room to the chair in the corner, curling up on it deciding it was as good a place as any to sleep. A soft mumble leaving your lips once more as you pulled the hood up and over your face, covering it completely from his sight other than the tip of your nose peaking out like a little mouse, the red of your blush noticeable from across the room. “My name… it’s Y/N.”  

[supremeinlilac]

Three’s not a crowd, especially when it’s us (3)

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader x Wilhelmina Venable

Word count: 4010

Warnings: Brief insinuation of nsfw activities, language. 

PART ONE | PART 2

The next morning Cordelia had made an offhand comment about going into town. She’d admitted that she needed to find someone. A witch. “I can feel her. She’s close, the feeling is strong, although it seems calmer today, maybe she’s settled slightly. Anyway, I’ll be out today to see if I can track her down.” You felt Wilhemina’s eyes dart toward you across the room. It was subtle, but you caught it.

You imagined how the feeling must have been for Cordelia yesterday, when Wilhemina was angry and possibly scared. You’d tried to push down the lingering feeling of heat in your stomach from when she’d pulled you into the empty room. Needless to say, you’d slept horrible once again, thoughts plaguing your mind and keeping you from fully settling.

You’d had your first lesson with Wilhemina that night, and were blown away by her unwavering attentiveness. Also the fact that she made not one snarky comment or condescending laugh the whole time. You’d like to think it was because she was coming round to the idea of you being an actually half decent person to spend time with. Realistically, and having watch her get lost in the spell book before her, you knew it was more her ability to invest herself in her work, without distractions, such as having to bark out unnecessary comments.

You hadn’t considered however, how teaching Ms Venable magic, would mean she would be using her hands. A lot. And you would have to watch their movements, to make comments and critiques on her technique. This would often leave you flushed and hot under your black attire, tight coil in the pit of your stomach at the thought of were else her slender fingers could go, what they could do.

You’d have to turn away, disguising your embarrassment as a cough or walking to the window to conspicuously check the weather. “But it’s dark outside,” she’d say every time in response to your excuse, lips drawn callously into a smirk. She actually found your shyness to be quite endearing, not that her expression would allow you to conclude.

During a lesson in which you were both practising your telekinesis, since it wasn’t a skill you were exactly well versed in either. Unsurprisingly, the wonder came innately to Wilhemina, and she was quickly controlling more than one object at once, making them dance a silent jig above her. She stuck her tongue pointedly out in concentration, and you were fucked, the peek of tongue between tightly pressed lips had your mind wandering back to the gutter.

As a teacher would with a gifted student who drifted through the tasks with ease, you wracked your brain for a more difficult task for her to really challenge the natural magic. That and to distract yourself from the way her nose would scrunch and the tips of her ears flush with effort at her magic.

An idea flashed in the front of your mind, the book you’d been making rise cracking back against the desk and drawing the attention of Wilhemina. It was risky. A blatant opportunity for the secret to be lost; so much could go wrong and yet you couldn’t make the thought ebb. You figured Wilhemina’s hubris would rise to the challenge anyway, shrugging the doubt from your mind as you turned to her.

“I have an idea” you smirked, Wilhemina piquing her brow in interest at your obvious mischief.

***

You lingered by the door, watching Wilhemina stroll confidently into the kitchen and take a seat at the table and barking at Madison to fetch her a tea while she made her own. Madison, as you’d hoped, snarked about her having her own legs and that she should get it herself, making no attempt to get another mug from the cupboard.

You saw the corner of Wilhemina’s lips curve into a sly smile, and you had to clasp a hand to your mouth at the sight of Madison’s tea hover in the air behind her as she reached for the sugar. The older woman seemed pleased with herself at the flourishing telekinesis, becoming confident as a flick of her index finger had the mug flying towards her.

Madison turned toward the counter where it had been just seconds prior, doing a double take before rounding on Wilhemina, who’d raised her hands to meet the mug. She cocked her brow at the blonde, as if daring her to accuse her, a mere human, of such speed behind her turned back. Her confused face, the fact that Mina had rendered Madison speechless for once, made you want to laugh till your lungs protested for air.

“Wha- How did you do that?” Madison was confused, angry at having her drink stolen and scared that she hadn’t seen the other woman move from her chair, her cane was leant precariously against the table and Wilhemina wasn’t exactly a nimble woman. Or fast.

Disguised by an irritated scoff, Madison marched past her and out of the door opposite you

“Be a dear and make me a coffee?” She requested, pushing the steaming mug towards you with a grimace. You huffed, gesturing to the drink she’d literally just stolen from Madison, albeit having been your idea.

“Oh no, I despise tea.” She remarked dryly, left leg coming to cross over her right as she made herself comfortable, watching you swill the tea down the sink and the trickle of water as you refilled the kettle.

Even though she was still being just as bossy as ever, you’d grown softer for the hardness of the older woman by the day, grinning over your shoulder at the look on Madisons face. You cocked your brow in imitation of how she had moments before, and you swore her lips picked up slightly in affectionate amusement.

***

It had been 5 weeks since you’d used your powers on Ms Venable, and in that time she’d grown and her powers had flourished quickly, possibly exceeding your own strength as a witch. Her dedication was astounding, and she was a good student, despite the condescend remarks and dry humour she couldn’t seem to help but drawl at every opportunity. That and the vaguely suggestive things she’d say, that would make your throat close and brows pique in shock. You also both gotten better at hiding it. Hiding why you’d both be in the greenhouse late in the evening or why Cordelia’s favourite rug had gone up in flames when practising pyrokinesis.

Cordelia passed by the open door of one of the empty classrooms on her way to office. An open book at the table caught her attention, and she glanced to see if anyone had recently left, finding empty corridors and only the dull chime of the other lessons that were happening. She strode towards the book, ready to have yet another conversation about forgetfulness with the younger witches about their property. God forbid they leave something like their spell book in public, for anyone to see. No, privacy must be upheld, and absent-mindedness could not be tolerated.

Brushing her fingers over the font of the pages slowly, she was about to close the book when she read the familiar title, fingers stilling on the ink and eyes widening slightly. Clairvoyancy. Her brows furrowed in confusion, none of the current witches at the academy had this gift, to her knowledge; she would have known. Fumbling though the pages to the front, she saw your name scribed into the delicate paper, and she was even more confused. You definitely would have told her that you were clairvoyant, wouldn’t you?

Picking up the book, the supreme stalked towards the classroom she knew you resided in with Queenie and the rest of the older girls. Not even bothering to knock upon arrival, she burst through with a simple nod to Queenie and took a calm stance, hands tucked to the book at her waist.

“Y/n, come with me.” She announced, turning quickly on her heel and leaving the room. hearing the echoing taunts and ooohs of the girls as you scrambled to follow her. Turning back at the girls momentarily, they nodded at you, now in silent comfort and sympathy. Cordelia never came to lessons to get one of the girls herself; everyone knew that it meant trouble.

“You must know why you’re in here” she stated, settling into her office chair and motioning for you to sit too. You fidgeted in your seat, wracking your brain for something the supreme could be mad at you about enough to pull you out of class herself. Shaking your head in confusion at her and staring down at your hands which wrung at each other anxiously as you waited for her to speak.

Taking your silence as an answer, Cordelia slammed the book heavily down onto the desk between you, face smug as she flicked her wrist her wrist, so the pages fanned before you and settled spread on a page you didn’t recognise. She let you scan quickly over the writing, crossing her arms at her chest and raising her brow when you finally looked up to her.

“Well?”

“I’m not sure, what does this have to do with me?” You were genuinely confused, knowing full well that the only witch you knew of that had the rare gift was Nan, and she had passed well before you’d arrived. You also didn’t know why Cordelia was so insistent that it was you that had been reading from the book; to your knowledge, your copy was still safe with Wilhemina in her office.

Tapping her fingers impatiently against the wood of her desk, she watched you mull over an answer before settling on silence, fingers drumming nervously against your thighs. Cordelia always radiated energy, that would seep into the house and give everyone else strength. Everyone could feel it. It wasn’t until now, however, when you were sat opposite her and on the receiving end of her annoyance, that you truly felt the extreme of her power, the confident aura and way in which she held herself tall. The way she could make grown warlocks fall to look like stammering schoolboys in her presence.

“It’s your spell book, Y/n, left open, unattended in a classroom at this page. Now I just wonder why you’d be reading up on clairvoyancy. It’s not a gift you have, is it?” Her tone was impatient, a slight mocking lilt as she believed you to be lying about your knowledge about the book. She reminded you of the way Wilhemina would accuse a young witch of being tardy, regardless of age she’d be mocking and speak with the often cruel lash of a tongue.

Confusion and nervousness turned to panic when you finally realised why the book had been left on such a page. You’d leant the book to Wilhemina while you studied so that she could practise in the safety of her office without having to take a book from Cordelia, who would notice, of course.

“I um, I heard Queenie and Zoe talking about Nan, and how she was clairvoyant, and I just got curious. I’m sorry Ms Cordelia, I didn’t mean to leave it open and unattended. It won’t happen again, I promise!”

She regarded you through slightly narrowed eyes as you tried to remain as calm as possible and clear your head under her gaze. You weren’t stupid, and neither was she. She knew something wasn’t quite right but didn’t know how to go about asking as she couldn’t pinpoint the route of her suspicions. Nodding, and drawing back her chair as if to stand, she paused and reached over for your arm.

“I hope not, Y/n. I’d like to think I can trust you as one of the oldest students here, hm? Secrets can be dangerous within us witches, okay? Don’t make me have to remind you again.” Her tone was guiding, the tone of a teacher and it made you ache because that was all you’d ever be. Her student.

