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fairyrcts · 2 months ago

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DREAMS, FAIRYTAILS, FANTASIES , N.D.

by fairyrcts contents - intended lowercase , 3rd person , use of y/n , unprotected sex (not recommended) , cursing , praising , semi-public sex , male masturbation , virginity loss (not mentioned) , mommy kink , overstimulation, breeding

an - ik y'all said you wanted chris fic first but i was too eager to write the nate one

taglist - @pvssychicken , @gothiccvnt6996 , @emely9274 (header by @issysh3ll )

y/n walked up and down the rows of seats as she tidied up after the hockey game.

her father was the coach, so she always stayed later after the games to pick up anything left behind and help her dad with whatever he needed.

she'd bent down to pick up a foam glove that was left. her light blue mini skirt rode up her thighs as she reached down.

nathan, who was taking off his gear in the bench area, had thought everyone including y/n had left.

he'd always see her with her dad during the pre-game pep talks, sometimes she'd sit and watch them at practice, or just cleaning up after everything had been finished.

although the only thing he knew about the girl was her name and father's name, he had the biggest crush on her.

he'd glance over at her in her skirts and lacy tops or tight, soft colored dressed that made him want a taste of every curve on her body. her innocence and naivety made him want him for himself even more.

unknown to him, y/n had a slight thing for him too.

when he'd take off his helmet and his hair would stick to his forehead as he panted. or when he'd take his jersey off after playing and he'd be left in his white tanktop, his mucles shining due to the sweat.

she'd direct her gaze towards him every time she'd watch the team play or practice. seeing him get sweaty and angered out on the ice had to be one of the most attractive things ever.

nathan stood up with his skates and pads in his hands. he walked out of the closed in area and into where the seats were. he glanced around for a sec before his eye's landed on y/n.

she was bent over, picking up things from the floor. her skirt was way up and her pink lacy panties caught his attention.

he was in a state of shock for a moment as he stared at the unaware girl in front of him.

he walked closer, deciding to speak to her.

"hey, y/n. i didn't know you were still here. your dad here still?" nathan spoke in breathy tone, causing y/n to whip around.

"hm? oh, yeah. no, he left a little bit ago but there was still stuff to be cleaned up. you did really good by the way. my dad says you're pretty talented." she gave him a toothy smile as she talked to the brunette.

nathan's grin became wider as those words came out her mouth. "thank you, really."

"yeah, anytime. well, i'll be here for a bit longer, so if you need anything just let me know." she was a very generous person.

generous enough to help with the ache in his pants? no, no, he shouldn't be thinking that stuff.

"will do. nice seeing you." he reciprocated her smile and made his way toward the locker room.

nate immediately yanked his clothes off, tughing his pants off as quick as possible.

he sat on the bench in the locker room as he pulled his boxers down to his ankles. his tip leaked pre-cum, it dripping down his length.

he balled his hand into a fist and began stroking himself. he was so sensitive just his own touch caused him to moan out loudly.

he let a line of drool leave his mouth and onto his dick. "mm, fff-uck, y/n. i- holy shit, keep goin'."

he imagined y/n's mouth on his cock, her throat stuffed and her lips puffy from his length.

y/n finished cleaning the bleachers and made her way towards the garbage can that sat beside the entry to the mens locker room.

she threw away all the trach she'd collected and was getting-ready to leave til' she heard her name being called.

"mm, y/n. jjust like that, yes ma'am."

she tightened her thighs together to keep her mind away from the wetness in between them.

she cracked the door open slightly, nate's head turning the second he heard the creak of the hinges.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't know you were in here. sorry." her words were rushed as she shut her eyes abruptly.

nathan panicked to get his boxers back on. "no, shit. no, uh, youre good."

"uh, were you calling me?" she asked, her voice unintentionally innocent as she opened her eyes slightly. her eyes went wide at the sight of his dick, fully visible from his boxers, a small wet stain were his tip sat.

"uh, nope. wasn"t callin' ya. must've been like, uh. i dunno." nate's eyes looked everywhere but her as if trying to take away the attention.

y/n let out a soft giggle at the sight of him awkwardly trying to end the damn conversation. "i mean, it's alright. you're not very quiet. do you, uh.. need some help?"

her tone sent aches through his body, his cock pulsing through his underwear. "i-i, i'm sorry? say what now?!"

she chuckled once more at his stuttering voice. "c'mon, just sit back. let me show you."

nate thought he was living one of his own fantasties as he wobbled back onto the bench beneath him.

y/n undid the bow in the back of her shirt and pulled down the skirt she wore with it. she was left in her bra and panties, which she took off slow and seductively.

she now stood naked in front of the brunette boy. nathan's eyes just stared at her as he was frozen and stiff. if you squint, you could see his dick get even harder under his boxers by the second.

she scooted closer to him. "wanna take it off for me?" her voice was low as she played with the waistband of his underwear.

"i-yup." his obedience was so attractive. she knew he'd listen well.

he quickly yanked them off before sitting back on the warm bench.

y/n straddled him, his dick not in her cunt quite just yet. she began sucking on his neck to get him just a bit more excited before finally letting her hips move down onto his soaked cock.

the sound of her dripping pussy and his absolutely messy cock made nate's mind fuzzy.

he let out a loud, guttural moan at the new feeling. "holy fuck, mommy- fuck! i-"

he couldn't even form a coherent sentence just one pump in.

"just relax. i've got you." her words were hushed as she whispered into his ear.

she slowly moved her body up and down his length, going all the way off and back on him each time.

the feeling of her tight cunt on his absolutely aching dick was already too much for him.

"mo-mmy, no, please keep goin'."

y/n couldn't say no to her handsome boy. happily, she obligiged, bouncing herself up and down on his dick.

after only a few minutes, nate was so close. "fffuck, i c-can't no more. pleasepleaseplease."

"nuh uh, you can keep going, be a good boy for mommy , hmm?"

her voice sent him over the edge. he just couldn't anymore. he needed to release and make a mess inside of her.

"pleaseee, i need to. i-i've been good!"

he had behaved and listened fine the whole time. she debated wether or not to let him or have more of her own fun.

she ultimately chose to let him for his benefit. she'd enjoyed teasing the boy enough.

"mhm, go ahead." and almost instantly, he came all inside her. the moan he let out was louder than before as he let his juices release in the girl's pussy.

"good boy." she whispered softly in his ear before she stood up, nate wincing lightly.

"b-but, i didn't get to make you feel good."

"some other time, baby."

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tokiwarcube · 5 months ago

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Some Nathan NS/FW headcanons that I completely blanked on posting -- oops! (SFW Companion piece HERE)

Reader gender not specified -- Talks of size kink, overstim (R rec.), leashes and bondage (N rec.), and more! Enjoy! <3

Nathan has, at the beginning of your relationship, these very rigid ideas of what is expected from him as a man of his size and stature.

Don’t get me wrong — he does absolutely love the power trip that comes with seeing you on your knees, or pinned beneath his larger frame.

That’s nothing to say of your fluttering eyelashes, brimming with unshed tears of overstimulation — all clipped whines and punched out breaths as he fucks out every thought in your head.

Wrists trapped in his hold, bruises darkening just under your collar in ways you’ll struggle to hide in the morning…

Believe me, he loves being the one to bring you to the precipice like this.

But you know, as you get closer, he starts having thoughts that scare him a little.

It starts out small — instead of being caged beneath him, maybe you’re riding him in his next fantasy. Tugging on his hair, placing your own well-timed nips to the expanse of his throat. No big deal. And maybe you’re throwing some of his own words back at him, but again, not a huge thing.

But then one day you’re out of town, and he’s needy, fantasizing with his hand on his dick and suddenly he’s cumming the hardest he ever has solo to the thought of you topping him, leash in hand. And Jesus Christ, does it ever throw him for a loop.

This is all to say: Switch/Vers, but it takes a century and a half for him to admit that he’s anything but a Dom/Top.

Nathan hardly has any volume control outside of the bedroom, and that isn’t going to change within it, either. He growls so deep you can feel it in your bones, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the hottest thing in the whole fucking world. He’s not a talker for the most part — not unless either A.) You’re in control, and have set it as a rule, or B.) You’re both in a tender mood — but his noises more than make up for it.

When he’s in control for the night, he is adamant about keeping as much skin to skin contact as he can — whether he’s rolling his hips into you, pressed chest to chest from above, or pulling you flush to his form as you rut against him, the two of you hardly ever have more than a millimeter of space between you.

He also loves using his strength to his advantage in the bedroom, moving you this way and that without breaking a sweat. It makes you feel very small, just by existing — to say he has a size kink would be an understatement.

On that note — his hands are fucking huge, and they stretch you out in ways that leave you drooling and needy faster than you’d like to admit. Although again, there’s something very, very addicting about seeing how his hands cover you, grabbing and needy.

Loves cumming on you, and will always take that if the option is available — half of it is a territorial powerplay, but the other half of him just really, really loves the sight. He’s not too particular about where, but he’s partial to your chest and stomach.

He also looks divine in black ribbon and rope — it’s quite the feeling, having such a powerful man (in every sense of the word), dolled up and at attention, all for you. He very much benefits from having a soft, but firm, dominant. If he’s struggling to keep up with your commands, know he does better on leash. You suspect that he acts out a bit more just to feel the leather against his skin, to feel you gently tugging his chain to get him where he needs to be. His flushed and twitching cock only cements your suspicions further.

He’s so pretty when he cums, all tense muscle and choked out groans. It’s always a 50/50 on whether or not you get to see his face — half the time he’s buried his head in your neck, or cast his head back, black hair falling elegantly despite the thickness in the air. But when you do? Oh, what a beautiful sight. Slack jawed, brow furrowed, and flushed, he’s a sight for sore eyes.

Thank God he has so much stamina.

#nathan explosion x reader #metalocalypse x reader #metalocalypse nathan x reader #dethklok nathan x reader #dethklok x reader #WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME I DIDN'T POST THIS HELLO #i have had. a physical copy of this. from when i was separated from my puter. just waiting to be transcribed #anyways :thumbsup: adult swim taught me to find nathan sexy etc etc

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sturniololoco · 10 months ago

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Shy pt. 3

pt 1 pt 2 pt 4

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

SLS x Nathan Doe

Warnings: suggestive content kinda?, Kissing, bathing suits?, etc.

SLS/N’s POV

Nick sat in my bed, already in his bathing suit, while I basically pulled out every single one of my bathing suits and tried them on for him.

“No, do that one, Nate will be going crazy.” He said, pointing to one I had previously tried on. It was a floral bikini with smaller bottoms.

"Nick!" I scolded him. He put his hands up in mock defense and got up to leave the room while I changed. Before I headed downstairs, I snuck into Nick's closet to grab a T-shirt to wear as a cover-up.

Again, I was smushed up against Nate for the 15-minute car ride to the warehouse. Only this time it was different.

I could feel his eyes on me nearly the entire ride. And at one point he moved his hand down between us and started fumbling with the edge of my shirt.

At this, I felt my heart nearly leave my chest.

Butterflies.

Maybe the kiss did mean something. I thought.

As we pulled into the warehouse, Nate was quick to jump out. He helped Chris grab all our things and walk them to the pool. Nick and I were walking side by side on the sidewalk, I was on the edge.

