#sorry for the sheer volume of tags

[radiumjuice]

did that one character inspiration thing. I'm afraid you could infer over half of these without me telling you

[thegeminisage]

a little of the undertale art i did back in the day i can still look at without wincing :')

[2005noroithecurse]

I have.. so many notifs

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[gghostwriter]

Hiya! :D

Since askbox is open, may I please order some slight hurt-comfort based off of "From Eden" by Hozier? Harnessing the pure longing this song emanates to me fr.

Something like non-BAU!reader getting hurt by an unsub during a case (non-lethal but it does require a stitch or two) and spencer gets abnormally worried about this one person among the group of victims (maybe serial bank robberies) and when the team notices it and ask him about it he reveals to them that they're actually his roommate?

something romantic-leaning; I just like the idea of him standing outside the hospital room door [OMG LIKE THE SONG] because the doctors told him to wait before he could go inside sitting there like 🥺 "My roommate :(" and getting embarassed when the team calls reader his partner; "You're so worried it's almost like you're dating." sort of feel

Sorry if this is long btw! I tend to go all out on ideas! Pronouns are up to you though, feel free to change anything to your liking as well! :]

Thanks for reading! :D

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Roommates; Comfort, Fluff, Angst w.c: 1.2k A/N: There's so much interpretation for 'From Eden by Hozier' and I had a challenging time trying to capture which meaning I wanted to encapsulate. This is also by far the longest request I've written and honestly this took a life of its own but I still hope you like it! Main masterlist

Eden. // Spencer Reid

The monotone droll in the bank was white noise in your life that you learned to slowly hate. Day in, day out it was the same thing—customers withdrawing, depositing, and claiming loans. You liked numbers, that was how you ended up as a manager, but the cookie cutter business smile you had to keep on your face was a con you wish to part from. 

You sighed. Your roommate turned secret crush, Dr. Spencer Reid, had warned you about the serial robberies that had happened within the state of Virginia and Washington. He advised you to be vigilant and if possible, to keep your phone within your reach and you easily agreed having heard some of the macabre cases he’d been involved in.

You just didn’t think it would happen today.

“Get down on the ground!” A man’s voice echoed throughout the lobby, followed by a series of gunshots.

Spencer’s voice played in your head as if he was a lighthouse guiding you out from the panic. Hide. Don’t panic. Press the hidden alarm and dial my number.

You thanked your past self for programming his contact on speed dial. Volume down and no words uttered, you hid the phone inside your blouse hoping to not get caught.

“You there!” One of the masked men caught sight of you. “Outside. Now!”

You nodded, averting your eyes to show submission. Another tactic from Spencer.

Wishing the call picked up the trio of robbers voices, you stayed facing down on the lobby surround by the rest of the hostages.

Spencer, please. Please, get my message.

Just a few miles away, tension was high in the BAU conference room. The round table littered with folders and cooling coffee mugs. The team was running on a mixture of caffeine and sheer will to solve the serial bank robber case, tagged as priority by Strauss, that had been terrorizing states for a span of months. 

Spencer raked his already unruly hair. So far, the profile was incomplete. They knew there were three in the team but with varying heights and builds in various crime scenes, even that was shaky. What they were sure of was the sick game of Russian roulette they would play with their hostages, always with one bullet in a revolver and who ever is unlucky, dies with a hole between their brows and the remaining hostages are pistol whipped to unconsciousness. 

He knew he should stay objective. He knew that but how could he, when who he considers as his secret flower was at risk every second the unsubs were at large? It was his mission to keep you safe and the chances of you being caught in the line of fire heightened each second.

Vibration from his pocket brought him out of his musings. 

It was you. Right there and then, Spencer knew it was anything but good. You never called during work hours and with the last conversation between you having been about safety, it had settled in his stomach that the worst reality had come to fruition.

He picked up without saying a word, straining his ears to hear any distinguishable background noise. That was when he heard it—the authoritative, cocky voice yelling at you to come outside. His heart dropped. 

No. No. No. Anything but this.

“Sir, we just got a call,” Penelope rushed into the conference room. “There’s a live hostage taking at—”

“—Commerce Bank. 125 Independence Boulevard,” Reid interjected.

The profilers shared a look.

“That’s right,” Penelope muttered.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at him as he hurriedly stood up and collected his belongings. “Wait Reid—” causing him to stop in his tracks and turn to face back at the team. “—How’d you know?”

“Because Y/N works there,” he promptly exits the room, hightailing it to the elevator.

Emily looked at JJ. “Who’s that?”

She shrugged, lost too on who you were.

———

The team had split into two vehicles. Hotch, Rossi, and Reid in one while Morgan Emily, and JJ in the other.

Rossi glanced at Hotch, communicating the tension Reid was releasing from the passenger seat. In turn, Hotch sneaks a peek via the rear view mirror and profiles Reid’s ticks—hands clasped tight together, right leg shaking up and down, eyes shifting from left to right, and deep breaths through the nose and mouth. 

“Reid,” he called out.

Blown wide doe eyes meet his. “Hm?”

“We need you to stay focused. If you can’t do that, I’ll pull you out of this case.”

“I—I can do it!” His voice cracking.

“Are you sure, kid?” Rossi clarified.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just she’s my—” roommate but that singular title wasn’t fitting to describe who you were to him. No classification was good enough, really. “—I can focus,” he declared. 

There was a series of looks exchanged between the two senior agents. They didn’t need to be seasoned profilers to understand that their youngest is one slip away from panic.

Hotch sighed. “Alright, Reid, but you follow my orders. Got it?”

“Yes.” 

———

Einstein’s theory of special relativity was what came to mind as he paced outside your hospital room. The physicist implied that time moves relative to the observer. An object moving very fast experiences time more slowly than in rest and that was exactly what he felt as he paces back and forth outside your room, desperately waiting for any update—the good or the bad. Everyone seemed to be moving at a leisure pace while he, Dr. Spencer Reid, hangs on the precipice of elation and despair. 

The team had sent him away, to you specifically, when it was obvious that his otherwise objective mind was of no help in finishing up the case. Was it dreadful of him that he felt relief course through his veins when it wasn’t you that got the short end of the stick during the unsubs’ Russian Roulette? Yes, possibly but he was only human. A being filled with conundrums and good vs evil. 

The impact of today was eye opening. He could no longer deny to himself that you were more than just a roommate or an acquaintance or a friend. Oh, how hard he tried so hard to push away any thought that seemed any less innocent or chivalrous, but the idea of seeing those beautiful eyes broken and in pain made him want to face the truth. The truth being how deliriously in love Spencer Reid was with you. 

His phone rang, disturbing his mind-altering revelation thoughts.

“Hey kid,” It was Morgan. “How is she?”

Reid licked his lips, eyes trained on the still closed door. “I—I haven’t seen her. The doctors are still inside and I’m still here—outside.” 

“I know this isn’t the time but should we know who she is?” A pause. “Girlfriend?”

“No. No, she’s my roommate,” his sigh coated in despair, murky and sad enough for Morgan to notice.

“You sounded so worried. It’s almost like you’re in love with her or something.”

“I am—” your door opened. “I have to go, Morgan,” he hung up before another word could be uttered.

“Are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” The female doctor asked.

He nodded.

She smiled. “She’ll see you now.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[dsireland86]

So i had a idea for a request but i don't know who i want it for so you could choose if you want but i thinking of a NSFW fic with a fem reader and like maybe one of the guys is coming home from tour so reader decides to tease and send them videos and pictures of her playing with herself and their favorite outfit and then she realizes they just got home after hearing the door and her and whoever you choose have crazy sex

*clears throat* Good god... okay, well... ahem 🤣 How many will hate me if I make this a Noah story? 🤭 I gave it serious thought of who I could choose, and my head just wouldn't get out of Noah mode... soooo... yeah.... 🫤🫦🥵🤯

Naughty Things

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @blackveilomens @chey-h @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard  @disappearintothegrey

Noah paraded around the stage, testing sound volume and vocals during soundcheck. The last show of the tour was tonight, and that meant by this time tomorrow, he'd be home, tangled up in the sheets, and buried deep inside his better half, Y/N. God, he missed her, and just the thought of her made his heart flutter. As if by some divine connection, his phone vibrated inside his pocket, he smiled the second he saw her text.