“I understand Cordelia. No secrets.” You trailed off into a whisper, guilt flooding through you as you thought of the secret you shared with her girlfriend of all people. She offered you a small smile, that seemed to cloud the sadness behind her eyes, masking what she really wanted to say. Clasping your hands together and rolling your shoulders, you made to turn before startling her with a hug. Initially tense, Cordelia melted into you, a palm coming to rub between your shoulder blades in comfort. You’d never been one to initiate physical contact with anyone in the coven, so your hug wasn’t expected by the older woman.

A whispered “thank you” broke the silence when you pulled away, turning away but keeping eye contact until you walked. You could feel her eyes on your back as you walked out, tempted to turn back but not wanting her inevitable worry to illicit you to betray Wilhemina’s command. The pull of Cordelia’s safety was almost magnetic, your charges opposite and strong, willing you to turn around. You didn’t.

It was ironic how your knowledge of Mina’s powers didn’t make you feel closer to the coven, like you’d imagined. You’d always wanted to know the inaccessible woman more, but now that you did, you wished you didn’t. It felt wrong. Like the secret itself didn’t approve. It seemed to want to claw it’s own way up your throat and pry itself past your lips, promise to Mina broken with it.

Your toes curled in on themselves throughout your lessons that day, a biting sensation in the back of your head, flashing warning signs ad you felt like you were lost in mist. Thick and unrelenting and flowing like treacle to swallow you up into your own anxiousness.

Yet again you found your mind needing to release itself, your magic fizzing dangerously in the pads of your fingers and you could swear you would not have any fingerprints left to show with how they burnt. Lilac invaded your head and like a petulant child clinging to the leg of their father leaving for work, refused to budge. You’d just promised Cordelia that you wouldn’t let yourself get distracted and here you were, not even an hour later, distractions more prominent than ever.

When lessons relented, you tried to still your beating heart, as you allowed anger to coil in your veins at the woman you now sought to find. She wasn’t in her usual place at the empty desk in her shared office with the Supreme, and neither was she perched on the cushions of the rocking chair out the back. It was her favourite place to peruse a favourite book under the warmth of the evening sun, yet the chair was empty, wood alight with the glow of the light.

Sauntering into her room, not heeding any need to knock before storming in, your arms raised as if expecting a fight. Wilhemina was reapplying her plum lipstick at the mirror, one hand pressing her fingers into the wood of the cabinet for support, the other running smearing the colour across perfectly pursed lips.

“You’re clairvoyant?!” You hissed, angry at Wilhemina from keeping it from you. It wasn’t as if her gift was just telekinesis or another common inherited gift, clairvoyance was rare. “Fuck, you didn’t think that maybe that was something I needed to know?” Snapping at her in frustration as she snapped the lid back on the lipstick, and turning to glare at her when she quipped about your language.

“Like you did you mean?” She bit back; voice raised in warning at your tone. Pulling her face into a sneer she raised her arms dramatically, moving away from the drawers cane waving at you. “Oh no, I burned my families house down, boo hoo.” She sung, bringing the back of hand up to her forehead in mock anguish. “My only gift is pyrokinesis, and is absolutely not the fact that I can give magical ability out like FUCKING candy.”

You’d folded your arms at your chest, lower lip jutting out as you loured at her antics. She was finding this situation entirely too amusing for your liking, acting like your nervousness was unnecessary, yet insisted on being uncharacteristically reckless with the secret.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh my dear, and I thought I was the one who had no sense of humour, took everything too seriously you could say. Needs to just loosen up and have a laugh?” It was clear she was enjoying herself now, the teasing edge of her voice in full swing. Unknowingly to you, she’d heard you think that very thing mere days ago when you’d been in the kitchen, pranking Mallory and she’d happened upon you booby trapping her cupboard. You hadn’t caught onto her blatant remark however, still preoccupied with the problem at hand.

“Why did you leave the book in a classroom? Open for gods sake Mina.” You frustrate, palms coming to press against your forehead and fingers curling to pinch at your hair.

“That’s Wilhemina to you, young lady.” She barked, before raising an eyebrow with a knowing glint in her eye. “Don’t make me punish you, for your insolence, we wouldn’t want that now would we? Hm?” You flushed hotly at her words, swallowing thickly as you busied yourself with looking anywhere but to her.

You suddenly froze, finally catching onto her earlier words and realising that she could probably hear your thoughts too. It hadn’t crossed your mind until just then, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Of course she could, since gaining her abilities she’d spend excessive amounts of time with you alone. The thought made you blush and cringe inwardly and stutter in question: “I- You can’t read everyone’s thoughts can you? I mean, its just some people, right?”

A smirk pulled at her lips at your stammered questioning, Wilhemina flexing her fingers against the handle of her cane, tapping it twice against the wooden floor which made you flinch. She walked sauntering and slow towards you, the predatory glint present in her eye that you often saw when she’d taunt the younger students for tardiness. She leant into your space, causing you to hold your breath as you felt hers hot against your cheek.

“Oh yes darling, I can hear all the thoughts in your pretty little head.” She teased, watching the shiver of your physical reaction to her voice as well as your screaming thoughts at her closeness. You closed your eyes and attempted to still your mind, you could practically feel how exposed you were at this distance. Why had you thought it was a good idea to test your power on Ms Venable; you should have known she’d just have to go and be clairvoyant. Just to spite you. Your thoughts were dangerously unprofessional at times and yet here the most professional woman you’d ever met, or ever would meet, was standing before you and reading you like a children’s fairy tale book. You were pulled back out of your thoughts again by her voice, so close to your ear you could feel the way her breath prickled the hair at the nape of your neck to stand on end.

“Your thoughts are-” she paused, reaching a gloved hand to slowly brush your hair behind your ear and lingering at your jaw, “quite loud, little one.” She spoke the last words slowly and purposefully drawling, pulling away just enough to remain entirely too much in your space, so that she could watch your scared eyes dart back and forth between her own. She watched you, amused, at the way the tips of your ears flushed pink and how you looked simply delicious when embarrassed.

Wilhemina loved the chase. She loved watching her prey squirm and fall victim to her stoic dominance. They always did in the end. It just depended on how long she wanted to toy with them for. She wasn’t finished playing with you just yet, at least until she’d been able to coax Cordelia into joining the fun.

The leather of her glove was cool against your skin, and you had to resist the urge to melt into her touch, attempting to regain whatever semblance of dignity you still had after basically confirming Wilhemina’s accusations about your ‘loud thoughts’. You wanted to curse yourself. The low growl of her voice brought you slowly back out of your thoughts, paired with the way she’d brought her fingers to fiddle with the bow of your top that had loosened.

“The only person I struggle with is my dearest Delia, although I can’t be surprised of course. She’s had prior experience with a clairvoyant witch such as myself. She knows how to hide her thoughts.”  The smirk had returned, fingers tapping twice on your temple as if to remind you that you don’t have that capability; making you blink as if to break out of the trance she had you in with the steel of her gaze.

“Cordelia found the book.” You stammered, eyes breaking contact and focusing on the way the gold of her earring caught the light above as she moved.

You suddenly remembered the reason you’d come to find Wilhemina in the first place, bar wanting to confront her; having been so lost in the selfish embarrassment of your blossoming feelings for the two women that you’d completely forgotten. The smirk on her face faltered slightly as she processed your words, moving backwards with a slight shake of her head.

“Wha- How do you know?”

“She called me to her office, it was my spell book! She wanted to know if I was clairvoyant.”

“What did you say?” Her voice was urgent, raspy with her hand clawing at your shoulder to shake you. You felt much like you were being interrogated, for something that you shouldn’t have had to deal with in the first place. You weren’t the witch in the wrong here.

“I had to lie to her, of course!” You hissed again, scoffing at the insinuation that you’d betrayed the weird sort of trust you’d both formed over your shared secret. “I couldn’t very well say, ‘oh well actually, it was your girlfriend that was reading it, because, and soz for not mentioning sooner, I turned her into a witch. Surprise!”

You made a point to shake your hands as if finishing a performance, your nervousness about the situation surfacing through blatant sarcasm. You could see the vein in Ms Venables neck pulse in time with her heart, face angered with your stupidity.

“Stop being so facetious” she warned, voice low as if daring you to make another nervous joke at her expense. Stepping dangerously toward you, like a cat stalking prey until you could feel the warm tickle of her breath against your cheek. She tilted her chin to look down at you along the bridge of her nose, her cheek bones protruding as she sucked on her tongue in annoyance.

You so badly wanted to kiss her. Pull her in by the hairs at the back of her neck and surprise her with it. Fuelled by the beating of your heart and the way her face lingered just a breath’s worth away from your own. To stop yourself from doing just that, you dodged her glare and her face, rounding it to the side and stammering out to bringing you both back on topic.

“We need to tell Cordelia.” You burst out, using Ms Venables momentary stunned face to quickly step back and out of her close proximity, trying to still the heavy heave of your chest.

Wilhemina looked as if she was going to protest and get close to you again but she saw your eyes widen in fear, looking over her shoulder towards the door, and she whipped round. You both were now facing Cordelia like deer caught in the blinding headlights, who stood fast and looked at you both expectantly.

“Tell me what, exactly?”

 PART 4

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[thorfemmes]

Cloudy

in which harry hates summer storms, but she loves them.

Hi everyone! I know I’m not really a fan account, so please feel free to skip over this post if you don’t want to read fanfic! I’ve decided to take part in @helladirections​ ‘s Summer Feeling writing challenge, and this is what I came up with! Feedback is greatly appreciated, I’m trying to hype myself up into writing again. Also thank you @jasline-arod​ for being my beta reader, I love you endlessly!<3

Prompts: summer reading & ice cream

Rated 18+: fluff, SMUT, soft dom!harry, teasing, edging, punishment, impact play, light bondage, condescension kink if you squint, cute aftercare!!! 

Word Count: 3.8k

Summer storms were quite melancholy.

Harry supposed he was being a bit dramatic, considering (y/n) loved the rain. If it weren’t for the possibility of getting a cold and the wandering eyes from their surrounding neighbors she would be out dancing and skipping around the backyard in the puddles and mud. But alas, their neighbors were a bit too nosy and she couldn’t afford any sick time off at work right now, so she was using this day to clean the house. Some last minute spring cleaning as she called it.  