The next thing I knew, Chris was tackling me into the pool, T-shirt and all. I swam and brought my head above water. I looked at Chris as he climbed out of the pool, giving me an evil smirk.

I stuck both my middle fingers and my tongue out, screaming,

"Fuck you!"

I climbed out of the pool, Nick's white t-shirt sucked tight to my skin from the water. I quickly stripped it off my body, before the sight got too embarrassing.

I saw Nate smirk out of the corner of my eye, taking off his own shirt, and I couldn't help but stare.

Two rounds of sunscreen later, Nick and I were relaxing and drinking Pepsi by the side of the pool. Matt, Chris, and Nate were too busy wrestling to notice the conversation between Nick and I.

"Did you see the way he was staring at you? I think he had a string of drool hanging from his lip too-" Nick was saying, but was interrupted by Chris, yelling,

"Who's up for a chicken fight!?" I quickly stood up and jumped into the water, wanting to get in on the fun. Nick stayed back dn said he'd be the ref.

"Okay. Round one will be Me and SLS/N vs Nate and Chris." Matt said I gave him a fist bump before he went under the water, allowing me to climb on top of his shoulders. Nate and Chris did the same, Chris on top.

We fought and fought until Nate swept Matt, causing us to splash into the water. Nate and Chris cheered and high five as Matt and I wiped the water out of our eyes.

Round two! Matt and Chris vs Nate and SLS/N!" Nick yelled from the pool side. I whipped my head around and stared at him. He gave me a small smile before blowing an imaginary whistle.

Matt climbed up on Chris's shoulders. They saw me hesitate and Chris said,

"What's wrong? Are you two chicken to go up against the masters?" Mat and he started making chicken noises at us.

I am no chicken in a chicken fight.

I turned around to face Nate who was already looking at me. My cheeks turned red as I said,

"Let's do this."

He went under the water, allowing me to sit on his shoulders, fully aware that I was literally on top of him.

He rose to the surface and wrapped his arms around my legs, giving them a little squeeze.

Nick blew his whistle again, and we were off.

This was the longest chicken fight because it lasted a few solid minutes. But Nate and I eventually push my brothers into the deep end and they sink.

Nate and I cheer and high-five after he gently helps me down from his shoulders. We begin to make quacking chicken noises at Matt and Chris, who roll their eyes in defeat.

“Hey, imma run to the bathroom. Does anyone need anything while I’m in side?�� I ask you quietly, standing up and fixing my bathing suit straps.

“Actually, could you show me where the bathroom is?” Nate says.

I look at him, shocked. But his face is straight, not breaking eye contact. I nod and begin walking and I wave my arm, signaling for him to follow me.

He does so, following me into the warehouse, up the stairs and down the hallway.

“The bathroom is the first door on the left-“ I begin to say, but I am cut short by Nate, who had me pinned against the wall, gently by my shoulders.

“I can’t do this SLS/N. I can’t keep pretending.” He said leaning in close, our noses brushing.

My eyes flutter shut and my face gets hot. I nod my head, not being able to form words.

He’s so close I can feel his breath fan over my face. At this point I’m just waiting for him to kiss me like he did in the kitchen last night.

“Please, talk to me. Give me something so I know you feel the same.” He said, a pinch of sadness in his voice.

Instead of talking, I lean forward and go up on my toes to make press my lips to his.

I feel him smile into the kiss. He moves his hands from my shoulders, trailing them down my body until they rest at my hips.

I gasp at the sudden contact, making him pull away slightly. I look up at him, my cheeks flushed with heat. He gives me that award-winning smile and I feel my stomach doing flips.

I put my head down, my hair falling down to hide my face. He chuckles and lifts my chin up, saying,

"Somebody is a little shy hmm?" He slightly squeezes my hips, and just as he's leaning down to kiss me again,

We hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

Nate's POV

We hear the footsteps coming up the stairs and we immediately jump. Then I feel her hand pushing me into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

"H-hey Matt!" She says, her voice cracking slightly.

"Hey, is Nate still in there?" He replies, thankfully not getting suspicious. She must have nodded because he responded with,

"I can wait for him if you want. Chris is cranking up the hot tub if you wanna head down there."

"Yeah, um...okay great! I was gonna do that anyway!" She lied. She must have been letting her nerves show because Matt said,

"Are you okay? You're feeling a little warm, do you need to go home?"

Matt must have felt her enflamed cheeks, courtesy of our kiss.

"No, No, No I'm good! I think it's just a sunburn." I then heard her walking away to escape.

After she left, I heard Matt sigh and say,

"Nate, c'mon man! I gotta pee!"

Once I got back downstairs, I saw SLS/N everishly telling Nick something. I smiled at how cute she is when she's talking. I then walked over and helped Chris get the hot tub started.

Once we finished, Chris and I climbed in, cracking open a new can of Pepsi. Not long after Nick and SLS/N joined us.

"Mind if I sit?" She asked, nodding to the spot next to me. I nodded and she got in, resting her back against the hot tub wall, looking a beautiful as ever.

SLS/N's POV

A hot tub gets kinda small when you have four grown men and little me in there. Nate and I's thighs were pressed close together, even closer than in the car.

We were all talking and laughing as the sun went down, drinking way too much Pepsi.

But then something happened that was not expecting.

I felt Nate's hand brush over my thigh. A whisper of a touch. At first, I thought it was an accident, but then he kept doing it.

As the sun went fully down, he proceeded to rest his whole hand on my thigh, rubbing up and down slowly. every time his hand went higher on my thigh making my stomach feel like its caving in.

"SLS/N, are you sure you're okay? You still look kinda sick." Matt asked, probably noticing my quietness and the flustered redness on my face.

I nodded and told him I was fine. He agreed and the boys went back to their conversation. Only then did I realize that Nate's hand stopped moving, right at the very top of my thigh.

His fingers began fiddling with my bathing suit bottoms. I sucked in a sharp breath.

This is too much. They're gonna find out!

I thanked Heaven but also cursed as Chris hopped out of the tub to turn it off. We walked back to grab our stuff to head home. It was pretty cold outside of the hot tub, the sun being down didn't help either.

But what really didn't help was the fact that my T-shirt was still sopping wet from when Chris pushed me into the pool.

I sighed, deciding that I was just gonna suffer from the cold, but I then felt something being hung over my shoulder.

I turn around to see Nate walking away, looking back at me with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and then threw the shirt on, the warm cotton soothing the goosebumps on my skin.

On the car ride home, I passed out, tired from our long day of fun. Not to mention the long day with Nate.

But the next thing I knew, I was being lifted out of the car and being held like a baby, my legs wrapping around the persons torso, my arms around their neck.

I thought it was Chris, so I buried my face in the crook of their neck. But when I heard the voice of the person say, "Naw man, I got her," I knew it was Nate, but I was too tired to care.

He gently laid me down on my bed, pulling the covers over me. He kissed me on my forehead and began to walk out.

"No, stay," I called out groggily before I could think about my actions.

He gave me a soft smile before closing the door and walking back to my bed, climbing under the covers with me. He wrapped his arms around me, falling asleep almost as fast as I did.

Pt 4 sooooooon!

Tag List:

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo sister x reader #sturniolo sister #nathan doe #nathan doe x reader #nathan doe smut

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leoluved · 1 year ago

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indulge me (n.b)

summary: nathan eats you out, then cums in his pants :-) (lovingly) warnings: smut 18+, fem reader, pussy eating, soft nathan bc i cant get enough, not beta read (still a lazy bastard), slight overstim only if u squint word count: 1.0k

It isn’t often Nathan opens up to you. You’re okay with it; with his love being more of a comfort in action than words. You know he needs you even if he wouldn’t dare say it.

You’ve known him long enough to know his emotions run so clearly through his eyes.

As you lay on the couch, with a magazine in your hand, you see him come into the living room through the corner of your peripheral.

You raise your head from the pages, watching as he strides over and takes a seat. Grabbing your legs to settle himself underneath them. You try and focus your attention back to the little quiz you were taking before, but the way Nathan’s fingers graze over your skin has you melting under his touch.

He moves closer, his hands lingering over the surface of your thighs, and you drop the magazine as he hovers over you. Passionately slotting his lips against yours.

Your hands find purchase wrapped around his neck, and you pull him closer to you. Earning yourself a low chuckle from him. You bare your throat to him, allowing him to leave wet, open mouth kisses onto your collarbone.

As you move your hands down to unlace the string of his sweatpants, he stops you. Shaking his head and gently guiding your hand back to yourself by your wrist. He lowers himself, kissing down your midriff as the tank top you were wearing started to ride up.

As if you weighed nothing, Nathan is raising your hips off of the cushion, bringing down your shorts and panties till they’re sliding off your legs. He tosses them off the couch, bringing his hands to the fold of your knees.

You let out a saccharine sigh as you watch him practically fold you in half. He groans at the sight of your slicked folds, removing his glasses and setting them down on the side table before licking a stripe up your wet cunt.

Gasping softly, you try to close your thighs. However Nathan’s strong hands react first, and it only makes him push you further open for him.

His eyes gaze at you lovingly from his position, with the way his hands are gripping your skin you can tell he needs this. The pleasant sting of his fingernails digging into your thighs. Knowing you’ll have crescent shaped marks in the morning.

Nathan brings himself back to your pussy. Starting off with small kitten licks to your clit.

Nathan loves the way you react, how easy it is to have you buckling and begging under his touch. He knows it won’t be long before you’re riding his face. Being greedy to take what you want. Nathan loves that. Loves how his actions can show him just how much you need him.

He grabs one of your hands, replacing yours where his rested in the crook of your leg. One of his thick fingers coming up to tease your slit. The tip prods at your entrance, and Nathan practically drools at the way you clench at the intrusion. Sucking softly on your puffy nub, he enters. Indulging in the way you whimper when he finally plunges his middle finger all the way in.

You buck your hips, and it encourages him to move faster. The sounds of slurping fills the room. You throw your head back and whine out shamelessly into the air. While you’re distracted, Nathan takes the opportunity to insert another finger. Curling them up your spongy walls until he’s hitting your favorite spot.

He knows he found it when you’re finally starting to move your hips on your own.

Suddenly, he stops. Watching cruelly as you try to fuck yourself on his unmoving face. He laughs when you send him a glare and starts his movements up again.

He finally decides his teasing is over, bringing himself back down to eat you like a starving man. Your orgasm quickly approaches, and you don’t even get the chance to let out a word before Nathan is talking you through your peak.

“C’mon baby.. Give it to me. You can do it, princess.”

The pet name comes out in a purr, and with a final curl of his fingers, you’re gasping and bucking up onto his tongue with a cry. You bask in the feeling of your orgasm. Enjoying the way Nathan strokes the skin of your inner thigh. He presses soft kisses to your fluttering pussy. Smiling at the way you twitch. He wipes his face before bringing himself back down.

You almost think he’s joking.

Nathan doesn’t stop, continuing his assault on your pulsing heat. You mewl out, trying to push his head away. Instead, his fingers curl upward again, causing you to jerk away.

“Baby. Just one more, one more ‘n I’ll stop.” His voice is gravely, and it sounds wrecked.

His voice is distant, and with the way he desperately laps at you, it doesn’t take long for you to build up the familiar feeling in your stomach again. Your hands come up to cup his head, trying to bring him as close as you can.

“Nath—an.. Nathan..please..”