"Hey Babe! I'm so happy tonight is your last show. I need you home with me. I've missed you way too freaking much. I've got some surprises for you that I know you're going to love. Since we've been apart for too long and you've been working so hard, I thought you deserved something really special. Enjoy my love and I hope you think about me while you're on stage tonight. Knock em' dead, killer. I know you will 😘😘

Noah dropped his phone the moment the picture came through. "Holy fuck!"

"Something wrong, Noah?"

Noah looked over at Nicholas and huffed a nervous laugh.

"Um, no. Sorry. My hand just cramped up," he lied, bending over to retrieve his phone.

Nick raised an eyebrow, but ignored it, turning away from Noah and back to tuning his bass.

Noah stared heavily at the photo of Y/N in the white lingerie piece she wore. The sharp V-shaped cut traveled down the middle of her chest, revealing the curves of her luscious breasts while sheer lace covered her soft, untouched nipples making Noah yearn to have them in his mouth. Y/N sat on her knees with her legs spread wide, revealing the center of her pleasure for his eyes alone to see. It was pure bliss; just the thing he needed to relieve the sexual tension that had been building up for days. Hurriedly, he texted his reply;

"I want to see your fingers inside that pretty pussy of yours, making yourself cum for me, Princess. I need to. I'm dying here without you."

He hit send, slipping his phone back into his pocket, just as it went off again.

"You'll have something waiting for you after the show tonight, my love. I love you."

"Oh my g…," Noah sighed, running a hand down his face.

"Everything good?"

Noah's lips turned up into a soft smile at Jolly.

"Yeah, everything's great. Let's wrap this up and get some food. Show starts in four hours."

There were soft mumbles of agreement and sighs of relief, as the guys walked off the stage. Noah's heart was racing, his mind overworking, trying to remember every detail of what Y/N was wearing. It made him partially hard and the throbbing ache building deep inside him was going to be the death of him on that stage tonight.

Noah's phone vibrated on the table as he placed his in-ear piece in. The smile that reached his face was proof he already knew who it was. Picking up his phone, he read the text from Y/N;

"It's showtime, baby. Good luck out there."

Grinning, Noah put the phone down, tucking the wire in the back of his pants and slipping the jacket on just as it vibrated again. It was another picture of Y/N in the same lingerie, but in a different position.

Noah made a deep sound in the back of his throat that was purely male, shaking his head as his eyes scanned the curves of her sweet figure that he ached to have his hands all over.

"Careful, Princess. You're playing with fire."

Noah hit send then sat the phone down, pulling the mask down over his face as he walked out of the green room and onto the stage.

Seventy five minutes later the green room door burst open, ushering in four sweat-soaked, tired guys, followed by Matt. The last show was a success and now they were all ready to go home.

Noah grabbed his phone, wanting to text Y/N and tell her how great the show went, but mostly wanting to see if the surprise she promised was waiting for him. There was an unopened text from her that he quickly clicked on and read.

"Don't open the link until you're alone. And make sure you have your earbuds in. Enjoy my love. I can't wait to have you all to myself once you're home."

Noah rubbed his jaw, feeling that familiar heavy tingling hit him right where he needed it to. The tip of his cock was so sensitive that just grazing it with the palm of his hand made him whimper.

Showering quickly, Noah made his way to the bus, climbing up inside and heading towards his bunk.

"Going to bed kind of early, aren't ya?"

Noah turned and looked at Matt who had followed him into the bus.

"Dude, it's like eleven-thirty. I'm exhausted."

Matt looked at his watch then shrugged. "Whatever. We’re heading over to this pizza place a few blocks around the corner. Sure you don't want to come?"

"And risk being mauled to death by the hoard of people who want pictures and autographs? No thanks, I'll pass. I'm just going to rest and maybe give Y/N a call."

Matt nodded and thankfully turned and left the bus. Noah sighed, climbed into his bunk and pulled the curtain closed. Inserting his earbuds, he opened the text from her and clicked on the link.

"Fuck. Princess. Oh my god, baby! I fucking love you," Noah chuckled lightly.

The sounds of Y/N pleasuring herself filled Noah's ears like sweet music, and watching her as she made herself cum with just her fingers and his name was enough to give Noah the release and satisfaction he'd been needing for days.

"Thank you, princess. You have no idea how much I need that. I love you and can't wait to have you in my arms tomorrow."

Noah climbed back into his bunk after cleaning himself up and slipping on a clean pair of sweats, pulling the blankets up close to his face. His phone vibrated.

"Yes, I do know. Why do you think I sent it? I love you too, and you're welcome 🥰 I can't wait to be in your arms, my love."

Noah unlocked the front door of his house, walking inside and dropping his bags. "God it felt so fucking good to be home," he thought to himself. But where was Y/N? He climbed the stairs slowly taking his time as the voice of his lover partially singing to the music began to fill the air around him. It was one of their favorite songs to make love to, making Noah curious as to why she was listening to it now. At the top, he noticed the music was coming from the bathroom in your shared bedroom, so he made his way in that direction, anticipating gripping him tightly.

The bathroom was a steaming hot mess. Noah couldn't even see Y/N behind the glass doors of the huge walk-in shower. The sound of SoMo played loudly over the Bluetooth speaker, masking almost any sound. Except for one. One that Noah knew like the back of his hand. He stood in the midst of the heat and the steam, listening to his woman pleasure herself. The thoughts about it were driving Noah to the brink of totally breaking down from weeks without sex. After closing the bathroom door, the sound instantly stopped. Noah quickly undressed and stood in front of the shower just as a hand came over the glass, wiping away the fogginess and revealing the very person he'd been dying to see. The smile on her face was the first thing Noah saw. But the rest of her followed quickly, making him instantly hard. He opened the doors as Y/N took a step back, letting him inside the shower with her.

At first, they were silent, lost in a trance of intense lust and desire for one other. Noah wanted to devour her, consume every bit of Y/N until all she knew was him. But he wanted it slowly so that they both could get their satisfaction properly.

"Trying to get yourself off to one of our songs? Aren’t you impatient, Princess?"

Y/ cheeks were flushed as she gave Noah a small, shy smile. "Maybe I am."

Noah's jaw tightened. His eyes raked over her naked body while her eyes did the same to his .

"Those pictures you sent me yesterday, and that video," Noah just shook his head stepping towards her. "You started a fire that I hope you're ready to put out."

Noah's tall, muscular figure loomed over Y/N as she pressed her back up against the wall. His hand grazed her shoulders, making their way up her neck and around her throat, where he gently squeezed, closing his eyes and groaning when the light gasped moan left her lips. His thumbs traced her lips and down her jaw line until the breasts he'd been craving for were filling both his hands. He squeezed and messaged them, feeling the precum seep from his tip as his fingers played with her nipples, making them hard and perky. Noah bent down and took one in his mouth, devouring the small little nub like it was a delicacy.

Y/N's moans began to fill the shower, encouraging Noah to keep going; but slowly. He switched to the other nipple, tugging Y/N's body closer to him as his mouth latched onto her breast. Her soft, wet hands finally found their way into his hair, where she ran her fingers through, scrunching and tugging here and there, sending a deep growl barreling out of Noah's chest. His mouth released her breast, and his lips trailed up her neck, where he stopped. Licking her skin, he could taste her, and she was delicious, making him hungry for the other part of her that always satisfied his appetite. Dropping to his knees, Noah traced the skin of her belly with his lips first, followed by his hands sliding them over her skin like butter. His fingers didn't hesitate to touch what he wanted, dragging them slowly down her middle to the top of her clit. Noah touched her the way she liked, rubbing her in soft, slow, circular motions. Y/N moaned, closing her eyes and arching her back.