Harry, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to roll around in the sheets all day with her. The young couple had planned a nice date out for the day: a stroll around the neighborhood, a picnic in the park, maybe some window shopping in the plaza. Their car was currently in the shop so anything they wanted to do would have to be within walking distance -(y/n) really didn’t like Ubering around. Mother Nature apparently had other plans. 

Which leads us here. Harry had seen the storm die down and in all of his stubborn brilliance had insisted on making an ice cream run. ‘S just a little drizzle! He maintained. I’ll be back before you know it, Poppet. It turns out “a little drizzle” can easily turn into torrential downpour in the twenty minutes it takes Harry to bike to and from the grocery store. He couldn’t believe his luck, and now as he approached his front door sopping wet and dragging his bike up the steps, he was silently cursing himself for deciding Ben and Jerry’s was worth the trek. 

“Babe? Is everything alright?” (Y/n) proffered over the soft music she had put on when he left. She could hear his frustrated grumbles and sighs from the living room and had of course seen the storm pick up. 

“ ‘M fine, sweetheart, just a bit wet ‘s all.” Harry griped from the kitchen. He quickly dried off the pints of ice cream and stuck them in the freezer before pouring a bowl of uncooked rice for his cell phone. Flicking off the lights in the kitchen, spotless and dust-free thanks to (y/n), he walked into the living room to find her tucked into the corner of the couch reading a book.

Peering over the pages, her eyes softly danced over her lover -damp and frumpy from the rain outside. He had a slight pout on his face that made her giggle playfully, eyes glittering with nothing but adoration and humor. 

“My strong love, fought the rain and thunder just to get his girlfriend ice cream.”

He snorted at her, trying his hardest to hold back a smile. “Think I deserve a prize, don’t you think? It was quite brave of me to go out there, I could’ve gotten swept away by the flood of puddles!”

Her laugh rang like a chime. It was times like this, soft and quiet and domestic, that made his heart skip a beat. She made him delirious and dizzy with love. 

“Of course, my love. Your prize is in the bathroom, hanging from the towel rack. I saw the rain pick up and figured you might come home a bit soggy,” She said with a laugh. “Go get changed, when you come back we can lounge about and read together.”

Harry’s heart fluttered as he shuffled out of the living room. When he came back, now changed into a crisp crew neck shirt and some washed worn sweats, he quickly popped over in front of his love. She looked up from the novel in front of her, stars in her eyes. Harry quickly leaned down and showered her in kisses. Anywhere he could reach was covered in smooches. She wiggled and whined playfully as he threw his leg over her waist, but not before grabbing the book and laying it on the coffee table face down. They grappled and playfully dodged kisses until she cried “Alright! Fine you win!” with a ridiculous pout and her hands pinned to the couch under Harry’s grasp. 

“You’re so mean,” she pouted through puffs of air.

“Mean ‘m I? Would a mean boyfriend have gone out in the harsh winter storm for-”

“It’s the middle of July!” 

“For pints of Chunky Monkey, Phish Food, Karamel Sutra, and Tonight Dough? I don’t think tha’s very mean, d’you?”

Harry swore the sigh she let out sounded harmonious. “No, I suppose not. It sounds like you’re spoiling me, huh?” She tried to loosen his grip again. “Let me up, please?”

He grinned down at her. “Kissy first?”

She leaned up the best she could for a smooch before he let her get back up. Harry laid down on the couch and patted his tummy with the hand not resting under his neck. 

“C’mere, let’s read.”

(Y/n) crawled between Harry’s legs and laid between them, her head resting on his soft stomach. “Mm, nice and comfy.”

Harry chuckled with her, loving the warmth and comfort the weight of her gave him. He wrapped an arm around the front of her chest and softly rubbed his thumb over her shoulder. 

“Do you want me to start the chapter over?” She asked, perfectly content to reread for him.

“Course not, Petal! Just pick up where you left off, please.”

“ ‘I’m going to America. To seek my fortune.’ (This was just after America but long after fortunes.) ‘A ship sails soon from London. There is great opportunity in America. I’m going to take advantage of it. I’ve been training myself. In my hovel. I’ve taught myself not to need sleep. A few hours only. I’ll take a ten-hour-a-day job and then I’ll take another ten-hour-a-day job and I’ll save every penny from both except what I need to eat to keep strong, and when I have enough I’ll buy a farm and build a house and make a bed big enough for two.’ ”

Harry began to lose focus on the story, instead concentrating on his petal’s voice, soft and clear enough for just the two of them. Almost as if the bubble around them might burst if she spoke too loudly. She began to alter her voice, adding in dashes of accents and key changes as the characters varied. Harry let a heavy breath fall from his nose as he smiled and bit his lip with a smile. 

“ ‘Do you love me, Westley? Is that it?’ ”

Harry held his breath.

“ He couldn’t believe it. ‘Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches. If your love were-’ ” 

Now, Harry knows he has a very specific taste in literature. And while he may personally prefer obscene prose and Joan Didion, this line -from a novel built on fantasies -was embroidered on his heart in bright yellow thread. The millions of grains of sand could not even begin to embody how dearly and how fiercely he loved her. His heart physically ached at the thought of her; her presence, her laugh, smile, ambition, everything. He loved (y/n) in a way he never imagined possible. Harry could not even begin to fathom a world without her. And if the little velvet box hidden in an old shoe box behind a ton of winter coats in the upstairs closet was anything to go by, he didn’t want to begin imagining it. 

“Lovey, are you okay?” (Y/n) spoke up. She noticed him stiffen up immediately after she finished reading that paragraph. 

Silence followed her question. She stuck the loose playing card she had found into the book to mark her place and gently sat up to shift herself in his lap, setting the book down on the coffee table again. Harry was pulled from his thoughts of navy blue suits and white lace gowns when she softly called his name again and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

“Is everything alright Harry? You zoned out for quite a while there.”

Harry looked at the heavenly sight in front of him. Her hair was a bit mussed up from the cleaning and the sweat that had no doubt appeared in the slightly humid house. She sat in an old cropped cotton shirt that proudly touted a faded improv club logo from college on it (she had gone to one meeting and of course it was the meeting where they gave out free t-shirts) with wrinkles and dried stains from cleaning spray. Her gray pajama shorts had little line drawings of bumble bees on them, and were currently riding up her thighs as they sat straddling Harry’s hips. He dragged his eyes to look at her face. He swore she was glowing in the grayish sunlight streaming from the windows. Little moles and freckles and acne scars dotted across her makeup-less face. Her eyes were wide and her lips were gaped open slightly in worry as his silence continued.

Harry finally, finally took in a breath (he desperately needed it, he didn’t realize she had literally stolen his breath away) and mumbled “ ‘M fine, petal. I just love you so much,” and with that closed the all too wide gap between them. 

Her eyes widened just a bit more before kissing back, her eyes fell closed and her hands held tightly to his cheeks. Harry swore the kiss was meant to be gentle, but then he found himself nibbling on her bottom lip and soothing the slight sting with his tongue when she whined against him. She pulled away breathlessly and looked over his face, now flushed crimson with their movements.

“I love you too!” She breathily laughed. “Let’s-”

Her thoughts were lost as Harry began to kiss a trail from below her ear and down her neck, one hand squeezing her soft hip and the other holding her head in place as she squirmed (she was a bit ticklish). He sucked and softly bit at the junction between her neck and shoulder as she let out a faint moan at the attention being given to the sensitive skin. She ran her fingers through his loose curls and gently led his head back up to meet her lips. She tenderly rolled her hips against his -his hands quickly following the motion. 

“Ah, fuck baby. You’re so fuckin’ sexy m’love,” Harry groaned against her lips. They were breathing in each other's air, hips thrusting against the other and hands grasping at fabric and anywhere they could grab. Harry lowered his hand to cup her hot pussy over her shorts, rubbing his palms against her clothed clit.

“Mmf, please Harry please!” She wanted him so badly, she was this close to ripping his clothes off at the seams.

“What d’you want baby girl? Hmm? Ask me nicely ‘nd maybe I’ll give it to you.” 

The air shifted between them. She knew he would give her whatever she wanted, but the power was now in his corner. She whined loudly and bucked her hips up as he teased the waistband of her shorts.

“Don’t be a brat, petal. You won’t like the outcome.” Harry grinned up at her, running his thumb over her bottom lip that had stuck out with a pout. “Why don’t we run upstairs so I can fuck you properly. Tha’ is unless you want to stay down here with a sore bum ‘nd nothin’ else? Hmm, petal?”

“Harry, I swear if you don’t do something I’m going to screa- ah!” Harry’s hand came down on her ass with a loud smack! 

(Y/n)’s eyes widened as she scrambled off of his lap and up the stairs to their “guest” bedroom, Harry not far behind. Harry giggled at her antics. Of course he wasn’t planning on leaving her needy and wanting, but she was being bratty and he couldn’t have that now could he?

(Y/n) all but threw herself onto their bed and ripped off her clothing, absolutely desperate for whatever Harry threw her way. She’d ride his thigh if that’s all he’d give her. She was that needy right now. 

She scrambled up the bed and sat down with her legs crossed, patiently waiting as Harry stood at the foot of the bed.

“I think 10 swats on your bum are an appropriate punishment for you steppin’ out of line. Don’t you think, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” (Y/n) watched as he walked around the side of the bed. He reached into the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of shea butter lotion and the pretty pink ribbon she was all too familiar with.

“Lay down on your tummy, petal,” Harry said, setting everything on the table. 

(Y/n) quickly laid down, grabbing her pillow and nestling her cheek into it. Harry grabbed one of the extra pillows and shoved it under her hips. He then pulled off the t-shirt and shrugged off his sweats, leaving him in a pair of heather gray briefs that left nothing to the imagination. 

