#so getting a car sort of feels like I’ve just done all this for nothing and shot myself in the foot

[eigengrauone]

FUCK I have to figure out what I’m doing for college this year

[loaksky]

I don't know if you've done this yet but can we have mean ellie is FWB with the reader but she's jealous when the reader is into someone else 👀

i have not + you know what anon i could kiss your brain rn ! i definitely view this pairing as separate from this fwb!ellie x reader, but this could also technically fit in their early timeline since nothing else has really been established about them...

content warnings: language, ellie being an asshole (very on brand for me to write ig lmao), reader actually sticks up for herself in this one, but eventually folds (i would too for ellie ngl) 18+ content that includes; brief mentions of strap-on sex, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving).

author’s note: i’ve been so unmotivated to write, but this request awoke something in me idk...also, if you’ve sent in a tlou request (yes even from june), i’m still cooking i promise! (and not in the way that ellie keeps promises in this fic lmfaoo).

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

You didn’t want to say anything at first, couldn’t be too sure under the lowlights of the party with bass-y music that makes both the house and your chest throb with every beat, but you see it clear as day on the drive home and a passing streetpost illuminates the purpling flesh on Ellie’s carotid.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when your fingertips brush over the blooming bruise, obviously fresh and warm to the touch.

“What the fuck?” she huffs, pulling the drawstrings on her hoodie to scrunch to fabric around her neck.

“Who gave you that?” you ask softly, expression on your face enough to devastate, but Ellie’s always been different, an anomaly of sorts when it came to the matters of her stony heart.

“Why does it matter?” she scoffs.

“Ellie,” you sigh. “You know why it matters.”

She’s swinging a right at the intersection, nearing the residential you live in.

“It doesn’t,” she grunts. “Because at the end of the night, it’s you I’m fucking, isn’t it?”

And you don’t know why the way she puts it stings so much this time around when she frequently reminds you both directly and indirectly that while you may be her most recurrent hookup, you’re definitely not her only one, but it does. Does so much that you’re turning your face towards the window to hide the tears that are pooling.

Because all you wanted was Ellie. Wanted her in ways she wasn’t willing to give you. Wanted to learn and grow with her, but she wasn’t budging and lately, you’ve been feeling stupid.

When she turns into your neighborhood, you speak.

“Just drop me off, please.”

Ellie’s slowing down, palm finding purchase on your thigh.

“Babe, c’mon,” she practically whines, kneading the skin there. “Don’t be like that.”

You shift away from her, gather your purse from your feet as she continues through the different apartment buildings.

“Babe,” she calls again when you barely wait for her to stop and you’re pushing the car door open.

And maybe it’s childish, but you’re wounded and quite frankly done with the back and forth.

“She’s probably waiting for you,” you add petulantly.

“Babe, seriously. You’re being annoying,” she warns.

“And you’re being a dick,” you bite back. “First, you drag me out to a shitty party where I don’t know a single soul even though you promised we could just chill and smoke while watching that stupid fucking space exploration documentary, then when we get there, you’re leaving me with a bunch of sleazy assholes while you do god knows what with the same girl you’ve been telling me not to worry about for the last five weeks.”

And of things Ellie’s looks horrified at, it’s the fact that you’d been observant enough to recognize the girl she’d thought she whisked away before your prying eyes could catch on.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Ellie,” you say with resignation. “I tried to turn the other cheek because I really fucking like you, but you treat me like shit and I deserve better than that.”

Of course you don’t know it, but those fucking words bite. They’re an automatic trigger because unbeknownst to you, both of your friend groups think the same thing. Aren’t afraid to let her know otherwise. And she’s obviously well aware that, Christ, yes, you absolutely deserve better. Is actually really insecure on the low because she doesn’t know why you stick around with a piece of shit like her when you could have so much better.

So she does what she does best when she feels like a kicked puppy and lashes out.

“Of course Little Miss Princess deserves better,” she mocks. “What fucking ever. I don’t know why I flaked on a ten for such a stuck up bitch.”

And you see right through her, know that she’s all bark and no bite, but it hurts regardless, when you step off to the side and she’s leaning over the center console to shut the passenger side door herself.

She’s revving off without another word, and to add insult to injury, your phone’s pinging obnoxiously once you get out of your well-needed shower.

els <3 sent a video.

It’s the blonde from the party. Of course those dumb LEDs pulse red in the background, making Ellie and her flavor of the night look a thousand times more seductive. Ellie’s kissing her sloppily, whispering things against her mouth that you can’t quite pick out.

els <3 sent a video.

The next video’s grainy, but you can hear the tell-tale squelch, the girl’s shaky moans and Ellie egging her on. Your cheeks are on fire and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

els <3 sent a photo.

You wonder if the girl knows, that Ellie’s sending you the most compromising footage of her. If she knows how grimy the green-eyed girl truly is, sending someone else pictures of her stuffed hilt-deep with the same strap Ellie’d used on you.

els <3: still think u deserve better ?

You delete the thread and her phone number.

Ellie expects you to crack first, you always do. Because even if she isn’t shit, she’s your biggest weakness and she knows it. Can say so with confidence, because maybe the same can be said about her.

She hasn’t fucked you in nearly two weeks and not a single body she touches can elicit the same feeling that you do. And in the back of her brain, she knows why, but Ellie’s prideful. Won’t dare admit it out loud.

So she cracks first. Texts you between classes.

me: i have a few joints + a coupon to tino’s if you’ll let me come over… :(

my #1 girl: Who’s this?

Ellie throws her head back and groans.

me: cmon baby, dont b like that. im srry i was mean, ill make it up to u

my #1 girl: I think you have the wrong number…

me: babe stopppp

Her text bubbles turn green after that message.

You forget that Ellie has a copy of your key because she’s never used it in the five months that the two of you have been in this precarious situation, and your heart falls square to your ass when you emerge from the shower to find her setting up a box of pizza on your coffee table.

“Ellie, what in the fuck?”

She feigns nonchalance, pulls a few joints from her jacket pocket. But the aroma of weed or the grease of the pizza isn’t what makes you wrinkle your nose.

It’s the smell of flowers that waft from a pretty vase sitting on the cut away of the kitchen counter.

Your gaze fixes on the girl who settles on your couch.

“You need to leave,” you say stonily.

“But I just got here,” Ellie says. “And I brought you pizza…and flowers.”

“I’m sorry, did you think that a five dollar pizza and a bouquet of flowers from Saver’s was going to fix the fact that you’ve been so fucking awful to me for the past half year?”

Ellie shrinks.

“Well, no…but—”

“You practically sent me a homemade porno of you and some other girl you fucked to get back at me for setting a boundary, Ellie,” you say sharply. “What, did it not work out? Did you—”

“I’m trying to be the bigger person here,” Ellie sighs. “I am sorry. I just—”

“You what?”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Ellie snips. “God, you’re talking down to me like you’re a fucking therapist or my fucking mom and—”

You’re shaking your head, crossing the room and picking up the pizza from the coffee table to shove in her arms.

“I don’t have time for this,” you mutter. “Kenzie’s going to be here any minute now—”

“Who the fuck is Kenzie?” Ellie balks, caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Ellie, don’t,” you warn.

“Don’t what?” she practically seethes. “You think I’m just gonna be okay that you’re spending time with some other stupid bitch? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but you’re mine.”

And she shouldn’t have glanced down at your cleavage as you cross your arms over your chest, but Ellie’s weak and you look too fucking pretty for your own good.

“Yours?” you ask incredulously. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes, mine,” Ellie affirms. “All fucking mine and no one else’s.”

“God, you’re so full of shit, Ellie,” you scoff. “I’m supposed to be loyal to you and be okay with you having a roster, but I can’t go on a date with someone I genuinely like because it fucks with your brain to have a legitimate interest in somebody?”

“You like her?” Ellie asks in disbelief. “Like, like her, like her?”

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

And that makes Ellie’s jaw set, makes her narrow her eyes at you.

“You like her more than me?” she taunts.

And maybe she has you there, but you refuse to give her the upper hand.

“I could learn to,” you answer honestly. “Because Kenzie is kind to me. She doesn’t treat me like an option, doesn’t act like she’s God’s gift to the fucking world and that I should kiss her feet for giving me the time of day. And I get it, you don’t like me the way I like you—”

“You think I don’t like you?” Ellie asks like the thought is unfathomable.

“I don’t think, Ellie, I know. We went into this without any strings attached, we established that it’d just be fucking, but I was honest in telling you that I caught feelings and you used that to your advantage. You lied to me on multiple occasions, you make me look stupid, like I’m fucking crazy.”

And you wish you’d gotten through your spiel without choking up, but Ellie’s the first girl you’d liked in a while even if she was bad news. And when you thought that maybe you could shake her, she’d come barreling back.

“Baby,” she murmurs, face softening as she’s crossing the space between you two to cup your face in her hands.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiccup, trying to push her touch away.

“Babe, stop,” she says firmly. “I’m serious. You think I don’t like you?”

“Well, you don’t fucking act like it,” you mutter. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways because whatever this was is done. You’re free to do what you want, who you want, whether you like me or not.”

God, do you unwittingly light a fire under Ellie’s ass when she thinks of what this Kenzie girl could do to you if she lets you walk out the door. Absolutely loathes the thought of anyone else knowing what you look like in any state of indecency, that you fucking cry watching children’s movies, that you snore like a freight train if you’re tired enough and have a weird ass penchant for pickle chips when you’re high.

“You’re not going on that fucking date,” Ellie says with finality, palms sliding from your shoulders to skim down the length of your arms and situate over the swell of your hips.

“Who says?”

“Me,” she huffs. “Because I’m going to make it up to you and we’re going to smoke these blunts and eat this fucking pizza and I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t even remember that you were thinking of leaving me for someone else.”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Ellie,” you reiterate. “You can’t just–”

“Maybe not then, and maybe not in this moment, but I will be,” she says, and the words catch you completely off guard.

She’s catching your bottom lip between hers to further disorient you, kissing you like this could very well be her last.

“Just give me some time,” she whispers, walking you back towards your bedroom. “I’ll get my shit together for you. Promise.”

And you know deep down that you shouldn’t believe her. She’s just feeling territorial and grasping at straws to keep you leashed, but Ellie’s always been such a good kisser and she’s devouring you like she really is sorry.

She’s tossing your against your unmade bed, caging you between lithe limbs as she leans back on her haunches to take you in. Your blouse rides up to reveal the flimsy bands of your lacy little thong and Ellie’s lacking decency as she flips your skirt up to reveal a growing patch of wetness.

“Were you planning on getting fucked or do you always go out like this?” Ellie ponders, fingers rough as she pulls the tiny scrap of fabric down your legs and nearly salivates when a string of your arousal leaves with it.

Your lips part to answer, but her thumb’s dipping between your folds, pad collecting some of your slick from your drooling slit to smear over your achey little bud.

“I asked you a question,” Ellie says gently. “You just gotta be honest with me, baby.”

“S’hot out,” you whimper, fingers closing around her wrist when your body jerks against a particularly delicious stroke of her thumb.

“Yeah?” she clarifies. “You wouldn’t let any else touch you, would you? Not when I take good care of you like this?”

Her other hand comes to toy with your entrance, doesn’t give you any warning before her middle and ring finger are sinking inside slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine.

“You’re my girl, you hear me?” Ellie murmurs, leaning down to catch your clit between her lips. “You’ll be my number one, always.”

She’s teasing at first, tongue languid against your fluttering pussy, but you’re quiet, back of your wrist caught between your teeth to muffle your moans.

One of her hands reach up to yank it away.

“Say it,” she barks, pulling away from your needy heat.

“Ellie,” you whimper.

“Say it,” she repeats firmly.

“M’your girl,” you moan shakily, thighs quivering as she smoothes her palms over the underside of your thighs to push them up to your chest.

“Yeah, you are,” she whispers, spitting harshly on your heat. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

She’s eating you out like she’s missed you, like she’ll only be satisfied when you finally cum. And maybe it’s true.

Maybe not.

Especially when she draws nearly three orgasms from you and practically knocks you out.

You don’t know how long you doze off for, but when you finally wake up, the sun has almost completely set, bathing your room in a burnt orange glow that leaves your dewy skin warm and sticky. And perhaps it’s wishful thinking when you call Ellie’s name, met only with the echo of your raspy voice. After all, you’re tucked on the wrong side of bed, elusive girl nowhere to be found.

As you dress and search for your phone, you can’t even find it in yourself to be surprised.

neng ©️2023

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑨 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Vampire!Minho, Biting, Slight Spanking, Slight pussy smack, Possessive Minho, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Alcohol and cheating mentions. Sorry for any mistakes or forgotten tags

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this. I’ve never rewrote something so much. I really hope it’s alright I would appreciate any feedback on this one fr🥲

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You watched as the trees passed seeing the familiar places you knew as a kid. You can’t believe you’re back here but under the circumstances you needed the familiarity. A 5 year relationship down the drain. You both were to be getting married next month but turns out love really does blind you. You let out a sigh as you pulled into your old home. Your parents left it for you after they moved to their dream home down the road. They were so excited to have you move back and so were your friends however everything was just so surreal.

You’ve been in a deep slump the last few weeks wondering round your house like a zombie. You worked on little things around the house when packing was all done. “Hmm I bet I could make the pathway look really good with some flowers” you said to yourself as you looked out onto the porch. As you wondered the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a bit at ease. It was so quiet and smelled so sweet. The arrangements that had been made splayed so nicely everywhere. You walked down the isles just basking in the prettiness of everything and that’s when he first noticed you.

Minho almost does a double take when he first sees you. You were stunning, but the smell of your soul was almost sour? Why? He looked at you, studding you like prey. You looked happy, why were you giving off such sadness? He watched you for a bit before you headed to the counter with a few plants. You smiled and waved at the man behind the counter before leaving with your stash. Minho walked over “so, do you know her?” He asked looking back outside as you got into your car. He nods “yeah why? You fancy her?” The man behind the counter says with a chuckle. Minho rolls his eyes “would you shut up and tell me who she is?” He asks.

The man laughs a bit more “hmm maybe if you can say please I will” he says with a smirk. “I hate you old man” Minho groans but the man’s not budging “uugh fine, fine please?” Minho says with the fakest smile possible. “Her names y/n, she lived here when she was younger and then moved away when she an adult. I hear she’s back because she caught her fiance cheating.” He gossiped.

“That explains the sourness to her scent” Minho said softly. “Yeah she’s been through a lot or so I hear. So if you’re gonna try and talk to her, you better not be an asshole” he said with a chuckle. He rolls his eyes again “I’m always pleasant” he says rolling his eyes once more. “Yeah yeah whatever, you still coming to the bar tonight or what?” The man asks. “Yeah, I’ll be there” he said taking a walk outside to gather some of his thoughts.

After doing some yard work and cooking dinner you laid in bed. You curled up as you let your body relax in the comfort. As you slept your window creeped open a figure leaning in looking around. He stumbled in trying not to disturb you “why must you riddle my mind?” He says softly. He looked over your sleeping figure wanting to touch your body. He breathed out trying to collect himself, his mind racing as he stared down at you. He had drank enough to kill a man but nothing could erase the way you floated through your mind.

He never entertained romantic feelings, rather being alone or having a casual hook up. He couldn’t remember the last time in the many years he’s been alive that he felt any sort of want for another person. It was like that for friends as well though, never making friends with others. Not really caring to bother to find bonds. He of course had his small group he’s been with for a millennia but anyone else was always brushed off. Why were you different? Why did you intrigue him so much? He couldn’t figure it out but it was driving him mad.

He watched as your body moved up in down with every breath. He wanted to kiss you wanted to bite you to taste everything of you. He could hear your blood moving through your veins the smell of it smelled sweet almost. He groaned at the thought of just pricking you a bit just to have a tiny taste. He knew though if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. He watched you sleep for a while before he heard the birds chirp. “Fuck- it’s already morning.” He said before walking to the window. He knew he had to have you soon because you were driving him crazy.

——

As the days passed so did the time Minho spent watching you. He watched you through out your day and watched you at night. He felt like a stalker but he just wanted to know everything about you he was so enamored by you.

On todays faithful night you were persuaded to go out with your friends them wanting to get you out of your coop. As you drank you started to feel a bit loser. Your friends brought you up to the floor to dance grinding on each other as you drank. Minho found himself watching you from the side, he didn’t expect to see you here. He thought you’d be at home sleeping like always. His eyes were glued to you as he watched your body. “You should make your move tonight” his friend said patting him on the back with a smile. Minho rolled his eyes but he thought about it as he watched you.

Minho turned to go to the bathroom and as he came out he stopped dead in his track. He watched as a man slinked his way in front of you “hey gorgeous, wanna dance?” The man said before you could answer he was pulling you towards him hands gripping at your hips. You didn’t know how to react the alcohol swirling in your mind. You leaned into the man before you knew it he was kissing you. His tongue slipping into yours as his hands roamed your body. Minho could only stand there and watch his ‘blood’ bowling at the sight.