Hearing your begging makes him feel like he died and went to the pearly gates of Heaven. Almost as if hearing the choir sing for him. He hasn’t even noticed himself mindlessly rutting against the cushions.

He knows he’s finished when your thighs are uncontrollably shaking. Struggling to take in breaths. When you cum again, so does he. Groaning into you, he finally pulls away. Looking down at the wet spot forming in his light grey sweats. He sighs, and grabs his glasses. Fixing them over his deep umber eyes.

His gaze focuses on you when you finally start to compose yourself. You fix yourself up on your knees and stare at him. He smiles, and brings a hand to your head to guide your body into his chest.

“Don’t you want m—“

“Already did.” He mutters, trying to ignore the way you're holding back a laugh.

#so yeah #˚ . ☆ ⋆。˚ — my writing.#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman x you #ex machina imagine #ex machina #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac

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chaotic-orphan · 2 months ago

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Intoxicating Fear (XXV)

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (part II)

Read part one // masterpost // continued from here

I’m not happy with the last part, but I am too tired to edit it so voila,

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Where are we going?” Ambrose grumbled, the cling of glass on stone crunching under their shoes as they walked, Nathan a step in front of Ambrose as it was before. Always leading Ambrose, Ambrose always following. It made him feel a little sick, like nothing had changed between them, like no time had passed in the last five years since Ambrose established himself for himself. How he didn’t answer to anyone anymore.

And yet here he was, following, again.

Because Kit’s life is in danger, the rational voice told him. You’re not following because you want to.

But one look at the swirling silver eyes and Ambrose was magnetised, trapped under Nathan’s spell again. He knew it, Nate knew it. He wasn’t a hero trying to save Kit, he was just Oskar, Nathan’s shadow. Nathan turned his head to smile at Ambrose, exposing his boyish dimples despite being older than Ambrose.

“You’ll see, won’t you? It’s about the journey, Oskar, not the destination.”

Ambrose swallowed, clenching his jaw and forcing himself to stare ahead as Nathan led them through the tight building packed streets that loomed like giants on either side of Fagan’s lot. most of them were abandoned, or closed for business indefinitely. Some sad, stale “Everything must go” signs lingered in some of the windows that weren’t smashed or bordered up.

It tugged a bit at Ambrose’s cold, dead heart. Fagan’s lot was where Max and Ambrose had shopped because it was cheap, extremely cheap. He remembered Lucy’s grocers, and how Max used to drool as he walked by the fresh fruit and vegetables, and long for them when he was unwrapping microwave pizza for the fifth day in a row because their oven was broken and they couldn’t afford to fix it.

“I want watermelon, Oskar,” he whined.

Ambrose smiled at him, hiding the bill from their landlord for noise complaints, something Ambrose would deal with later. “Payday is in four days. We’re almost there,” he said.

That Friday, when Max got his paycheque, Ambrose came home after his commute to see Max standing proudly in the kitchen. He grabbed the edge of a tea towel and yanked it away with a flourish like a magician, revealing the biggest watermelon Ambrose had ever seen. Max grinned widely, flashing his teeth like a beaming toddler.

“I got the big one.”

“I can see that.” Ambrose said with a nod. Max brandished a serrated knife, licking his lips as he leaned close and took a giant sniff of the watermelon.

“Uggghh, smell that Oskar? That’s the smell of money right there.” Ambrose laughed as Max started to cut into it. The sweet, sticky smell pungent in their small apartment, but Max looked so stupidly happy that Ambrose couldn’t help grin himself. “How much do you want?”

“A slice?”

“You can’t have just a slice,” Max bemoaned, the knife sliding through the watermelon wetly. Ambrose walked around the counter and placed his briefcase on the table, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top two buttons.

“Okay, two slices,” he said, watching as the pink flesh of the fruit fell like sheer fillet mignon, the red juice running like blood over Max’s fingers. Max cut two large circles and cut them in half, putting two on Ambrose’s plate and two on his own. “Bon appétit.”

Max moaned into the first bite, slapping his free hand on the table in passion. “Augh! That’s so good! So worth the wait. Fuck me!”

Max sniffed, and Ambrose met his eyes over the watermelon. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Max said too quickly, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. “Some juice just got in my eye.”

Now, as they walked past Lucy’s grocers, the bright yellows and reds of the plastic baskets of fruit were smashed out front, a metal shutter down with graffiti adorning it instead of fresh fruit. Ambrose ignored it as he walked by, lest Nathan notice — because he always noticed — what it meant to him.

“How do you know, Jude?” Ambrose tried instead.

Nathan raised his brows as if he was about to say something dirty, or let out a startled laugh of disbelief. Ambrose swallowed.

“Why? Jealous, Osk?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Nathan plumped out his bottom lip, the rosey pink getting lighter the more he protruded it into a pout. “You can still call me Nate, if you want.”

“I don’t want to call you anything,” Ambrose ground out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to be this close to you.”

The words had only left Ambrose’s lips before Nathan’s hands were on him slamming him into the opposite wall of the narrow street, deft hand wrapped around the base of his throat. Nathan smiled down at Ambrose who didn’t have to fight to keep the blush off his face, remaining the cool, pale statue that Kit so often likened him too in his head.

“How about this close?” Nathan said, his voice the shape of an angel’s wings; soft, light, majestic, but behind it held great power to exact divine retribution on devils, demons and humans who strayed too close.

“This makes it worse,” Ambrose said, happy that his voice remained even, though his index finger twitched at his sides. Mercury swirling eyes regarded him with a twisted mischief, the corners tugging up into smiles themselves.

Nathan looked at Ambrose the same way a lion would a gazelle, but Ambrose wasn’t the same man he was when him and Nathan were together. He wasn’t poor little Oskar anymore, who shared secrets with Nathan in the early hours of the morning, secrets they swore to take the grave, secrets like Ambrose’s parents that Nathan revealed to Max just to fuck with him.

Nathan’s fingers trailed up, pinching Ambrose’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tilting his head a little higher so he could feel Nathan’s warm breath on his lips, the smell of cigarette smoke and ash fanning his face.

“And how about now?” He asked his voice a tempting whisper, half-lidded silver eyes positively feasting at Ambrose’s stoic expression, looking for the tell, the give. Ambrose had buried them years ago. “Come on, Osk, you can’t tell me you don’t feel this. You and me, we’re meant to be together. You know it, I know it. We can be like we were.”

Nathan tilted his own head so their noses wouldn’t touch as he leaned in closer until his lips brushed Ambrose’s when he spoke. “Don’t you miss it? Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss me?”

Ambrose’s heart raced in his chest. When Nathan looked at him like that, Ambrose feared that he could read his mind instead of the other way around. Not that Ambrose could ever read Nathan’s stupid mind with his stupid gift and his enchanting eyes. But there was an eerie stillness to it, an intensity that Ambrose couldn’t deny and never felt with someone else. Despite his many attempts of dating after Nate, there was no comparison to the silver eyed devil and that terrified him.

He could do it, he realised, his pulse throbbing in his neck against his throat. He could lean up and kiss Nathan and they could go back to how they were. Nathan was waiting, waiting for Ambrose to make the move, to accept him again. To submit and return to being Nathan’s favourite thing. Ambrose had no doubt Nathan loved him, in his own twisted way, but it wasn’t about Nathan and his love. It was about Ambrose, and he hated the person he was when he was with Nathan.

The shell he became.

Ambrose leaned on his toes, hand sliding up Nathan’s side to his neck. Cigarette breath hitched against Ambrose’s face and he smirked. He slammed his palm up against Nathan’s chin and shoved him back with an easy strength.

Nathan stumbled back, silver eyes flashing with malice and pain as his hand went to cup his lip.

“Ow! You made me bite my tongue,” he whined.

Ambrose smiled, sliding a hand into his jacket pocket when he saw a flash of red stain Nathan’s white teeth.

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe you shouldn’t invade people’s personal space, then,” Ambrose said coolly, black eyes on Nathan’s.

Nathan huffed out a breath through his nose, straightening, his brows lowering over his eyes casting shadows on his quicksilver gaze, darkening them to the colour of gunmetal. Dangerous, powerful, scathing.

He let out a soft hmph of disapproval. “Maybe you have changed, Osk.”

“Maybe,” Ambrose said without missing a beat. Then they were walking again, Nathan still leading, though now with a wired tension in his shoulders, something stiff that wound and unwound and Ambrose wanted so desperately to peak inside his brain and see what he was feeling. To know what to expect.

Then they turned down a side street off the main path of Fagan’s lot and Ambrose stopped walking despite himself. Nathan stopped too, a few steps ahead of him and glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk in his eyes and a knowing smile on his lips.

“Something wrong?”

Ambrose remembered Max telling him that Benny was having trouble yesterday, that he should check on him before he leaves. Benny who lived in the apartment across from them in Old Town. A fast friend because of his jolly, wholesome exuberance, always making them smile and bringing over beers on Summer nights for them to go to the roof and hang out.

Benny’s tailors was on the street.

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Where are we going?”

“To see an old friend,” Nathan replied.

“Why?” Ambrose asked, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets.

Nathan let out a breath of a laugh, turning his body towards Ambrose and walked towards him, into his personal space again which forced Ambrose to tilt his head up a little to keep his heavy gaze.

Nathan placed a warm hand on Ambrose’s cheek. On reflex Ambrose’s hand twitched up to smack him away, but Nathan’s words stopped him. “Ah, ah, ah, Oskar. Behave. I still have your hero friend locked away safely with Jude, so you’re going to do as I say.”

“And if I don’t?” Ambrose snapped.

Nathan’s eyes tracked Ambrose’s, observing his steeled expression and annoyance. Nathan ran a thumb over Ambrose’s bottom lip, chilling his blood as he stiffened despite himself.

“I have to check in every ten minutes with Jude or he gets to do whatever he likes to the heroes,” Nathan said.

Ambrose frowned. Heroes? As in more than Kit? Does he know who Kit is?

“See, that’s the Oskar I want. The sweet, pliant thing, the one whose heart raced when I got this close.”

“When did you last check in?” Ambrose demanded.

Nathan hmphed again, silver eyes swirling with glee. “At Max’s, while I waited for you two to kiss and make up.”

“Oh bullshit, you wanted us to fight.”

Nathan’s lips broke into a grin, a flash of teeth. “Okay, yeah. Maybe I did, but the fact remains. That was maybe, what, two-three minutes ago? So do you want to waste time being a brat, or, are you going to come with me and do everything I say to save your friend?”

Ambrose felt a tug in his chest. He wasn’t affected by Nathan anymore. He wasn’t. The only reason he was going through this fucking charade is because of Kit, who a few months ago, meant nothing to him. Why was he doing this? Why was he risking his neck for this kid? His sanity?

Ambrose’s shoulders dropped. Nathan stepped away, eyes gleaming as he turned and walked to the tailors at the end of the street. The shop’s trim was wooden, painted a royal blue, striking from far away, something to catch your eye and it did. Red lettering protruded from the black crown sign above the door, that read: Bespoke Elegance.

Nathan leaned against the wooden detail next to the door, grinning at Ambrose, he inclined his head for Ambrose to go first. Ambrose glared at him but wordlessly obeyed.

For Kit, he told himself. For Max. This would be fine. Everything would be fine.