“You’ve such a pretty bum, sweetheart. ‘M so excited to see it marked up with my hand marks,” Harry caressed and massaged her cheeks carefully. “Count aloud for me, lovie.”

(Y/n) was about to answer when Harry’s hand came down on her left cheek, hard. “One!” She squeaked out.

“D’you know why you’re bein’ punished, lovie?” Smack!

“Ah! Two! Yes sir! I was being bad earlier. I was being naughty and begging without saying please!” 

Harry rubbed over the sore area. “Very good, baby. Are you going to do it again?” Smack! Smack! Smack! Three spanks came in succession.

“Three! Fou-, Four! Five! No, Sir! I won’t!” She squirmed and hid her face in the pillow as her grip tightened on the material. She was a bit embarrassed at the fact that she was already getting teary eyed, but it had been a second since she'd been punished like this.

Harry paused and moved her hair out from around her face. “How are you doin’ (Y/n)? Gimme a color, please.”

“Green, Harry. I’m good, please keep going.” She wiggled and lifted her ass up towards Harry's other hand.

“Okay, lovie. Just makin’ sure.” Harry quickly kissed her cheek then pushed her head back into the pillow. She moaned loudly at the forcefulness.

The rest of the spanks came and went, leaving both of them breathless and stinging. Harry reached up and grabbed (Y/n) by the hair to pull her on all fours, his other hand removing the pillow from under her hips before running his fingers over her pussy.

“Y’not gonna do tha’ again, are you, petal?” He said smugly.

“No sir,” She hiccupped. 

A jolt ran through her as he gathered her wetness and began circling her clit with two fingers. 

“So sensitive, petal. Bet you almost came jus’ from me spankin’ you. Maybe you don’ need my cock after all? Maybe I should jus’ take care of myself and leave you here, what d’you think, petal? ”

She let out a pitiful moan. (Y/n)’s whole body was shaking; she was desperately trying not to come, her arms were shaking from holding herself up, and her breath was shaking from the stimulation of it all. She was almost there, almost ready to come when Harry suddenly let go of her hair and stopping playing with her pussy. Her arms gave out under her as she whined desperately at the loss of stimulation.

“Please! No, don’t leave me!” She sobbed. “I need it! Please give me your cock sir! I’ll be so good, I won’t come without askin’ please! Ple-”

“Okay, shh baby. Shh, ‘m gonna make y’feel so good. Y’such a good girl f’me.”

Harry leaned down and kissed up her spine gently. As he reached the base of her neck he grabbed the pink ribbon and ran it teasingly over her shoulders. “Color?”

She sniffled a bit before answering confidently, “Green, sir.”

“Tha’s my girl.” He pulled her up so she was kneeling and grabbed her arms, skillfully tying a cute little bow around her wrists. She wiggled a bit to make sure it was comfortable. Once she was settled, Harry pushed her back down into the pillow.

“What a sight. Must’ve been savin’ this for a rainy day, huh petal?”

She snorted at his joke but was quickly silenced by his finger sinking into her pussy. She hissed at the sensation, already a bit sensitive from the first orgasm he denied her. 

“Y’always so warm for me, lovie. So warm ‘n tight. Can’t wait for my cock, can you?”

She whined and pushed back on his fingers as he added another, thrusting in and curling to find her g-spot. “Please! I’ve been so good, I’m ready!”

He chuckled at her begging, letting his thumb pet over her clit again before pulling his fingers out of her after one final thrust. “Y’think you’re ready, baby girl? I know I am.”

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “I’m ready, I promise.”

Harry used the wetness he had gathered from fingering her and stroked himself a few times, exhaling heavily as some pressure was finally released. He grabbed the ribbon where her wrists were tied and lined himself up, pushing gently into her soaked cunt.

They both released a guttural moan as he moved in her; her walls tightening around him and his length rubbing inside her perfectly.

As she felt him bottom out she let out a sob that was stuck in her chest. “Fu-ck. Thank you! You feel so fuck-fucking good!” He growled in response, reaching around and playing with her clit again while he waited for her to get accustomed to his size. She choked out another moan and squirmed, crying “Please! You can move now, please fuck me!”

He pulled out until only the head of his cock remained in her cunt, and then thrusted back in experimentally. Her moan spurred him on, allowing him to continue to set a slow and rough pace. 

“Holy fuck, bunny. Y'feel so good,” Harry grit through his teeth. “I love this fuckin’ cunt, this ‘s all fo’ me, huh?”

She moaned and nodded as she squeezed his cock as tight as she could like a good girl. She wanted to behave, be his good girl. (Y/n) wiggled her hands at him as he continued to thrust. He got the hint and laced his fingers with hers. She let out a contented sigh that melted into a moan as his thrusting sped up. He loosened one of his hands from her grasp to reach down and stroke her button of nerves. 

She wailed in response, tears brimming in her eyes again from the overwhelming sensations attacking her. Harry was all that existed. He surrounded her, stopped playing with her bundle of nerves and reached his hand up to wrap around her neck, pulling her up to meet his kisses. All she could feel, smell, taste as he paused thrusting to slide his tongue into her mouth before slamming back into her and letting her drop back into the pillow. 

“Sh-shit baby girl. I can feel y'squeezin me, you’re almost there aren’t you?” She nodded in response, unable to form words. “Hold it jus’ a bit longer, I know you can do it. Fo’ me please, petal. Wanna feel tha’ cunt come with me.”

She shuddered as she fought to hold her orgasm back. Her cunt clenched and dripped down her thighs as Harry pounded into her as quickly as he possibly could without hurting either of them. 

“N-now! Come now, petal! Give it to me, baby. Come for me!”

(Y/n) came with a shout, her eyes shut as tightly as possible. Her whole body clamped down onto Harry’s cock as she came and came and came. Her orgasm pulled Harry’s out of him, milking him for everything he had. One final thrust had him filling her with his cum, both moaning at the feeling of her pussy being filled even more.

She slumped into the pillow, body feeling like pudding. Harry leaned over her as they both took a moment to catch their breaths, both spent and relaxed after their afternoon delight. Harry recovered first, gently pulling out of her cunt. She clenched around him as he left her, almost as if she was inviting him to stay.

He quickly untied her wrists, mind set on dealing with his spilled seed later. He delicately rubbed the tender area, gently kissing the indentations.

“Y’did so good for me, (Y/n), thank you baby,” he whispered to her. She looked at him with foggy eyes, the afterglow finally settling in. She hummed in acknowledgment of his praise, smiling softly at him. “I’ll be ri’ back, petal. I’ve gotta go grab stuff to clean you up.”

He ran as quickly as possible to grab water bottles and snacks from downstairs, before stopping for a wet washcloth and a change of clothes for her on the way back. He set the food and spoons on the bedside table before cracking open a water bottle for her.

“Can you sit up a mo’? I know your bum’s a bit sore.” He helped her sit up enough to drink the water he gave her. As she gulped down the water, thankful for the cool drink to sooth her heated throat, he gently wiped up the mess he made of her pussy. He ran and tossed the cloth into their ensuite sink, quickly returning to his love. 

“Can I rub some shea butter on your bum and wrists? It’ll help with the soreness, lovie.” 

She sleepily nodded before asking “Could you please pull my hair back? It’s sweaty and itchy now.”

He laughed at her cloudy state and grabbed one of their scrunchies off of the dresser and carefully tied up her hair. He then pumped some lotion into his hands, warmed it slightly and guided her to lay down on her tummy again so he could soothe the red marks. After a few moments, when her fogginess had cleared and they were giggling and cracking jokes as he jiggled her bum in his hands, he helped her get up and walk to the toilet so she could relieve and redress herself before heading to their bedroom with the snacks. 

(Y/n) climbed into bed, mindful of her sore bum, and excitedly grabbed the remote to turn on a movie for the couple to unwind to. Harry followed closely with two pints of ice cream and spoons -Chunky Monkey for her and Karamel Sutra for himself. They giggled again and settled down under the blanket as the opening scene to Clueless started on their television. 

Taking a bite of the ice cream, (Y/n) looked over at her boyfriend. “Hey Har?” He looked at her, mouth full. “Thank you for getting us ice cream even though there was a storm. And for letting me read to you. I hope you enjoyed your prize.” She winked at him with a huge grin.

Heartily laughing, he leaned over and landed a loud smooch onto her cheek. “Of course, anything for you my love.”

As she cuddled into his side, snacking on ice cream and watching this cheesy rom-com, he knew he needed to find a reason to excuse himself to the closet that evening.

[heyitsani]

So Devoid of Color

@dickgraysonweek Day 4: Bruce hits Dick and doesn’t get away with it

Word Count: 3161

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Off screen violence, Dami might say a bad word

Pairing: None

Summary: Tim, Jason, and Damian learn something about Bruce and Dick’s relationship that none of them are willing to let continue.

Notes: I think this is my second time writing from Tim’s POV and I’m still not certain I’ve got a good grasp on it.  But here it is all the same.

You can also read this on AO3 here

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The Cave went deathly silent in the aftermath.

For those 30 or so seconds immediately after the distinct sound of a fist hitting a cheekbone, it was like they had landed in a vacuum of sound.

It was such a startling contrast to the shouting that had led up to that exact moment.  The fight between Dick and Bruce hadn’t been surprising. When Red Robin had called Nightwing on his private comm line to report that Robin had been shot on patrol, he had known the eldest would panic.  And when he found out it was because Batman had made a mistake, Tim knew shit would hit the fan.

Quite literally.