"Oh god, baby," she softly moaned over and over. "Oh god, Noah!"

Noah looked up at Y/N and smiled, feeling his defenses weakening.

"You like that, Princess?" "Yeah," she said breathlessly, looking down, half-smiling. "Yeah? What about this?"

Noah slid his finger inside her, hooking his finger the further in he went. Y/N’s body seemed to melt into his touch as her eyes rolled back and she bit back moan after moan.

"Mmm, so nice," Noah praised, pulling his finger back and looking at Y/N's juices coating his finger. He pulled out of her completely, glancing up at as he placed it in his mouth, sucking her taste off, making Y/N whimper. Noah chuckled darkly, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. He stuck his fingers back inside her, two this time, going deeper into her than before. "You're clenching, princess. You wanna cum for me?" "Yeah," she answered breathlessly, “yeah I do, Noah. So badly, please.”

Noah smiled, quickening his pace. His soft, gentle circles on her clit continued, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh god! Noah! I'm," she cried, bucking her hips. "Cum baby. Cum all over my hand, princess. Pretend it's me inside you, fucking though your walls.”

That's all Y/N needed to reach her high. She cried out, bucking her hips and grinding down on his hand. Her hands latched around his wrist, trying to get as much of Noah inside her as she could, as her cum leaked all over his hand.

"Good, girl," Noah praised hoarsely, kissing the inside of her thigh. He stood up and rinsed off, turning the cool water off, but didn't dry off. Instead, he took Y/N by arm, pulling her out of the shower and lifting her up onto the counter of the sink. The back of her head hit the mirror behind her as Noah yanked her down closer to his wet cock, slowly sinking into her and filling her fully. "Motherfuck..." Noah moaned, throwing his head back. "Oh god, Noah!" Y/N cried, gripping the counters edge while Noah kept her legs open wide.

He smirked. "He's not here. I am," watching as his cock disappeared deeply into her soaked cunt. "Jesus, your pussy is so beautiful. I could fuck this all night." he grunted, thrusting hard into her.

"Oh, you're gonna make me cum again," Y/N gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Good girl. Show me what you got, princess. Cum for me again."

Noah smiled, huffing a laugh. He lowered her legs and finally took her lips, locking them in a heated, starving kiss. His tongue invaded the inside of her mouth, meeting hers as they battled for dominance. Pulling back, Noah lifted her legs again, spreading them wide as he pulled out partially just to slam back into her and make her scream. Relentlessly, Noah fucked up into her, absorbing her moans and cries into his soul.

"Noah," she panted, moving her hips to his, watching him watching her. The small tendrils of hair falling over the creases of his forehead and into his eyes created a sort of a shadowed covering, giving Noah's gaze a more darker tone. "Louder!" Noah growled between clenched teeth, thrusting harder each time.

"Noah," she moaned louder, biting her lip and placing her hands on his biceps. Y/N felt as if she could feel all the ridges on his cock and the pulsating veins that were naked inside of her for the first time in so many long, lonely weeks. Noah started rubbing her clit harder as his hips picked up speed, the heels of her feet digging into the molding of the bathroom cabinet. Her nails raked down his biceps, while his other hand wrapped around her throat, holding her up and level. It wasn't too tight, but enough to make Y/N feel completely owned and in the moment. But the truth was she owned Noah right back, keeping him trapped at her will with every push. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I had, envisioning this in my head? How many times I had to get myself off just from your picture, eager to feel any part of you?”

Noah found her g-spot, and suddenly, the fire inside Y/N ignited, making her cries louder and more consistent. The fire in her concentrated on her burning core, her entire body shaking as she started getting lightheaded from the overwhelming sensation.

"You're clenching around me, Princess. Are you almost there?" "Mmm-hmm, don't stop what you're doing," she pleaded, leaning back against the mirror with her eyes shut tightly. "Baby, look at me. Open your eyes."

Y/N's eyelids slowly opened, and she focused her sight on the man in front of her. Her man, her love, her Noah. She grinned, running her tongue between her lips.

"That's it. I wanna watch you cum. I've been dying to see the look on your face when you do."

The sweetness in Noah's eyes, the desperation in his voice made Y/N's race with a happiness she hadn't felt before Noah left, and now that he was home, she knew that feeling would continue.

"I love you, Noah. I love you so much!"

Y/N word's sent Noah over the edge, bringing out the urge to control, more like possessing the woman beneath him. He needed to tear her apart on the inside, branding her walls with the memory of his cock. The weeks of pent up sexual frustration were finally emerging.

"Fuck, baby I need you to cum. You're almost there," he demanded, harsher than he meant to. Y/N brought her hand to her clit and began rubbing in before Noah's eyes, and the sight made him weak.

"I love watching you make yourself cum. It such a fucking turn on." "Noah, oh, fuck, Noah," she moaned a little louder. "That's it, pretty girl, make yourself cum on me."

Y/N exploded, her walls releasing like never before, her heart beating through the wall of her chest so hard she could feel it echoing through her body. She could feel her own wetness running down the inside of her thigh, her eyes seeking Noah's as he watched her, completely aroused by what he was seeing. He pulled out all of a sudden, pulled her off the counter, and turned her around, pushing her down on it, forcing Y/N to grip the edges. Noah pushed her legs apart with his knee, yanking her closer to him and quickly entered her with a force she hadn't felt in so long.

"Oh, god," Y/N cried, bracing herself as Noah began pounding into her from behind. "Fuck!" Noah yelled, moving fast with deep thrusts that pulled sounds from him Y/N hadn't heard before. She began to move with him and soon the thick head of his cock was driving into that same perfect spot of hers over and over. "Goddamn, Y/N! This is what I wanted. This is what I imagined every night without you. Bending you over and fucking you like this. God that spot of yours! When it touches my tip! I can't..." Noah lost his train of thought at the feeling of almost reaching his tipping point. "Shit, it makes me want to cum so hard for you!" "Then cum for me, Noah. Fill me with you, baby."

Noah tossed his head back and growled, panting like a wild animal, before thrusting one last time and releasing his seed deep inside her. Y/N was trembling, her legs weak and shaking. Noah's body went limp as he collapsed against her back, sweaty forehead hitting her shoulder blade and arms snaking around her waist to hold her tight. Both of them were too out of breath to say anything, both still coming down from the shock of euphoria.

Slowly, Noah stood back up, lightly thrusting inside her before pulling out. He watched his cum run down her leg, quietly releasing a growl over how much he liked it, but grabbed a towel to quickly wipe his lover off. He could feel her legs shaking, complimenting his job well done.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" he softly asked, standing up.

Y/N shook her head, but she was still bracing herself against the counter. Noah tossed the towel on the floor before turning her around and cupping her cheeks. She looked absolutely breathtaking, reminding him of all the reasons why he loved looking at her.

"You're lying," he whispered, and Y/N gently laughed, wrapping her hands around his wrists. "You were a little hard, but I understand why, so don't worry about it. It still felt amazing," she reassured him, kissing the palm of his hand.

Noah picked her up bridal style and carried her to their bed, laying her down. She moved the covers back and crawled under, scooting over to make room to him. The sheets felt cool against his warm skin, but it felt so good. Y/N snuggled up against him, finding her familiar spot in the nook of his shoulder, and burying her face against his neck. Her hand caressed the left side of his face, fingers gently stroking the day's old stubble over his jaw and chin before they slid into his hair.

Noah finally felt peace. He felt loved and protected. He was home and not just in his house, but in her arms as well. Y/N was his home and it felt so good to finally be where he knew he belonged. 