The bells had only tingled open when a shot rang out and Ambrose’s eyes went wide as a nub of metal stopped so close to his left eye that it watered from the pressure. Behind the bullet at the counter stood Lyra; as lethal as she was pretty. The shell fell to the ground with a clatter and she lowered the pistols, relief washing over her taut features.

“Oskar,” Lyra said, the lilt of her voice musical.

“Well I’ll be fucked,” Lyra said, shifting her weight on her legs but not dropping either pistol from her hands, keeping them trained on Ambrose’s body. “Ghosts still walk the Earth.”

“Maybe I’m an angel, come to rescue you.”

“Or a demon in disguise as one,” Lyra replied easily, tilting her head to the side, exposing her long, lean neck that led into her beautiful collar bones and shoulders.

Lyra Sinclair was the only woman Ambrose would ever consider marrying. She knew she was too good for him, and would probably shoot him if he ever tried to ask. Her hair was in a different style every time he saw her, which regrettably was too little. She was as close to a Goddess that Ambrose had ever come, with olive skin and warm features. Though she had a foul mouth, cursing like a sailor, and still hadn’t lost her posh English accent despite herself.

“What are you doing here, Oskar?” She asked, raising a perfect brow. As if on cue the door behind Ambrose opened, and Lyra trained one pistol one the crack in the door. Her eyes narrowed like cat’s, dangerous, lethal. “Who are you with?”

Ambrose raised his hands, trying to calm her. “Lyra, I can explain.”

“No need, Osk, darling, just tell her to drop the guns.”

Ambrose stiffened, silently hoping that Lyra would just shoot Nathan through the doors, but she trained both pistols back to Ambrose, and now his hands went up in surrender, trying to show her he meant no harm.

“If you open your mouth, Oskar I swear to fuck I will kill you where you stand.”

“Lyra, please,” Ambrose said, risking a step forward. “I don’t want to compel you.”

“Why’re you with him?!” She demanded. “How do you even know each other? Do you know what he is?!”

The worry pulled her features across her face, stretching them wide, exposing the whites of her eyes and wrinkle lines on her forehead.

“Tick, tock, Osk. I’m not texting Jude until I’m inside.”

Ambrose stared pleadingly at Lyra, but her hazel eyes didn’t leave his, her chest rising and falling with a gasp. “You know Jude?” She demanded incredulously, her grip tightening on the weapons. “Are you working with them?”

“No!” Ambrose cried, stepping forward again. “Lyra, please, he has my friend and he’s going to let Jude do whatever the fuck he wants with him if he doesn’t text him in the next five minutes.”

Desperate black eyes met fiery hazel across the shop floor. “Please,” Ambrose said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t get her answer. A toilet flushed somewhere in the back, the sound of rushing water and a door was thrown open behind the red velvet curtain that was pushed outside, metal hooks squeaking and then a wide grin. Ambrose swallowed thickly.

A hulk of a man finely dressed in a chequered navy suit and burgundy silk shirt stepped out from behind the curtain, bending to get through the door before standing to his full height of a giant, taller than Ambrose, hell, taller than Nathan who was 6’4.

The fine suit did its best to hide the muscled torso beneath, but when Benny spread his arms, his stubble lined jaw spread open into a grin.

“Well, well, well, Oskar Fucking Ambrose. You giant cunt. Where’ve you been?”

“C’mere,” Benny gruffed, his footsteps like buckshots in the store. Benny was double the width of Ambrose, and a good head taller which made Ambrose mortally terrified of the man, especially because Benny was simultaneously the biggest, and sweetest, man he had ever met. And a hugger.

Ambrose groaned when he felt his bones crack under Benny’s tight hug, the giant man lifting Ambrose from his feet as if he were a child.

“God. It has been too long, old friend.” Benny said with a hearty laugh and a meaty fisted thump to Ambrose’s back. “We love to see you, brother.”

Benny said, his Ukranian accent choking in the middle of brother, making it sound like broo-der. Benny’s real name was Irakliy, but he told Ambrose when he arrived in the country that your stupid people couldn’t pronounce it, eh? They heard ‘ee’ sound and call me Freddie, I mishear and call me Benny. Name stick in brain like a Kesha song.

“Not today you don’t,” Lyra ground out, a muscle in her jaw ticking.

Benny frowned at her then at Ambrose. Ambrose feared the result of the exchange he was about to have, but he couldn’t not say anything.

Then Nathan chimed in: “three minutes, Oskar.”

Benny’s expression dropped. Ambrose could feel the adrenaline spike in his body as Benny glanced at the door, then at Ambrose, then back at the door. When he looked back at Ambrose again, blue eyes darkened and despite Ambrose’s protests Benny grabbed him by the throat and pile-drove him backwards into one of the viewing mirrors for fittings, the glass cracking against Ambrose’s back.

The wind was stolen from him with a silent gasp, both his hands finding Benny’s and trying to pry his fingers off his throat unsuccessfully. Benny growled in the back of his throat, leaning down so he could get in Ambrose’s slowly blueing face.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck like a twig.”

Benny, he tried in his mind, his brain screaming as pounding headache formed from the pressure in his skull, his brain screaming for oxygen, please. Let me exp—

Ambrose didn’t think, he was panicking as his vision darkened at the edges and without meaning to boomed out a command:

Benny, LET GO!

Benny’s fingers sprung open like a coiled spring being released and Ambrose hit the ground, his cheek hitting off the edge of the fitting platform as Benny cried out.

Ambrose gasped, pushing himself up instinctively and reached to Lyra’s mind, tying the wires in her brain together and unplugging her powers before he fell again.

“Two minutes, Oskar!” Nathan sang and Ambrose groaned. He muttered, don’t move, aloud and waited until both Benny and Lyra went stiff before calling Nathan in.

Nathan stepped through the door, poking his head around first and glancing at Lyra before his face broke out into a smile and he stepped inside fully.

“Morning,” he drawled with a happy sigh as Ambrose managed to prop himself up against the wall. He reached behind his head at the bump that was forming and his fingers came away sticky and wet. Fuck. He blinked, the world dizzy in front of him.

FUCK! He didn’t want to have to do that. Fucking Nathan knew exactly what he was doing making himself known before Ambrose had a chance to explain. Ambrose glared at his stupid, gorgeous ex who pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and held it up, waving it at Ambrose’s face.

“Just in time, babe.” Then he typed away on it, positively eating up the attention in the room. Ambrose tipped his head back, chin to the ceiling up at Benny. His eyes zeroed in on the red and purple bruises on Benny’s swollen hand, and realised sickly that his compulsion did that.

“Benny… your hand…”

“Save it, Amber-ose.” Benny spat. The dip between Benny’s thumb and middle finger had split from the force of Ambrose’s compulsion, steadily dripping blood onto the varnished wooden floor.

“I’m not with him,” Ambrose protested, pushing himself up a little and trying to get to his feet, but the world spun and he fell again, sliding down until his arse hit the ground. “He has… he’s—”

“He said this arsehole has his friend captive,” Lyra said, hazel eyes cutting from Nathan’s face to Ambrose’s. Angry, but believing. She believed him, though he doubted he would be spared a bullet if he let her move. “Said that creep Jude is watching him and if he doesn’t do what he says, he’ll let Jude kill him.”

Benny’s blue eyes turned down, drooping at the sides. “I’m sorry, brother,” Benny said. “You are in as much as the rest of us.”

“Now that we’re all caught up to speed,” Nathan said, clapping his hands together. The sound was like a bullet through Ambrose’s brain. “How about we get down to business?”

“What is your business?” Ambrose demanded, practically spitting his words. All he could think about was Max telling him that Benny was in some trouble, that Max was worried about him. Is Nathan the problem?

Christ, he couldn’t think straight, his brain blurry. Fucking Jude and this hangover and Max’s punches, now Benny’s blows, he was shocked he wasn’t unconscious yet, probably concussed. Maybe, definitely concussed.

Benny frowned, eyes on Ambrose, still frozen. “You don’t know?”

Ambrose frowned, the motion too difficult to convey so he flattened his face, holding his head and stifling a moan. If Ambrose thought of it, he could dip into Benny’s mind and read the message he was storing, roaring, trying to let Ambrose hear, but Ambrose was too focused on staying awake.

“Benny,” Nathan said, his tone dipping low in warning. “Naughty, naughty. Don’t you remember what I can do to you?”

Ambrose shut his eyes tight, planting his hand on the ground and pushing himself up. He had to grip the podium for the fittings and push himself all the way, stumbling back into the mirror when he got to his feet.

Black eyes unfocused, glazed over and swimming with colour, but he tried to focus on Nathan.

“What’re you saying, Nathan? Why are we here?”

Nathan smiled again Ambrose. Its effect was like an avalanche of cold, mountains of snow threatening to bury Ambrose under the weight of it, sending tremors of terror down his spine.

His mind screaming at him to notice something he was missing. To see what was right in front of him. His blood rushed in his ears as he took a step forward, silently releasing Benny in his mind: you can move freely. The effect was too much for Ambrose to bear, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as if someone had just switched off his power.

Benny stood taller, and he turned to Ambrose, catching him before his head smacked off the wood, but it didn’t matter. The darkness swallowed Ambrose, Nathan’s voice speaking in the background as he submitted to unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose woke in a car, sprawled out in the backseat. He groaned as the light assaulted his senses. Fuck. His head was pounding, and he let out a soft groan.

“Oh, you’re awake sleepyhead?” Ambrose’s eyes shot open, his heart seizing in his chest. Nathan. He forgot. Why were they in a car? What happened to Benny? “You should try and get back to sleep, Osk. We’ll be there soon.”

“Where?” Ambrose ground out, the words rattling his skull and agitating his head.

Nathan’s swirling eyes met Ambrose’s in the rearview. “To Kit. That’s where you wanted to go, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s where we’re heading.”

“What did you do to Benny?”

Nathan chuckled. It was as if he had shot a bolt of metal through Ambrose’s spinal cord, freezing him as the metal scraped off bone. “You didn’t hear?”

“I was kind of unconscious for it,” Ambrose said tightly. Nathan’s eyes were back on the road, but it didn’t make him feel any less observed. Any less seen. The same nagging thing pulled at his mind like a child trying to get their parents attention.

Nathan chuckled again, this time lighter. “I suppose you were. But he was thinking very loud, Oskar. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.”

“Hear what?” Ambrose asked, pushing himself to sit up in the backseat, the world tilting around him. He felt like he was going to throw up. Nathan met his gaze in the rearview again and only then did Nathan’s words register in his mind. Ambrose must have froze or stiffened or showed his emotion on his face. “What do you mean his thoughts were loud?”

Nathan’s laugh was musical, pulling at Ambrose’s heart strings. “Come on Osk, you’re smarter than this.”

“Well I may have a concussion or two so cut me some slack,” Ambrose snapped. His breathing hitched, becoming erratic suddenly as his brain burst through the bars of the cell in his skull.

Nathan remained stubbornly silent, forcing Ambrose’s memory to try and colour in the gaps. Come on, Oskar, follow the context clues. He was— in Max’s bar he was fixing up Jude’s tab from the night before, the night with Jude, and Max said Jude knew Supervillain, and worked with him. Partners. Nathan’s grin at Ambrose’s mention of Jude, “why? Jealous, Osk?”

Jealous.

Was he jealous?

No. That’s not the important part. Come on!