But Tim hadn’t anticipated Bruce taking a swing at Dick when the latter had accused Bruce of purposefully using Damian as a shield so he could go after Two Face himself.  It wasn’t even one of the worst things he had heard Dick tell Bruce in the heat of an argument, but something about it had pushed Bruce over an edge none of them had realized he could go over.  Sure, Bruce could be a hard ass, but Tim had never seen him get to this point.  And a quick glance at Jason, who was coiled tight with his hands clenched tightly at his side, revealed that Tim wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

He expected Dick to swing back, to say something in retaliation, but instead he watched his brother straightened and wipe at the blood now dripping from his nose.  From this angle Tim could see the angry mark Bruce’s gauntlet had left on Dick’s cheekbone and it made him wonder if there was anything broken beneath the surface.

“That’s your one free hit, Bruce.  I’m not the kid you used to push around to win arguments anymore.  Nor am I emotionally compromised to the point that you can manipulate me into getting your way,” Dick spoke lowly, voice dangerous and anger simmering just below the surface.  It was rare to hear that particular tone come from Dick, but it never failed to send a shiver down his spine.  For all the sunshine Dick projected, most weren’t aware of the precision of the weapon he could be.  “I told you if you couldn’t protect him that I would.  He’s still legally mine.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m stating facts.  I may have been disposable to you over the years, but you are out of your fucking mind if you think I’ll let you hurt him the same way.”  Movement out of the corner of his eye pulled Tim’s surprised attention from the pair, finding Jason stalking forward.  And Tim knew that walk, he knew that look.  

Jason was pissed and that didn’t bode well for one or both of them.

“What the fuck did you mean by that?”  Jason demanded, grabbing Dick’s shoulder to turn him to face him instead of Bruce. But Dick didn’t respond, and Tim could see his jaw clench from here.  In fact, at this angle he could get a much better look at the damage Bruce had done and it was definitely looking like Dick’s cheek was starting to swell.  

“What on god’s green earth is going on out here?”  Alfred’s stern voice broke through the silence that had fallen over them again and Tim spared the elderly man a glance before he moved over to where Jason and Dick were still facing each other.  He could tell they were having one of their silent conversations, but that wouldn’t stop him.

“It’s nothing Alfred,” Bruce huffed, causing Dick and Jason to tense up even more.  “How is Damian?”

“Dick?”  Tim spoke softly, not wanting to pull too much attention to himself.  It took a moment before his brother looked over at him and Tim tensed at the look in his eyes.  It was unfamiliar and difficult to put a name to.  But there was something that concerned him there.  He placed a hand on Dick’s upper arm before looking to Jason, finding the other man already considering him with a curiosity that Tim knew well.

Jason’s eyes narrowed just slightly, and Tim gave him a nod before looking back to Dick and making a show of raising his hand to the bruise on his cheek so he would see it coming. “Not broken,” he muttered.  Dick nodded and Jason gave a huff of air while Tim continued to poke at the cheek in question.  “Who is going to get him?”  He whispered as he worked.  Dick jerked in surprise, eyebrows drawing down in confusion, but Tim knew Jason would get it.

“He’s more likely to come with me than you.  You ride with Goldie.  We’ll meet you.”  Tim as he let his hands fall away from Dick’s face, satisfied that nothing needed immediate attention.  It could wait until they got back one of the safehouses.  “Go to the one I showed you after that Penguin fight where Ivy showed.”

Remembering that night and what a mess it had been, Tim also remembered that it was one of the safehouses that Jason always kept stocked up on medical supplies.  If they were going to have Damian with a gunshot wound and Dick with his face, they needed supplies.  “All right,” he agreed, looking over his shoulder to see Bruce watching them with his eyes narrowed and Alfred frowning beside him.

“You two want to clue me in?”  Dick finally spoke up, voice just barely above a whisper and threaded tight with tension.  

Tim watched Jason give his shoulder a squeeze before sending Tim a look that spoke volumes.  “Come on, Dick.  Get your gear.  We’re leaving,” he told his brother as Jason walked away toward the other two men.

“Wait, Tim,” Dick protested, pulling his elbow out of the younger’s grip.  “I can’t just leave Damian.  Not while he’s hurt.”

Sighing, Tim stopped and looked up at Dick.  “We’re leaving.”  His tone gave no room for argument, but Tim also knew Dick was practically made to argue. “Trust me.  Trust Jason.”  Dick stared at him for a moment before looking toward the medbay where Damian was resting.  Tim knew he was considering the options and that whatever he decided now would say a lot about their relationship.

“Okay,” he finally agreed, and Tim gave him a nod before heading over to where he had left his gear, Dick’s not far from it.  There was a moment more of hesitation before Dick finally turned away and grabbed his own gloves and helmet.  “I’ll follow you?”

Where Tim would have usually thrown out a snarky remark and a smirk, he instead nodded and hopped onto his own motorcycle before turning the engine over.  Once he was sure Dick was set and ready to go, he gave one last glance behind them to see Jason and Bruce nose to nose and Alfred no where in sight.  He wasn’t sure what it meant for the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care at the moment.  Not when he had just seen his adoptive father punch one of his brothers.  Not when it wasn’t the first time, apparently. No.  He almost hoped Jason would return the favor and knock Bruce down on his ass.  Almost.

But that wasn’t a thought train he could go down at the moment.  He had more important things to do, like getting Dick out of there and fixing up his brother’s face once they got to the safehouse.  Which didn’t take as long as he thought it would.  Of course, with it still being the early hours of the day, most of Gotham was either still asleep or just waking up for the day.  It made it easier to store their bikes in Jason’s hiding spot and sneak into the building without anyone seeing.

“This is Jay’s?”  Dick looked around, frowning as they stepped inside and tugged off their helmets.  He paused and looked at one of the posters hanging on the wall.  “Roy must use it,” he muttered.  Tim let him wander around as he made his way into the kitchen to grab the supplies under the sink and an ice pack in the freezer.

“Here,” he called out, tossing the pack toward Dick who caught it easily and gave him a small smile of thanks. “Will you tell me what you meant?” Tim asked as he opened the medical kit and began digging through it to make sure they had the things they would need for Damian.  When no response came from his brother, he looked up and found Dick frowning as he stared out the window.  “Dick?”

Blinking, the older man looked over at him and waved a hand.  “Don’t worry about it, Timmy.  Ancient history, and all that.”  Unfortunately for Dick, Tim was too good at reading him now and knew when he was deflecting.  So Tim watched him, taking in all the signs he had memorized over the years.  The tight line of his shoulders, the clenched fist at his side, the white knuckles of the hand pressing the ice pack just a bit too hard to his bruised cheek.  They told Tim more than Dick was willing to at the moment.

“How many times.”

It wasn’t a question and Tim wasn’t going to let Dick get away with brushing it under the rug, not this time.  Not this topic.  “Just drop it, Tim.  I’m already going to have to fight Jason on this.  Just…it’s not important.”

Tim scoffed.  “It was important enough to use against Bruce.” Which, throwing back at Dick at the moment was probably a bit of a low blow, but sometimes you had to play dirty to get Dick to talk.

“Look, don’t act like you don���t know of at least one other time he used his fists against me.”  The words were accusatory, but the tone was defeated.  It made Tim furrow his brows, trying to think of what Dick could possibly mean.  “I know there’s no chance you haven’t come across Bruce’s cowl footage from after the Crime Syndicate, before I joined Spyral.”

But Tim had no idea what Dick was talking about.  And it must have shown on his face because soon enough Dick had closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“A little help here,” Jason’s voice cut off anything either of them were planning on saying and Tim hurried over to take some of Damian’s weight from Jason.  A quick scan of the teen showed the blood seeping through the bandage at his shoulder and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.  The ride must have been rough.  “Let’s get him on the bed.”

Dick rushed ahead of them and fussed over the bedding so they could get Damian comfortable with minimal effort from the pair carrying him.  Jason let out a grunt when they set Damian down, leaning just slightly upright on the pillows Dick had stacked.

“I’ll grab the kit and change the bandage,” Tim muttered, looking at Jason before leaving the room to grab the supply kit he had been looking through moments earlier.  He paused on his way back into the room to grab the ice pack Dick had been using but dropped to hurry and help get the bed ready for the youngest of them.  “Dick,” he called, handing the ice pack back to him as he moved onto the side of the bed where the wound was.  Dick frowned but took the pack, pressing it back to his cheek.

“What-”  Damian tried to speak as Tim went to work on the bandage. The teen cleared his throat and clenched his jaw for a moment before slowly releasing a breath through his nose, all signs of how much pain he was in without showing it on his face.  “What happened, Richard?”  He asked, voice a bit raspy with the pain he was fighting.

“Nothing.”

“Bruce.”

Tim looked between Dick and Jason as they both answered, Dick sounding calming and Jason with the expected anger.  Honestly, he expected this from both of them.  Dick would forever be shielding Damian from what little bad the teen hadn’t already been exposed to.  And Jason would never sugar coat anything that had to do with Bruce.  Even if their relationship had been improving up until this point.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that would continue with what they witnessed tonight.

“Don’t,” Jason growled, pointing a finger at Dick who had opened his mouth to say something.  “You don’t get to lie or brush this off.  You suggested this wasn’t the first time and if that’s the case then we deserve to know.  He deserves to know.”

But Dick didn’t respond. Instead he turned his eyes onto Damian and Tim locked eyes with Jason.  The older man’s expression was grim and Tim felt his probably just looked exhausted. They had all dealt with Dick’s stubborn nature, but he wouldn’t win this time.  Not with all three of them pushing.

Not with what Dick had accidentally revealed before Jason and Damian had arrived.

“Tell us about after the Syndicate.”  Tim turned his eyes onto the bandages he was taping to Damian’s wound, which thankfully hadn’t torn any stitches.  The teen narrowed his eyes on him and Tim attempted to give him a smile.  He wasn’t Dick and he wasn’t good at comfort, but at least he and Damian had gotten over the feud they had suffered for so long. At least they trusted each other now.

With a shuffling sound, Tim glanced over to find Dick sitting on the edge of the bed near Damian’s feet with his eyes gazing off at a spot on the wall.  “I didn’t want to go.  I…” They watched him take a deep breath and release it slowly.  “I begged him to let me stay.  But he had already planned out the whole thing.  Had my funeral and told the world I had died.  Said it was the only way to make sure none of it happened to anyone else in the family.”