Your friends pulled you from the guy not before he gave you his number. Your friends teased you the whole time as they drove you home. You made your way to your bed slumping into it with a giggle. You quickly fell asleep due to the alcohol. In the middle of the night like clock work Minho found himself in your room this time though on a mission. He slinked his way onto your bed before he pealed the covers off of you. He saw you only in your panties making him groan. He couldn’t stop himself this time he leaned in taking in all your scent before licking at your clothed core.

Your body moved a little but you didn’t wake. He moved your panties to the side before finally making contact with your heat. Long licks up your folds before quickly sucking at your clit. You moaned out eyes fluttering awake. You looked down seeing a man between your legs before you could push him away he pushed his fingers into you. He curled them inside you moving them at a fast pace as his tongue lapped at your clit. He started to suck harshly at your clit biting it softly as he saw you waking.

He quickened his pace adding another finger to your sopping cunt. He felt you clenching around him knowing you were close. He took his free hand pushing down on your lower stomach to make you feel him even more. He bit at your clit as he moved his hands watching your eyes roll back. You were moaning grabbing at his hair as your legs started to tighten around his head. The squeeze tightened as your orgasm came over you. Your legs shaking around his head as he kept going as he worked you through your high.

“Y/n you think that man at the bar could please you like I can?” He said his eyes red at the thought. He pushed his pants down quickly rubbing himself up and down your dripping folds before lending a string of spit coming down to his cock head. “Gonna show you the only cock you’ll ever need.” He spat before pushing into you. Your mind was gone, completely blank from all the pleasure. He started to fuck you at a fast pace, slapping your bass as he did so. He had your thighs pressed to your chest as he pounded into you.

His hand come up to grip at your face making you look at him. “I want you to look at me. Look at me as I fuck this perfect pussy” he growls out. Your eyes met his as you felt your heart pound. God was he hot, his facial features were beautiful almost non human like. His hand left your face coming down only with your clit. “Please!” You whined out not knowing what you were begging for only to get a smack to your clit. “You’ll get what I give you, understand?” He growled again. He moved his head down nipping at your neck.

“You think that guy could make you cum like this? Make you feel so good? Only I can. Only me.” He said his movements becoming harsh his cock kissing your cervix bullying your entrance as he bottoms out. “Fuck y/n I’ve waited so long for this. Why’d you have to make it- make it like this” he groaned out. “I wanted our first time to be loving” he said before leaning back to look at you. Your eyes pricked with tears hands digging into his back. “M’sorry.” You said softly making him slow his pace. The fact you were apologizing, made his body stutter. You technically didn’t know him, didn’t know anything he was really talking about. However you still apologized. “Y/n- y/n I love you” he blurted out seeing your eyes softening at him.

“I- but why- you don’t know me?” You said softly looking up at him. His movements have all but stopped as he stared down at you. “I do- I know a lot about you. I wanna show you what these dumb guys can’t. I wanna show you real love. How you should be treated.” He said before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss was loving sensual as he started to move his hips again this time a bit slower but super deep. He wrapped your legs around him pulling your body close to his. When he pulled away seeing you smile shyly up at him “y/n let me show you the love you deserve yeah?” He said smiling at you.

You nodded “I don’t got much to lose” you said softly making him chuckle a bit. He started to fuck into you more, more lovingly. He was focused on making you cum again, he wanted you to feel how he felt. Like pure bliss. He kissed you again pushing his tongue into your mouth. “H-hey” you said softly pulling away from the kiss. “Shouldn’t I know- know your name?” You said with a little smile. “I’m yours, but you can call me Minho” he joked making you both giggle. This was the kinda love making people dreamed of, being able to joke around and feel so comfortable with one another.

He started to play with your clit again his movements were becoming a bit sloppy but he needed to make you cum first. He leaned down towards your neck kissing it softly. “You’re gonna feel a pinch ok?” He warned you before sinking his teeth into you. The small bit of pain being replaced by pleasure. As all the thoughts and memories he had of you flooding into you. Seeing and feeling how he felt about you made your body quiver. In the matter of seconds everything flowed into you, he showed you everything about him. Showing you what he was but more importantly what he wanted to be with you. It was just pure love, nothing more pure.

You felt your orgasms wash over you before even realizing it. Your body clenching around him sucking him in. He pushed into you one last time before cumming deep inside of you. He pulled his fangs from you licking the wound making it heal over. Both of your body’s felt weak as you both clung to one another. “Y/n I’m sorry for flooding your mind with everything.” He said softly against your ear. You shook your head “no- don’t be I’m happy you did. It showed me how you really felt.” You said breathily.

“You really wanna be mine?” He asked again. You nodded quickly making him smile.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked nervously.

“No. I’m fine. Just” you breathed “tired”

“Wanna go take a bath and we can sleep?” He offered. He was confused when you shook your head.

“Can.. can we go again? I wanna see how you were before” you said with a devilish smile.

He met your smile with one of his own “I should know you’d be a little freak.” He chuckled. “My little freak though, and what my baby wants she gets” he said before kissing you one last time.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 28/10/2024 Max Verstappen - RolePlay

Plot: It happened one Halloween, and escalated in Austin and now you guys are here…

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, blowjob, fingering, role play, dressing up, etc 18+ Minors DNI

It started on Halloween when you’d both dressed up for a party that was being hosted by Lando, Max’s fellow race car driver and friend.

You were dressed as Poison Ivy as you’d had your hair died red for quiet some time and Max as your male counterpart decided to go as Bat Man, you’d say in the bathroom with him doing his makeup, making sure to smudge under his eyes and get the look perfect before spending time on yours.

You for sure were the best dressed couple at the party and many photos were taken that night. Not just for the public where it went on your stories or as reels on other peoples accounts who were at the party, but many photos were taken by Max on his phone from above you while you laid on the bed in that red dress your boobs all pushed up and looking amazing.

He had fucked you in that dress that night while he wore his whole Batman getup.

Mask and all.

And yes immediately you’d both drunk way to much that night and both have individually pushed it away as a fluke.

However the next time was on a themed birthday party where it was Daniels birthday which he’d themed to cowboys. You’d been having a laugh all night putting on a Texas accent which wasn’t as hard for you as it was for Max. When you got home he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear in a southern belle accent.

You were incredibly sober and so very turned on by him in his little cowboy hat that by the time Austin rolled around you were a gonner and you guys did it again against better judgement in his driver room.

Safe to say Sergio had some complains in the next Red Bull debrief.

So it became a thing that you guys liked dressing up and being other people. You didn’t know why but you just sort of fell into a routine.

One day you’d waited in his drivers room after FP1 in what was supposed to be typical grid girl and Max was in his driver suit. He ended up eating you out while still in his drivers suit and you were done for.

Now tonight was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special. You guys had done lots but one thing you’d never done was Massage Therapist and you thought tonight would be the perfect time. You hired out the whole spa in your apartment building asking for nobody to be there as Max had been stressed with the championship recently and decided it might be better to have a private evening to help him.

“Where are we going” he asks as you grab his hand guiding him to the lift.

“Downstairs, to the spa” you smile and he groans shaking his head.

“Mmmm noooo i don’t wanna talk to people today” he sighs pulling you hand back.

“I rented it out. So it’s just for us. Anniversary gift!” You smile rubbing his arm.

“Wait what? Omg babe, you must hate me” he says putting his hand on his head in exhaustion.

“You forgot?” You ask.

“I’m so sorry, I barley even knew what race I was flying to last week��� he sighs pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay baby, I understand but I have a treat for you tonight come on” you smile and he nods. You take him all the way down into the spa area.

“Okay, let’s get you relaxed love” you smile.

You spend the first part of the evening swimming in the pool, going into the jacuzzi, then mixing between the rain room, sauna and steam room.

“Don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time relaxing in like the last 10 years. It feels … nice” he smiles looking over at you as he wraps the towel around his waist.

“Okay, now time for the main attraction” you grin and get him to follow you to the massage area.

“Mmmm now, Mr Verstappen is it?” You ask is a husky voice. And immediately his head snaps up to you a grin on his face before he takes on his role.

“Mmmm yes, I heard your the best masseuse in Monaco” he says.

“Okay, if you’d get on the bed for me. I can start” you say and immediately he’s on the bed, laying with his face in the little hole.

You pull the towel off of him and run the sheet up to cover his bare ass. You hands guide up from his hips to his shoulder working lightly on any kinks you can feels.

“Fuck” he moans. You smile, working down his muscular arms.

“How is that Mr Verstappen, am I doing a good job?” You ask and he groans again.

“An amazing job” he says and humps against the bed, with another groan.

“Is there anywhere else you’d like me to massage?” You ask hoping you leading him down the right line of phrases.

“Well there is this one area that I’m sort of struggling with right now!” He says and you stand next to him looking at him.

He rolls over covering himself with the white sheets provided and underneath you can see the tent from his large dick hard and sticking up.

“Mmm is this the affected area?” He says grabbing it through the sheets, a moan coming from his mouth as he thrusts up.

“Y-yes” he whimpers.

“Mmmm a tricky area but I guess I can see what I can do” you say softly. Bending down to kiss it.

“Ohhhhh very tense, can I get a closer look at the area?” You say hand teasing just above the sheet waiting to pull it off of him.

“Yea, god yes please” he says and that’s all you need to pull the sheet down and kiss the tip of his dick. Your mouth encloses around it, the sound of your wet mouth sucking around his dick your tongue feeling every ridge and vein that had cropped up since he’d hardened.

“Fuck yes” he moans looking down at you. You weren’t fully on the bed however one leg was up on the bar holding the feet of it together and you were using it as leverage to get yourself a little higher.

“Mmmm I think we’re almost there” you say just before kitten licking his tip. Your hands come down to the parts that your mouth can’t reach and work in tandem with one another.

“One of the best clients I’ve ever had, making it so easy for me” you say and you can feel him twitch meaning he’s was going to cum. You don’t put you mouth back, having the perfect scenario.

You let him come after rushing your hands up and down his length causing his hips to buck up as he bites his lip with a moan.

He cums all over his stomach the white substance not moving off, just staying in a puddle.

“Hmmm your looking tense still, I’m just going to see if we have some oils” you say before walking out back to where you’d hidden the lingerie set. You pop it on with a doctor coat over the top and come back in.

You see Max physically gulp looking up at you.

“Hmmmm not many oils but maybe this will do?” You say dipping a finger into the cum tasting it. You lean down licking across his soft abs until it’s all gone and swallowed.

“Hmmm what a shame. Oils it is” you say pouring some oil across his stomach.

“This isn’t a great angle. Do you mind?” You offer a hand for you to jump up.

“Anything to get me more relaxed Doc” he smiles pushing so he’s leaning up on his elbows. You jump up onto the bed, kneeling either side of him. Surprised with how you can both fit.

You run your hands along his chest using the oil to make it all the more slippery.

“Doc, I think my fingers need a work out” he grins, wanting to also please you but not break character. You guys had actually gotten really good at the whole acting portion of the role play, no wonder they asked Max to do that Heineken commercial.

“Oh, hmmmm well I’ll get to those later unless you can find a way” you smile sill rubbing the oils all over. He runs a hand down your stomach, pulling the edge of your panties down slipping his hand in so his fingers tease the edge of your folds.

“Mr Verstappen this is highly unprofessional” you grin and he grins back.

“I think you’re enjoying this massage though Doc, and you want to help me right?” He asks and you nod.

“Of course I do” and he continues to move in and out ever so slowly. You behind to rock your hips against him until the table makes an uncomfortable creek that has you both pausing.

You whine at the lack of contact, but stop moving you hips and let your boyfriend do all the work. His fingers are perfect, a nice size and length that reach the perfect spot in you.

“Ohhhhh Mr Verstappen” you moan with your head thrown back, stopping the massage on his chest.

You tighten around his fingers, coming with some shakes that again make the table dangerously creek.

“I think you need to talk to your maintenance man about the stability of you tables doc. Maybe he can … Yano help you out” he grins to you and you already know he’s getting more ideas for more scenarios you can both do in the future.

“Mmmm I think you’re right. You’re very good Mr Verstappen I’ll have to book you in again” you let out a relaxed sigh.

Safe to say the massage room want the only place you guys were intimate for the rest of the night. Jokes being thrown around after that if Lando ever went into that steam room when Max was there he’d tell him everything he done to you in that room. And the pool, and the sauna, and the rain room. As both a massager and you.

It was a very … busy night for you both.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter seven: fill my mind with dirtiness, i'll invade your dreams

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie teaches you a thing or two about possession.

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking, fem masturbation, demonic possession, actually really fluffy if you can believe it, mind control, telepathy, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your eyelids press against the throw blanket you’ve pulled across them as a makeshift blindfold. Not that there’s much light in the room to begin with, but if you don’t have something holding them shut they just pop right open and stare at nothing.

You’re tired. Bone tired, but you can’t manage to shut your mind off. There’s a certain electricity in your limbs that keeps you jolting at the slightest sounds, your nerves like livewires, sparking at everything and nothing. Out in your living room, a new dog sleeps on your rug. Somewhere across town, your ex-boyfriend sleeps in the ICU.

You can’t sleep.

You huff and flop over, ripping the throw blanket off of your head. You don’t know if it’s just some sort of infernal caffeine that Eddie pumped into your body, but you can’t stop thinking of the blazing car, the heat of the fire scorching Andy and throwing him across the asphalt. You think back on it, and the feeling of release when the car went up in flames, like a weight lifted off of your shoulders after so long. Your blinding hatred of Andy and a sense of possession over the mark given to you by the fiery eyed demon who kissed your tears away.

Eddie did say that he’d corrupt you. ‘Break you,’ were his words. ‘You wouldn’t be the first good girl that I’ve broken.’ But, you don’t honestly know that he has. You went out into the woods to make that deal with him first. You sent him your petition first– what were you really hoping for? A rock to fall out of the sky and crush Andy in the middle of an intersection? 

A car fire is just as effective.

Flashes of Eddie come to you. The scent of smoke in the air, strong and getting stronger the closer he gets to you. The timbre of his voice in your ear, calling you a good girl, even though you feel like anything but. It’s not… what you’re used to. You’re not used to being praised for anything. Not even being able to take the blows that you’re dealt. Usually you just get insults to go with the pain.

Your hand drifts low on your stomach, feeling a burn between your legs that wasn’t there five minutes ago. You don’t know what it is that has you feeling more high strung than normal– needier than normal. Just the mere thought of Eddie has your thighs pressing together and your core tensing like you’ll never get any relief. You palm your own crotch, tugging on the fabric like some frat guy trying to readjust his junk in front of god and everybody.

Now that you’ve gotten a taste of him– or, rather, he’s gotten a taste of you– it’s like your impulse control is nearly as void as his. Who gives a fuck? You’ve already given him your soul, signed it over to Hell for a bit of happiness. He’s done away with most of the demons of your past and given you what you want. 

What you want right now is him. Eddie. His body, his tongue, his voice in your ear, his touch on your skin. It’s becoming an addiction now that you’ve let him in.

But, he’s… busy, you guess. He said he had some kind of business to take care of when he left you earlier. But there can’t be a special place in Hell for someone masturbating to the thought of their own personal demon, right?

A resigned sigh escapes you as you shove your hand down the front of your pajama pants. There’s no foreplay when you do this, no drawing out the process. Usually, you just try to get the job done quickly.

You dip a finger between the folds of your pussy to feel them drenched, far worse than you figured they would be when you’ve only been thinking about him for– what– two minutes? Ten? Doesn’t matter. You caress the sensitive skin, trying not to overthink why you’re so wet, why your finger practically drips when you spread your arousal over your clit. 

You close your eyes against whatever light is in the room. You move your finger faster, a quick back and forth that just makes you sigh and readjust your hips on the mattress, searching for the right feeling. 

Your mind delivers you an image of shining eyes beneath a curtain of dark, wavy hair. Ring-clad fingers drawing a lock of hair across plush lips in a mimicry of shyness. His warmth pressed against your back. His lips sucking the blood from your arm, healing the small wound on your skin. His tongue between your legs, forked and fucking into your cunt slowly, deeply.

“Motherfucker–” It just doesn’t feel quite right. Your finger feels too small, your own touch practically numb on your clit, even when the skin is so sensitive that it should be doing something. You pull and pluck at the skin, but your fingers feel jerky and uncomfortable, when usually it all feels just fine. 

And everything feels hot. Why is it so fucking hot? Not just your cunt, or the tension in your core that’s screaming for you to just do something, but it feels like you’re breaking a fever. You’re doused in sweat, your skin is radiating more heat than you know what to do with. 

Oh, that’s cute. 

A gasp tears from your throat. You sit up like a shot, your hands scrambling for your bedside lamp. The light flickers on, and… nothing. 