[melancholicstation]

summer wine ( and an angel’s kiss in spring ) — bobby f. kennedy

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

summary: during a party hosted in light of senator john f. kennedy’s presidential candidacy announcement, bobby and you sneak away into the background and have about as much fun as a person can have at a political campaign celebration🍷🛌 …

tags: 18+, making love against a secretary desk, religious imagery, hair pulling, oral ( female receiving ), unprotected s*x, desk breaking

words: 1783

Sure, you’ll bite: a campaign celebration soirée for your husband’s older brother’s presidential ticket wasn’t exactly your idea of a rousing saturday evening but when jack tells you to be somewhere, well that’s just where you’re gonna be: at least that’s where bobby would always be.

It’s bordering on 2:00 am and you’ve just about tried as many old fashions and sidecars as you can stomach for the time being so you switch to a vintage choosing of dubonnet cherry wine.

You haven’t talked to bobby much all day which isn’t so out of the ordinary: evidently he was a man very much in demand. You’d just become to miss him as his frame comes into your periphery. A sight just calibrated for your oh so terribly sore eyes!

You smile and beckon him over, not unlike calling over an excitable puppy, he’s quick to start into quick jog. The squeaks of his leather derbies colliding with the teak flooring, but being quickly drowned out to all ears by the booming, assaulting volume of irish ballads playing from the far side of the gathering hall.

“Hey Sugar how’re you doin’? Has Mrs Bridges been hassling you about going that murder-mystery bookclub again I—by god I can see in your face, of course she has. How many times?”

“Three times” you say through breathy laughs as you fuss over the positioning of the shark-type collar he dons, eventually laying it flat against his collarbone littered with blonde baby-hairs like a garden of baby breaths.

“Three times this night or this hour my dear?” He says while responding to my incessant fixing and prodding’s by grabbing the hair from the nape, splitting it into two with hands much larger than yours, arranging them across your shoulders.

“Three times this hour” You move to lay your head across his collarbone but close was never close enough for you as of late, you would nest yourself in his ribs if you could tucked around his sternum. “Oh god, my poor, poor girl. I extend my deepest apologies that I wasn’t there to run interference: though I don’t believe it would’ve stopped her pursuits much” he says in a condescendingly charming fashion.

“Oh you’re really sorry” “Terribly so” “How sorry are you?”

“Well if you join me in the back I can show you just how deep my sympathies truly lie.” He exclaims in a tone that balances the intimacy of such an offer with a boyish-like spin.

The brazenness of his offer makes you giggle profusely, calling the attention to older couples who interact with their partners like they sleep in separate beds: so you don’t pay them much mind, a tell-tale sign that bobby’s one too many of the amortised wines served was his rare streak of promiscuity that would rear its head. Much to your amusement as his wife.

You scurry off little teenagers running to make out under the bleachers, you allow bobby to lead you as he’s more familiar with the event space than you were. He leads you into an abandoned looking secretarial office, with a hand curled around the crevice of your elbow like a devout would hold a beaded rosary, a loving kind of possession.

strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring…

You both look around the room quite impolitely in sheer curiosity: opening rusty drawers, flicking through empty filing cabinets until you both land on a particular item resting on the wall parallel to the door. A slanted front writing desk in a deep caramel tinted mahogany wood. A brass handle dangles in the breeze from the slightly draft coming in through the door.

Bobby and you both grinning and make eye contact: immediately moving to pull down the handle to woefully find it particularly barren: no secret notes or diary entry’s. Your face mirrors each other’s pout, as you try to test the sturdiness of the writing desk. To your surprise it holds its own under the full weight of your hand. Noticing this Bobby catches on, asking “Do ya’ think it’s sturdy enough?”

“Looks sturdy enough to me” you grin as you slowly back your behind up and onto the desk. Your legs finding balance resting on the lower portion of Bobby’s thigh. Slowly your Mary Jane black pumps start to find perch higher and higher on his thigh, eventually reaching the mound beneath his dress pants. You decide to tease him a bit and start to circle your foot around the mound, to which Bobby moans under his breath, shyly and throws his head back clearly overwhelmed. He lets you toy with him for a few short moments until you’re sure he had had enough, and moves to wrap your legs and thighs around the width of his hips. “Ya sure you want to do this here, y’know I could tell Jack we’ve had an issue with the babysitter and need to get home. I—I just quite feel disrespectful taking you in a place that has about 5 distinguishable moulds living in it. “Not that I don’t want to, cause trust me my girl I do it’s just—“

my summer wine is really made from all these things…

“Hush, I don’t care if there’s mould spors I need you on me this instance Kennedy. Depriving your wife! My I can’t think of a more disrespectful act can you Bobby?” You say in a bullish-yet feminine tone that immediately snaps Bobby out of his overthinking spiral: a good trait in a campaign manager not in a husband. Great for Jack, not so much for you.

“Okay—Okay I’m sorry baby you know how I get” “Oh I do now clear your mind of it this instance”

take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time…

“Totally clear” he says in a self assured tone as he moves to delicately remove his dress pants throwing them over the side of the large ottoman that most definitely has some form of bed bug inhabitants. Leaving him in his torn boxers: that he refuses to throw in the garbage disposal, holes that allow you to see the mountain of hair littered going from his belly button down to his significant mound.

In stark contrast he handles the undressing of yourself with the care and devotion of a man who knows his woman only has eyes for him, and vis versa. He neatly dissembles your outfit: a billowing ruffled crepe blouse paired with a pleated black skirt and flesh coloured tights. In his excavation of your outfit he uncovers the surprise you’d dressed on yourself for him to find.

Once he got you down to just your stockings he could see what you longed for him to find since you slipped them on: a bikini brief with embroidered lettering spelling out “bobby’s girl” on the front in lapis blue.

and i will give to you my summer wine…

Bobby’s face morphs into the face of a man starved: finally finding a dam in a four day trek through an unforgiving desert. The underwear is quickly pulled off and placed hastily into the pocket of his suit jacket, causing his pocket square to be slightly roughened up. To your surprise, but not shock as Bobby was always the kind to give before he ever received himself, got down on his knees and started to lap at your cunt ferociously: talk about a man starved. You’d heard the rumours of Bobby far before you had met him in the flesh, far before you’d married and had children with him: Bobby was thought to have been a ruthless character with the temperament of a caged pit bull.

But that wasn’t the Bobby you saw that day you met him for the first time, and it wasn’t the Bobby you were looking at now. Now he was worshipping, and at his happiest while doing it.

Soon enough you felt the inevitable wave of pleasure wash over you, and in that bliss reached for Bobby always wanting to bask in that with the man who made it all possible. “Did that feel good baby?” “So-so-so-so good Bobby you should have shed that humbleness with me a long time ago” You say as you soothingly ( for the both of you ) try to smooth down tufts of his hair, now severely roughened up, and clear away the luminescent substance absolutely coating the entirety of his chin and a portion of his plush, bottom lip.

But just as you get your wits about you, he starts to line up and invades you in the most decedent way a person could be invaded.

“Harder”

To which Bobby lays flat a hand on your chin, keeping your attention fully locked onto him as he bullies his large mound into your cunt at a solid pace but steadily increasing in fervour. As a cause of this the desk starts to rock. Continually ricocheting rhythmic sounds of the desk hitting the skirting of the wall over, and over, and over again.

“Dear God, you’re as tight as ever. You’re killing me” Bobby continues to praise how soft you are, how good you are to him, and how he can only aspire and yearn to make you feel as good as he does at this moment.

when i woke up the sun was shining in my eyes…

A mounting shudder creeps upon you like a ghost in the night, following behind you Bobby shudders and then finally stills, still sheathed inside you.

You both take a couple minutes to recoup which consists: of lots of handholding, reassuring, and kisses upon naps of necks.

my silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size…

It is only when you get up, as Bobby gathers both of your garments, that you identify a large split in the wood spanning from the hinges. You laugh at it half mortified and half impressed with the two of you’s strength and call over Bobby.

my summer wine is really made from all these things.