“But that has nothing to do with Bruce punching you tonight.”

“It doesn’t seem like it, but his words were not going to be enough to convince me,” Dick turned to Jason, who had moved to lean against the closest wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“And by that you mean….?” Tim considered what Dick said earlier and what he was saying now.  “The cave was trashed after your funeral.  Alfred said he had never seen so much damage.  And how it almost seemed too much for one person to do.  Even Bruce.”

The silence blanketed them for the second time that night and this time it was suffocating.  Whereas the air felt sucked from them earlier, this time it felt like it was weighing him down to the point that it would crush him where he sat with a hand still on Damian’s shoulder.  

That point of contact clued him into the fact that Damian was shaking.  Small tremors rippling through his muscles.  A barely contained anger.  And Tim didn’t blame him.  Damian had been dead and Dick had been devastated.  He said it was the only reason the Syndicate had been able to get the drop on him to begin with.  That if he hadn’t been so destroyed by Damian’s death, his focus wouldn’t have been in pieces. That they would never have grabbed him without a fight.  And that was enough to make the teen upset, but then throw in this new piece of information?  

“He beat you into submission,” Jason’s voice finally broke the silence, cutting through it like one of Damian’s katanas cut through flesh.  Effortlessly and deadly.  “That’s what you’re not willing to just come out and say.  He took an emotionally compromised man who had been beaten and strapped to a literal bomb, and beat the ever loving shit out of him to get him to do what he wanted.”

“Richard,” Damian whispered.

“You know what the time was like, Jason.  Tim. You both know what everyone was like,” Dick tried to reason, ignoring Damian’s almost-plea.  “None of us were our real selves, Bruce especially.”

There was a loud crash and Tim jerked as he snapped his eyes onto Jason, finding him breathing heavily and his eyes rimmed green.  “Don’t make excuses for him!”  Jason pushed off the wall and Tim noticed a dent next to him, assuming the crash had been a fist hitting the wall.  “None of us might have been the real versions of us, but none of us beat the shit out of people we supposedly cared about just to get them to submit!  You don’t get to brush this off like it’s no big deal. You don’t get to do that because if this had happened to any of us, you wouldn’t let us.”

“That’s different.”

“The fuck it is,” Damian cut in.  Tim watched Dick’s eyes go wide as he looked at the teen.  “It’s only different because you think you are not worth the same as the rest of us.  You value your life less than ours, but the same cannot be said for us.”  When Damian’s hand landed on Tim’s arm, he looked over and immediately jumped to help him sit more upright.  “Father is not infallible and your loyalty to him is a disservice to yourself.  And I for one will not stand for it any longer.”

“I’m with the kid,” Jason interjected, crossing his arms over his chest again.  Tim noticed the green had faded from his eyes, but his body was still one large ball of tension.  “This stops now.  I can’t do anything about what happened in the past, but if he lays a finger on you again and I will put him in his own grave.”

“You know they’re right, Dick.”  Tim spoke softly, keeping his own emotions out of it because Damian and Jason had enough for all of them.  “There’s more than you’re telling us, we all know it.  But this can’t happen again.  And when we tell the girls and Duke, they’ll all say the same thing.”  In fact, Tim cringed inwardly thinking about how Cass and Barbara would react once they heard.

“No,” Dick turned his wide eyes on Tim.  “You can’t tell them.  They don’t need to know.”

Tim sighed and shook his head.  “They do. They might already know what happened tonight, who knows where Babs has her cameras and mics set up down there. But we’re a family and we don’t keep these kinds of secrets.  They always backfire on us.  It’s time we learned that lesson.”

Jason moved over and set a hand on Dick’s shoulder.  “You can’t preach the family line to the rest of us and not think we’ll use it against you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick nodded, looking between the three of them before settling on Damian.  “Okay.”

[raleighcarrera]

scorch

the wayhaven chronicles | mason x mc (kira langford)

the power goes out. things go bump in the night.

for @hotwayhavensummer day 5 (temperature) 💕

tags: @zigtheeortega ; @choicesarehard ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @montjoy ; @octobereighth ; @pixeljazzy ​

~2.8k words | E (18+)

the first thing she’s aware of is how blisteringly hot it is in her bedroom. mason’s arm slung over her bare waist feels like she’s leaning it against the stove, and there’s sweat pooling at the small of her back where she’s kicked the sheets off to the floor.

the second thing she’s aware of is mason’s nose, which is pressed firmly into the back of her neck, and the low, pleased rumble deep in his chest when he asks, “why does it feel so nice in here?”

then she realizes what’s making him so happy: the room is shrouded in darkness, completely pitch black. even the tiny digital clock on her television isn’t blinking.

kira groans, shrugging her boyfriend off where he’s hanging over her back like a ton of bricks. ���the power is out.”

mason falls back against the mattress heavily -- so heavily she knows he’s doing it on purpose, like a dick, because she can’t even push him an inch when he doesn’t want to be moved -- sighing up at the ceiling. “again? what is that, the twelfth time this month?”

“third,” she corrects absentmindedly, sitting up until the sheets fall limply around her waist. god, she is sweating. “i hope it’s not citywide this time.”

it’s been an unseasonably hot summer in wayhaven. the rolling blackouts have been ridiculous, and even when the electric company has managed to keep her power on, she’s still spent many nights listening to her air conditioning units splutter as they struggled to keep her apartment cool against the climbing temperatures and stifling humidity outside.

during the last blackout, she’d spent a week responding to bullshit calls all over the city until the lights had finally come back on; mrs. braverson on spruce street had bumped into a bookshelf and twisted her ankle, the smythe’s over by the park realized their ‘missing’ cat had been up in the attic all along.

so that was something she wasn’t exactly keen on repeating. 

“shouldn’t they be better at this?” mason asks, the angle of his face illuminating briefly as the lighter in his hand flicks to ignite the cigarette balanced between his lips. “it doesn’t seem that complicated to me.”

kira elbows him in the arm with a huff. “window --” she starts to direct, but he’s already rolling out of bed, walking naked to said window and shoving it up to lean his head outside. her eyes slide down his bare back and come to rest on mason’s ass, now barely able to be made out through the darkness with the moonlight coming in from the curtain he’s shoved aside. “you’re shameless,” she laughs. “if that nosy old lady across the way gets even a glimpse of your dick, she’s going to have a heart attack.”

“i’m willing to go back to smoking in bed at any time.” mason’s voice filters over his shoulder low and lazily, the words a slow rumble that make her sigh when she sits up to peel the tiny cotton bralette she’d been wearing off. 

dropping the damp fabric on the floor by the bed, her underwear’s quick to follow, and she kicks at the sheets until they pool by her feet. “not gonna happen.”

mason twists around to stare at her, barely visible through the darkness except for the glowing butt of the cigarette between his lips, which part in an appreciative smirk until she can see a row of straight, grinning teeth. the expression on his face says plenty without him even opening his mouth. 

kira rolls her eyes. “what time is it?”

“fuck if i know,” mason responds, leaning out the window to blow smoke into the air. 

she rubs at her eyes, then, with great effort, leans over to grope for her cell phone on the floor by the bed. 

“up a bit,” mason remarks unhelpfully from across the room, and even as she pushes onto her knees, wiggling for his benefit, she twists her arm around to flip him the bird while she searches. 

his laugh makes her smile to herself as the screen of her phone lights up, half under the bed. 3:23 AM.

kira groans, shifting to stretch back out on the mattress again. “i have to get up in two hours.”

mason flicks his fingers and what’s left of his cigarette drops to the street below. his elbow braces on the wall beside his head. “no point in going back to sleep, then.”

his eyebrows arch invitingly. the look on his face is one she’d recognize anytime, anywhere. 

he makes it often enough.

but she laughs, and then he smiles back at her, and her chest feels as warm as the rest of her, but not in the sticky, sweaty gross way -- more in the once unfamiliar but rapidly becoming routine way, the way that’s distinctly mason-shaped.

in the blink of an eye, he’s back in bed with her, the springs under her mattress creaking when he pounces, holding himself carefully over her body.

his skin is blazing, and even with the window left open it’s still uncomfortably warm in the room; she twists futilely under mason’s chest to try to tie her long hair up with the elastic on her wrist while his hands slide down the curves of her waist to her thighs.

“hang on,” she says, through a laugh that’s interrupted by a hitching breath when his hands make their way between her legs, pushing them apart slowly. “it is literally so hot, my hair --”

“who knew you were so delicate,” he snorts, thumbs digging into the insides of her thighs as he nudges her legs wider and wider, “mason, my hair, mason, the smoke, mason, it’s hot.”

“shut the fuck up,” kira snarks back, finally twisting her hair into a ponytail and securing it out of her face, reaching out to fan her fingers over his shoulders as soon as they’re free. “you’re the last one who should be calling anyone else delicate, mr. it’s-too-bright-in-here, everyone-we-know-is-too-loud, the-food-at-the-bakery-smells-too-good.”

mason’s head ducks, and the stubble on his chin scrapes across her hip. “fine,” he smirks, “we’re both annoying, is that what you want to hear?”

“doesn’t hurt,” she murmurs, lifting one hand to his hair to push her fingers through. “anyway, since you’re down there...”

“but i’m the shameless one.” mason’s eyes raise to look up at her, and kira pushes onto her elbows to commit the sight of him to memory, even though the position is one they’ve been in plenty, before.

it’s not exactly something she’ll ever be tired of.

she smirks, nudging his forehead down. mason goes, with only a laugh under his breath, his cheek giving a slow drag of sandpaper across the inside of her thigh when he moves. kira shivers despite the heat in the room and instantly regrets it -- she can practically feel mason’s smug smile even as he lowers his head.

just as she opens her mouth to tell him off, she can feel his thumbs dip between her thighs, another chuckle ghosting over her in an exhale when he finds her wet. “sweet dreams, i guess?”

her foot kicks out blindly in retaliation, colliding solidly with something that might be mason’s thigh or side or back. his hand wraps around her knee, pinning it flat to the mattress. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he cajoles, “play nice.”