His voice sounded so close. So present in your ears, like he was right next to you. For some reason, you’re disappointed that he isn’t actually there. 

Shivering and sweating and holding your head in your hands, you shake your head with your eyes squeezed shut. “...Eddie?”

You need to relax, you’re working yourself up.

You don’t know why it’s only hitting you now, how fucking odd it is that he’s talking to you. Or, airdropping messages directly into your head. The last time he did, you’d been a little too preoccupied with what was happening in the external world to really focus on the why and how. 

“Where are you?”

I’m inside you.

His voice rumbles through your head, low and smoky like rolling magma in the pit of a volcano. It’s not audible– not to anyone else. It’s not something you’re hearing, it’s something you’re simply sensing. It makes your mind spin and all your muscles below your waist draw up tight and hard.

Do you want me to be inside you?

Oh, it’s not fair. Not fair. The way his voice dips, dripping like melted gold down your spine, making your entire body contract and release like it’s going to have a fucking fit. You don’t know if you’ll be able to stop it, if it does. You don’t seem to be in control of it anymore. 

“Y-you–” you hiccup, trying to retain your calm and finding nothing to cling to. “You know the fucking answer to that.” Knees drawn up to your chest, you hunch over them with your elbows by your ankles, curled into a ball. 

Lay down, sweetheart.

You can feel tears coming– hot, angry, frustrated tears because he’s not here and you feel like your body is screaming for him every time his stupid, pretty voice invades your mind. “Not– not like this–”

Lay. Down.

A hand forces your shoulder back and presses you firmly into the mattress, your head hitting the pillow and your breath leaving your lungs. Your own comes up to swing around wildly in the air, trying to grab for the arm that’s holding you down. There’s nothing. Just empty air.

“God damn it– Why aren’t you here?” You try to sit up again, but some invisible force is still holding you down by the shoulders. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you can hear it in your ears. “I don’t– I don’t know why I feel like this–”

This is normal, your body is just reacting to my presence. The first time is always the worst, baby, it’ll get easier. You’ve just never been possessed before. 

His voice is so soft, so tender that it makes your welling tears spill over painfully. They run down your temples and into your hair while you kick your legs to try and wiggle out of his hold.

“But I– I want to feel you,” you blubber, rigid on the bed with the invisible weight pressing you into it. “I want you now.”

Then, you hear it. Barely audible but still there– a huff of air. A chuckle. A laugh. The sound sends a chill down your spine, the heat of embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

You were so concerned about the full moon rite when we signed the deal– where’d that go?  

“It’s– I–” You sigh, quite literally kicking your feet in agitation. You heel. You’re crying uncle, you can’t take whatever the hell is burning in your veins. “You had your tongue in my pussy, like, five hours ago. Can’t we just fuck? Right now? First time, now?”

He takes longer to answer this time. We could.

Your heart leaps. “Oh, thank Chr–”

But where’s the fun in that?

You stop squirming, and glare directly upwards, at the ceiling. You don’t know why you’re imagining him on top of you, picturing his head being right above yours– he says he’s possessing you, he’s inside your body. 

Just not in the way you fucking want him to be. Dick.  

“You asshole,” you growl. You can barely think straight with all the desire flowing through you, it’s mashing lust and anger together to create some lethal combination. Lethal to whom, you aren’t sure. “You fucking– you want me to die? Is that it? Want me to just fucking die right here on this bed and you’ll never get your full moon rite–?”

You’re not gonna die. Stop being dramatic. 

“I’m not– I’m not being dramatic–”

Dramatics don’t work with me. I invented drama. 

You pause at that. It occurs to you that you don’t… actually know how old Eddie is. “Oh, shit. Did you? Like, for real?”

No, of course not fucking for real. I’m being dramatic.

You try to stay mad. You really do. But a smirk breaks your facade, and then a giggle. And then you’re laughing, and the invisible hand on your shoulder releases you so that you can roll over in your hysterics, curling into a ball on your side while laughter shakes your body.

It’s so fucking stupid. It’s ridiculous. All of this– the inhuman lust consuming you, some physiological effect of his presence in your body. The fear and the arousal and his disembodied voice rattling around in your skull, dragging you toward Hell with him. And he’s fucking funny. Your lord of darkness, or whatever, is a goofball and a fucking tease, and you wonder for a second if you made him up. If you’ve constructed him in your mind, if you’re having a nervous breakdown. 

Sweetheart… There’s a sing-songy tone to Eddie’s voice now, and you feel a pair of fingers walking up and over the curve of your hip. Your muscles jump at the contact, then catch fire when a hand flattens out and slides along the curve of your stomach. It gently pulls you back to center, laying on your back on the mattress, your legs splayed out and arms up by your head.

“You’re a fucking dork,” you murmur, and every ounce of affection you feel for him comes out syrupy sweet in the words.

You’re still biting your lip to quiet your giggles, your eyes searching the room for what you know isn’t there. Dust settles on your dresser. Plaster peels from the ceiling and the walls of your rotten old apartment, the landlord special sitting in cakes on the windowsill and over the handle of your bedroom door. But there’s no Eddie. 

Mm, but what’s worse? The dork, or the one who’s… just so fucking turned on by it…

Pressure cups your crotch, making your breath hitch abnormally in your chest. A hand rolls against the damp fabric between your legs, but when you look down all you see are your own hips bucking up into nothing. 

Fuck, you’re just dripping for it, aren’t you?

A pathetic whine leaves your mouth. With your eyes closed you can roll your hips up against that feeling, and you can pretend he’s there next to you. The invisible hand presses two thick fingers into the seam of your pussy, drawing out all the agony and pleasure with it. Your mouth drops open, a moan caught in your throat when your clit is caught in the mix, dragging slowly against the hard press of those fingers.

This is what your body was wanting. His touch– even if it’s not a physical body, it needs Eddie to soothe the ache. This feels like relief, like comfort, like warmth. Everything feels warm with Eddie. His hands caress you, just the slightest up and down that has you keening.

And then they disappear. Vanish. No easy withdrawal, no warning. 

Your face screws up in frustration, your hands clutching the pillow on either side of your head. You feel like screaming. “Eddie, why– what’re you doing–”

Don’t whine. 

Your hands and arms suddenly feel cold, then hot– and then, you can’t control them at all. They move on their own, completely separate from your mind or will. Your fingers twitch, and then your wrists flex, like they’re getting acclimated just to the feeling of being alive.

And then slowly, much too slowly, your own hands move to your neck. Then, down over your chest. They fondle your breasts through your shirt, making you whimper even though you’re just so fucking confused. 

Let’s have our first lesson in Possession 101, shall we?

“Is this what you did at the diner?” you whisper shakily, while Eddie– your hands– Eddie squeezes your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers through the fabric.

No. 

“You talked to me, then.” 

I talk to you when you call me to. I don’t have to possess you to do it.

Your brain fizzles out, reboots, starts again. “Did I–” a breath– “Did I call you? Just now?”

Baby, you were screaming for me.

Eddie feels his way down the curve of your stomach, inching toward your pajama pants. It’s more sensual, more languorous and indulgent of a touch than you’d given yourself in your haste. The need in your body is endless– it stretches on infinitely, and you feel yourself sinking lower and lower, fueled by the unnatural push of your own hands, controlled by some other force outside your realm of understanding.

Good thing, too. You need to be shown how to fuck yourself properly.

“Eddie– don’t tease,” you chide, but there’s nothing real in it. It’s a pathetic whine, a little submissive noise in your throat that really means, Jesus Christ, I don’t know where to put all this lust.

Your hands wriggle beneath your pants, down past your underwear. Then your fingers dip low and part the slick, swollen lips of your cunt. You gasp at just the same time as the demon in your head hums. It’s a deep, resonating sound that slithers around in your skull, swirling and echoing like a call into the cavern of your mind.

Ohhhh, that’s fucking beautiful. His voice in your head is hushed, as if he wants to make sure no one hears his words but you. Your pussy is somehow wetter now that he’s here. You choke on a breath when your finger drags up and over your clit, the most delicate and inquisitive of a touch, but it makes sparks dance along your skin. How long has it been since you touched yourself like this?

“I don’t–” You moan suddenly when your two fingers dip into your entrance, teasing before drawing back over your clit in soft, circular strokes. Your breath rattles in your chest. “I don’t do it like this.”

That’s a travesty. 

A high whimper scratches out of your throat at that. It is a fucking travesty. You never take your time and it never feels like this. It never feels like your body is on fire and your cunt is gushing, just begging for some sort of attention to soothe its crying. 

Two fingers slip down and drive into you to the knuckle. You gasp and squirm, trying to move them, trying to do anything to stave off the ache for a faster pace. The impatience to do it fast and tight like you’re used to takes over, bucking your hips forward, urging your own hands. 

Stop fighting me, baby. It won’t work. 

He slows down, If that’s even possible. He makes your two fingers practically still, deep in your cunt, your palm flush against your throbbing clit. 

The little bit of stimulation you get from the intrusion doesn’t do as much as his voice in your head does, though. It’s as if his mere being possessing you is enough to feed the starving, rabid animal of your body.

He swirls your fingers in a way that makes you keen, tilting your head back against the pillow. Are you paying attention, little witch?

You sob, nodding your head rapidly. You’re flustered, thinking about him watching you, feeling you do this. Your fingers aren’t long enough, or thick enough, to make it feel right. It feels better than it did, but only barely. “I– I liked your fingers m–more–”

I know. Because your body belongs to me, now. Isn’t it fun, being my whore?

You gasp when he pulls your fingers out and back up to your clit, more gentle than you’ve ever tried being to yourself.

He thinks this is fun. You’re suddenly reminded that he’s a demon– historically not a creature known for being nice. Mythologically, a creature that delights in torture. 

He’s torturing you. He’s teasing you and refusing to give you what you want, refusing to fuck you, because this is fun for him. You picture chains and whips, bondage and the like, but you think it’s more than that. It's a mind game.

It’s him being able to control you. It’s you giving yourself over to him entirely.

You like it. 

I can hear your thoughts, sweetheart. Stop overanalyzing it. Stop thinking . 

“Holy shit– ” you rock your hips up when he curls your fingers, slow and hard, dragging them in and out of your cunt. The wet sound that it makes is obscene, even through the layers of fabric barring it from the open air. 

Just imagine, you get to have me all you want. I’ll fuck you open and breed this tight little pussy like you want me to so damn much. Have you leaking my cum, just a messy hole for me to fill, over and over.

You moan, loudly. The image does flash through your mind– but, of course it does. He just said that he can hear your thoughts like this, didn’t he? He knows what to say to make you lose your mind, your frustration giving way to bliss. 

Every day, for the rest of your life and beyond it, however you want it. But for now, you get to have this. 

Your pussy clenches down, squeezing your two fingers. The muscles of your stomach tighten and release, and everything, everything sears. Panting, you stutter out, “I’m– shit– Eddie, I’m gonna cu–”

Cum.

You cry out sharply, falling apart around your fingers. 

This is when you would stop. This is when you’d pull your hand away and say good enough, and let your body settle down. But Eddie continues, pushing your fingers through your spasming walls, grinding your palm against your throbbing clit until your thighs shake and your hips jump. 

It takes a fucking while before he lets up.

Easing out of you, he slides your soaked fingers up and over your clit for good measure, before lifting your hand and shoving them into your open mouth. Your moan chokes out as you close your lips around them. 

There you go. That’s how you finger yourself. I don’t wanna see whatever that other shit was again. 

“Mm… uh huh. Okay. On it, boss.”

You’re a little embarrassed that you came so quickly when he was the one controlling you. You aren’t holding out much hope that you can do the same thing to yourself, on your own. But you’ll make him the hollow promise, in the meantime.

Maybe… maybe you’ll regret this, sometime. Maybe you’ll wake up one day and discover that this has all been some great big mistake, and Eddie is not what he seems. You still don’t know anything about him. You don’t know who he is, or was. You don’t know anything beyond the bond that you share now, and the power that courses through your veins.

For now, you think, it’s enough.

You find yourself nodding as you regain control of your hands. You’re drenched in sweat, panting quietly and letting your body sink into the mattress beneath you. 

You hear him chuckle while you swallow back the dryness in your throat.

C’mon. You need some water, sweet thing.

Two invisible hands wrap around your ankles and yank your limp body out of bed, while you screech and claw helplessly at the sheets. Eddie giggles maniacally within your head when one of them smacks your ass, and your legs force you toward your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart?”

Everything glows pink. The morning sun in your windows makes things rosy, turning slowly to gold and tangerine. You groan and shift sideways, your eyes fluttering open, expecting an empty room. Expecting that Eddie is speaking to you telepathically, in that way he does. That maybe he’s still possessing you.

He isn’t. You blink up at him as he stands over you, long hair dangling in his face and flushed cheeks indented with dimples, looking half-godly like a statue of a fallen angel. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is. He strokes a delicate finger down the side of your face, rousing you gently with a look in his eye that you might mistake as lovestruck, if you didn’t know any better. His eyes are golden.

“Hi, pretty baby,” Eddie murmurs, as you tiredly work the sleep out of your eyes. You feel yourself making little indignant mrrrps, like a cat who wasn’t ready to be woken from a nap. Eddie chuckles, and the sound dances around the room like the twinkling of a bell. “I have something to show you.”

“Can it wait?”

“No.” His voice is soft, but holds enough command in it that you grumpily drag yourself out of the warmth and comfort of your bed. Half-asleep at the ass crack of dawn, like you’re still living with your parents and have to go to school, or something.

Even with your eyes half shut, you can follow him perfectly fine just from scent alone. His smoke and emanating warmth act like a beacon as you stumble over your own feet. He giggles at the sight of you, dragging a soothing hand down your upper arm to guide you into your kitchen. 

“All right, sweet thing,” Eddie purrs, pulling you into his arms to face away from him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking over it while you simply let your head fall against his, being lulled back to sleep by his warm embrace. “What do you see?”

“Mmmph.”  

“Okay, well, you have to open your eyes to see it. C’mon.” He pets a soft hand back and forth over your hip. “Let me see those beautiful eyes. You can do it.”

You’re fairly certain your eyes are puffy and crusty and gross. But you do what he says, cracking them open. “I see the counter you tongue-fucked me on yesterday.”

Eddie stops. You feel him turn his head, blinking at you like you’ve completely derailed him. After a long pause, he says, “Interesting how selective your attention to detail is.”

“There’s a bigass bunch of flowers on it.” 

It’s the truth; it’s like he uprooted an entire garden and dumped it on your kitchen counter. You aren’t sure what he means for you to do with all of them– geranium, daffodil, chrysanthemum, daisy. They’re heaped on the granite unceremoniously, looking simultaneously beautiful and decrepit. Over the smell of Eddie’s smoke, you get the earthy and floral notes of a freshly weed whacked flower bed. 

“Where the fuck did you get–”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, interrupting you. If you were more awake, you might have taken exception, but in your half-asleep haze you’re just happy to let him talk. “Do you like ‘em?”

“Yeah, honey, they’re… they’re real pretty.” You’re sure they were pretty when they were still in whatever garden he obviously stole them from. There’s a dirt clod in your sink. 

“Cool, cool… awesome. Fantastic. So I suppose that means you want to put them in a vase, right?”

What kind of household does he think this is? You don’t have the budget for fancy shit like decorative bowls. The closest you’re getting to a bouquet vase is the crockpot in your pantry. “I don’t– I don’t have a vase–” 

“Au contraire– I happen to be a purveyor of delicate glassworks.” Eddie reaches around you to set something on the counter in front of you. 

It’s a water glass with little lemons painted on it. You bought it at the family dollar last spring. 

“Babe, I dunno if you noticed, but that’s not a vase.”

“So make it one.”

“What?” You’re too tired for this. “Eddie–”

“Humor me, baby,” he whispers. He presses one big hand over your stomach, just beneath your ribcage. “You’ve got the magic to do it. Feel it, in here.”

It’s really hard to feel anything besides his touch, searing you through your baggy t-shirt. Eddie’s fingertips stroke back and forth, apparently trying to get you to focus on… something, but not accomplishing anything other than turning you on. Some instinct you have forces you to press your hips back against his, grinding your ass against his crotch in a sleep-induced urge to have him as close as you can. You make a little sound in the back of your throat that indicates what exactly it is that you’re feeling. 

Eddie hums quietly, a note of amusement in his voice. “Wrong feeling, sweetheart.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to be feeling–”

“I know, I know. You want to fuck me so bad it’s making you dumb. It’s cute, really.” He snickers when you give him a petulant huff, and his teeth wrap around your earlobe to tug playfully. “All in good time. But right now, you need to feel what you want. You want a vase.”

“I don’t want a–”

“You want the vase,” he repeats insistently, tapping your tummy twice. Hot fingertips pressing in, metal rings catching on the fabric over your skin.