Not just Kit, the other heroes. Kit was patrolling last night, looking for Supervillain and now Nathan and Jude had him, and…

“Ah,” Nathan said, revelling in Ambrose’s cold realisation. “There you go, Oskar. You got there eventually.”

“You…” Ambrose said, his voice losing breath and the words tapering off. “You… you can’t be Supervillain. You… you don’t even have powers!”

Nathan smirked in reply but didn’t answer. It irked something inside Ambrose, making him lean forward. “Right?! You don’t have powers, except resistance to—”

Ambrose grabbed his pulsing temple, cutting himself off. Nathan only has defensive abilities. He wasn’t powered, he couldn’t be, he had never— Ambrose had never seen. Natural immunity. That’s it. Not, not— how could he hear Benny’s thoughts? Mentor’s Telekinesis? He couldn’t—

“Explain,” Ambrose said, his voice a growl.

Nathan hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What do you want me to explain?”

“How can you— people can’t have more than one power.”

“I don’t,” Nathan said with a shrug.

“Then what?! How! How can you use Mentor’s— you- you’re fucking lying to me!”

Nathan’s gaze doused the simmering rage in Ambrose. “Am I?”

And Ambrose knew he wasn’t.

He knew it, but he didn’t want to know it.

“You… you— you can’t be Supervillain,” Ambrose whispered. Hoping that if he repeated it enough it would make it true. He felt the overwhelming urge to cry and scream and rage and claw Nathan’s eyes out, but he just shook in the backseat, every part of his body trembling as if he was just dunked into an ice bath.

“And yet, I am, sweetheart. God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to tell you, Oskar. But I knew, I knew I had to wait and be patient, and now that we’re together again I will explain everything when we get home.”

“Why did you take Kit?”

“To get to you, dummy,” Nathan replied with a lopsided smile. A smile full of love and Ambrose wanted to get sick. “And I got you, didn’t I? Go back to sleep, love. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

Ambrose didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to do anything, while simultaneously wanting to open the backdoor and jump out, or pull the steering wheel and throw up. He wanted to fight, but sleep was already pulling heavy down on his eyelids, and he curled back up beside the door, and closed his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

The door squeaked open, light crawling along the stairs with a jolt and vanished just as quick as someone started skipping down the stairs. “Oh, Kit~”

Kit straightened as much as he could in the cuffs, stealing his expression to a stoic indifference.

Jude appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his green eyes gleaming with malice and a twisted delight. “I had a little deal with Supervillain. He said, if he didn’t text me every ten minutes then I was allowed to have fun with you! It’s been fifteen minutes, Kit. You know what that means?”

Tides and Sawyer woke at the sound, Sawyer freezing, his arms wound tightly around Tides who was trembling in his hold.

Jude’s eyes lazily flickered to the pair. “Aw, aren’t you two just sweethearts? Tell you what, if you be good I won’t even lock you up again!”

“You said you’re going to hurt Kit,” Sawyer told him. “Why would we just sit tight?”

Jude walked over to him and crouched down in front of the pair, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Sawyer. “I don’t know if they lied to you about how bad your face was, or you just don’t care, but if you don’t want me to force you to return the favour to your girlfriend there, I’d suggest you shut the fuck up and be a good little hostage, hmm?”

“You—”

“Sawyer,” Kit said, his voice hollow, yet still managing to cut through Sawyer’s. “Don’t. Just do what he says. I’ll be… I’ll be fine.”

“Kit—”

“You heard the boy, he’ll be fine!” Jude said with a wave, bouncing to his feet and walking around Kit to uncuff him from the wall. It was going to be nice, Kit realised, not having his hands glued above his head for a while. They fell like they were made of cement once Jude opened the cuffs and Kit groaned as he felt pins and needles thrum beneath the skin.

Pins and needles and something else.

Something… electric. Kit hid it, hoping that Jude couldn’t read minds like Ambrose could but when Jude started to pull Kit to his feet, Kit was almost certain that he couldn’t. Which meant that Kit had the leverage, but he would have to use it quickly if he wanted to keep it.

As Jude dragged Kit over to the chair, Kit felt the well of electricity surge within him, grabbing onto Jude’s arm as if he was about to fall. Jude was none the wiser, the stupid grin still on his face. Kit took a deep breath, and let the valve to his powers open from his brain to the tips of his toes and around his body.

Supervillain had used Omen’s commands to restrict their powers.

Too bad that didn’t work on Kit anymore.

Kit dug his fingers into Jude’s shoulders with one hand, the other at his side. He clicked his fingers and red lightning sparked like a glove from his free hand to the one holding Jude in the blink of an eye. Jude was too slow to react, his eyes blown wide before he was thrown across the room along with Kit from the sheer force of the red lightning.

Jude’s spine hit the wall and he collapsed, twitching on the ground from the impact as the lightning scorched his body.

Oh… that felt good, the voice in Kit’s head said as he straightened, suddenly rejuvenated after releasing the pent up energy on someone without worrying if they’d live or die. It was like stretching for the first tike after being trapped in a tight, constricted pose for a while, his body nourishing itself as the lightning ran up and down his body, lashing out every once in a while.

Kit ran a hand through his hair, exhilarated, a wide smile cutting into his cheeks as he walked towards Jude, ready to finish the job checking to see if he was still alive.

“Kit?” Kit stopped, glancing over his shoulder to see Tides and Sawyer gawking at him with wide eyes. Sawyer’s arm tight around Tides. Kit tilted his head, hungry eyes stalking the tenderness.

Sawyer kept his eyes on Kit’s, not flinching away. “Leave him, we need to get out of here, okay?”

Kit frowned. “But—” he began, his voice crackling like a walkie-talkie.

“I need your help,” Sawyer said, cutting Kit off again. Kit glanced back at Jude’s body, glaring at the shallow rise and fall of his back. “Kit.”

Kit shook his head and sighed, the electricity slowly leaving his body. “Fine. Let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @@dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

#intoxicating fear #Kit Mallory #Oskar Ambrose #Ambrose #whump writing #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #writblr #orphan writing #whump #writing #villain #hero #intimate whumper #implied relationship #whumper turned whumpee #concussion #violence

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rebelliousmuse · 4 months ago

Text

Crush - C.S.

Warning: use of y/n, unprotected p in v (don’t you dare).

---------------------------------------------------------------

A jaunty pop melody announced a new text, pulling your attention from the mirror. Nick's message read "Hey girl, we're heading to your place. Be ready."

Maybe they'd edit out the drooling part, you thought with a grimace, remembering you agreed to film the video for part of their new Friday vlog. You zipped up the back of your favourite overalls. A pale pink off-the-shoulder top peeked out from under.

A cloud of sweet, floral Carolina Herrera engulfed you as you spritzed yourself twice. A knot of nerves tightened in your stomach, but you forced a smile. Today was wisdom teeth removal day.

You grabbed your phone and purse, practically skipping down the hallway. The rumble of a familiar engine vibrated through the house. You peeked out the window and saw the triplets' minivan pull into the driveway.

Throwing the door open, you were met with Nick's warm smile in the back seat as you sat next to him. "Heeey," they said, you returned the greeting, Matt and Chris were already setting the camera to tell the viewers what was about to happen.

Chris launched into his commentary, voice a touch higher than usual. "Alright guys! Today's a big day for y/n. Wisdom teeth removal! Prepare yourselves for some hilarious anaesthesia antics!".

You couldn't help but smile. Though a tiny voice in your head piped up, 'Please don't let me confess my undying love for him after surgery.'

Nick reached over and squeezed your hand. "Don't worry, y/n. Mine went smoothly. Just be prepared to live off ice cream for a week straight." He winked.

---

The sterile scent of disinfectant hit you as you stepped out of the van, a contrast to the fresh scent of Matt's car freshener. You gripped the strap of your purse tighter, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

The Doctor’s waiting room was a mixture of sterile white and the nervous hum of anticipation. You twisted your rings around your finger. Matt scrolled through his phone with a frown etched on his brow. Meanwhile, Nick, continued his pep talk as you and Chris listened. "Honestly, it's like a nap with bonus drool! You'll be fine."

Dr. Gabe, a tall man with kind eyes, appeared at the doorway. "Ready, y/n?" he asked gently.

The sterile smell of disinfectant intensified as you were ushered into the operating room. The crinkle of paper scrubs and the rhythmic whir of equipment filled the air. The boys followed close behind, cameras rolling. After a few questions from the doctor and a series of pinpricks from the anaesthesia needle, the surgery began. You felt a wave of drowsiness wash over you, pulling you into the welcoming oblivion of unconsciousness.

---

The surgery was over. Dr. Gabe, his surgical mask now dangling around his neck, spoke to the boys. “She'll be groggy for a while. Keep an eye on her until the anaesthesia wears off.”

The triplets, ever the vloggers, saw this as their golden opportunity. Cameras rolled as they bombarded you with nonsensical questions like they did to Nick, hoping to capture some hilarious 'anaesthesia antics.'

After a few questions, Nick, got sidetracked by a text notification from their best friend, Nathan, his and Matt’s attention momentarily diverted. This left Chris standing beside you. He looked down at you, a hesitant smile playing on his lips.

“Hey,” he said softly, “Would you mind taking a picture with me? Just to remember this moment”. Heat flooded your cheeks. You lifted your head slightly, “Sure,” you slurred.

Chris scrambled to find a good angle. After he took the pic, you saw him looking at the picture on the camera screen, a genuine smile gracing his features.

"You have such a pretty smile," you mumbled, the words stretched and slow. Chris's smile widened, "Really? You like my smile?" You managed a sluggish nod, unable to tear your gaze away from him. "It reminds me of... of Prince Charming," you slurred, the words tumbling out in a nonsensical jumble.

Chris let out a soft laugh. He seemed to find your comment endearing. As you continued to babble, weaving a fantastical story about rescuing damsels in distress with a smile that could melt hearts, Nick and Matt materialized beside you.

"Woah, woah, woah," Nick said, his voice laced with amusement as he held up the camera and started recording again. "Looks like someone's got a crush on Prince Charming here!"

Matt joined in, "Did you hear that, guys? Looks like we have a Disney princess on our hands!"

The anaesthesia might have loosened your inhibitions, but the warmth blooming in your cheeks was all too real. Suddenly, the prospect of the entire internet seeing your delirious Disney-fuelled confessions was slightly terrifying, but also strangely exhilarating. As the boys continued to film, capturing your goofy grin and nonsensical ramblings, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Chris.

Suddenly, the doctor reappeared. He launched into a flurry of instructions directed at the boys as they absorbed his words. Chris, however, seemed oblivious. His gaze was locked on yours.

A small, curious smile played on your lips. You reached out a hand searching for his face. Your fingers brushed against the warmth of his cheek, then drifted up towards his eyes.

"Why are your eyes so blue?" you whispered. Chris's lips curved into a wider smile. His gaze dipped down to your hand, hovering just inches from his face. "I want them," you continued as you stretched your fingers further, almost comically trying to grasp the colour blue itself. "They are sooo pretty," you slurred.

A soft chuckle escaped Chris's lips. He leaned closer, "Well, you can't just take them off me, you'd hurt me," he whispered.

A frown creased your forehead for a fleeting moment. "Ow," you mumbled, a hint of sadness lacing your voice. "But can my kids have them?" you blurted out.