To which he comes over, observes the large spilt that definitely wasn’t there prior and searches his pockets. In there he finds a letter opener and to your surprise carved into the rich wood:

“Y/n and Bobby forever 1960-01-02”

the end.

[cheappop]

Love That Waits: Chapter 1 - Rhea

Summary:

"He had the type of smile that seemed to increase the light in a room when it reached his eyes. Brown eyes. Deep brown eyes that seemed to become molten when he spoke fondly of something. Though she rarely saw him speak much at all since she met him. She was surprised at her own attentiveness in that moment. When the fuck had she started to notice Jey Uso?"

~

A character study of the romantic relationship between Rhea Ripley and Jey Uso, through their eyes and the eyes of the people who love them. Starting from Smackdown 2023 to the present day. Somewhat kayfabe compliant, but also putting my own little spin on the most interesting love story in the WWE Universe!

~

These chapters are all written in third person, so if that bothers you, I'm sorry 😢. The first two chapters will be exploring Rhea and Jey's emotional states as individuals, but from the third chapter onward, each chapter will be split between both of them equally. With bonus chapters from the perspectives of Damian Priest, Jimmy Uso, Sami Zayn, and many others as they watch the relationship between Jey and Rhea blossom.

I will warn everyone in advance. This story is the textbook definition of slow burn and it will also not be including explicit smut. If anything sexual happens between the characters, it'll be more of a "fade to black" type vibe.

I wanted to write this fic to explore how Rhea and Jey truly fell in love with each other as they navigate through their own individual traumas. And since this story begins around 2023, I will admit that Rhea and Jey are not in the best place emotionally early on. So, be warned, "Fluff" is tagged, but it's not coming for a while 🤣.

My hope is to have a new chapter uploaded every week on Wednesday. This is my first fic and I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Btw, all the chapters will be posted on AO3 as well if you prefer to view it there 😊!

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April 18, 2023

The shrill chirp of her alarm was what woke her. She leaned back, her arm sliding away from the slim contour of Dom’s waist as she fumbled to grasp the device. Cursing as it nearly fell off the nightstand. Rhea grunted as she pulled her other arm free from under her lover’s head, narrowly managing to catch her phone as it forcefully separated from the charging chord. She flinched back at the brightness of the screen and stamped the alarm off before tossing it onto the armchair just beside the nightstand. Sitting up dully, her shoulders sagged at the weight of what she now acknowledged was a rapidly growing hangover. Her head ached and she hissed as a sharp thread of pain shot from between her eyebrows and spread to the base of her skull. 

“Fucking, Damian.” She groaned, falling heavily back onto the pillows, with her forearm falling over her eyes. Somehow a room shielded by blackout curtains was still too bright. They had gone out the night before with the Bloodline to celebrate the beginning of their alliance. She wasn’t usually the most overzealous drinker. She typically left those duties to Damian and Dominik, but something about that night had just felt right and so she had indulged them. Fuck was that a mistake.

A throb, just barely there, began to pulse at the right corner of her forehead and she cursed again. She’d swear off drinking if it weren’t so damn numbing. The thought was interrupted, however, by the sharp snort from the man laying next to her. She laughed low in her throat, wincing as action went straight to her aching forehead. Dom was a rather enthusiastic sleeper with a likely undiagnosed case of sleep apnea. Any other person would have been rudely awakened throughout the night by the sheer volume of his snores, but Rhea, who lived in a constant state of bottomless fatigue, often slept with a deepness just on the cusp of death. A match made in heaven (or hell, perhaps some would say).

Turning onto her side, she reached out to stroke delicately at the hair cascading over his ear. She was amused at the state of him. His body was turned away from her, but his neck was tipped back rather awkwardly and his mouth seemed to follow, hanging out to the side as he continued to snore. Her eyes scanned him lazily, stopping occasionally to scrutinize the dark spots on his purple silk pajama top from the steady steam of saliva that dribbled off his lip. A man who sleeps as immaturely as he lives awake. Rhea shook her head fondly at the thought. Her fingers continuing to stroke her fingers absentmindedly through his hair as she fell face first into the usual cogitations.

Her mind drifted to the previous year, the thought of her new beginning. How she and Damian had betrayed Edge and welcomed Finn. There was always something about it that never sat right with her. They had done everything right. She believed that. Edge had never deserved their patronage and so they outgrew him. Yet, it still haunted her. Even as she, surrounded by her two closest friends, had looked down at her old mentor and laughed in his face, that look in his eyes had remained imprinted in her mind. Betrayal. One in what had become a disturbing pattern. Her mind flitted to Raquel, her first loss. Her partner that had chosen everyone else over her. And Liv, a dead weight she had needed to shed the way a snake sheds its old skin; reborn in new, more vibrant color. Friendships she had sacrificed to become better. She was in the right. Edge had reassured her in the beginning. Damian too. She had needed to be selfish. She deserved to be! She was right—

Dom suddenly shifted in his sleep and Rhea jerked her hand back in alarm. His body rolled back toward her, realigning with his head and he smacked his lips before settling back into his usual snores. Not yet awake. Rhea stared at him and she could feel that familiar coldness in her chest. She cowered away from it. Throwing her legs off the side of the bed and nearly falling over herself as she made her way into the bathroom.

The pulsing forehead spread back into her hairline and she sucked air sharply through her nose as she felt bile rising in her throat. She fought against it, knocking her knuckles against the carved marble of the bathroom sink. The bathroom went pitch black as the door slid shut behind her. She couldn’t see anything and yet she felt stripped naked. Her skin hot, yet damp from sweat. As if she had been laying on hot coals. It was always like this when she thought of them. The memory of her many lost friendships like a disease that clung to the darkest parts of her. Parts she had layered over with molten rock and steel. She had made herself a blade, to protect against the reminders of her own past heartbreaks. However, it was moments like these where she felt like a snake eating its own tail.

Edge had told her that to be warm and embrace comfort was weakness. You could never get too comfortable. He did. So she and Damian had showed him the fruits of his labor as they usurped him. Rocking back onto her heels, she flailed for the switch and nearly fell when the white light of the mirror hit her square in the face. Her eyes burned with it, but the pain of the headache had dulled. An old pain replaced with a new one. A cycle she knew well. She could sleep, but she never rested. 

She was able to blink as her eyes slowly adjusted and she finally caught sight of herself in the mirror. As she looked on, she realized that the dampness she had felt on her cheeks had not been sweat but were tears. The wet onslaught had flowed past her chin, soaking the collar of her t-shirt with a pale layer of foundation she had forgotten to remove the night before in her drunken state. Rhea sighed before turning her eyes down and flipped on the sink. She watched curiously as the water pooled in the cup of her hands before shoving it across her face. Repeating the process a couple more times before placing her hands on the counter and leaning fully over the sink. The harsh gush of the faucet a welcome buffer to the never-ending whirring that went on in her head. 

For a while, she just stood and breathed. The yelling chorus of voices in her head eventually came down to a more gentle stage whisper. This allowed her to move her attention to something much more important than her many past lives. She needed coffee! With two harsh pats to her cheeks, Rhea straightened her back and shed her clothes.

The chill of the hotel hallway could be felt even through the thick cotton of her hoodie as she made her way down to the lobby. This hotel was not as nice as the other ones they stayed at in the much larger cities. This hotel chain’s buildings were always old, but now haphazardly disguised with a new coat of a rather jarring orange and baby blue paint combo whose ugliness Damian often bitched about during his hangover-fueled breakfast rants. He was a surprisingly chipper alcoholic on the morning after a long night of indulgence. Grumpy, but eloquent. Rhea would typically call him in the mornings and they would eat breakfast as a duo, since Finn and Dominik was particularly unpleasant if not allowed to rise of their own accord. This morning, however, she didn’t feel that she had the patience to deal with what Rhea knew would be a good-natured parental lecture about how she “actively suppressed her negative feelings”. Followed closely by an accusation of taking it out on her boyfriend who was no where near as strong as she was. Damian could do it later, once Rhea had been filled with a minimum of three cups of heavily sweetened coffee. 