You squirm. “Fine. Eddie says I want the vase.” Give me the vase so the goddamn guy will let me go back to sleep for the love of shit—

And then, you do feel it. Some burning in your gut, right beneath the press of Eddie’s hand. A buildup of pressure that isn’t necessarily pleasurable, but nor is it painful. It just builds and builds until you feel full, fit to burst. It lurches in your throat, speeds up your heart, makes you moan at the vastness of it.

“That’s good,” Eddie encourages quietly in your ear, “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Keep going.” 

The warmth of Eddie’s hand on you grows, until you feel as if your cotton t-shirt shouldn’t handle it. It should be burning up into shreds of singed fabric and char, but it just remains as an irritating barrier between his skin and yours. You feel the magic coursing through him and into you, creating some kind of tether that binds you and allows the power to travel between your beings. One with each other. 

And when you fear that it’s too much, that you might explode from the intensity of it, it leaves you. All in one strong gust, enough to knock you back into Eddie, to make you stumble and give a fevered moan of release. 

“Good girl! Look at what you did!” Eddie bounces excitedly behind you, jostling your still sluggish body. He sounds giddy, his arms tightening around you. “I’m so proud of you, you’re a fucking natural–”

“What… in the world,” you breathe, picking your heavy head up to gaze down at where your water glass used to be. Now there’s an enormous, beautiful vase. Still not enough to fit all the flowers in, but it’s a vase that you didn’t have before.

It still has little lemons on it.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” Eddie’s still whispering to you happily, a smile on his lips as he nuzzles against your neck and litters kisses all over your jaw. “You’re so goddamn cool, I swear–”

You giggle, leaning into his kisses with a tired smile. “That could have waited until I was finished sleeping, you liar.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier when you don’t think rationally about it,” Eddie coos at you, turning your head with gentle fingertips so he can lay into your lips with a kiss. “Plus, you’re just so cute and compliant when you’re sleepy.”

[strlvvr]

my best friends brother (is the one for me) - part four

ahhh finally i finished part four. this was so hard for no reason

read part three here!

word count: 1014 words

warnings: slight angst?

⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ୭ৎ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚

i looked up from my phone when i heard knocking on my front door. i paused my movie and got up, knowing exactly who was at the door. i walked down my stairs and opened the door, seeing matt already biting his nails.

“why weren’t you answering your phone?” he said, relieved to see me in one piece.

“i didn’t feel like it.” i said, turning around and walking back into my house, knowing he was going to invite himself in no matter what.

“y/n please. what is going on? you’ve been off all day.” he pleaded with me, following me into my kitchen.

“i’ve been off? what about you and how you’ve been acting since nick walked into your room this morning?” i retort, starting to get angry with him. he’s done nothing but ignore me all day, only taking time to say something to me when it’s convenient for him. on his terms. 

“y/n..” matt pleaded.

“no i don’t wanna hear it,” i snapped, “you do this every time something between us ever happens and i’m sick of it.”

“i’m sorry, okay?” he yelled, throwing his hands up and into his hair. 

“for what? for ignoring me all day or acting like you like me?” i yelled back, immediately turning around so he couldn’t see the tears forming in my eyes. 

he stayed quiet, and when i turned to look at him, he was on his way out the door. 

once the door closed behind him, i sighed, unable to stop the tears falling. i shouldn’t have let myself believe that he could ever want me. 

i collected myself and went back to my room, hoping that watching my movie would take my mind off what had just happened. i grabbed my phone, going into matt’s contact. i stared at it, debating on texting or calling him. after a while, i threw my phone across my bed, paying attention to the movie playing. i ended up falling asleep half way through it.

i woke up to my phone ringing. i ignored it, thinking it was matt calling me. it rang again and i picked it up, seeing it was nick calling me. 

“hello?” i answered, still half asleep.

“do you have any idea why matt is all pissy?” nick asked immediately.

“i don’t know, he came over ‘cause i wasn’t getting his calls since my phone died on my way home,” i lied, hoping he wouldn’t see through it, “he seemed pissy when he got here though.”

nick groaned before replying, “we were supposed to film a wednesday video but he hasn’t come out of his room and is ignoring me and chris.”

i felt bad, knowing this was partially my fault. “i don’t know, i’m sorry.” i said, grabbing my remote and turning off my tv.

“no it’s fine, i was just wondering if you knew anything.” nick said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

i stared at my ceiling, wondering what was wrong with him. i couldn’t stop my mind from telling me that maybe he does have some sort of feelings for me. 

i grabbed my phone and started drafting a text to matt.

‘can we talk? i’m sorry’ i stared at the text, debating on sending it or not. my thumb hovered over send before deleting the message. i threw my phone down and decided to go grab some food. 

i open my fridge, finding some grapes i had just bought and put some in a bowl. i walked over to the couch and sat down, thinking about the conversation between me and matt. i regretted what i said, overthinking it way too much. 

what if what i said made him think i had feelings for him? i thought about what nick said about matt. what if he felt the same? 

i saw a car, similar to matt’s, outside my house. it couldn’t be his, especially not with the way we left things. 

i heard a knock on my door. i got up, my heart racing as i go answer the door.

“look i don’t want to leave things how we did, and again you aren’t answering you’re phone. god why can’t you just answer your damn phone,” matt pushes through me, clearly out of breath.

“my phone is in my room..” i trailed off, letting him continue his rant. i followed him into my room, he grabbed my phone and handed it to me.

“i’ve texted you about fifteen times, called you three times. you worry me,” he looked at me softly, “please. just keep your phone with you.”

“i’m sorry.” i mumbled, grabbing my phone and looking down at all the notifications from matt. i couldn’t understand why he seemed to care so much, considering just that morning he was ignoring me.

“it’s okay, just- i don’t know” he shook his head, turning to leave.

“wait, why don’t you stay?” i asked him, wanting to hang out with him.

“yeah?” he chuckled, clearly seeing how much i wanted to be in his company.

i walked to my kitchen, grabbing drinks for us out of the fridge. i heard him behind me and before he could get too close, i turned around reaching one of the waters i grabbed towards him. as much as i wanted a repeat of last night, i couldn’t let it happen. if it was going to end even slightly close to that, i’d rather walk into oncoming traffic. 

we made our way to my living room, getting comfy on my couch. i felt matt try to get closer, i inched away slightly, not wanting to let myself get close to him again. he moved back to his original seat, not wanting to push anything.

“are we gonna watch anything?” matt asked, looking over at me.

“i mean what else do we ever do,” i grabbed the remote, turning the tv in and going into netflix.

i put on some comedy show, one of matt’s favorites. i grabbed my phone and text nick, letting him know matt was at my house.

tag list

@beersangel @whoseyouare @wh0schl0 @st7rnioioss @slutsformatt @h3arts4harry @matthewscherrypie @satvisfavetoodles @secret-sturniolo @mattsturniololoverr @blablablabla2525 @melanch0lybby @always-reading @bbernard-03 @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @sleepysturnss @edgemaster696 @strnilolo @engene28 @mattspolitank @ribread03 @veysxrge @bernardsgf @syn-wr1tes @realuvrrr @sturniolo0ntop @chrisstopherfilmed2 @sturniol0s @pinklittleflower @sturniluvr

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @foulpersonahandsvoid

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you utter with each step, the pinch of Floyd’s-- Lloyd’s hand digging into your neck.

“Shut up,” he growls as he as good as drags you.

You walk on your toes, scurrying to keep up. You cling to his wrist to keep your balance as the witnesses turn their heads away. What the heck? What is going on? No one’s going to help you?

“Get in,” he opens a car door and push you so you nearly ding your head on the side.

You catch yourself on the metal and carefully duck down, only for him to shove on your head and slam the door. You compress yourself in the seat as he stomps around the hood. Jeez, that sort of anger isn’t good for you.

He drops into the driver’s side and hits the steering wheel, his anger brimming through flared nostrils. You watch him nervously, waiting for him to explode. It’s like you can see the fuse burning, getting shorter and shorter as he tries to calm himself.

“I’m done talking,” he snarls and sits back heavily. He pulls at his belt buckle as he lifts himself above the seat. “You’re going to use that mouth for something good. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

He pushes his fly open as the buckle tinks and you cringe as he shoves down the elastic of his sleek leopard print briefs. Wow, very 70s of him. He rolls the fabric down his thighs as his dick springs free and you put your hand over your lips, hiding a smile as you snort.

He lowers himself and snarls over at you, “are you laughing?”

“N-no. Well, yes, but I just think... they kinda look funny, don’t they?” You poke your finger up to mimic his hard length. “Boing.”

“What is wrong with you?” He sneers. “How many have you even seen?”

“You know, I’ve been on the internet. I’m a child of the digital age so... probably too many.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” he grabs the back of your head and jerks you towards him, “look, sweet lips, do yourself a favour and stop resisting.”

“Um, favour?” You reach out to grab the steering wheel, fighting to stay away from his lap, “I... I got dry mouth. I can’t--”

“Just open up,” he grunts, shoving on you. He’s strong.

Your arm bends and you collapse onto him, headbutting his dick as you do. You shake your head as you raise it and he suppresses a whimper. He fists your hair and pulls you up, jarring your head back violently.

“Fuck off,” he grits out, “open your damn mouth. And no teeth.”

“Look, I really am not in that kinda mood--”

“I’m about to break your teeth, cupcake. Are you gonna keep arguing?”

You blink at him and weigh a life time of smoothies and broth. His eyes narrow and you gulp. You squeeze your lips tight and try to dip your chin down. He slackens his grip just enough for you to make eye contact with his tip.

Whew, okay, right, you’ve seen some things on The Hub. It can’t be that hard. Figuratively. Literally, it does look pretty hard.

You shudder and suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. This isn’t really how you saw your first-time but nothing’s really gone to plan, has it?

You lick your lips and open your mouth as you bring your hand around to grip him. Thick, you think. Looks and feels like it. But the skin, so smooth. You didn’t expect that. You face down the great dragon, throbbing up at you, you will vanquish your foe.

You lower yourself down and hover your lips above his swollen head. You stick your tongue off and flick it around his tip. He twitches and lets out a hiss. You try not to laugh. So sensitive. You press your lips around him and continue to swirl your tongue. You’re not super sure of what you’re doing but it feels right, even though the circumstance is very wrong.

You stretch your lips around him until your jaw aches. He’s gotta be big. Thinking about it, maybe thinking too much, he’s a lot like the men you see in your incognito searches. You’re no prude, you just haven’t found the right person. He’s definitely not the one but well... let’s not think about that.

You ease onto him, feeling him quiver as his breaths puff out slow and long. You take him deeper and deeper, pausing as he grazes the back of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and try to rear back. He keeps a hold on you, urging you down.

Your throat strains around him as he forces his dick deeper. You nearly gag, your foot kicking the interior. You’re bent over the console, half-twisted, your shoulder bearing too much pressure for comfort. Your eyes water as you find yourself suffocated with his intrusion.

He holds you there until your quaking. He lets up and you pull off of him, coughing and hacking. He chuckles and releases your hair, petting your head.

“Go on.”

You close your eyes and tremble as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, the other still circled around him. You pump then put your lips around his tip. You flick your tongue around and around, taking him in gradually. You reach your limit then back up, dragging your hand in tandem with your mouth.

A saltiness spreads over your tongue and you press it along his base. He growls and his hand spreads across your crown. He leans back into the seat, extending his legs as far as they’ll go in the cramped space. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak as he grips it tight as you pick up the pace. Hopefully if you go fast, it will be over soon.

“Slow-- sweet lips, hold up,” he rasps, “slow--” He yanks you off of him and hisses, slamming an open hand on the horn as he spasm and curses, “fuck! I said slow--” He lets go of you and contorts as he cradles his sack and squeezes his dick tight, a gush bursting from the tip, stringing down his knuckles and onto his pants. Those look expensive. “What the fuck? You went too fast.”

“I... I didn’t mean to. I just... I did my best,” you stick out your tongue and wipe it on your sleeve, “I never did that before so... my bad.”

He gapes at you then his eyes drift through the windshield. He shoots a passerby the finger as his little honk drew the attention of curious eyes. He growls and opens his hand, examining the sliminess across it.

“You made this mess,” he snarls, “better clean it up.”

Your brow creases and you shake your head, “you got kleenex?”

“With your goddamn mouth,” he barks and sits back. “Hurry up.”

You keep from looking out the window as humiliation seeps in. The realisation that a very private moment is on display makes you nauseous. You bend over his lap again, once more taking him in your hand.

“Good girl,” he purrs as your lips touch his skin, “gotta say, those hands are a lot quicker than that head.”

[claiestve]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙙.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴀɴᴏɪᴀ

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

It was already five minutes before you needed to be out the door. You hurriedly gathered your things, while Isaac waited impatiently in the car. You were on your way to an important meeting, and Isaac was your designated driver. The client had specifically requested to meet with you alone, and naturally, you respected their wishes.

The client’s request didn’t bother you at all, but you couldn’t say the same for Isaac. The meeting had been scheduled two weeks in advance, and Isaac had been dreading it ever since. You initially thought he was joking—after all, why would he be so anxious about a meeting when all he had to do was wait in the car?

“Okay, let’s go.” You jumped in the passenger seat holding what looked like a stack of information. 

“That much paperwork? You sure you need all that?” Isaac asked, glancing at the pile.

He had no idea just how much there was to unpack. This case was complex, and naturally, it came with a mountain of papers and files.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Just drive, Batman.”

“You know,” He started up the car and put his hands on the wheel, “you have a lot of attitude for someone nicknamed after a pickled cucumber.”

He shot you a teasing look, clearly waiting for your reaction, before bursting into laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile at his antics, though you were eager to get going. The drive to the client's office was quiet except for Isaac’s occasional mutterings about how much he dreaded this meeting. When you finally pulled up to the building, Isaac’s demeanor shifted. His playful banter turned into a serious tone.

“Alright, here we are,” Isaac said, parking the car. “But before you go in, I need to say something.”

You looked at him, puzzled. “What’s up?”

Isaac’s expression changed to something more solemn. “I– Are you sure about going in alone?”

You frowned. “Isaac, we’ve been through this. The client specifically asked for me. It’s part of the job.”

“I get that,” Isaac said, “but I just have a bad feeling about this. Maybe I should come with you, or at least wait in the lobby.”

You sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be easy to change his mind. “Isaac, I appreciate your concern, but you know I can handle this. I’ll be fine. I just need you to trust me.”

You put your hand on his in an attempt to reassure him at least a little.

Isaac looked at you, clearly torn. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. “Alright, but if anything happens, I’m right here. Just call me if you need anything.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, took your hand off his and stepped out of the car, adjusting your papers. As you walked toward the building, you heard Isaac's door creak open behind you. Glancing back, you saw him stepping out of the car, his expression one of determined anxiety.

“Isaac, what are you doing?” you called out, hurrying back to him. “I thought you were going to stay in the car.”

“I know, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’ve got a bad feeling, and I’m not just going to wait around without checking things out,” he said, his tone firm.

“Isaac, seriously, go back to the car,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “It’s just a meeting. I’ve got this.”

By the time the client arrived, Isaac was sort of lurking in the background, creepily observing you two. It amused you a little but you tried not to bring attention to his weird antics. 

Meeting your client was awkward knowing Isaac was staring directly at you from afar but you got it done. The client, a middle-aged man with a stern demeanor, greeted you with a polite but guarded smile. You exchanged pleasantries and led him into the conference room. Isaac, meanwhile, took up a position just outside the door, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on obsessive.

After your meeting, you met up with Isaac again. 

“How’d it go?”

You glared at him, flashing a sarcastic smile his way. “It was fine! Until he noticed you still staring at us.”

Isaac looked sheepish but relieved. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t shake that bad feeling. I guess I was being a bit overprotective.”

“It’s okay, cutie, let’s go to the car.”

“Don’t call me that,” He pulled the key to his car out of his pocket, “in public.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

i heard if u say isaac's name three times, he'll escape the dungeon

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : this one is pretty PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing in this chapter is warning worthy, but the story in general is going to turn pretty smutty from chapter 3 onwards and there will be strong language throughout. I’m not going to list all the different ways things get smutty unless I think it’s something that could be considered triggering. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.5k

A/N : this started life as an original piece that I couldn’t finish, so I decided to make a few little changes and turn it into a fanfic. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a tumblr, so sorry if I fuck this up. The story as a whole is going to veer recklessly between cute fluff and some much darker things with themes of obsession, will-they-won’t-they, and running from past trauma. Both Billy and reader are messy AF.

CHAPTER ONE

You checked your phone for what had to be the hundredth time. A measly two minutes had passed but the August heat made it feel longer. You found yourself thinking about how you were going to kill your roommate for making you chauffeur her around in the height of summer, trying to ignore the way the sticky New York heat made your tank top cling to your body beneath your unzipped hoodie.

You’d given up on waiting in the car after the first ten minutes - the AC in the old VW was busted, making it even less comfortable than sitting on the hood of the car under the glaring sun. Still, the parking lot was nicer than some of the places you’d found yourself waiting for your roommate over the years. That was the thing with Tammy; everyone around her lived on her schedule, did what she wanted to do. And you were no exception.