“you’re a bastard,” she returns, not helping her case much.

as expected, mason pulls back until she can see the flash of his eyes and the crooked tilt of his indulgent smile. “that so?” he drawls, the words slow and syrupy-sweet where they’re dragged out between her legs. “want me to let you get back to sleep, then?”

kira can feel her face pull into something that she means to be a scowl but is certain comes across as more of a pout. “nothing is ever easy with you,” she complains, squirming a little on the sheets where they’re bunched up under her, still admittedly sweaty from the lack of air conditioning. “i have to beg you every time i want you to --”

“oh my god, alright,” mason laughs, cutting her off with a shake of his head. his own hair is damp where he lifts his free hand to swipe it out of his eyes. “jesus christ, i forgot how cranky you get without your eight hours.”

with that, he lowers his head again, and she sighs at the first brush of his tongue against her, her back arching up off the bed. the sheets stick to her skin and come with her before slowly falling back to the mattress so she can ball a fist in them.

mason’s touch is teasing, featherlight and gentle. kira resists the urge to roll her eyes; they both know it’s not out of any innate goodness he has, but rather an arrogance he’s always possessed, a deep-seated knowledge that he can elicit a reaction from her that leaves her screaming the walls down and thrashing in bed.

asshole.

her legs spread wider on the mattress and mason’s hands immediately move to hold her still, his strength as thrilling as ever even while his palms blaze hot on her thighs, burning her skin. 

kira can hear herself moan, unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent stillness of the room. mason is quiet where he’s kneeling before her, and, other than the sound of her breathing, there’s only mild shifting in the sheets that’s interrupted by the way she breathlessly groans out a curse of his name.

but it’s obviously what he’s been waiting for; mason redoubles his efforts and his face disappears from view entirely, the bridge of his nose brushing over where she’s sensitive and wet so his tongue can push deeper, a warning graze of teeth and stubble replaced by the pillowy softness of his lips on her clit before she can do much more than jerk her hips back with a gasp.

“fuck,” she says emphatically, her eyes screwing shut tight. the entire room is hazy and warm around her, blood rushing in her ears. mason’s movements are the opposite of a distraction from the stifling heat of the room -- the fire of his mouth and the brand of his fingertips digging into her skin feels like it’s burning her alive from the inside out, but she’s helpless to do anything other than give herself over to it, her heels digging into mason’s back where her legs have wound around him.

his fingers dip in to bring her effortlessly to an edge, the combination of the practiced movements of his mouth combined with the blunt nudge of his knuckles leaving her trembling against him, one hand tight in his hair while the other pulls the sheets out of shape. 

the apartment, and wayhaven, in the middle of the night, continue to embarrass her with their silence. her hips thrash in his hold while her moans grow louder and louder, until she’s just there -- just enough for mason to pull back with an eyebrow quirked curiously.

“please,” she begs immediately, both knowing it’s what he wants to hear and desperate for the push over the edge he’s withholding. 

a sliver of light from the moon through the window reflects off his face where it’s obscenely shiny on his chin and cheeks. mason lifts his head and grins sharply at her, his eyes knowing. “please what, sweetheart?”

“please finish,” kira gasps, “i’m so close, i need you to -- please, mason.” 

something about the late hour has evidently made him feel generous. if she had a better grasp on her remaining brain function she might make a note to do this more often -- she knows he spends much of the time she’s asleep simply staring at the ceiling beside her or pacing the length of the apartment -- but, as it is, she can do little more than hold on while he methodically takes her apart in just the way she’d been hoping for.

her ears ring when she comes, breath hitching in the darkness before her head tips back with a moan, his name on her lips in a garbled sound that transforms into a too-loud-for-this-hour fuck that ultimately finishes on a slow, content sigh.

her body is still dripping with sweat, and mason looks so messy himself, when he pushes up onto his forearms, that she wonders what a sight she must be. she can feel her face grow impossibly warmer at the thought.

kira stares at him as he sucks his own fingers into his mouth slowly, licking his lips lasciviously when he’s done. what a strange person, she thinks, and then, when her heart gives a funny little twist at the look on his face, thumping extra fast in her chest, she realizes it’s something they have in common. 

“alright?” mason asks quietly, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

she nods, reaching out for him clumsily. there’s a softness in his gaze as he shifts to move closer, and the smile playing at his lips makes the scorching heat consuming her settle into something more akin to the dull warmth she usually feels when mason’s around.

one big hand moves the sloppy strands of hair spilling from her ponytail out of her face none-too gently, lips suddenly claiming hers in an overager, biting kiss. kira can taste herself on his tongue and realizes it’s impossible to be anything but pleased when she considers how tightly mason is holding her.

she still fights him, playfully, because she’ll probably never stop, and they roll around on the bed until finally resting at the very edge of the mattress, mason spooned up tightly behind her while his arms snake around her torso.

his breath is hotter than the rest of the room at the base of her throat, his lips dragging along the juncture that leads to her shoulder. kira tilts her head back against him, relaxing in his hold.

he’s hard when he presses his hips against her ass, rocking forward deliberately.

“what time is it now?” she asks lazily, thoughts drifting to the day ahead of her. there were sure to be plenty of annoyances waiting for her when she finally made it to the station. at this rate, she was sure to be late. 

“four?” mason guesses, the word a low grunt against the back of her neck. “plenty of time before your alarm.”

she nods, stretching out as best as she can with the way he’s draped around her again, their positions a perfect mirror of the way she’d woken up. her back arches, and the low, pained noise mason makes under his breath when she shifts against him re-energizes her completely, leaving her grinning into the darkness of her bedroom.

“yeah,” kira hums, reaching back around over her shoulder to pet at mason’s hair. “can we at least move into the shower, though? i’m going to pass out if i don’t cool off.”

mason heaves a long, self-suffering sigh. she purses her lips to hold back a laugh, tapping her fingers onto his bicep while she waits for him to come around.

it doesn’t take too long. 

“fine,” he mutters, “only because i don’t want to deal with felix if you get heatstroke.”

“i don’t think you can actually get heatstroke out of the sun,” she returns, leaning forward to press a brief kiss to the damp skin of mason’s wrist. his fingertips trail tenderly over her cheek when she pulls away. “but thanks.”

the mattress bounces when he jumps to his feet. his dick swings with the movement and kira snorts as she moves to follow him, barely balanced on the floor before her boyfriend hoists her into his arms to carry her blindly through the dark apartment.

“jesus,” kira laughs, grabbing onto his arm for purchase while their sweaty skin slides together, “warn a girl, next time.”

“now you’re asking for too much.” her ass hits the bathroom counter and she squints through the vaguely distinguishable shadows in the room, barely able to make out mason starting the water in her shower. 

she jumps at the sudden sound of his voice, low near her ear. “come here,” he says, hands guiding her down and across the few steps on the tile it’ll take to cross the room. “i’ve got you.”

the words are soothing -- nearly as soothing as the water that patters down onto her flushed skin when they both step inside the shower stall, soaking her through.

it’s a relief to let her hair down and have it pushed out of the way by the spray -- a relief to finally feel cool again, a relief to actually shiver when the water gets too cold.

a relief, because the kisses that trail across her back, down her neck and over her arms again and again and again, keep her perfectly warm while the two of them work together to fight the new chill and steam up the room.

[babyflossy]

ethereal | l.ty

pairing; demon!taeyong x reader

requested; yes! this was requested agessss ago haha,,, i hope you like it!!

summary; you’re not sure when your nighttime hallucinations started, but if they always appear in the form of lee taeyong, you’re not going to complain

genre/warnings; smut (fem receiving oral, sex, sex with a hallucination (?bro i literally don’t even know what to class this as?), overstim if you squint, kinda creepy maybe?), might class this as a kinda halloween esqe fic? sexy ethereal demon taeyong i guess

word count; 2.7k

when you wake in the middle of the night, hot air clinging to your body with a vice like grip, the only thing you feel is frustration. the window is still open from hours earlier when your ceiling fan proved futile as an attempt to combat the heat, a flimsy breeze floating through the room every now and then. a light layer of sweat shines off your skin and you feel weighed down with the grogginess of sleep and the jarring suddenness you had been pulled from your slumber.

in the corner of your room, safe from your vision due to the shadows, is a person. he stands straight backed against the edge of your wardrobe, wide eyes watching you intently as you pull the thin covers off your body, swinging your legs over the side of your bed to stand up. it’s been a while since he’s encountered a human as captivating as you, and the way the moonlight glistens off your skin pulls him in.

you rub your eyes with your hands and stretch your arms behind you as you realise sleep will not do you the favour of coming easy tonight. the cream silk of a nightdress hangs off your body and appears as if it’s floating in the dim light of the early morning. lee taeyong notices this and wishes for nothing more than to have the privilege to rid you of the item of clothing.

he should be used to this, the hunt before the reward, the chase that he always wins, but there’s something different about you. something that makes him want to take his time. you stand out in his mind against all the other humans he’s conquered, like a golden ticket inside his mind’s eye.

in this hour of the night, you are nothing short of the goddess he can only dream of. captivating, enamouring.

he wants you. and he will get you.

the third night you spend sleepless is when you start to loose it. the heat still wisps around you uncontrollably, impossible to catch relief from beside standing in the open door of your freezer. it follows you around and you start to question how you’re going to last the rest of summer if the heat doesn’t calm down.

it has you feeling on edge, useless. needy.