She stopped in her tracks just as she turned the corner into the lobby at the sight of a familiar face (or back rather). Jey Uso’s silhouette was hard to miss and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t snuck a handful of curious peaks backstage. He had his back to her, his arms hung bare through the cropped sleeves of his shirt and she could see the slight curve at the bottom of his spine that peaked out from the slit in the equally cropped bottom of his t-shirt. Her eyes moved back to the tattooed contours of his arms, the intricate line work shifting and bending with every minute flex. Art in motion. Rhea was always one to appreciate the artistry of a good tattoo. She and Jey had chatted enthusiastically at the club the night before about their many tattoos, though much of the conversation now only existed in jumbled scraps throughout her memory. His face had been so bright then. He had the type of smile that seemed to increase the light in a room when it reached his eyes. Brown eyes. Deep brown eyes that seemed to become molten when he spoke fondly of something. Though she rarely saw him speak much at all since she met him. She was surprised at her own attentiveness in that moment. When the fuck had she started to notice Jey Uso?

Rhea thought back to all the months before. All the confrontations, but nothing really stood out until yesterday. She’d known of him, but she didn’t know him. Even now, in the infancy of this new alliance. Last night was the first time she’d actually spoken to him outside of provoking him to Super Kick her in the ring. She looked at him wholly now. The coffee long forgotten as she pondered him. Apparently, this was a morning of way too much thought. But she’d worry about that later. Something about him drew her in. Made her want to know more as she continued to watch him prepare his breakfast. Now, leaning lazily against the counter as he waited for a paper cup to fill with orange juice. Rhea pondered Jey Uso’s appearance. His hair, his skin, his tattoos, his build. Once again, she had to admit that he was nice to look at. 

However, that was never what truly interested her about him. There was a heat to him. Something buried so deep, yet burned so bright that you could narrowly manage to avoid getting scorched by it. A longing for something that she didn’t think she’d ever be able to figure out without asking him herself; something she’d never even dream of doing. 

Rhea was brought out of her contemplation by the stiff jerk of Jey’s hand as he thrust it into his pocket. She looked on as he glanced around warily before pulling a small pill orange bottle out of his pocket. He hastily popped the white cap and levied the a couple tabs into his palm before tossing his head back and quickly downing the contents of his cup to chase it. Prescriptions from the looks of it. Considering who he fell under, she wouldn’t be too surprised if it was anxiety medication.

Jey bowed his head as he swallowed, the muscles of his back tensing under the thin black layer of his t-shirt. But it was his hand that truly caught her eye. The one not gripping the pill bottle lay open. She could see the patchwork of callouses that decorated the weathered skin there. But to her surprise, his hand was shaking rather violently. From the tips of his fingers to the curve of his shoulder. His whole body taught and coiled like a snake, poised to strike at the first sign of a threat. As her eyes made their way about him, she came to the unnerving realization that his feet were no longer facing away from her and when her head snapped up she was met eye to eye with him. The swiftness with which Jey moved had been what startled her initially, but her focus quickly pivoted to his eyes. No, what hid behind them. Or rather what didn’t. There was nothing there. A calculated emptiness. They both remained anchored in place. She wasn’t afraid to move nor was she afraid of him, but something was keeping her there. Something was keeping him there. Looked in at the eyes, but neither spoke. What was there to say anyway? Any individual with a single modicum of intelligence would tell you that it would be ill-advised to speak to someone who looked you the way that Jey was now. Like an animal. If he had gun it would be drawn. The empty heat she had been pondering before was now looking right at her and she couldn’t look away­–

“Hey, Rhea!” Rhea was embarrassed to think about the rather indignant noise she made at the sound of Damian’s voice that called from down the hallway. She whipped around. Her face set into a glower that deepened as she noticed the crooked-toothed smile Damian flashed back at her.

“Yo, take it easy. Did I scare you?” he teased, nudging her suggestively with his elbow as he came to stand next to her. She turned her head dramatically, her face pinched into a pout as she shoved him back. 

“Fuck off, Priest.” Her voice dripping with an exasperated fondness that she only ever offered to him. He shrugged before pulling his loosely tied robe closer around him and crossing his arms over his chest. His face the picture of amused curiosity as he said, “I called out a couple times and you didn’t answer. So, I got creative.”

Rhea blew air at her bangs, snorting a laugh as she said, “By creative, you mean loud, right?” He shrugged again, then he glanced behind her. Seemingly looking for something that he couldn’t find. She followed his gaze over her shoulder and almost audibly sighed in relief when she noticed Jey was no longer standing there glaring at her.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” she questioned with feigned innocence. Damian did seem to clock it in his hungover state, but he just shook his head. “Nothing. You just seemed lost in something.” he said matter-of-factly.

“Nah, just staring off into space waiting for our usual appointed breakfast date.” Damian scoffed, but made no objection to her explanation, moving past her toward the breakfast spread where Jey had once stood. She could still almost envision the perfect silhouette of Jey as he had been just moments before. A ghostly visage with some kind of death reflected in his eyes. An emptiness she now realized felt so familiar, because it was one she shared within herself. A loss of something. Of someone. A loss of innocence that only your greatest love can cause. A loss she’d felt twice but had been remedied by the new family she had now. Maybe Jey could use a new family too. She laughed out loud at the absurdity of the thought and Damian fixed her with a concerned look but made no moves to address it. She resumed her pondering. Jey was too loyal to be fooled out of leaving his family. An absurd thought on her part. Impossible at worst. Yet another thing she’d add to the long list she chose to worry about at a later time.

Or she was full of shit, because even as she made her plate and get several cups of coffee in her system (maybe there was a way to just inject it into her veins first thing in the morning instead. She’d have to do research on it.), her mind wandered back to Jey Uso. More alarmingly, Roman Reigns. A man she had yet to lay eyes on in-person yet loomed large over the union of the two factions. The deal had been made by him. Paul Heyman had just been the typical obedient messenger. When she considered it, Roman was largely responsible for the man that Rhea had narrowly avoided a confrontation with just minutes before. He had beaten Jey down so completely that he was left with only his instincts to guide him. A weapon Roman had sharpened to act as an extension of himself. Jey was no longer an individual, but a cog in the great machine that Roman Reigns had built his now vast empire out of.

Roman was a familiar shadow to her. Like her own mentor, who haunted her even now. Roman Reigns did not seem like the type who took kindly to betrayal. Those who grew brave enough to stand before him was put down expeditiously. It’s why the Judgment Day had agreed to the alliance. Why try and fight a god, just to lose everything, when he’s willing to make you kings? Their faction was still young and while they didn’t have much to lose, fear was enough. Perhaps Edge would be ashamed of them now. The man who thought he was bulletproof. The one who taught them to fear nothing, but he showed his weakness then. He made them too strong, too strong to need him and they took full advantage. They had felled the king who believed himself to be the same god that Roman was. 

Still, maybe Roman’s time would be coming soon too. The tension radiated off all the members of the Bloodline in waves. Sami Zayn had opened a door inside a house that every believed to be forged shut with steel. A door no one had thought to check for. And answer to a question that she was sure none of the Bloodline had ever dared to ask. 

But that was none of her business. What choices the Bloodline members chose to make didn’t matter to her. So long as they stayed out of her way.

[tokkiwrites]

in which kraven gets very jealous and needs to remind y/n that she's his. this is a continuation to another one-shot i wrote (check pinned 📌)

tags: keaven x fem!reader, afab!reader, use of y/n because yes, dom!kraven, kind of dark kraven of you squint, sub!reader, degradation, deah (mentioned like twice), pet names (kraven calls reader doll, bun, bunny, pet), kraven likes to be called master (ik right?!?!?), p in v sex unprotected (don't be whimpy, wrap that pp), lmk if i missed anything !!!

it was O8:O4 PM, where was she? she'd been such a good obedient pet up until now. Is this the moment she wanted to slip? as those thoughts fill kraven's mind, the sound of keys jangling at the door snaps him awake.

she's here.

y/n timidly pushed open the door to her cozy apartment. A faint blush graced her cheeks as she entered, her sparkling eyes revealing a hint of embarrassment.

she knows she's late.