Actually, this whole thing was your idea. A friend, albeit in a very loose sense of the word, had told you that ANVIL were hiring office staff, and you’d passed the message along to Tammy who’d - well, she’d turned her nose up at it at first, she’d even laughed at you. But Tammy needed a job and ANVIL had a reputation for paying well.

So, you agreed to drive her to the interview and even agreed to wait.

Every now and then someone would appear - honestly, it looked like a steady stream of models leaving the building, the sorts that Tammy fit well with - but, for the most part, it was just you, mindlessly scrolling Instagram, trying not to think.

Until you saw him.

He came out the door and just stopped. It looked like he was breathing a sigh of relief at being out of there, and you couldn’t help but smirk a little at that. Poor guy.

Despite the weather he was dressed in a suit, dark hair slicked back, tall and slender. You suddenly felt out of place, like you shouldn’t be there, like you shouldn’t keep watching him, but the longer it went without him noticing you, the harder it was to try and tear away your eyes. He answered his phone as you watched, even without being able to hear a word, you knew he wasn’t happy. When he turned you got your first glimpse of his face and -

Fuck. 

Your eyes dropped back to your phone, knowing that he’d seen you watching him. Fingers swiped across the screen, jumping from Instagram to emails to Facebook, looking for anything to reply to. Your eyes stayed fixed on the phone even as you heard the shuffle of boots on gravel moving towards you, trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him even as his shadow fell over you.

“Do you make a habit of hanging out in parking lots or are you here to interview?” His voice didn’t sound quite the way you’d imagined - though you weren’t really sure why you’d been imagining his voice to begin with. There was an edge to it, something that sent a shiver up your spine.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you answered, squinting as you looked up and the light seemed to halo around him.

“Friend?” he asked.

“Roommate,” you answered awkwardly before shaking your head, “but, yeah, she’s my friend too.”

You weren’t expecting him to laugh at that, for him to smile the sort of smile that probably had women all across the five boroughs ready to drop their panties. (And that was another thought you weren’t sure you should be having.)

He didn’t move, for a few moments he just looked at you as if he was taking measure, and all you could think about was how there was a bead of sweat rolling down your back. You probably looked completely gross while he was standing there in what looked like a professionally tailored suit that probably cost more than you could make in a year, with not a hair out of place despite the oppressive heat. 

“Does she make you wait around for her a lot?” He asked as if it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard, like he’d never allow anyone to put him in your position.

“She doesn’t drive,” you shrug, “anyway, this is nicer than most of the places she drags me to.”

“Yeah?” he prompted with little more than a raise of his eyebrow.

“Tammy’s an actress - at least, she wants to be. So I end up waiting around while she auditions.”

The look he gave you was surprisingly sympathetic. “Actresses can be hard work.” You didn’t think to ask how he knew that.

“Yeah, I’m just glad she gets to keep her clothes on for this interview,” the words slipped out and you instantly grimaced but if he noticed that, he didn’t let it show. “Not like - I mean, she’s not doing porn or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with women wanting to -”

You could see him fighting back a laugh the more flustered you got.

“I mean, it’s not the nudity that’s a problem - you should read some of the scripts, they’re just so bad.” You finally managed. “It’s like ‘oh no the serial killer caught me with his knife and now my tits are out’.”

Silence fell again and you watched him glance away, daring to hope that he was done with you. He’d walk away and forget all about you, and you’d spend the rest of the day replaying this moment in your mind, cringing at how ridiculous you are.

“I was going to grab a coffee, your friend is probably going to be another hour or so, so if you want you could always join me?” 

You quickly started coming up with reasons why you couldn’t, why you shouldn’t. But, it was just coffee, it wasn’t like he was asking you to leave the country with him. And, besides, you weren’t sure you could stand the heat much longer.

“There’s a place nearby that does amazing iced coffee,” like he was reading your mind. And that sold it.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” you decided, sliding off the hood of the car in a less than graceful manner.

Once you were standing you could really appreciate the height difference between the two of you; you almost had to tilt your head to look at him. You pushed the thought away, taking a moment to check that your car was locked up, following after him when he started to leave the way.

As you walked, it dawned on you that you still didn’t know his name, so you clumsily introduced yourself.

“Billy,” he responded with a smile, realising that he’d made the same mistake you had, “come on, it’s just across the street.”

You both fell into silence as you left the parking lot, but it wasn’t long before it got to be too much for you in an awkward, uncomfortable sort of way. It struck you that he didn’t look uncomfortable though, in fact you were already pretty certain that he wasn’t the kind of man to get uncomfortable easily. 

“So, do you work at Anvil?” You asked him, wanting to fill the silence but also wanting to know a little bit more about him. You weren’t sure what he found so funny about the question but the smirk he shot you left you feeling like you were missing something obvious and he found your ignorance amusing. You started to fiddle with your sleeves, gaze dropping from his.

“Yeah, I work at Anvil.” And then silence fell again.

When you looked up again you were outside a little coffee shop that was so small and non-descript that you’d completely missed it when you drove by it earlier. He held the door open for you and let you slip inside before following, watching as you breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air from the AC hit. When you moved towards the counter, you realised he was only a step behind, towering over you almost possessively.

The girl behind the counter smiled at him first before bothering to spare you a glance.

“What would you like?” He asked. You quickly realised that he was intending to pay and that just unsettled you further.

“I can get mine,” you were quick to tell him. You didn’t need him paying for you and you’d never been the sort to accept drinks from men you didn’t know, not even coffee. So, you ordered your drink, your favourite iced coffee with syrup, before he ordered his, an americano with an extra shot of espresso. But before you could pay, he reached over and tapped his phone on the reader, flashing you what you could only describe as a darkly mischievous smile.

“You didn’t have to -” you started to tell him.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Billy shrugged, “besides, I owe you for keeping me company.”

The girl behind the counter shot you the sort of look that made you think that she would have been more than happy to keep Billy company herself and that she saw your presence there as an annoyance. You guess that was probably the effect he had on a lot of women.

“Here you go, Billy, just how you like it,” she smiled as put your drinks on the counter, leaning and fluttering her eyelashes at him, completely ignoring you. Billy gave her a muttered thanks and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as you reached for your drink. 

As you turned, Billy placed a hand on your back, leading you towards a table by the window, far enough from the counter that it felt a little more private. You sat on the edge of your seat, eyes nervously wandering towards the door for a second and, when you looked back, you found him watching you. There was a confidence about him that was getting harder and harder to ignore, he was clearly a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it - so, what did he want from you?

Company? Or maybe you were being used to make the barista jealous? No, that didn’t feel right, he’d barely even looked at her, anything between them was obviously one-sided. Maybe you were there to keep her at bay so he could drink his coffee in peace? Though from looking at him you knew he had to be used to women fawning over him, with those dark eyes that looked right through you and the shirt that fit so perfectly you could make out the muscles beneath as he shrugged off his jacket. 

“What?” 

Shit. You realised that you’d been staring at him and your cheeks started to warm. He didn’t look bothered, in fact he was still smiling at you, amused, almost as if he wanted you to look.

“Sorry,” you apologised, dropping your eyes to the table, quickly thinking of a way to move the conversation along, “so how long have you worked for Anvil?”

“Too long,” he answered and, again, there was that little laugh, that little smirk telling you that you were missing something. Billy obviously didn’t want to talk about himself though. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Bike messenger, mostly...” you shrugged awkwardly knowing how guys like him looked down on people like you. You weren’t ashamed of what you did; it paid the rent, put food on the table, you just hated having to defend it to someone like him who probably made money in his sleep. He surprised you by not reacting - there was no look of superiority, no pity, just a nod of his head.

“Mostly?”

“What?”

“You said mostly,” 

“Oh, right, yeah. I do some work as a photographer. Just freelance and a couple of exhibitions,” you shrugged again, “it’s actually how I found out that Anvil were hiring.”

“Really?” It was hard not to notice how intently he was looking at you, like he was hanging on your every word. You started fiddling with your sleeve again.

“Yeah, sometimes I do work for The Bulletin if someone is out sick, and my friend Karen knew Tammy was looking for a job, so -”

“Karen? Frank’s girl?” 

“Yeah,” you’d never met him but Karen had been talking about him a lot since they got together, “we were talking and I guess I let slip that we might have to move to a smaller apartment if Tammy can’t find a job…” 

“High rent?”

You nodded. “Higher than either of us can really afford, but Tammy’s parents pay half and we split the rest.”

“Her parents still pay for her?”

“They’re loaded and I guess they didn’t want her having to live anywhere that might be ‘dangerous’,” you offered, but you knew how it sounded. You and Tammy were both in your thirties , it was strange that they still went out of their way to provide for her, but you didn’t fault them for wanting to look after their child, something that your own parents had never seemed inclined to do. The thought sent you down a rabbit hole and had you falling silent, wondering how he’d look at you if he knew the truth about you.

You took a drink, letting your eyes drift to the window and the street beyond. His eyes stayed firmly on you and you could almost feel him watching you. It made you tense and shift uncomfortably.

“What kind of photography are you into?” 

“Mostly candids, but since I moved to New York, I’ve been really getting into urban stuff and I’ve been playing around with architecture shots.” Billy listened, looking interested in everything you had to say in a way that had you smiling again.

“And you put on exhibitions?”

“Little shows sometimes, yeah.”

“I’d love to see one sometime.” He kept smiling at you, all his focus completely on you, and you found that you didn’t entirely mind it. It was nice talking to someone who seemed to care about what you were actually saying. “Did you study photography in college or -”

“No, I never got to go to college.” It wasn’t until you’d said it that you realised how much it gave away; that college wasn’t your choice, that you’d been stopped from going.

“I never went to college either,” Billy offered, as if he sensed your sudden discomfort. You nodded, eyes dropping to your fingers, tugging at your sleeve again. “Do I make you nervous?” He asked suddenly, pulling your attention back towards him. He was still smiling, still looking at you in a way that made you feel like he was taking you apart in his mind, piece by piece.

“What? No - that’s not -” you stumbled over your words, embarrassed that he’d caught on so easily. You took a second before letting out a sigh. “It’s not you, I just don’t do this a lot.”

“Which part?”

“The whole going for coffee with a random guy I’ve never met before.”

“Is that because guys don’t ask or because you don’t normally say yes?” He asked but didn’t give you time to respond. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I already know the answer.”

An eyebrow raised, unimpressed by the assumption; the situation might have been making you nervous but you weren’t going to take shit from a stranger. “Oh yeah, and how’s that?”

“You’re too attractive for men to ignore.” Billy shrugged and your eyes rolled. Yikes, what a fucking line.

“Maybe I’ve got a boyfriend,” you retorted, “or a girlfriend.”

Billy laughed. “You know that wouldn’t stop most guys, right?”

“Would it have stopped you?” You were pretty sure you knew the answer to that.

“I dunno, do you have a boyfriend?” He asked. “Or a girlfriend?”

“Do you?”

“Have a boyfriend?”

“Or a girlfriend.”

“Would you be here having coffee with me if I did?” He asked, turning the tables so effortlessly that it made it seem like flirting was an olympic sport and he was a gold medallist.

“Would you have asked me if you did?” You answered back, trying to fight back a smirk of your own at how ridiculous this was becoming.

“Do you always answer innocent questions with more questions?” It was obvious he was enjoying whatever this was, his dark eyes practically shining with excitement as he watched you from the other side of the table.

“You call that an innocent question?” You retorted, letting out a snort of laughter.

Billy let out another laugh, holding up his hands and signalling surrender.

“Maybe you should come work for Anvil, I bet you’re a pro at interrogations.” And that really made you laugh, and the sight of it had his gaze fixing more intently on you and his smile widening. 

“I don’t think I have the necessary qualifications to work somewhere like that,” you shrug, “besides, I like my job.”

“Really?” Usually his question would have pissed you off, but there was something in the way he asked that made it seem like he was genuinely curious to hear your reasons rather than it being some kind of judgement.

“Yeah, I get to see the whole city, there’s no office politics to deal with, and I get to listen to music all day,” you found yourself shrugging again, and his eyes were still fixed on you, like he was fascinated. So, it felt like your turn to ask; “what?”

“Nothing,” he sat back and lifted his mug, taking a long drink, “I think it’s great that you like your job, there’s a lot to be said for enjoying your work.”

“Do you? Enjoy what you do, I mean. With Anvil?” Whatever that was.

“Some days more than others,” he smiled at you.

“And today?” You asked stupidly, before considering the implications and how it might sound.

“Today’s definitely getting better.”

Your eyes dropped to your drink again, teeth running over your bottom lip. He wasn’t talking about you, he couldn’t be talking about you, but some part of you wished he was. But you wouldn’t have known even if he was, you’d never been good with those sorts of things, flirting and separating a little bit of fun from something more. Billy was an enigma to you in the same way that most people were, but there was something about him that made you almost want to break all of your rules, just to see what might happen.

“What do you do for Anvil?”

“These days I mostly deal with the bureaucracy,” and the look on his face told you just what he thought of that.

“So you don’t - I don’t know, go on missions, all Seal Team 6, kicking down doors?”

Billy let slip a laugh that was equal parts amused and offended.

“Seal Team 6?”

“What?” You laughed, awkwardly.

“You know a lot of Anvil are ex-Marine Corps, right? I’m an ex-Marine.”

“Is there a difference?” You knew there was though, honestly, you couldn’t remember exactly what it was, and the look on his face was priceless enough that you didn’t regret asking.

“Okay, wow, you’re really going to make me explain it to you?” You nodded in response. “Okay, it’s -“

Before he could start on whatever lecture he was about to give, your phone started to ring, loudly - loud enough to make you almost jump out of your skin. (You must have knocked the volume while you’d been frantically trying to look like you hadn’t been spying on him earlier.)

“Fuck, it’s Tammy,” you tell him before answering.

Moments later, you’d wish that you hadn’t. She was at the car waiting for her ride home and you were nowhere to be found, which was apparently so inconsiderate of you. You finished the call with a sigh and looked at Billy. 

“Guess her interview didn’t go well,” you took one final drink before pushing back your chair and getting to your feet. “I’ve got to go, if I leave her standing around out there I’ll never hear the end of it, it’s been -“ you stopped as he got to his feet.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“No, that’s fine, really, you don’t have to.”

“I insist.” His tone making it clear that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m sorry, she’s just -“

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

When you started towards the door, he was right behind you, again staying close to you. Outside the oppressive heat hit you again and it pissed you off; you’d been having a nice time and Tammy just had to ruin it. Now it was over and you’d never see him again. 

Billy didn’t say anything, even as you picked up the pace. You wanted to get this all over and done with, you wanted to drive Tammy back to the apartment and - you didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want to be around her, you didn't want to have to deal with her bullshit, and you didn’t want to think about the man walking a step behind you. 

You didn’t see him frown at you, you didn’t dare look back because it just felt childish. You’d met him forty minutes ago, he’d probably forget you by the end of the day. 

You rounded the corner, about to cross the street when you felt his fingers around your wrist. All it took was one gentle pull and you were turning back towards him, stumbling into his arms. It felt like a moment pulled from some romcom; you spilled forward into his arms, your hands against his chest. And then you looked up, finding those impossibly dark eyes staring down at you.

Billy looked at you like he was trying to decide something, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. The, less than a second later, he was kissing you, pulling your body against his. And you let him. Later you’d tell yourself that it was shock but, in that moment, you wanted him to kiss you for no other reason than he was nice; you’d had fun getting coffee with him. It took you a moment to return to your senses, to use the hands on his chest to gently push him away.

“Billy —”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about doing that for the last thirty minutes.” He grinned. “Go to dinner with me.” You couldn’t tell if he meant it as a question or a command, but it definitely sounded more like the latter. Maybe he was just that used to women doing what he wanted them to do.

“I think you’re supposed to ask that before kissing someone,” was all you could think to say with a nervous laugh.

“Well, now I’ve asked…” And a second later, his lips were on yours again, tongue running against the seam of your lips, desperately wanting to deepen the kiss, and you let him. For a few sweet moments, you gave yourself over to him - to a random stranger you’d known for all of forty minutes.

Finally, you pushed him again, taking a step back, out of his arms and back to reality.

“I can’t,” is what you told him once you’d managed to find your voice again.

“Can’t or won’t?” He dared to try and take a step closer, forcing you to take another step back.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?” Honestly not sure you even wanted an answer from him.

“So I can figure out how to change your mind.” He explained, like he thought it would really be that simple

“You can’t.” But that just made him laugh.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.” And there was something dangerous in that; you didn’t know what he was capable of. “And I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“I told you; I don’t do this.”

“This can be whatever you want it to be. I’m very adaptable.” He reached for you again, fingers brushing your cheek before you managed to pull away.