Chris's eyebrows shot up in surprise. A burst of laughter bubbled up from his chest, momentarily breaking his eye contact as he looked away. "I'll think about it," he managed, his voice laced with laughter. The corners of your mouth lifted in a triumphant grin. "Okay," you chirped.

"Alright, sleepyhead," Nick said, as him and Matt got back next to you. "The doc says it's time for your big test. We're going to throw some random words at you, and if you remember them, you get to leave."

Matt pulled out the camera, "Alright, guys," he announced, "Let's see if y/n can remember her way back to reality!"

The first few words were a blur. "Banana" Matt tried; his face tinged with disappointment when your brow furrowed in confusion after they asked for the ‘password’ a few minutes later. "Butterfly" Nick followed, receiving the same blank stare minutes later.

After a few more attempts, Nick gave you a new word ‘Zookeeper’. But since they started arguing on whose turn was to tell you a new word, you forgot it. And after what felt like an hour, just as you started to worry you might be stuck there forever, a spark ignited in your mind as they asked for the ‘password’ once again. "Zookeeper!" you exclaimed, the word bursting from your lips with surprising clarity.

A collective cheer swept through the room. The doctor, with a gentle pat on your arm, cleared you to leave.

Exhaustion pulled at your limbs as you shuffled towards the van, Chris offering you a steady arm for support.

Nick slid into the backseat, "So, y/n, we're heading back to our place. Remember, you're stuck with us until the pain decides to leave you alone."

You mumbled a weak agreement, sinking back into the soft seat. The familiar scent of Matt’s van filled your senses.

The engine rumbled to life as Matt took the wheel. Chris leaned towards you. "Hey," he said softly, "what kind of music are you in the mood for?"

A smile spread across your face. "Hmm," you mumbled, "Madison Beer" The name tumbled out.

The drive to their house was a blur of familiar streets, random comments from you, the boy’s laughter, and soft melodies. As they pulled into the driveway, Matt hopped out first. He opened your door, offering a hand to help you out.

"Easy there," he said kindly.

"Thanks, Matt," you mumbled. Nick followed close behind, camera clutched in one hand and his backpack slung over the other shoulder.

"Gotta pee!" Chris announced, dashing towards the bathroom with urgency. With a sigh of relief, you sank onto the familiar comfort of their couch.

"Anything you need?" Nick asked.

"Just some ice cream, maybe?" you mumbled as you took the gauze out of your mouth to throw in the bin.

Nick and Matt exchanged a glance, "Ice cream it is," Nick declared with a grin. "Matt, grocery run? We should probably stock up while we're out."

Matt readily agreed, grabbing his keys. "Sounds good. We'll grab some pain meds too."

These guys, they really were the best. As the front door closed with a soft thud, leaving you and Chris alone, a comfortable silence settled over the room. You stole a glance at Chris, who had just emerged from the bathroom with a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"So..." he began, "Do you remember anything you said earlier?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Oh no," you thought, a wave of panic washing over you. "Please don't tell me I confessed my undying love, or I swear I'm crawling into the next hole I see." You forced a nonchalant shrug.

"No, why?" you managed to say with your voice sounding far too squeaky for your liking.

Chris's smile widened. "You said some really... interesting things," he teased.

"Really? Like what?" you squeaked.

He leaned back slightly. "Oh, you know, just that you like my smile," he said with a hint of cockiness in his voice. Relief flooded you so intense it felt like a physical wave. Thank goodness, it wasn't anything worse!

"Oh, well, the three of you have good smiles honestly," you replied, forcing a casual tone. Internally, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"And that you want your kids to have my eyes," he continued. He didn't break eye contact. Your breath hitched, and a blush crept up your neck, warming your cheeks to an embarrassing shade of crimson. Your heart kicked into overdrive, pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"What?" you stammered.

"You also compared me to Prince Charming," he added, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, high-pitched and breathy. "Oh well, Nick did say that anaesthesia does that kind of things," you said, desperately trying to deflect his attention and hoping he wouldn't press the issue any further.

"I guess, but damn, I thought you would ask me to marry you or something," Chris said jokingly.

"Oh, shut up, Chris," you replied, fidgeting with your rings nervously, avoiding his gaze as you felt his eyes fixed on you. His teasing was making you blush.

You sensed Chris moving closer. He started speaking in a high-pitched tone, mimicking your earlier words, "Oh Chris, your smile is so pretty!" He clasped his hands together dramatically, feigning a loving gaze.

"Stop," you pleaded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

"Oh my God, your eyes are so blue!" Chris continued.

"Stoppp!" you protested with embarrassment.

"Please have my children!" Chris exclaimed dramatically, moving even closer as he playfully mocked your anaesthesia-induced confessions.

Enough was enough. You didn't know what came over you, but suddenly you couldn't resist the urge any longer. You looked into Chris's eyes and kissed him passionately. His initial gasp of surprise was quickly replaced by reciprocation as he kissed you back, one hand finding its place behind your neck while the other held your waist tenderly.

As you pulled away, a rush of conflicting emotions swept through you. Your heart raced with both excitement and apprehension, and you couldn't help but cover your face with your hands. Regret gnawed at you as you worried about the implications of your impulsive action, fearing it might jeopardize your friendship with Chris.

Suddenly, you felt Chris's hands gently grasp yours, pulling them away from your face with a reassuring touch. His voice broke through your thoughts. "About damn time," he murmured. One of his hands tenderly lifted your chin, guiding your gaze back to his, as Chris's lips met yours once more. The air between you crackled with electricity as desire flared anew, quickly heating up the already charged atmosphere. He picked you up, starting to walk towards his room, closing the door behind him.

The clothes slipped away from your bodies, as Chris's hands fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. His warm breath tickled your ear as he murmured endearments. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp from your lips. A soft moan escaped you as your fingers ran through his hair. As you two got rid of your panties and his boxers, he positioned himself at your entrance, which was already soaked from the kisses, touch and sweet words from Chris.

He started fucking you slowly, with deliberate movements, each thrust sending shivers dancing across your skin. As your hips met, your breath hitched in your throat, a gasp escaping your lips. His eyes, dark with desire, devoured yours, never leaving sight as his movements showed an increasing urgency. Your nails dug deep into his back, leaving red marks all over it. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he rasped, "You feel so good, babe." The sound of slapping skin sent a jolt through you, and a strangled moan tore from your lips. You met his lips with equal fervour, tasting the victory in his smirk before you broke away. "Fu-ck, Chris, j-just like that, my God-d," you pleaded, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. A slow, knowing smile played on his lips as he leaned in, growling, "That's right, baby. I'm your God, worship me."

As Chris' movements became a blur of frantic energy, a warm knot formed in your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat, and a whimper escaped your lips. Embraced by the rising heat, you maintained contact with Chris' gaze, “C-Chri-s, I need t-to” you breathed out. "I know, babe, do it, cum for me," he rasped. The knot in your stomach twisted tighter. Then, with a final surge of effort, a gasp escaping your lips, you came. A wave of warmth washed over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak as your juices dripped down Chris’ cock and your thighs. Chris followed mere moments later, a satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he rode both of your highs.

The drowsiness pulled your eyelids down slowly. A faint smile played on your lips as Chris tucked a stray strand behind your ear. "Sleep, love," he murmured, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You barely registered him getting up but felt the gentle tug of the covers before sleep fully claimed you.

Chris, already dressed, padded softly across the kitchen. Reaching for a glass, he heard the front door open and hushed voices. "Where's y/n?" Nick asked, followed by the clinking of bags. Chris smiled, "Sleeping, I offered my bed for her to rest," he answered. "Okay" Nick said, the murmur of conversation and the quiet clinking of groceries filling the air as the triplets started putting the purchases in the cupboards.

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets imagines #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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sirianasims · 1 month ago

Text

The Don Diaries

Back in the Lothario household, a miracle has happened. Gina. Has. Picked. Up. The. Baby. Granted, Don is at work so for once there was no one else to do it, but still.

Matteo probably wonders who this strange woman is.

Gina. Gina, your son is really smelly. Don't just stare at him, do something about that diaper. Please.

Gina does nothing, so I intervene and make her change him. She finally does it, only to then immediately deposit Matteo on the floor like he was some sort of Sims 2 baby.

She had some very important stretching to do, you see. Infants are kinda heavy WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HELD ONE BEFORE.

Immediately after Don arrives home, one of Gina's lawyer colleagues invites her to a lounge to celebrate her recent promotion. Gina doesn't really know (or like!) her colleagues so I figure they need the bonding time, and it means less time to start fights with Don.

Gina is having a hard time staying interested in her colleague though, and decides to get to know whoever this dude is.

Her poor colleague (who is on her second drink already - to cope with Gina's company, I'm sure) is struggling to keep her engaged and Gina wanders off.

The lounge entertainer, some pianist named Mitchel, is apparently taking a well-earned chess break from entertaining.

... that's quite a lot of heart-farting there, Mitchel.

Especially considering that you're extremely married and have a teen daughter.

Gina's attention span has suddenly improved vastly, something I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mitchel's household funds are - let me check - WAIT, OVER NINE MILLION?!?

I send her home before she can cause any damage, but I have a feeling that it may not be the last we've seen of Mitchel the Pianist. God, the jokes about this guy are gonna write themselves.

Back home, Don is teaching Matteo to stand and both he and I continue to have zero chill about this baby.

Look at him. Perfection. Even the drooling is cute. 10/10.

Gina gets home from her adventures at the lounge, and Don makes another desperate attempt to rekindle some sort of intimacy after putting Matteo to bed.

Don has a very high libido, but he and Gina haven't really been intimate at all since Matteo was born and Don is getting increasingly frustrated.

But as usual, Gina turns him down. I guess she still has Mitchel the Nine Million Pianist on her mind.

The next day starts out well enough, Matteo has found his feet and spends some time getting to know them.

He is then introduced to banana with the help of the not-useless nanny.

It's another success!

But wait, what's this? Gina has apparently had a big day at work too. Not quite as big as discovering banana, but it's something!

Gina makes the decision to speak out, I guess it's the fame and money, but... there goes her promotion again. As if Gina needed another thing to be angry about.

Furious and disappointed, Gina approaches their neighbour and more or less tries to bully her into becoming a client.

Gina, I don't think the suit is the problem.

The tension in this household is at a breaking point, but we still have one more thing to get through.

Enjoy this synchronised father/son facepalm, because tomorrow, things get slightly out of hand - it's time for Sidney and Nathan's wedding!

#thedondiaries #mitchel the penis

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pygmi-cygni · 26 days ago

Note

hands and knees begging for fluff of any of the trio (king john, blue jones, nathan bateman) (i have a brainworm for john)

just throw aside medieval standards okay

you two are lifelong friends from different kingdoms, but your fathers are friendly and decide to wed the both of you to get married for stability of the kingdoms. both of your childhoods were spent primarily in the woods. so rugged, less than quaint dresses for you and mud and smeared, muddy faces. so john sees you for the first time all dolled up and his response and SLOW DANCING IN A CLEARING IN THE WOODS TO BIRDSONG IM GONNA DIE ‼️‼️‼️

anyways no pressure at all 🫶 just wanted to dump some thoughts

yes ma'am reporting for duty (i love fluff for any of those three, my masterlist is basically just nathan bateman fluff atp)

I'll go with the prompt u gave me because it was so lovely.

cw: fluff, feelings, fem reader, blasphemy of medieval standards because Jupiter gave me permission, minor miscommunication because i literally cannot do anything the easy way, pining, this is a little different than your prompt but i hope it still works alright for you

Four sets of stone stairs were a beast at seven in the morning. Your calves had just woken up and the climb did not look appealing. But, there was a chamber meeting which meant the princeling had to be up early.