Carrying her books and course materials, y/n's steps were light, almost as if she tiptoed through the space. Her frame was adorned in a pastel sundress that swayed with every movement. A subtle floral fragrance trailed behind her, making kraven visibility hard.

As she walked further into the apartment, she set her books down onto the couch before stopping in front of kraven, who was sat in the doorway to her room.

" 'm sorry for being late. "

"care to explain why you're late, bunny?"

" had to stay a bit more at uniㅡ teacher said he needed my help with something."

he...

HE?!

"what did he need that was so important, bunny, hm?" kraven stepped closer to y/n, dragging his calloused finger over her rosy cheek.

moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a cold glow on them. It was evident that kraven wasn't going to let her off with just a warning, no matter what the motive for her being late is.

With a sigh that ragged through her throat, y/n looked up at kraven through her lashes, hoping he'd at least be a bit more endearing this time.

"answer me, doll. y'know i hate when you make me ask twice, yeah?" y/n swallows thick, nodding her head in response. "heㅡ um, he wanted me to ask where i got my p-perfume fromㅡ he wants to get it for his, uh.. girlfriend..."

kraven's gaze sharpened, turning into a piercing stare that seemed to bore into her soul. His jaw clenched. "that so?"

his silent but intense gaze spoke volumes, conveying the deep displeasure with the situation. "p-please don't do anythingㅡ he was only being nice-"

But her words were abruptly silenced by her boyfriend's stern command, "quiet."

A shiver ran down y/n's spine as she felt a mix of fear and anticipation. She knew she should run, remove herself from the brewing storm, but something inside her hesitated. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins or the thrill of the forbidden, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

Her heart raced, and a warm, tingling sensation spread through her belly. It was a confusing mix of emotions - fear, desire, and a hint of excitement. She wanted to reach out to him, to ease his worries, but the intensity of his gaze had her frozen in place.

In that charged moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and she couldn't deny the want of the storm that threatened to consume them bothㅡ her even more.

As the tension hung heavily in the room, kraven took a slow, deliberate step towards her, his eyes still locked onto hers. His earlier anger seemed to have evolved into a complex whirlwind of emotions, making his intentions unclear.

y/n's heart pounded louder in her chest, her breaths shallow as she watched him approach. She couldn't decipher what he was thinking, but a part of her yearned for his touch, even in this moment of uncertainty.

His other hand, which had been clenched tightly at his side, slowly reached out, hesitatingly brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "beg."

"s-sorryㅡ?" she stammered, her voice trembling. "i said beg. beg if you don't want me to take you to his house, fuck you in front of him then rip apart his body right after."

"k-kraven Iㅡ"

"so you want that."

"god, no! 'course i don't i justㅡ he was just being friendly, you know..." she whispered, her voice quivering. "you know I'm only yours."

kraven's face contorted with a mixture of anger and jealously, eyes glinting gold. y/n's words hung in the air. His grip on her hair tightened slightly, causing a sharp pain that made her wince.

"think that's enough, bunny?" he hissed. " think you can just say those words and everything will be fine? you are mine and that's why I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take you away from me."

kraven's words were laced with possessiveness, and y/n could see the turmoil within him. she struggled to find the right words to soothe his anger, but at the same time she wanted to let her mind go blank. in this moment ㅡ his idea sounded kind of good.

for a long, tense moment, kraven didn't speak. The room felt suffocating.

"on your knees."

"whㅡ" taken by surprize, she's pushes down, making a loud thud as she hit the cold floor.

"c'mon, bunny...you know what i want." he smiles darkly, hand still tangled in y/n's hair. "make that pretty head of yours think and tell me what i want to hear, yeah?"

kraven's smile sent a shiver down her spine. she knew what he wanted from her. Her mind raced, struggling to find the wordsㅡ her heard pounding in her chest, the loud thumps echoing in her head, nothing was accepting to leave her lips, it was all getting stuck.

"c'mon, doll. don't make me wait." he growls menacingly.

"p-pleaseㅡ" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "please, i know I've been bad. and iㅡ i need to be punished for what i did, i shouldn't have worn that perfume to his class."

"yeah.." he hums reaching for her chin and making y/n loon up "but you were a little whore who wanted to get attention, yeah?"

"y-yes.."

"guess i should fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?"

the room seemed to close in on her, the tension and lust between them so palpable. "gotta hear you beg more, though. gotta hear you cry before i fuck you stupid."

fear gripped her heart, the intensity of his demands and his dark demeanor filled her with a deep sense of the situation. Simultaneously, desire smoldered within her. His possessiveness, his filthy wordsㅡ the raw power he exuded ignited something in her she couldn't explain. the intensity of his words, though tinged with danger, had a mesmerizing effect on her.

towering above her, in the night's veil, kraven was shrouded in darkness, his presence like a labyrinth and his power over y/n like an unsolved puzzleㅡ an unspoken rule.

she should be more scared of him, yet she sits there and takes it, each of his commands, she obeys and does as she's told. his strength was evident in every moveㅡ he didn't need to say a word. he's a silent tempest that leaves an indelible mark.

y/n leans in forward, palms flush to the floor "please show meㅡ show me how to be good, please... i don't wanna think, jus' want to be you dumb bunnyㅡ"

"you're so pathetic, doll. even from the first day i saw you, i could smell it on you... could smell you were made for taking this cockㅡㅡ made for me to break and use."

y/n presses her thighs together, her panties now wet with her slick, sticking to the fold of her pussy. "k-kravenㅡ"

slap.

"wrong." he chuckles murkily "try it again, pet."

y/n sniffles, her cheeks stinging from the harsh slap delivered to it. "master."

"see, that wasn't so hard, huh? now...you gonna be a good girl and listen to me?"

"y-yes, master."

kraven hums, rubbing his finger onto the cheek he slapped, smiling contently as the skin flushed a bright red.

"get undressed and bend over the counter. now."

y/n swiftly compiles, scrambling to her feet and discarding the frilly dress she had on. her skin tightened as the cold air hit it. even so, she still removed her panties that had accumulated a big wet splotch in the middle of them.

obliging kraven's orders, she bends over the counter, her bare ass and cunt on full display. "mm.." kraven licks his lips before palming the small of her back "so pretty for me, bunny."

she completely shattered under his touch, his fingertips drawing small fires that spread through her in clusters, a desperate whine escaping past her lips.

"master, pleaseㅡ" kraven strongly grabs her by the hair, pulling her in a way that makes y/n arch her back. he leans into her ear, his enormous bulge pressing firmly against y/n's ass.

"did i say you can talk yet? are you so dumb, bun?"

y/n shakes her head, mewling at the sensation of kraven's facial hair against her skin.

"wanted to fuck you stupid, but since you're such a dumb whore already ㅡ maybe if i fuck you hard enough ... I'll bring some sense in that pretty brain of yours, yeah?"

y/n bites back another moan, succumbing to kravens touch, his palms making their way up her torso and to her breasts, kneading them roughly.

pushing back her hips in gripe, she manages to gets her face unwaveringly pressed to the countertop "don't be greedy now, doll. gotta see you work for it..." with that he nimbly plunged two fingers into y/n's mouth, making her gasp.

"suck if you want this cock inside of you, pet."

that's all she needed to hear, fleetly wrapping her lips around his thick fingers, sucking and swirling her tongue around them like there was no tomorrow. drool started to drip down her chin, her moans vibrating vigorously onto kravens skin.

pushing the fingers deeper, he wins a muffled gag, her tongue pressed flush against them. "yeah, good fucking pet." her walls were twitching around nothing, her warm wetness spreading between her thighs that were parted by kraven's knee.

he retrieves his fingers from her mouth, y/n starting to pule at their sudden lack. kravens laughs, as if mocking her at the same time pulling his sweatpants down only a bit, letting his dripping cock spring free and slap against his abdomen.