He looked ready to say something else, like he had some line on the tip of his tongue that he was sure would convince you, his lips even parted ready, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure why until a moment later.

“Oh my god, there you are! Do you know how long I’ve been standing around waiting for you?”

Tammy. You didn’t know whether to be glad of the interruption or pissed at the tone she was taking with you.

“Sorry,” Billy stepped around you, towards Tammy, “I distracted her.”

“That’s -“ and then the impossible happened. Tammy actually fell silent. You decided that it must just be the effect that Billy tended to have on women.

“I’m Billy,” he offered out his hand and Tammy was quick to take it, no doubt falling for his charms already. And Billy, well, obviously he’d managed to get over whatever momentary insanity he’d been suffering from when he kissed you and had moved onto the next victim.

Only that wasn’t exactly what happened.

“Oh, I know who you are, Mr Russo. I’m Tammy.”

“Wait… what?” If anyone heard you, neither bothered to respond. How did Tammy know who he was?

“I hear you’ve just been interviewing to come work for me,”

For him. Not with him.

Your stomach dropped, remembering something Karen had said about a Russo, about how Frank called him a pretty boy and Karen thought he was a bit of a womaniser. He kept talking to Tammy but you barely caught a word, too stuck on everything that had happened and how you’d let it. 

“Come on, Tammy,” finally, you snapped out of it and started to walk, “if you want a ride home we need to go now.” 

You didn’t even wait for an answer, you just let her say her goodbyes to Billy.

“Let me know when you’re free to go for that dinner,” Billy called after you, You chose not to answer, some part of you hoping that Tammy wasn’t going to follow because you knew what would come next.

Fumbling for your keys, you had them in hand before you got back to your car, not daring to look behind you. What had just happened? Your lips still tingled from his kiss, you could still taste him, could still feel his hand on your hip. And some part of you was inexplicably still annoyed that the moment was over.

Tammy followed behind you, calling after, barely making it into the passenger seat before you started the car.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed and you steeled yourself for the oncoming argument, “you are the best friend ever.” 

There was no sarcasm, no anger - she was actually smiling at you. What the hell did she think you’d done?

“What?” Throwing the car into reverse and trying to ignore the fact that Billy was there, watching you as he made his way back towards the office building, his office building. There was something unknowable in his dark gaze as it followed you and, again, you found yourself thinking about how you had no idea what he was capable of.

“Flirting with Billy-fucking-Russo to get me a job at Anvil.”

CHAPTER TWO

-

END NOTES : if you made it this far, thanks for sticking around. Like I said, this is something that started out as an original piece and I was struggling to find the energy to finish it. I’ll be trying to release a new chapter at least once a week, though the second part will probably be up in a few days time because the first two chapters are really just to help set things up, and I know that’s not what people are interested in. I already have the first five chapters pretty much written, they just need some editing before going in the queue and, in total, I have around 20 chapters planned. I’ll be working on this through NaNoWriMo too, so how much I get done might change the posting schedule a little.

Likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, though this fic will be posted regardless of engagement because I just need to get this story out of my head once and for all.

Anyway thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a wonderful day wherever you are!

[lizzy019]

𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐼𝓃 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒? ...𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒?

Sub!Two-Bit x Fem!Reader [Reader is best friends with Two-Bit] SLOW BURN!

cw -> somnophilia, masturbation, couch seggs, breast play, cowgirl, dacryphilia, light degradation

Word Count -> 6.2K (crazy ikr?)

Two-Bit is mah baby whatchu on abttttt

“Blasted car.” You muttered to yourself, parking your now useless vehicle onto the side of the road where people couldn’t hit it.

The car had stopped working, shooting out clouds of black smoke from its exhaust pipe while the little clunking noise had become repetitive from somewhere in the back of your vehicle.

With obvious exhaustion in your eyes, you find yourself trekking along the muddy and overgrown sidewalks, trying to spot Two-Bit’s house anywhere nearby to stay for a bit until a tow company could come pick up your car. Unfortunately, while you couldn’t find his house, you stumbled upon him trying to pick up a random innocent girl on the streets, who so clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

So with tired steps, you made your way over to the two and sighed heavily to announce your presence. This had Two-Bit looking over in confusion, smiling at you instantly and forgetting the other girl quicker than he could even think it. His hands grabbed your shoulders and happily shook you, making you a little dizzy, but a smile still managed to cross your face.

“Heya, numbnut! You wanna go with me to get ice cream? I’m so hungry, but food’s too hard to cook.” He frowned, hands moving to fix the little fold of hair hanging over his forehead. How could you possibly say no to him?

“I mean, I would, but my car’s busted. I think the engine’s worn out, and I was hopin’ I could stay over at your place until a tow truck driver comes by to pick up my car for a fix.” You murmured, hands pushed deep into the warm fabric of your pockets, eyes staying fixated on him as you watched him think.

With a soft grin on his lips, he nodded his head happily and politely let you loop your arm with his. In this sort of neighbourhood, any woman was likely to have something improper done to them without the supervision of another man. With paced steps, Two-Bit began to lead you to his house, talking away gleefully as you travelled to your awaiting destination.

“Oh, it was gnarly alright! The movie was sick, I don’t think I’ve ever seen somethin’ so swell! I ain’t never watched a movie starrin’ a girl either, but it was pretty alright. What about you, numby?” He asked with a smirk, awaiting an answer as you only shook your head and smiled.

What a big goof he was.

“Unlike you, I was drivin’ up to go get food. I was runnin’ low and you know how my family gets. I gotta be the one to do everythin’ nowadays..” You contempted, gently bumping him with your hip to try and get him to stumble. It was playful, a common little joke you did to amuse each other.

“Why were you buggin’ that girl? You gotta stop flirtin’ with ‘em just to bum their money, Two.”

Two-Bit scoffed at your words, bumping you back playfully and shrugging. Soon, you arrived at his home.

“My life’s boring, smartass. Gotta do somethin’ while Brenda’s at school, yeah? Somethin’ aside drinkin’ and eating cake while watchin’ Mickey, but it doesn’t matter. I like my way of doin’ things.” He answered, walking you to the side door and allowing you into his little bungalow house.

While inside reeked of cigarettes, alcohol, and overall dirtiness, it held a sort of comfort that made it appealing to you. Maybe it was the mess in the kitchen that was all too real at your own home, or maybe it was the way Two-Bit flopped so freely onto the sofa without a care in the world in hopes he’d turn on the TV and find a rerun of a Mickey show, or maybe it was the way the house had this.. warm feeling. Regardless, you threw away all ladylike manners and plopped yourself down beside him, trying to prevent him from moving with your weight and giggling when he slammed a pillow to your face.

“Hey! That’s not nice, I’ve been nothing but kind to you.” You tried to act innocuous, yet it was rebutted with another whack of the pillow which had both of you laughing hysterically.

The hand on the time’s clock finally hit 6:30, and just a moment or two later, Two-Bit’s mother and Brenda came through the side door. Why was the side door so popular for entry when there was a front door?

Nonetheless, Brenda’s beady blue eyes met yours and the cute 6 year old ran over to you with the most curious and gleeful expression you could possibly think of. She was the spitting image of Two-Bit, chubby face with the cutest eyes, lovely dirty blonde hair and the prettiest little smile. She looked like an absolute sweetheart!

“Are you another girlfriend that.. that Keith brought home?” Brenda asked you, a soft inhale between words as she collected some of her thoughts to speak them properly. You had to choke back a laugh, smiling so widely you were sure you looked like the Cheshire cat.

“No, sweetie, I’m not. You’re Brenda, aren’t you? Your brother says everyone calls you Annie.” You responded with faux serenity, trying to maintain your composure at the sweet sight of the little female version of Two-Bit. It was honestly adorable.

With a bright little gappy smile, Brenda nodded and hopped onto the couch beside you, sweet little hands coming to fiddle around with your purse.

“Yeah, everyone calls me Annie or Bren, but you can call me whatever! I’m just happy you’re not one of those weird girls he brings over, they scare me.” She muttered, her little petite hands releasing your purse before moving to the sleeve of your shirt. She seemed very curious, but before you could say much, Brenda tried to wriggle herself into your lap to watch Mickey more comfortably. So Mickey Mouse was common in the household?

“Alright Annie. You know you’re very pretty, right? You look a lot like your brother and your mother.” You paused to speak, gently beginning to split the little amount of hair she had to put two small braids on her head.

Entwining the hair together to form a pattern while Two-Bit and Brenda laughed at whatever was playing on the TV screen, you didn’t have the chance to see his mother walk by, a tired expression clearly tainting her facial features before she appeared in your peripheral vision. She seemed very content watching the three of you, and you paid no mind as to not embarrass her.

“Do you three want anything in particular for dinner?” Her dulcet and soft voice rang through the room, alerting the two siblings and you as well.

You could only shrug, putting the decision on the two as you finished Brenda’s braids. Now she had two lovely french braids, loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to stay in place.

“Potatoes ‘n gravy!” Brenda exclaimed with glee, hopping off of your lap to scurry over and help her mother in the kitchen with dinner.

You smiled graciously at this sight, and a simple thought ran through your head as you watched. Brenda was a good kid, swell beyond belief and as kind as any girl could hope to be. Two-Bit sat up as well, handing you the remote in case you wanted to watch anything while he walked over to help set up the table. It seemed everyone had a job in the family, a role to play to get a task done.

You shut off the TV, setting the remote on the coffee table and sighing while you pushed yourself up off of the sofa to follow behind. Entering the kitchen, you were met with the unpleasant sight of garbage mixed with beer bottles, cigarette packs, carton boxes and filth piled up. While it had you frowning, the way Two-Bit had Brenda on his shoulders, grabbing the plates from the highest shelf to set the table, and his mother with the most affectionate smile anyone could ever display while she watched them was what distracted you from the mess. As long as they were happy, nothing else really mattered.

His mother’s gaze fell to you, and with a smile, she gestured you over. Without a second thought, you hurried over and smiled back, giving her the softest expression you possibly could.

“Yes, ma’am? Did you need something from me?” You asked politely, and his mother nodded slowly.

“Yes, I need you to mash the potatoes while I make the gravy. They’re already peeled, could you do that for me? If you don’t wish to, I could get Keith to do it.” She hummed out, moving to the fridge to dig out the proper ingredients while you agreed to it without a doubt.

How could you possibly say no when she looked so tired already?

With gentle motions, you began to mash the softened potatoes, carefully smashing them in the bowl they were in and adding the occasional sprinkle of salt and pepper to add flavour. No one likes flavourless, warm mashed potatoes anyway.

Sitting at the dining room table, skies dark outside and the one light overhead keeping the dining room table lit, you all were happily chit chatting over some steamed chicken, mashed potatoes and veggies. You had to admit, Two-Bit’s mother could cook really damn good. Regardless, you couldn’t help but occasionally frown whenever it seemed that Brenda disliked the veggies. It was sweet though, you could see your own younger self in her at times.

“Annie, are you okay, sweetheart? You look like you don’t like your food.” You always found yourself in awe by how gentle his mother was, but you smiled when Brenda pouted and pushed away her plate, everything nearly licked clean off except for the damned veggies.

“Mama, I don’t wanna eat ‘em! Yucky.” She pouted, bottom lip pushed forward in a plea to not eat them.

With a soft sigh, their mother nodded and shooed away the child to go watch shows on the television while she finished the rest of the veggies. You felt bad, but you didn’t wanna say anything in case you were interrupting something. But you turned to Two-Bit and saw him purloining the vegetables from his mother’s plate, and it wasn’t even sneakily anymore. He probably had the same thought process.

His mother turned to him with a wide smile, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself. She looked so happy.

“Keith, where will your friend stay? The guest room is occupied with all of our things. Would it be awkward to ask if you two could maybe share a bed for tonight? If not, we can clean up the guest bedroom for her.” She was almost too sweet, and you could tell Two-Bit was thinking the same thing.

While it would indeed be a bit awkward sleeping together with your best friend, you didn’t wish to put her through more work considering she just came back from a 14 hour shift. You shook your head, taking all the plates and cutlery to put them into the sink. In the kitchen with a sponge in hand, you began to clean all the used dishes and cutlery, as well as the glasses. It was the least you could do since they let you stay at their place for a day or two until the tow truck came. Unfortunately, there was still no one. Apparently they were “behind on schedule.”

Once you were finished, you looked back into the living room where Two-Bit had another beer in his hand, Brenda was sitting with a box of juice, and their mother laid on the armchair with a blanket on her lap trying to get some sleep. It was a sweet sight, you couldn’t lie.

“Two-Bit, can I use your shower? I promise I won’t be long, but where is it?” You asked serenely, smoothly almost.

His gaze wafted over to yours, and he nodded while he sat up to lead you to the bathroom. Soft steps followed by creaking floorboards were all that was heard for a moment or two. The hallway walls were littered with family photos, the one that stood out to you the most was the one with just Two-Bit, his mom and his dad. Two-bit had a father?

You paid no mind, tippy-toeing until you found the bathroom at the end of the hall. You thanked him silently, giving his arm a little slap before giggling and hiding away in the bathroom.

Stripping the clothes you wore off of your body so you could freely shower, the cold tiles of the floor stinging your feet, you began to find yourself smiling at the little collection of rubber ducks you presumed were Brenda’s. It was sweet, honestly. You turned on the shower, keeping it at your favourite temperature before hopping in to wash away any stress left behind from your car incident. While it was nice staying with Two-Bit, you had this little nagging feeling in your chest, something tight that made everything feel a little too rough around the edges.

You tried convincing yourself that it was just stress as you washed your body with soap, lathering it on all parts of flesh that were dirty or sore before rinsing under the shower’s waves of rain. You were losing it, there was no way you were falling for Two-Bit and just how lovely his whole lifestyle was. There was no way from a simple visit to his house, you had finally managed to convince yourself of it.

But that can only hold out for so long.

Two-Bit handed you a shirt while you embarrassingly covered your breasts from his view, taking the shirt in your free hand before he turned around so his back faced you, giving you privacy to put it on. You did just that, you threw the shirt over your head and popped your arms through the sleeve holes, finding the shirt to be just a tad bit too loose as it hung low around your collarbone.

Nonetheless, you found it cozy and you found yourself liking the smell of it. Needless to say it stunk with cigarette and beer, but it also had that scent that only Two-Bit had, that little chocolatey and woody kind of smell. It was nice, you couldn’t lie.

It had now reached 10:30 at night, you were exhausted from everything and honestly, you really didn’t want any more disturbances, so you tugged at Two-Bit’s arm and gestured for him to lay down and rest as well. Your head rested on the pillow he provided you, eyes already shut as his weight dipped the bed. You smiled softly when he covered your body with the blanket, it was sweet.

“Mmh.. thanks for everything, Two-Bit. ‘M sorry the tow truck company isn’t here yet, I swear I called them twice.” You apologized, hands tucked close to you as you felt yourself drifting off too quickly.

Two-Bit didn’t seem to mind, he was busy watching how your body looked in his shirt. He couldn’t tell you what was happening to him, how you affected him and how you annoyingly messed with his mind more than you already did. He simply gave a hum of acknowledgement to your statement, watching you fully succumb to the strength of your exhaustion before he moved his hand to rub at his crotch.

It was wrong, he knew it was. But he also knew you were a deep sleeper, he could use that to his advantage.

A hand came to dig his own half erection from his underwear, and his other trying to gently push up your shirt without having you stir or move. It was a selfish and greedy way to get what he wanted, what he’d been seeking since he first met you. He knew you’d never feel the same, you’d never wanna be with a guy like him. Someone scolded by society, shunned and disgraced.

Two-Bit was different from Keith. Keith was soft towards his family, loving to his friends, but Two-Bit was the one who was rebellious, boisterous and careless.

Soft groans left his mouth as he watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, nipples erect from the cold of the air. The way they moved and swayed whenever you subconsciously moved your body to become more comfortable. He felt so wrong, he didn’t know if this was a Two-Bit move or a Keith move. Whichever it was, it was a low move for the sake of getting his own pleasure.

His strokes on his weepy cock became more desperate until he focused solely on the tingling and burning of an orgasm building up. Poor Two-Bit, struggling not to moan, cum, or move too much for the sake of himself and everyone else’s sleep. But surely enough, his hand clasped the tip of his cock while thick spurts of semen began to spew out from the head, overfilling his hand and some inevitably pouring onto the bedding.

A loud whimper managed to leave his throat, until he too was knocked out from exhaustion. The sleep had managed to overcome his own need to clean up his hand and rid it from the semen on it, but he was dead asleep before he even had the thought to go and clean himself up. He’d do it in the morning..

Waking up to rustling fabrics wasn’t the most pleasant way to start your morning, but it was enough to get you going. You pulled down your shirt which you thought innocently was shifted while you were asleep, stretching and accidentally bonking Two-Bit right in the head. This woke you up more properly, and you began to apologize lazily.