despite your efforts to ignore it, you can’t help but feel hot in a completely different way. the past few nights have been sleepless yes, but they haven’t been void of dreams that haunt you in the day. dreams where ethereal beings come and grant you your deepest wishes, your darkest desires. among all of them, there’s a reoccuring face that strikes so deep within you you almost feel empty at the thought he’s not real.

you’re not sure how you know his name, but lee taeyong is never far from the forefront of your mind.

a week passes of little sleep and even less freedom from your incessant lust-filled daydreams. you’re at the end of you tether and you’re convinced you’re hallucinating when the object of your grief stands before you.

the hour is just as late as when he first laid eyes on you, the night equally as static and humid. you want to scream, this strange man stood before your bed in the middle of the night, a predatory look upon his face, but you can’t seem to find a voice.

the white of his shirt shines like pearls against his skin, he is shimmering even without any light in the room. his hair is similar, a deep brown that still manages to appear illuminescent. his sharp features are paired with big eyes that stare down at you on your bed, frozen and unable to do anything other than stare up at him.

you can’t remember how long he’d been there. how did he get inside? why do you feel like he’s been there the entire time? the feel of the surroundings haven’t changed since he’s appeared and you come to the conclusion that he’s been there the entire time, invisible to the untrained eye and yet holding enough power to completely overtake a room. there’s the faintest quirk of a smile on his face as he peers down at you, like you’re a prized possession he can’t quite believe is real and right in front of him.

it’s off-putting, the way he stares at you with such needing intent and yet stands so unmovingly. he’s like a statue, you realise, a perfect replica of the most beautiful things the earth has to offer all in one place, one being. involuntarily, you feel a hand reach up to him, carefully, as if he’s a appartion from your imagination that will drift back into nothingness if you move too suddenly.

when his hand reaches down to meet yours, his skin is impossibly smooth, cool and yet soft. it feels like marble under the pads of your fingers as you drag one along the pad of his middle finger and into the palm of his hand, tracing the bluish veins that sit just under the surface of his wrist. there’s diamonds in his eyes as he stares at you, linking your fingers together and pulling the back of your hand up to his lips. unlike his hands, they are warm and your hand burns from the contact.

“angel, you’re so perfect.” the words are nothing more than a mere whisper on the wind that is now flowing through your bedroom, the temperature has dropped from impossibly hot to the perfect tepid warmth that sits against your skin nicely. his eyes trace your own, taking in the colour of your irises and the shine of them under him.

“who are you?” the voice doesn’t sound like your own but you fail to care, focus unable to stray from the stranger’s perfect face, your insides swirling when he quirks one side of his mouth up in a gentle smile.

“you already know, my dear.” there’s a wistful lilt to his voice and you jump slightly when the pad of his thumb brushes against the swell of your lower lip, eyes watching his movement carefully. you had never felt so safe and yet so on edge before.

“why are you here?”

“you ask too many questions.” it was less of a statement and more of a command to stop. it works immediately and you find your lips glued shut, unable to resist completely submitting yourself to this being before you. “there we go, isn’t that better?” he pokes with an easy smile at the silence that now settles between you. something about the praise is detrimental to your insides and a shiver of anticipation jolts through you.

for a moment, neither of you moves, there’s nothing but the perfect stillness of the night and the glowy cast that surrounds him to distract you. and then he starts leaning down closer to you, setting your hands that remain intertwined beside you on the bed and forcing you to move backwards until your feet leave the floor. slowly, like a lion approaching its prey, he crawls forward until your back is flush against the mattress and he is hovering on his free hand above you.

again, there is a second of painful silence where the world stops around you. in this moment, there is only you and this being who you somehow know as taeyong and the air between you, so full of expectation and the buzz of what’s to come.

and then he’s leaning down, slotting himself in the space where your legs naturally separate for him and pressing a first, soft, kiss to your lips. this is the moment where taeyong realises you are different from every other human he’s touched like this. your lips hold a warmth others can only imagine to possess, an addicting trace that leaves him breathless and suddenly uncertain of himself.

once his lips are separated from yours, you lean up to attach them once again. it fills you with such a new sense of want you can barely control your hands when they reach up to fist the fabric of his shirt, finding it almost impossibly soft against your skin, slipping through your fingers like sand.

when you touch him, taeyong mimics your action and lets himself lean into you so he can use his hands to toy with the thin straps of your nightdress. they skim around your neck and trail delicate twirls down your collarbones that have you shivering at the coldness. his hands continue on their pursuit downwards until they reach your breasts, kneading the soft flesh through the fabric. he swallows your moans when he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, the other hand pulling the strap down to reveal more of your skin.

as soon as your skin is bared in front of him, he tears his lips away from yours and drags them down your neck to your breast. his fingers continue their assault of your other nipple when he takes one into his mouth, sucking slightly and loving the way you arch up into him. the feeling is overwhelming, the coldness of his hands compared to the heat from his mouth. it has you weak and helpless in his grip.

when he satisfied with the purple bruises adorning one breast, he lets your nipple go with a pop and moves to treat the other the same way, gentle but firm hands and the teasing graze of his teeth on your most sensitive areas.

you don’t notice his hand slipping between you until his hand toys with the waistband of you panties and you almost moan from that alone. it’s nearly too much for you as taeyong finally delves his fingers under the last layer of fabric separating you, every nerve in your body tuned into him and nothing else, your skin in flames and you mind wandering the plane between conscious and more than that. you are so hyper aware to the feeling of him on top of you, every place your bodies touch is engrained in your memory, a channel of the feelings you share.

he indulges you with an experimental swipe over you clit before choosing to rub painfully slow circles around the spot you want him most. you could cry with need, your emotions so uncontrollable due to your desire. it’s as if taeyong can tell you can’t take it as he moves exactly when you’re about to speak up, thumb setting a calm pace against your clit.

you sigh, body melting against his own as he plays your body like a perfectly tuned harp. his mouth stays latches to the sensitive skin of your breasts and the feelings are too intense. the coil in your stomach is tightening at an ever increasing rate and the moans you let out are sinful.

just as you’re about to tip over the edge into euphoria, taeyong stops the movement of his fingers, head moving away from your skin and leaving you cold and bare. you’re too lost in your craving for him to say anything, but he can feel your frustration in the way you tighten you hands in his shirt. just as he removes his hand from your panties, he scoops some of your wetness up with his fingers and holds it between you before sucking his fingers into your mouth, eyes nearly rolling back at the unbelievable sweetness.

in all his years, taeyong had never found someone so perfect.

instead of upsetting you further, taeyong pulls down your panties and pushed himself down the bed, settling himself happily between the soft skin of your thighs. he grips them in his hands and pulls them to either side of his head, leaving forward to lick up your folds teasingly slowly.

your head falls back at the feeling and you’re already lost to the pleasure. he makes quick work of you, mouth sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue whilst his fingers slip up into you. he strokes at your sweet spot, hitting the spot so relentlessly you can do nothing but lie with your mouth dangling open and breathless pleas leaving you. waves of pleasure rain down on you and this time, taeyong doesn’t stop when he feels you approaching your high, instead opting to quicken the pace of his tongue and curl his fingers inside of you.

you think you scream when you let go, but you can’t really tell beyond the overwhelming feeling of taeyong. everything around you is amplified as he works you through your high, hips stuttering up against him and legs quivering, shutting around his head.f

he give you a moment to recover before he’s crawling back up your body, a sinful smile on his face.

no words are exchanged as he gifts you another kiss, this one so different to the first few. it’s dirty and lewd and you can taste your essence on his tongue. you stay like that for an immeasurable length of time, drowning in the taste of each other. eventually, taeyong pulls away first and you feel a hardness pressing against your thigh. in preparation, he lets his cock glide between you folds to gather your wetness before lining himself up with your entrance. right before he pushes in to you he captures you in another kiss to distract you from the stretch.

it’s painful, but addicting. you wallow in the pits of your lust and realise you’ll probably never feel like this again, never feel such a staggering amount of emotion at once. you feel everything and nothing at all, like you’re in a daze where the only concrete thing to ground you is this man who shimmers into existence at late hours of the night and early hours of the morning. and you love it.

for the first few thrusts, you can tell he’s holding back, trying to give you a second to adjust to the feeling. you wind your fingers into his hair and tug, meeting his eyes and silently telling him to keep going. it’s all he needs before you feel his hips pull back and slam down into you.

your sight blurs as your eyes roll back, legs wrapping around his back and allowing him to reach the most prized areas inside of you. just like everything else about him, it’s perfect, so flawless you feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. he carries on for a while with that same rhythm and it doesn’t take you long before you’re hurtling towards another orgasm.

taeyong slows down to let your pleasure simmer down before continuing, chasing his own high as well as pushing you towards your own. his hips fatler from their original cadence into a messy movement that has you meeting his thrusts halfway. you start to clench around him involuntarily and he drops his head to the crook of your neck, tugging your skin between his teeth and sucking harshly to balance his pleasure.

you fall apart at the same time, synchronised heart beats going a mile a minute. the air in the room is charged and you feel electrified, like you’re on fire but also at the bottom of a freezing lake. the feeling of taeyong spilling into you makes you shiver, the warmth shocking your system. he continues pushing into you for a few moments before pulling out, rubbing his hand up your slit to see the way you jolt in overstimulation.

your eyes are still screwed shut and you feel him roll off you onto the bed beside you, the air rushing to your lungs easer without the extra weight. there’s silence for a while before you finally open your eyes with a smile and look over to taeyong.

the sight before you shocks you, makes your blood turn ice cold. taeyong lies facing you with an innocent smile on his face, but where his glittering eyes once looked at you with such adoration, two black pits stare back at you. the room is suddenly freezing and you flinch when his hand comes to rest on your waist.

too scared to move, you only screw your eyes shut and hope the sight disappears. to your relief, when you open then again there is nothing but a dent in mattress left behind and the cold winter wind blowing through your open window.

a/n; i hope you liked this!!! i enjoyed writing it even if it is kinda more filthy than usual,, reposted because of tags