Or, earlier, because he already woke up half past everyone else. You'd found in your years of serving the royal family that an extra twenty minutes fended off his tantrums for at least an hour.

You heaved open the heavy lock to John's room and made your way briskly to his chambers. The curtains were drawn already, but the streaming shafts of sunlight didn't rouse the head of curls slumped under silk sheets. He was snoring steadily, tucked warmly underneath his blankets. You felt sad to wake him - the quiet was a nice change.

But all things come to an end.

As politely as you could, you pulled a bell from your skirt and leaned close to his ear.

And shook it till the ringing peals made your ears bleed.

John was up, head rearing like a horse's out of a river, eyes still half closed and crusted with sleep. He had drool dried on his cheek, and his uncoordinated limbs swatted at the noise. You grinned and tucked the bell away, turning to give him privacy.

"Good Morning, your Grace," you said smoothly, listening to his grumbling with glee. John muttered something crude and shoved off his coverings.

As always, he slept nude, and your eyes remained fixed on the garden outside. Cook was gathering tomatoes with the scullery maid, the swollen red fruit shining in the dew.

You heard shuffling, then a pause.

"Why're you in here?"

His tone was curdled and you turned, eyebrow raised. You knew why, of course, but the game was too fun to let up so soon.

"Pardon, your Grace? Were you expecting someone?" You fluttered your lashes innocently, drinking in his disgruntled scowl. His pants were half laced and his shirt hung off one shoulder.

"...No."

You resisted the urge to stick out your tongue and returned to observing the garden.

You'd grown up with John, more or less. You, a servant, him...well, him. Sort of friends, the way children are before they know of things like 'rules' and 'expectations.' Then, you blossomed into the age where girls and boys didn't mix, and certainly not the Prince and his maid.

But, mornings were always a treat.

Although recently, his morning 'treat' was Winnie, the willowy girl from Scottsdale who liked to wake him. Headmistress noticed and well, now you were here.

And John would never touch you.

A grumble told you he was dressed. You sighed, throwing open the doors to the hall.

Then paused, getting a full look at your ward.

"John."

His eyebrow sprang to his hairline, about to mock you for forgetting his title. But it was nothing compared to the mocking you would give him for wearing his shirt inside out, backwards, and absolutely filthy on the collar.

You checked the hall a dozen times for listening ears, then burst into a laugh. John watched you for a minute, then wiped the sleep from his eyes and swore, fumbling back into his bedroom. You supported yourself weakly on the oak doors, snickering into your apron. He appeared a moment later, cheeks pink and dressed in a clean, right-ways-round linen shirt.

"Waistcoat," you added, clearing your throat. His jaw ticked and ducked back in.

Finally dressed and in better spirits, you walked just in front of him, pleasant mask back in place. John's eyes would flicker to you occasionally, but you refused him, maintaining your professionalism.

It had been a while since you'd had fun. You missed it.

"You missed breakfast," you whispered when you'd made it to the break outside. John frowned, but you handed him a package from your skirt. "I saved you a tart."

John grunted a thank you and wolfed it down, chewing noisily in the quiet morning air. You stifled a smirk. Just like old days; spilling crumbs down his front and icing on his nose.

It hurt a little bit, but you got over it. He was still John from the big house with sticks in his hair, just a little bigger and his curls dirt-free. Although, an hour from now that might not be the case.

"The stables, Your Grace," you murmured, bowing stiffly and taking your leave. John paused, eyes at your back the rest of the way up the hill. He nodded to you at the top, disappearing into the rows of horses. He was hunting today, returning at noon to dress.

Alas, your day wasn't so easy - prepping for a ball meant your feet would be aching long into the night

The steaming bustle of the kitchen smacked you in the face. Spices, steam, and bellowing cooks swept you into the rush of daily routine. A half-heard direction was shouted into your ear, a basket of napkins thumped into your arms, and you were off. You moved like a marionette, waiting for someone to pull your strings in a new direction.

Your ears rang from banging pots and clattering spoons. The soles of your feet felt aflame, blisters aching in your worn-out shoes. Tiredness tugged at your bones and it was only noon. Sometimes you marveled at your ability not to fall down dead in the middle of polishing silver.

However hard your job in the kitchens may be, it was nowhere near Fred's. He balanced tediously on a ladder, dusting each individual crystal on the seven massive chandeliers in the room.

That job would kill you. Literally. The oldest maid had been crushed under one of those crystal monstrosities a few months ago.

You hung your apron on a hook and sighed, closing your eyes against the din. The sideboards were cool against your forehead as you allowed yourself a moment of peace.

"Ay," a gruff voice came from behind. "Get upstairs, yer needed for the dressing."

Yay.

You dusted off your hands and hustled up the four flights for the eight thousandth time that day, breathing heavily as you reached the top. God those steps sucked.

"I know you hate this but if you could please just hold still-"

"It hurts," he groused, twitching as you raked almond oil through his hair. Huffing, you grabbed his jaw and forced his neck still, bringing the comb back up to his scalp.

Huh. He was suddenly pliant, holding his chin up and patiently letting you finish. Just needed a bit of manhandling apparently. John had lovely hair. Thick, silky, dark, always tousled but still looked perfect. His facial hair, on the other hand, would need some TLC.

"Okay, now you really need to hold still."

The razor scratched pleasantly along his sharp jawline, and you swallowed down a curious feeling in your chest. You'd always found him attractive, just not so...close. The suds were technically ladies' soap, lavender, but he needed a bit of perfume. To hide all that dirty horse man smell.

Groomed as nicely as he'd ever been, John sat primly while you fished out his clothes.

"Did Her Highness want you in red or green?" You called from the armoire.

He sighed, and you heard the undeniable sound of him ruffling up his hair.

"I want to wear gold," he protested. "It complements my complexion."

"I don't care what you want," you mumbled, deciding on the red, "your mother is the one who'll be yanking my hair, not you."

"I could, if you'd like."

His voice was right in your ear and you jumped, face the same shade as his velvet overcoat. You floundered, unsure if his Cheshire grin was seductive or not. That gleam in his eye was humorous, but...this dresser was getting way too small, way too fast. You scurried around him, almost like he'd burned you.

John puffed out his chest but frowned when he saw the outfit.

"That one itches."

"I don't care, put it on."

"Do it for me."

Your eyes narrowed. "Aw, need someone to do your laces? No, Jonathan."

"That's no way to talk to a royal," he sniffed, eyebrow cocked. You schooled your face into neutrality, eyes burning. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

"I'll be outside, Your Grace, if you need anything," you said with saccharine kindness, whirling out of his chambers before he could retort.

If it were anybody else, you'd be hung. But John had that way about him that made your tongue a little looser and your cheeks a little warmer. Besides, nobody else would put up with his antics. The amount of times you'd saved him from his mother's wrath? Uncountable.

You rocked on your heels, waiting for him to dress. There was still quite a lot to do, include get yourself ready. It was a themed ball, and therefore even the servants had to be in costume. You were looking forward to that - a new, pretty gown to wear, even if just for the night.

God, maybe he did need help with his laces.

Just when you were about to ensure he hadn't accidentally hung himself, John shuffled out of his bedchambers, shirt undone and a cross look on his face.

"It won't do it right," he huffed.

You averted your eyes from the planes of his chest. "I'll...here, just, um...yeah..."

Hands shaking, you deftly tied his shirt, shivering every time your fingers touched his skin. When he didn't try anything, you calmed, silver tongue back on display.

"You know, Winnie's corset isn't too different...surprised you aren't more practiced."

He wasn't even ashamed, just winked and flexed his hands. "Hm, that reminds me-"

"You just bathed," you said sternly, glaring up at him. His gaze was merry and you couldn't help a small smile.

"Ha, look, the old hag laughs-"

"I'm not old, and I wasn't laughing-"

When you reached his naval, you swore you saw his muscles bunch. Impressively.

"Are you flexing?"

"Are you looking?"

You poked his side and he yipped, shoving away. "Out, minstrel, or I'll have you hanged," he snapped jovially.

Rolling your eyes, you gathered your skirts and swept out of his room, cheeks tingling. Another woman was already outside, and you dropped the expression quickly. A stony chill sat in your bones, mask back in place.

Close one.

Silk rippled between your fingers. Your chest burned, reminding you to breathe.

"Mistress wants it back by the end of the night, so don't get any ideas," the matron barked, but you only had eyes for the dress.

It was the nicest thing you'd ever owned. White silk, trimmed in grey cord. A red sash to hold your keys and a carnation for your hair. Long sleeves and a pouf in the back. Yes, it had a ribbon to show you were the staff, but for a moment you could pretend.

Giddily, you and the other girls dressed, combing soaps through your hair and plaiting your tresses, each girl working on another's. you had no nice shoes, only your scuffed boots, but you did not care.

The silk was like butter over your shoulders.

Biting back a grin, you filed out after the rest of the staff, for the first time excited to be serving.

The castle was exploding with people, the dining hall and ballroom sweltering from the combination of overworked kitchens and crowds of partygoers. The smell of glazed ham and mead was strong, mixed not unpleasantly with perfumes from the ladies. You ducked and dodged, eyes respectfully aimed at the floor, taking cloaks and hoods to the mudrooms.

The coatrooms were piled with cloaks and you handed another armful to the weary footman, shooting him an apologetic smile.

A crash and you frowned, hoping another crystal set hadn't been ruined.

Why did all of the young men have to be so clumsy?

At least John fit in.

You didn't look for him in the crowd, and your face didn't perk up every time you got a glimpse of red velvet. That would be improper, see.

A maid bustled by with a trayful of tankards. Your mouth soured - there were plenty of handsy dukes walking around, and alcohol was not the answer to that equation. Maybe you could stick to the women's side of the table.

Most everybody had migrated towards the food, giving you a moment of reprieve in the back rooms. God, that was enough people for a lifetime.

A curious sound came from the room to your right. You nudged open the door and shit, that's definitely occupied- decided to leave the guests to their activities.

Oh well, another set of sheets to wash. You grimaced, shuddering at the thought. Yech.

Four more hours.

You might dislike John when he's grumpy but it doesn't hold a candle to him when he's drunk. When the guests had been shooed out and your energy thoroughly drained, you still heard him carousing the halls with his mates, making a right mess of his robes and anything he touched.

Oh, what fun chores would be tomorrow.

Dead on your feet, you trudged upstairs to help him to bed. The stone walls swayed in front of you as you stifled a yawn. Now that the rowdiness of the evening had vanished, the castle felt starkly cold. You shivered, wishing for bed.

Not bothering to knock, you pushed open the door to John's chambers.

He was sprawled on his bed, singing loudly into his pillows, stopping every verse to descend into giggles.

....Oh, joy.

"Your Grace," you called wearily, resting your weight against the door, "please, it's time for bed."

Another giggle and his tousled curls sprang up, his lanky body following suit clumsily.

"Ahh, hello little birdy..." he stretched and leaned back, appraising you. "That's a nice dress, did you steal it?"

"No, John, I didn't-"

"Thief, we have a thief! Off with her-"

"Stop it," you hissed, flapping your hands, "you'll wake the dead. Come, give me your jacket."