“Mmh.. sorry, Two. Didn’t mean it.” You hummed, voice groggy from lack of use during the night while you tried to blink your eyes awake. Unfortunately, you were still too tired to even care about starting the day when the bed was warm and Two-Bit was there beside you.

However, Two-Bit looked down at his crotch, angry with his new morning wood he hadn’t realized until he moved his legs. But when he saw you were oblivious to it, he took it as his chance to get out of his own room as fast as he possibly could. Pants on and shirt messy, he zipped out from the room, leaving you hazy and confused all by yourself.

You didn’t mind, eyes adjusting to the daylight beaming through the curtains. You hummed and groaned softly, pushing yourself off of the fabric mattress and rubbing your eyes. Everything was stiff, your legs and back especially. Maybe some breakfast and a walk would do you some good.

You hobbled out of bed, securing some pants before peeking into Brenda’s room to check in on the sweetheart. She was just happily snoozing away, you couldn’t bring yourself to wake her up. Tip-toeing to the living room and dining room, you saw their mother still on the couch, Two-Bit reading the newspaper and sipping some tea. This had you smiling, he looked rather handsome with eye bags and glazed eyes.

Wait- handsome?!

You caught yourself mid thought, looking at him more thoroughly and your eyes uncomfortably drifted lower to where a slight bulge was most prominent under his pants. Your own body shivered, eyes darting back into the kitchen out of nervousness and discomfort as you made yourself a tea as well.

Soon enough, once your water had finished boiling, you had poured yourself a soft tea with sugar and honey to get you started, and you sat near the television to spectate over his mother in case she woke up and needed anything. She was such a sweetheart, and definitely needed the most care. Soft sips were the only noises heard in the room, coming from you and Two-Bit drinking your morning drinks. While it wasn’t pleasant, it had a nice and cozy, homey feeling.

You occasionally looked over at Two-Bit, seeing him unfocused as if he was using the newspaper to look busy but in reality it was only to cover up whatever else his mind was doing. It always wandered, Two-Bit’s thoughts.

Once you had finished your tea, you’d set it down on the coffee table and hurried to get dressed, needing to see if they took your car or not. Your own blouse was put on, pants as well before you rushed to the front door to grab your shoes. A soft “see you” was uttered by Two-Bit, and you responded with the same words before lightly jogging out of the house to go check.

Jogging through the front door and down the stairs, you managed to spot what looked like an oil blotch where your car was parked previously. A “yes!” escaped you when you realized they’d taken your car, and hopefully would be finished fixing it in a day. You didn’t wish to invade Two-Bit and his family’s home as if it was normal.

You jogged back to the house, a little tweak in your breath but overall having a more refreshed feeling now that you had breathed in the fresh air and got that good news. Once you entered through the side door like before, you found yourself looking around in confusion. Where had Two-Bit’s mother gone? Your worry was soon replaced with relief when Brenda had rushed into the living room, jumping with energy while her mother followed behind her.

Her tired eyes met yours, and she smiled gently at your soft huffs and puffs. Her smile didn’t hurt you in the slightest.

“Running in the morning? I didn’t take you for the athletic type, dear.” She hummed, taking the newspaper from Two-Bit to read it herself and sighing deeply.

“What misfortunes ruin our world now?”

You chuckled at her question, shrugging and playfully slapping the back of Two-Bit’s head. It earned a soft chuckle from him, and you chuckled as well.

“John Kennedy is elected President? What a mockery to our country.” Two-Bit’s mother hissed, earning a laugh from you both.

You looked at the bill for your car’s payment and the due date of your car’s pick up day.

$324.

Bill due - Sept. 18

Pick up day - Sept. 14

You had a week to pay off your car’s repairs, and had to wait three more days until you could pick up your vehicle?

It nearly had tears in your eyes, but you let them flow freely since you were all alone in the now quiet house. No Two-Bit, no Brenda, or their mother. The only sound in response to your sobs were the echoes of them once they left your throat.

How could you possibly pay off this bill in that short amount of time? Everything was getting so stressful and worrisome, it was all just piling up and piling up-

A loud creak startled you out of your spiral, making your body tense almost too fast and had your poor heart rate increasing faster than it had to be. Regardless of that, you tried your hardest to stop your unnecessary tears, fearing whoever was in the house would ridicule you for it. Whoever it was, it had every nerve in your body tightening as the footsteps grew nearer.

The door to Two-Bit’s door had opened, and sure enough, it was him. At first, you couldn’t tell what his expression was, but he hurried in to help you when he saw your current distress.

For a second, you truly didn’t know what to do, but you handed him the papers you received and he read them over carefully for your sake and his comfort. Two-Bit had to re-read it multiple times over, reading it out of confusion and laughing afterward. This seemed so incredibly stupid! You both were rather incredulous about the whole situation, but when he saw you had true distress, worry, and stress behind your beautifully coloured eyes, he knew he had to act properly. Even if you were best friends, he really had to step up and be the person you could lean on.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll help pay this off with you, yeah? You don’t even owe me after, how’s that sound?” Two-Bit offered generously, his expression grim as he saw you wipe tears from your face.

However, words couldn’t describe how happy he was when he saw you smiling all big and wide again at his offer, still sniffling a little. His hand came to gently rub your shoulder out of comfort and instinct, he couldn’t ever tell you how he felt seeing you so melancholy.

“Yeah, thanks, Two. I’d really appreciate that.” You hummed, sniffling once or twice more before he pulled you in for an honest hug.

Soon, it was the evening of the next day. You’d become Brenda’s “favourite girlfriend of Keith’s” despite not being his girlfriend, but you let her call you it anyway. You were happy the sweet little girl liked you so much to begin with!

You sat with Brenda on the couch, her in your lap as you both watched whatever was on TV. Two-Bit was staring holes into your skull as you put your focus on the screen, but he could tell you were only doing it for his sister’s enjoyment. He loved that about you, the way you were so sweet to his sister purely because you were his best friend.

He didn’t want to be best friends though.

It was almost unhealthy how obsessed he was with you, how desperately he wanted to be wrapped around your inner walls and feel your body pressed to his. To feel what your kisses would be like, to grope you and have you as his in totality and to push any risk and discontentful thoughts of being just a friend. It was like some uncontrollable magnetic pull, something that attracted him to you without meaning.

Two-Bit stuttered out of his thoughts when his mother came into the room, looking at Brenda with knowing eyes. Brenda gave a “hmph” before hopping from your lap, and she hurried off with her mother. You were confused, but you didn’t want to ask questions and seem rude for not letting his family have their privacy. You watched as the two put on their outdoor shoes before Brenda waved goodbye to you.

Soon enough, they had headed out and it was just you and Two-Bit alone in the house once again. While this caused you discomfort, you didn’t say anything and just shut off the TV.

However, Two-Bit sat right beside you, stiff as a sack of twigs before his eyes met yours. You could tell he was nervous from the way his eyes couldn’t maintain eye contact, and the way he was fidgeting in his seat was also a definite giveaway. But you didn’t say anything out of kindness.. and because he looked a little too pathetic.

“I gotta talk to you. Not no joke either, need you to be serious here.” He muttered out to you, hoping you heard him properly since his voice was all too quiet.

You nodded at his words, giving him your full and undivided attention while you waited patiently for him to properly collect and plan out what he wanted to tell you. It took some time, some open mouthed tries to spurt a word or two out, yet he struggled.

Finally, he worked out whatever knot he had in his throat and looked at you more seriously.

“I dunno how to tell you this, but somethin’s been goin’ on with me. I used to see you as a friend, a good friend no less, but now you’re lookin’ more and more like a goddess from the heavens. I catch myself havin’ these spirals of likin’ you so much to the point it hurts, and then it goes to some lewd and lustful part of me that wants to have you so fully in my hands. My little Minnie mouse, I dunno what to do anymore.” Two-Bit spoke almost too fast, you had to focus and listen real close.

Once you understood, you gave the softest hum and looked at your own lap. You didn’t quite know how to react. Sure, you felt the same, but how would that work? Regardless, your gaze came back to meet his and your confused expression became more accepting, more serene and agreeable.

“The feeling’s mutual then. I guess it’s a requited emotion we’re both experiencing, is it not?” You hummed out, your legs moving to straddle his hips while you looked at him intently.

Two-Bit was absolutely ecstatic when he got your confirmation on you feeling the same about him, his heart beating almost too fast and it felt like it would rip right through his ribcage. Hell, he’d let it do it if it wasn’t for him needing his heart to live. His dry hands came to touch the skin of your waist under your little top.

Your skin was so soft, warm and plush when he pressed his fingers into it to grip you better. The strength of his grip wasn’t too bad, but it showed his insistence on having you stay on his lap. You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming to gently pull his bottom lip away from the top one. Soon enough, your mouths were pressed to one another and everything began to unfold.

Tongues swirling around, you could only enjoy what he tasted like. Beer obviously, but there was this little minty taste too, something alluring that had you trying to push your mouth closer to his own. Unfortunately, you could only go so far.

Nonetheless, his hands needily tried to tug at your top to signal that he wanted it off, and that he had to have you in that totality he yearned for for so long. Desperate attempts were ensued, and he finally managed to fling it off of you and toss it to the side. The kiss was put on pause as he eyed your breasts so perfectly held up by your bra, a lovely shaded colour that complimented your skin.

“Oh baby, you’re so pretty..” He hummed, unclipping the bra and putting it to the side. He was practically drooling when he saw your supple breasts on display, just for him.

Two-Bit attached his mouth to your nipple, eliciting a moan from your pretty lips while his hand was playing and tweaking the other one until they were both hard and tingly. Call him a simp, but he was genuinely getting off to your soft noises and the way your body reacted so pleasantly to his ministrations. You felt your pussy leaking in your panties for him, for his own body.

“Oh, Keith.. yeah, you’re doin’ good, baby. Fuckin’ shit..” You groaned, a hand grasping his bicep while the other fiddled with his hair.

The praise you so graciously handed him and calling him his real name had his already erect cock tightening the confines of his jeans further. He’d love hearing you degrade him, but maybe that’d be too embarrassing to ask for and he’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t need it that bad.

He pulled away from your nipple, his hands moving to wriggle your pants off of you, pulling your undergarments off with it until you were bared entirely to him. While it was indeed a bit embarrassing, you found yourself yearning for some kind of acceptance from him, not just some blank stare.

Truth be told, he was just admiring how wet you’d gotten for him, and how it’d stained your panties and left a lovely sticky patch all in between your thighs. If he’d known any better, he’d be eating it all up like it was his last meal. But no, this moment wasn’t about one person getting pleasure only. Two-Bit wanted to experience a moment of true cherishment with you, where it was both of you in your own world experiencing only feelings you could bring each other. So he took his clothes off as well, both of you bare and flat on the sofa. No, he wanted you to be in control, he wanted to see you take him like every fantasy he had of you wanted.

“Get on top’a me, baby. You take the lead, yeah?” He murmured out sweetly, stroking his weepy cock in his hand while he waited for you to start.

You both adjusted positions, now he was flat on his back on the sofa with his hands at your hips, and you meticulously fisted his cock once or twice before sitting yourself atop it. It was a struggle, but your self-lube and his precum were enough to make the movement quick, and soon his erection slipped into your pussy’s walls and enveloping his length happily.

Moans were bouncing and echoing off of the living room walls, the only thing repeating in your mind was how to move your hips and legs, and how amazing Two-Bit’s hard rod felt deep inside your core, kissing your cervix with a painful little pang until everything became mind numbingly sensational.

“Oh Keith! Yeah, baby, get that dick in there! Come on, you makin’ me do all the work? You lazy sack of shit.” You chided with pants and hard inhales, exhales becoming too hard to control.

He moaned wildly at your degradation, hips bucking into your pelvic bone to make up for his slacking that you made abundantly clear you disliked. His head was thrown back, hot streams of tears falling down his cheeks while he tried so hard to appease you and overcome your expectations.

The orgasm bubbling and moving in your lower stomach was almost painful with how strong it was trying to push through, but you held on and smirked at his tears. It showed how good you were making him feel, and it was honestly pretty hot. Regardless of that, you focused for a bit longer, watching him really begin to writhe and squirm.

“Oh fuck, baby, gonna cum! Ohh God yes, don’t stop! I’ll be good, wanna be good for you, baby!” Two-Bit shrieked in ecstasy, the orgasmic feeling of your walls tightening against him was almost enough to have his tip burst out semen, but he held on just like you were.

It was like a silent challenge to see who’d climax first.

Two-Bit struggled, eyes squeezed shut as they spurted more tears. Sure enough, his fingers dug into your waist when his climax shot through every nerve in his body, causing his movements to cease while he waited for his pleasured climax to simmer down.

You thrusted yourself onto his cock once or twice more until you too reached the climax you were pining for. It made a loud moan rip from your rest, reverberating your vocal cords while your release lifted you to cloud nine. It was white, searing pleasure, nothing less of congenial ecstasy.

Now it was just silence, asides the huffs and puffs you both gave as you recuperated from what was the most heavenly experience you could possibly live to go through.

“Well.. that was a wild experience, haha! Come on, let’s go wash off before Annie and mom come back from their program.” Two-Bit hummed out, kissing your cheek graciously before taking your hand and leading you off into the shower.

It was now safe to say you two had grown more close after that day. Hand holding became common, visits at each other’s places and shaboinking was a regular. You couldn’t say you disliked it at all. Except for the occasional weird stares you received out in public whenever people caught you two being all close. In the 60s, it was more improper for a woman to be boisterous and forward about her relationship, especially in the hood.

Now it came down to one final issue, and while it didn’t cause much harm to anything important, it served as a great annoyance to your day and commonly had you groaning with an eye roll and with a smile.

Little miss Brenda with all her curious questions, always asking you the cutest but most annoying things on the planet. It was sweet, but it got progressively harder to tolerate.

“Are you and Keith in love? For real this time?” She asked with a tone you couldn’t exactly code out, but you simply chuckled and patted her head.

“Yes, Keith and I are very in love, for real this time, Annie.” You answered, watching her expression contort into skepticism.

“He’s my brother, and even I wouldn’t trust him with that.” She retorted, pouting and stomping away.

This had both you and Two-Bit snickering quietly to yourselves, sharing a soft and innocent kiss before he parted to go and chide his sister.

[bullet-prooflove]

Beachside: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @keyweegirlie @nu1freakshow

Companion piece to:

The Circuit - You're the first person Travis tells about his condition.

Travis doesn���t plan the trip to the beach, it’s just something that happens while the two of you are travelling through Georgia. You’ve been driving along the coast for almost a week now and it occurs to Travis that he can’t remember the last time he actually felt sand underneath his feet.

It’s five in the morning when he pulls up into the vacant car lot. He tells the other guys to take the trailer and carry on without, he’ll catch up with them later. He leaves you sleeping in the passenger seat, his lips brushing over your temple before he shuts the door quietly behind him. The sun is just starting to rise in the distance, he can see the streaks of orange in the sky as the light plays along the soothing waves.

He strips off his boots and then his socks, smiling at the sensation of his feet sinking into the sand. There’s something so cathartic about being near water, he’s always thought that. He doesn’t get much of a chance at home, there’s a couple of lakes a few hours away from his ranch but nothing like this.

The rest of his clothes come off then, his jeans, his shirt, his underwear. He leaves a trail of them across the sand before he steps into the cool water, immersing himself. The sensation it’s bracing, it sends a spike of exhilaration through his muscles as he swims out a few meters before ducking his head under the water.

There’s silence underneath the surface, the noise in his head vanishes and there’s nothing but vastness in that moment. He doesn’t think about his diagnosis, that he barely has a year left in him.

When he comes up for air, it’s the most alive he’s felt in months.

You’re waiting for him on the beach when he finally decides to return to the shore, with a fresh set of clothes and a clean towel. He takes it appreciatively, wrapping it around his waist before he sits down along side of you, the droplets of water still running down his bare chest.

“You didn’t want to join me?” He asks you, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he stares out across the ocean.

“I thought you may need a little time for yourself.” You tell him, your thumb playing over the worry bracelet on your wrist, the one that he gave you a couple of years back when you’re ex-husband had come back on the scene and was causing all sorts of mischief.

You’ve been playing with it a lot lately, every time he falters, or you hear him vomiting in the bathroom. He hates that he’s doing this to you, that he’s the reason behind your anxiety. When the time comes, when he gets too sick to function, he’s going to disappear, take himself off somewhere private so you don’t have to watch him die.

“Yea. It’s been hard to make peace with it.” He says quietly before he tilts his head towards you. “I don’t want to leave this earth with any regrets but I don’t feel like there’s enough time to rectify all the stupid shit I’ve done over the years.”

“You need to let it go.” You tell him as you nudge his shoulder lightly with your own. “What you did in the past it doesn’t matter, you have to focus on the time you have left.”

The edges of his mouth tip up into a smile as he looks at you. You are everything to him, the sun, the moon, the stars. He’d give you everything if he could, every single part of him.

“Let’s skip the rodeo today.” He says quietly, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Let’s just spend the rest of the day here instead.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[vixensbrainrotts]

The Kokonoi couple (trademark) — Kokonoi Hajime

Content: headcanons

Tropes: Cool!Rich! Auntie and Uncle Kokonoi and Reader

Content warnings: Reader and Koko dont want their own kids, and commonly belittle them

Summary: The Kokonoi couple will do anything to avoid children, but that doesn’t stop the little beasts from staring in awe whenever they’re around. How unfortunate that their friends have children of their own…

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello! This is an idea I’ve had for a while, I’ve finally done it! I’m probably going to expand on this later but it had to get rid if the brainrott. Yes. Don’t be afraid to share, note, comment or reboot of you like my content, and remember that requests are open! So if you have any ideas you’d like to see, feel free to send me an ask! Now enjoy!

Cool, rich auntie and uncle Kokonoi and reader, who both can’t stand kids. The kids love them, literally ask their parents if they’re gonna be at events and gathering, but they really don’t like kids. ‘They’re messy’, ‘they’re loud’ and ‘they’re disgusting’ are what they would say when asked about having one of their own.

Cool Auntie y/n who frowns down at Ken and Emma’s kid with a wicked smile on her face, “oh you disgusting little thing, hm? Slimy little rat you, how peculiar you are.” She hisses down at the toddler (who’s just exited to see her), curling her fingers in disgust, long nails making her hands look like talons. The kid, once ecastic to see you makes a mad dash for it (as fast as the little legs will go), retrieving to the safety of his parents.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who really doesn’t know what to do with the older Haitani’s twins when they won’t leave him alone. In a desperate attempt to get rid of them, he hands them each a few bills and advises them to “Go to your maker tell him that I’m done with you. Show him that you’re good for at least something.” As he shoos them away.

Cool Auntie and Uncle who always pull up in those fast, loud cars that all the litte boys admire, all squealing when they hear them pull up into the driveway. Running to catch a glimpse at the sleek vehicle as is it parks.

Cool Auntie y/n who always steps out of the cars with red-bottoms elevating her dangerously off the floor, but she wears them like they‘re slippers, molded to her feet like cushions.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who always has those shiny, sleek, expensive Watches, the metals glinting and reflecting in the headlights of the car. The kids ask for the time wayyy more than they care for when he’s around.

Cool Auntie y/n who always has her hair done, and is always coming or going to appointments. She never has time to stay, and when she does she isn’t there for long because she has „Places to be! People to meet!“

Cool Uncle and Auntie who always come bearing the best of gifts. Big, exotic baskets of foreign sweets from their latest travel, the most expensive and high quality liquors the country has to offer, and most importantly, all the wishes the parents had denied their kids. Now dont misunderstand. They still aren’t very fond of children, but they sure do love to stir things up. So when Kakucho begs for them not to buy another lego set, for his feet had endured enough abuse, they know what the next Christmas will bring. Or when Takemichi and Hinata were struggling with a plushy obsession their daughter had, they conveniently placed an order for „Super kawaii Sanrio XXL cuddle plushies“.

Cool Auntie y/n who lets the kids taste a sip from her wineglass (which she is somehow always holding, and is somehow always full). The parents strongly discourage this behavior, but she heartily reminds them that it’s just a sip, nothing will happen.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who is always carrying something sweet. The kids know this, and they know that if they ask nicely, their kindness has a great chance of being rewarded. It’s always those really good treats with the golden wrappers too!

Cool Auntie y/n who is an icon to the oldest daughters, because she commonly sorts out her closet, revamping her entire repetier, and handing down all the sorted goods. You know there’s some real treasures in the batches, ranging from shoes to purses to sweaters to evening gowns- all designer of course.

Also Cool Auntie y/n who gives the oldest Ryuguji daughter her first pair of heels. The moment she turned 15 (she couldn’t believe her age even when she was told three, four times) she took her out shoe-shopping. They emerged from the date with many-a-pairs and lots of excitement. Auntie y/n has learned that the older they get, the more bearable they are. She appreciates that.

The parents who dont really get or support the kids’s obsession with the Kokonoi-couple because it seems that they cause nothing but trouble and unhealthy spending habits.

[vikkisixxpixx]

Originally wrote this as a scenario for my Motley Crue DR (shifter rep), decided to post it since there's a severe lack of this kink in bandfic

To clarify, I am a cardiophile. UrbanDictionary describes cardiophilia as "the act of being obsessed with the heart," though personally, I prefer the term "fascinated." Depending on the person, it can be sexual or nonsexual (it's both for me), however, since this is a smut, this will be focused on the sexual aspect. Now, as the song says, on with the show.

Dr. Feelgood

(Source)

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Suki Taylor (my DR self), is in first person from the perspective of Suki Word Count: 1,236 Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+ content), cardiophilia/heartbeat kink, medfet, fingering f!receiving, piv sex (protection not mentioned because I forgot, could go either way in your imagination), multiple orgasms (on the part of Suki), explicit language, mentions of alcohol (in passing), nicknames, a very corny joke mid-tango, lmk if I missed anything. Don't like? Don't read. Extra Notes: we needed more of this kink anyway. also Quiet Riot's Cum On Feel The Noize came on shuffle when I wrote the second orgasm and I still find it hilarious Based on: Dr. Feelgood by Motley Crue (in name), the horny thoughts I got after viewing the attached photo No beta, we die like real men

Nikki sighs as he sits next to me on the tour bus. Tommy’s at a payphone calling Heather, while Mick and Vince are having a few drinks on the bus.

“If I don’t have one night away from Tommy, I’m gonna fuckin’ scream,” Nikki breaks the silence. “He’s about to drive me batshit crazy!”

I stifle a giggle. “Do you wanna get a hotel for tonight?” I ask. “You have another show here tomorrow.”

He presses a kiss to my cheek. “That is an amazing idea.”

It’s about an hour later that the two of us are checked into a room at some chain hotel; not sleazy, but definitely not the Ritz.

“It’ll look like shit after we’re done anyway,” Nikki says with a shit-eating grin on his face.

I snicker, rolling my suitcase to the corner of the room. “I wish the show wasn’t so soon. Then we could…”

He stalks over to me before lightly brushing his fingertips down my arm. “I don’t have to go.”

I laugh slightly. “You’re in one of the most popular bands in the world. You’re not missing a show!”

He plants a sloppy kiss on my lips. “Maybe later I can do something special for you.”

I smirk. “I’d love nothing more.” I give him a quick kiss before saying, “Now, you need to go.”

He kisses me again before walking out the door.

The show, like usual, is very loud and very successful. But, for the first time I’ve ever seen, Nikki is ecstatic to get off stage.

As we’re walking out to the car the venue lent us, he throws an arm around me. “Ya know, babe, I think that was my best performance yet.”

“What makes you say that, honey?”

“Because I played the best I could so I could go back to the hotel as fast as I can.”

I laugh at his comment as the two of us get in the car.

The drive to the hotel is largely quiet, though the sexual tension is palpable.

“I’ve got a surprise in my suitcase,” Nikki speaks in a singsong voice as we enter our room.

“You do, do you?” I ask with my eyebrow quirked.

“Mhmm. Go in the bathroom and don’t come out ‘til I say so.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply with a smirk. He chuckles and smacks my ass as I walk away.

It’s a silent moment later that I hear, “The doctor will see you now, Miss Taylor.”

“Dr. Feelgood?”

I walk into the room to find Nikki wearing a white coat—and only a white coat—with a stethoscope around his neck.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been under the weather, Miss Taylor,” he says with a devious smirk.

I giggle. “Yes, Doctor, I’ve been feeling very, very sick.” I fall onto the bed dramatically with a hand on my chest.

“What seems to be the trouble, Miss Taylor?”

“My heart just feels all sorts of funny, Doctor.” I blush when I realize what I’ve said.

Without wasting a second, Nikki walks over. “Hmm, sounds like I should check that out.” In one swift move, the stethoscope is gone from his neck and has found a new place, with one end on my chest.

A few silent seconds pass before I blurt out, “That thing’s not even real, is it?”

Nikki chuckles. “You bet your ass it is.” He smirks as we both feel my heart rate skyrocket. A blush makes its way across my cheeks as he says, “Now that is interesting. Take a deep breath for me, would ya, babe?”

My stomach does flips at the way it sounds when he says that sentence, but I obey nonetheless.

He listens silently for a moment. “Miss Taylor, could I get you to be my guinea pig for a second?”

“Of course, Dr. Feelgood,” I reply. “What do I need to do?”

“Just stay still for me.” He plants one of his signature sloppy kisses on my lips, listening to the effect it has on my heart. “Hmm, just like I thought. I gotta operate, Miss Taylor. Now. With your permission, of course.”

“Oh, absolutely, Doctor. Is there anything I need to do?” I ask as dramatically as I can.

“Let me do all the work for you.” He kisses me again before slipping my battle vest off to hit the floor, followed by my tank top.

With more of my chest exposed, he starts placing kisses on every inch of my bare skin, occasionally just above my heart, which is the only time he moves the stethoscope. Each one earns a moan.

“Beautiful sounds, baby,” Nikki says between kisses. “From your mouth and your heart. Got one more in you?”

He slinks a finger past my shorts and underwear after his words, curling it inside me; an action which elicits the loudest moan I’ve let out so far.

“Good girl. Mind if I take these off?”

My brain is already so foggy from pleasure that the only thing I can do is release an affirming noise before my shorts and panties join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. With them out of the way, another slender finger joins the first one.

“Fuck, Nikki!” I shout.

He chuckles. “I will, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” His white coat falls to the floor before he removes his fingers to put them in his mouth. “You are delicious.”

Before I can even think about his statement, he’s got me in a new position on the bed, before thrusting himself inside me.

I let out another “Fuck!” as Nikki starts finding a rhythm. I can only imagine the sounds filling the earpieces of the stethoscope as he’s fucking the daylights out of me.

“How does it feel, Princess?” he growls. “How does it feel knowing I’m fucking your pretty pussy to the beat of your own poor little heart?”

“Feels good!” I manage to moan out, my body bouncing with his every move.

He chuckles. “And that’s why they call me Dr. Feelgood. Because I’m the one to make you feel alright.”

Normally I would’ve laughed at his joke, but I’m so cock-drunk by this point that my only response is to throw my head back and mewl.

It’s hardly even a second later that I feel the telltale knot of an orgasm building in my stomach. “Fuck, I’m gonna— Aah!”

Nikki chuckles once more. “Go ahead and let yourself cum, Miss Taylor.”

A scream of “Nikki!” comes out as I give in to the pleasure.

As my body quivers beneath him, his thrusts start to become unsteady.

“Nikki, I wanna listen to your heart while you cum,” I whine.

He smirks and quickly switches the stethoscope around. Now my ears are filled with the beautiful sound of his heartbeat. A moment of counting reveals it to be at 130 beats per minute.

“Fuck, Nikki, your heart’s racing,” I blurt out.

“It’s cuz I love you so much.”

His unsteady thrusts paired with the sound of his heart in my ears is enough to send me over the edge again, and the two of us climax in sync.

Panting fills the air as neither of us say anything at first. After a moment, Nikki takes the stethoscope and puts it back on me.

“Your heart sounds like a fuckin’ jackhammer, babe.”

I slap his arm playfully. “Shut up!”

[imightgetbetter]

special

listen .. i don't, i don't really know what you want me to say here. it's .. well, it's filth to some degree. some might argue but .. it is. don't read this if you're a minor, okay? actually, get off the internet if you're a minor. you're fucking matty after a show. it's nasty but kind of sweet. it follows sort of in the same vibe as the previous story, going with a plot, kind of. okay, i'll shut up. enjoy. let me know what you think. lots of love.

On any given night, most people could find you like this. Having him beneath you, cigarette propped between his wet, pink lips, his hands gripping your waist so tightly that you’re sure it’s going to leave a mark in the morning, isn’t something that’s so out of the ordinary that it would shock you. Many nights have ended like this, with you on his waist, straddling him, his hands caressing your skin as you pass a cigarette back and forth, a bottle of wine always nearby. On most nights, it’s the perfect way to end the day, to be close and touching each other and have some time that’s just dedicated to you, no distractions, nothing in the way.

On any given night, however, you typically haven’t gone at it for hours. Once Matty was off the stage, your hands were on him, pawing at his chest, inching your way into the waistband of his trousers, toying at the elastic of his briefs, your fingers dipping into the front to give him a solid squeeze as his mouth found yours in the elevators out of the venue. Matty hurried you into the car and out of the venue, fighting every urge to groan from the backseat of the car, his hands squeezing at your thighs as you whisper every single thing you want to do to him all the way back to the hotel. He nearly ripped your shirt from your body, tearing it off your torso with a laugh, “Not quite true, is it, love?”, the sex with you sucks logo falling to a heap on the ground quietly. His hands unbuttoned your jeans with ease, his hand sliding through the front of your underwear with an ease that said, we’ve done this far too many times, but we’ll never stop.

Clothes strewn messily on the floor, an opened wine bottle splayed on the bedside table, a pack of cigarettes opened with an ashtray ready, the lighter set nearby. Matty falls on the mattress beside you, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath. He knows, just by the spring in your step and the look on your face, you’re not done with him quite yet, and he wants to regain his strength before going again. He can keep up. He has no issue keeping up with you. He doesn’t have a show tomorrow either, so he has all the time in the world to recover, but the pull of a cigarette and a glass of water would do him well.

“Can you grab me one, baby?”

“Cig or water?” you say, grabbing a water for yourself and playing with the carton on the counter, grabbing a cigarette and putting it in your mouth, lighting it quickly before tossing the water to him. “I’ve got both.” Matty sits up slightly, a pillow propped behind him, letting the water fall down his throat smoothly, his eyes never leaving you as you stare out the open window and nurse the burning cigarette between your lips.

“Get back here,” he says sternly, raising his eyebrows when you narrow your eyes. “Please?”

“That’s what I thought.” His chest is shining with sweat, the definition of his abdomen begging to be traced and touched. His thighs are tense, moving ever so slightly to adjust you when you straddle him, his cock already growing hard beneath you. “Already ready to go again, huh?”

“Give me a smoke and maybe I’ll go again.”

“Feel like the participating party involved is ready without the smoke.”

Matty laughs, a smile spread across his lips as he admires you on him, lazily dragging the cigarette from your lips and letting the smoke puff out in a cloud around you. “Thought I told you to stop smoking. It’s a bad habit for your pretty lungs. Got to keep them healthy to keep you around for a long time.”

“Could say the same to you, Mr. Musician. You’re the one that sings for a living. I write my silly little novels and essays and call it a day.”

“They’re not silly. I hate that you call it that.”

“I just don’t see it the way that you do, baby. That’s all. Nothing special.”

Matty clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “It’s incredibly special. I love when you write. I love what you write. And I especially love when you write about me,” he hums, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, his voice getting lower and lower as he continues kissing down your neck. His voice is sultry and smooth, sexy in all the right ways. He knows what he’s doing, his hands pressing into your body the way that he knows you like. “Does that count for anything?” His mouth is soft against your neck, kissing all the way down your skin and to your shoulder, nipping at your collarbone and moving his face down ever so slightly to connect with your chest. "Now you’ve gone quiet, hm?”

“Matty,” you whisper breathily, fingertips laced through his curls, tugging harshly at the root as he sucks on your breast, kissing between the valley of your chest to connect with the other side. “God.” Cigarette smoke pools above your head, the ashes of the butt beginning to fade.

“Say that you’re special. I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m special,” you moan, your head knocking back against your neck, your eyes squeezing shut as you lift onto your knees and whine at the feeling of his cock brushing against you, his hand guiding himself in as you settle on him, once again. “God, I’m special, if you say so.”

Matty groans at the feeling of you bouncing on him, the rhythm you keep so steady and enjoyable for the both of you he nearly forgets the cigarette in your mouth. He reaches for it, bringing it to his lips. “Stay with me. Never leave.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m fucking you,” you laugh breathily, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Honestly, you didn’t care why he was saying it, if Matty asked you to stay, you’d never leave. That’s something that waiting years for him taught you, once you have him, don’t let him go.

Matty puffs out a smoke, “Never. It’s because I love you.”

“How am I supposed to have filthy sex with you when you’re professing your love for me?” you laugh, the smile on your lips permanent and fixed. He’s been yours for so long, it’s hard to remember what your smile felt like before he was giving it to you, before he was the one behind it.

“Don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Matty leans forward slightly to put the cigarette in the ashtray, his hands coming to cup your face and kiss you deeply.

He’s everywhere. He’s inside of you, and kissing you, and holding you, and making your heart warm and your vision fuzzy. He’s somehow the reason the world turns and the reason it stops turning. He’s the sunrise and the sunset, the moon and the stars. “I love you,” you say; that’s all you can say.

“I love you more,” he says, and somehow, you almost believe him.