He whistled, winking. "Undressing me already? We're not even married yet-"

"Or ever, so help me God. Watch your mouth."

John blinked, genuinely confused. "Bu' you're dressed in all that-" he gestured, then it dawned. He froze for a second, recalculating, then sniffed and tore off his coat.

"Begone then, I have no need for you."

"Careful," you hissed, catching the garment before it hit the floor. The stitches would be a pain to repair, and to add on to his growing mess...

You felt your affection for him waning by the minute. John whistled out of tune, spinning in a solo dance while you carefully set his clothes to be washed. Now, to get him fully undressed without tearing the cloth to hell.

Exhaustion burned as you watched his carrying on. You just wanted to go to bed. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"John," you sighed wearily, shoulders sloping in defeat. He ignored you, favoring to lean out the window and sing throatily along to the drunkards outside.

"Prince John," you said, bitterness in your voice. Contempt ran hot in your blood. Still, he carried on, shirtless and cooing like a two-penny whore.

"Your Grace."

The fire in your tone made him turn, eyes wide. You trembled with irritation, eyes burning red and close to tears. Your fist was brutal around his velvet jacket. It would be wrinkled, but it was a suitable substitute for the princeling's throat. The title was sour on your tongue, and you saw his voice die in his throat.

"For the love of all that is holy," you seethed, "get your damn clothes on and get. In. Bed."

He had the decency to look ashamed, but that spirit still smoldered underneath.

"A servant should never use such language," he mused, dramatically tugging a nightshirt over his head. You scowled, tired tears stinging your cheeks.

Angrily you hung his clothing, slamming the armoire doors. John, for once, made no comment as you stormed over, going through the motions with nothing but a dull glare.

He stayed silent when you grabbed his face and tugged a brush through his hair, or fluffed his pillows with an aggressive thwack. HIs mouth was shut during each swish of your broom on the floor, and he only flinched when the broom clattered against the wall. You were crying silently too, any charm of the night or of the stupid dress worn off in your exhaustion.

It was a stupid dress. Too small around your shoulders and hotter than the seven hells. You needed it off, and to go to bed, and for John to just stop being so John.

"Is there anything else you require, Your Grace," you heaved, standing at furious attention near the door.

John sat like a scolded child on his bedspread, face drawn and quieter than you'd ever seen him. Please dismiss me. Please go to sleep.

"Yes," he said simply, and you about wanted to die.

You swallowed a scream of frustration as he stood and walked over.

"A waltz, please. It calms me at night."

"It calms you at- John, stop playing, it's late-"

His hand rested on your shoulder. You froze midsentence, mouth half open in shock. John's eyes were bright from drink but steady and soft as he looked at you.

"Just one," he murmured, "that's all."

Your feet ached and your bones creaked with every step. But you hung your head and stepped closer, arms out in position.

John slid his hand to your waist, his left arm draping over your back. Frowning, you twisted away, unsure of his tactic. But his grip was strong, and soon you were pressed to his chest.

You entire body was on fire. This was not supposed to be happening. You'd be thrown out, he'd be chastised, your dress would be ruined, you'd have nowhere to-

"Step on my feet," he instructed.

"What?"

"Step on my feet. Take off your boots, they're filthy, and stand on my feet."

???????????

Timidly, you obeyed, your thin stockings cold on the stone floor. Surprisingly, it soothed your sore soles, and you relaxed slightly. John adjusted his grip on your shoulder and began to sway.

There was no music, but he stayed on beat, slowly rocking and spinning as if you were dancing along and not...whatever this is. Well, whatever this was had to be the nicest thing you'd felt all day. John's energy had warmed his skin to a comfortable heat, and the gentle rocking motion was coaxing you further to sleep.

He continued to step carefully, keeping his hold tight and his chin firmly on your head. A part of your frustration eased, making way for that familiar rush of affection.

The movements stilled, and you realized how tightly you were clutching his arms.

A few moments passed as you stood, dead on your feet. The candles were burnt to melted stubs in their holders, and night had been glowing for a while.

"Is that all, Your Grace?" You wormed out of his hold, lamenting the loss of his firm warmth.

John looked at you, eyes so downturned and distraught you nearly cried. His arms hovered around where you'd been.

"Tuck me in?" His tone was joking, but his soft brown eyes begged. You shifted on your feet. You'd already done the damage, your heart whispered, skin still tingling from his hold.

Nodding, you pulled back his quilts and pulled them tight over his broad shoulders, gently arranging the furs to cover his long legs. Your eyes didn't meet his while you fussed, but you felt his warm gaze on your cheeks.

His long fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist.

"The mess," he said simply, and you bit your lip. What a mess it was.

"Apologies," he finished. You nodded quickly, pressing a palm to your eyes. His thumb stroked your wrist as you wept quietly, mind breaking at the idea of so much work.

You felt a tug at your sleeve. Sniffling, you looked over. John's eyes roved your face.

"This is new."

"Your mother wanted it," you whispered hoarsely. The dress rippled. "It's too small."

His lips twitched. "Nice things usually are."

The quiet was soothing now. John brought your palm to his cheek, pressing your delicate fingers to his stubbly jaw. You stroked his face, smiling wider when he preened at the attention.

"Tell me a story?"

Snorting, you knelt to his level and recited a children's tale. John begged for stories as a child, anything to push off bedtime. Your mother told stories when you were children. Fitting of you to take her place. He enjoyed them still, it seemed, lips slipping into a peaceful pout as you talked quietly.

His hand made its way to your hair, gently working out the intricate braids. You resisted a groan at the sensation, eyes flickering shut as tension melted from your scalp.

"Why do ladies keep their hair up if it is such an ordeal to undo?" he mused, stroking your locks. You mumbled a response, too absorbed in the heavenly feeling.

"Keep talking, birdie," he said, fingers kneading your head. You stumbled through the ending, fighting to stay awake. John's warm smell softened your focus. A brutal yawn interrupted your telling, prompting a small chuckle.

Story finished, you rose, but were tugged back down.

"The prince demands you stay," he murmured, smiling softly.

AHHH SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND LATE AND AUGH

@krakenkitty @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love @unear7hly

#king john x reader #x reader #fanfic #fluff #king john #writing requests #requests open #self indulgent #robin hood 2010 #prince john #oscar isaac characters #fem reader

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hysteria-things · 8 months ago

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can you do a nate fic where he has reader ride his thigh? like idrc abt anthint else but im a slot for thighriding and nate

MIRROR, MIRROR

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: nate stays the night at yours, and a wet dream leads to something with your classmate.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, thigh riding, p in v, hair pulling, praising, slight choking, making out

ASSUME YOU’RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 977

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i apologize that the thigh riding isn’t a big part of this but when you read it’ll make sense!

i low key love this a bit too much🤣

dreams can be cruel. the worst part is nobody can control them.

a pillow lays between your legs, eyes shut closed as you squirm and hump it from the wet dream you’re having.

the way the person is thrusting in and out feels too real. subconsciously grinding your hips faster, you moan once it starts to rub your clit the right way.

“oh my god.” you whine, gripping the pillow to have more stability to rut faster. “oh my god.”

panting, your mouth hangs open from the sinful sounds you’re making. lifting your knees higher, your body trembles as your release makes a mess in your panties and that poor pillow.

“someone’s needy.” a voice says. your eyes shoot open, face going pale. you look to what’s at your eye level, seeing that what you were wrapped around is definitely not a pillow.

it’s a thigh.

slowly lifting yourself, nate looks at you amused. you completely forgot he slept over because of a thing you’re working on for school, and it was too late for him to go home so you let him crash here.

the both of you aren’t acquaintances, but you aren’t that close either. you sit up in shock, seeing your cum messily glisten on his thigh while drool is on his shirt.

this is so fucking embarrassing, but the weirdest part is that he let it all happen. you glance at the time, it being the middle of the night.

your face becomes red like a tomato, and you scurry off of the bed. you badly want to jump out the window, but because that’s not an option, you instead stand there. “i-i’m sorry.” you stutter, looking around. “i should go.”

this is your house, idiot.

when you go to walk out, a hand grabs your waist and bends you over the vanity that’s right next to the door. he takes his other hand and moves your hair over to one shoulder, leaning against your ear. “what were you dreaming about, hm?”

a chill runs up your spine at his breath against your skin, goosebumps forming all around.

you pout. “you…”

he smirks, nibbling your earlobe. “oh yeah? what was i doing?”

“you were fucking me—” you start, getting cut off by a gasp once he starts to move his clothed dick on your covered wetness. “f-from behind. making me watch in the mirror.”

lifting your top over your head, he hums while leaving wet and slow kisses on your shoulder and neck. he pulls down your underwear, removing his shirt along with it and throwing them both onto the floor.

he unties his sweatpants. “want to make it a reality?”

the way your pussy pulses at his words have you squirming, backing up into him. a shaky breath is released from nate when he slides into you with ease. you moan lowly, licking your lips to moisten them.

gradually your moans get louder the faster he slams into you, the vanity shaking causing your perfume and other makeup stuff to topple over. “nathan.” you whine, clutching onto the edge of the vanity and trying to catch your breath between each thrust. “holy fuck.”

your head drops, the stretch feeling a little too good. your eyes flutter closed before a hand grasps the top of your hair to yank your head back up.

“look.” he demands. “this pussy takes my cock real well, gorgeous. it was made to be fucked by me, and i want you to see for yourself.”

a whimper is followed by a squeal from the repeat of him hitting your g-spot, trying hard not to have your eyes roll back.

the reflection that stares back at you is utterly pathetic. your hair is a mess in his hand by the way he’s holding it, eyes glazed from the sheer amount of pleasure. muttering ‘fuck’ repeatedly has your lips coated with drool. not only that, your tits bounce with each thrust before he cups one with his free hand and kneads it.

“is this what you were dreaming about?” he says lowly, looking at your state in the mirror. “is that little brain always filled with dirty thoughts of me? huh?”

he tugs on your locks at the last word, whining at the small pain. you’re unable to speak, so you nod frantically.

smirking, he pulls to where your back touches his bare chest, the skin-to-skin contact giving you warmth. his hand now moves to your throat. “you look so beautiful on my cock. so fucking tight.”

you claw at the surface below you, your orgasm starting to build. as much as you try to fight it, your eyes begin to roll back, your mouth dropping lower than before.

as expected, the grip on your throat tightens in a warning. “focus.”

instead of focusing on the mirror, you stare into his eyes with your head resting on his shoulder. this new spot has you seeing stars.

he whimpers, cupping your cheek. “gonna kiss you.” he says against your lips.

“mmm,” you respond, nate’s lips sloppily kissing yours, making the most disgusting sound when they sync up.

you moan loudly into his mouth, pulling away. “please don’t stop.”

he smiles softly and chuckles. “you’re not going to last much longer, gorgeous.”

he can tell by the way your body starts to tremble. then, he holds your jaw to force you to look at the reflection once again. he nods along with your whimpers that get more intense, the knot becoming undone. “there you go.” he exhales. “good girl.”

letting you fall onto the vanity with your orgasm dripping down your legs, he thrusts a few more times until stopping to release inside of you.

turning you around with your back flat, he admires your post-sex haze. “we should have sleepovers more often.” he says, grazing your bottom lip with his thumb.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturns-posts @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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