"want me to prep you, doll?"

"n-no, masterㅡ please..."

"fuck, bunny, ill rip right through you." he smiles somberly "you're such a filthy, filthy girl."

inhaling a sharp breath, her muscles tense up as kraven plunges inside of her wetness all at once, with no warning. she writhes in pain, tears already welling at the corner of her glossy eyes.

"fuck, look at that tight pussy swallowing me all in." he groans, sinking his fingernails into the plush of her skin "c'mon, doll, show me you're sorry for being such an attention whore. show me you're sorry so i don't kill that bitch and fuck you over his dead body."

it was all so wrong, so dirty and vile, but it was making her tummy churn and blood pulse through her veins like nothing else. she felt so insane for liking the ideas kraven put into her head, she loved feeling insane as long as he was with her.

her head now filled with murky thoughts, vision hazy, y/n feels her body being plunged further into the kitchen surface, hips violently crashing agains the hard material. "you take this cock so well, bunnyㅡ fuck!"

his movements become so fast, it sends y/n practically into another dimensionㅡ at least that's how she feels. her eyes roll back, and for a second, she's pretty sure she can see into the future.

"gonna come, bunny? huh? you gonna come around my cock?"

"yes, m-aster!" her body feels warm and fuzzy as she senses her orgasm approaching. "p-leaseㅡ!"

"go ahead, doll." kraven grunts, hitting that spot perfectly. he feels himself close too, brows furrowed as he pushes inside deeper and harder. "shitㅡ bunny, I'm gonna fill you up so good. gonna make you keep this cum inside of you all day."

with a loud plead, y/n releases, her walls tightening around kravens shaft, causing him to growl. she starts shaking, her thighs uncontrollably wriggling, barely holding herself up if it wasn't for the counter.

kraven pumps himself a few more times, at last releasing and painting y/n's insides with warm, white ribbons. they're both left panting, y/n babbling incoherently.

"thank y-ou, kraven.."

"you liked it?" he asked, amused. "so that's why you keep on misbehaving, bun. "

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎  토끼's NOTE : hi guys!!! this might have some grammar mistakes, oh WELL. its 2.1k words so kind of short SORRAYYY, wrote this for a special someone u know who u are wink wink ;) but thank you all for supporting me, i know im at the beginning of my journey, but I've already grown so much. hope you enjoyed day 7 of tokki's kinktober <3 (now proofread !!)

[spdrvyn]

I loved your post about Miguel x autistic reader and I really want more pleease

overwhelmingly peaceful

summary: you found your place in spider society, but that didn't take away from the fact that it can get intensely noisy. you don't hesitate to turn to where you know for sure you'll be safe.

tags: fluff. suggestive joke/s. autistic reader. reader is gender neutral. hobie's here too i guess. author doesn't know how to write british slang.

notes: i'm really glad that you guys enjoyed the autistic reader drabbles i posted so i'm more than happy to write this request! projecting even more in this one, thank you for letting me self-indulge <3

The mere existence of The Spider Society was always enough to astound you. You thought that people didn't Miguel enough credit for basically building the place from the ground up, not to mention how many times he's had to travel to different universes to recruit all different kinds of Spider-People.

Of course, you were more than honored to be one of those people. There was a very good chance that you just got lucky to be on his team, Miguel caught you in that one moment where your abilities were at their peak and your light was really shining through. Luck or skill, you didn't care. This was the result of it, you were content with that.

Unfortunately, the society has its downsides. Considering the sheer amount of spiders that pass through, the hustle and bustle is too hard to ignore. You can't exactly carry around headphones every time you're there because where would you leave them just in case you'd be tasked to another mission? So you just tried to avoid the noisiest places, even then, it's hard to get any semblance of quiet.

"Oh my god," you mumbled to yourself, as you silently glared at the cafeteria table next to you. Charisma was just a natural trait to any spider, with that came very boisterous laughter from other people too. Surely, they were nice people, but in front of your salad? Really?

"You good, mate?" Hobie intervened, he leaned his head to the side to get a better look at your face, a small grin came onto his features. "Lads beside you 've always been that noisy. Can get them to shut their traps if you want."

An inaudible sigh left your lips as you shook your head, combing the hair out of your face. You gazed down at your untouched food for a moment, you liked hanging out with Hobie. He understood you and he was funny, but you weren't quite sure if you could handle being in an environment like this right now.

"No, no- it's fine." He raised a brow at your lie. "Okay, it's not. But you don't have to do that for me," you picked up your small take-out box of salad and juice, "The canteen is just too much right now for me, sorry."

Hobie shrugged, picking up a fry and expertly throwing into his mouth. "No problem, always got my drummer to bother. You going to hang with your boyfriend now, eh?" His smile turned more cheeky and you stared at him meanly to take away from the fact that your cheeks warmed at his comment.

You huffed and stomped away, "Oi, you didn't deny that!"

Miguel's office (a.k.a man cave) was dark and decrepit. For some odd reason, also liked a smell of any kind. You designated each area of the headquarters with a scent, but his area lacked any of the sort which you enjoyed. Not to mention, silent.

It wasn't like he really allowed any loud noise anyway, he had a strange list of items that were prohibited from entering his corner. Bells, blenders, on occasion, phones but that was from one time Gwen forgot to shut her alarm off and she got a small lecture on being considerate because the acoustics caused every sound that passed through to reverberate and increase in volume.

That means it would only make sense for Miguel to also hear your footsteps from a mile away, his platform already lowered for you to hop on and he's hunched over his desk. Sparks fly (not just from the sight of him, I swear) from the spot that he worked on and if you're not mistaken, there's a band wrapped around his head which meant he was wearing goggles.

You set your lunch tray down on the one empty spot on his desk before approaching slowly, you bend down to rest your hand on his shoulder and to lean your head against his. "What are you working on now, beautiful?"

Miguel put down the small soldering tool and took off his goggles, putting the freshly made panel closer to his eyes. "People submitted suggestions to make the wrist devices less bulkier," he blindly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his thigh as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Why are you here?"

"I'm an assassin, I've come to take your life." You spoke lowly, ominously. When Miguel doesn't turn to face you, you pout. "The noise in the cafeteria is overwhelming," you shift and properly situate yourself on his lap.

"I was just about to head out for lunch," Miguel sighed, before placing the panel in a small container.

"So... back to the cafeteria? People are sure to go speechless from catching a look at you," you joke, but there's a somber fry in your voice that he doesn't ignore. His warm breath tickled your neck as he pressed brief pecks down the column of your throat, the low hum he let out vibrating against your skin. "Are you that hungry, hermoso?"

"What I meant was," he paused, brushing more hair out of your face, properly tucking it behind your ear. "I was going to head up to my place for lunch. Where there's no people?"

You breathe a small 'ohhh' and Miguel chuckled, "That checks out, actually." You nodded. "Obviously there's no people, would've been weird to have anyone there two nights ago when we–"

"Okay, that's enough." Miguel cut you off, nearly smiling from ear to ear. "Get your lunch, mi sol."

"My hero."

[cooking-with-hailstones]

The Legend of Zelda: stats of the kingdom

A Statistical Analysis of Popular Fanfiction in the Legend of Zelda Fandom on AO3

I like numbers and stats and for some unfathomable reason I find it calming. So over the past couple weeks, I’ve been making this spreadsheet!

DISCLAIMER: This is not a judgement of the quality, value, or merits of any of the fics on this list. It's just me being curious about what's popular with the Legend of Zelda fandom on AO3.

Feel free to go explore the spreadsheet. My own observations and analysis under the cut.

TL:DR, Link has a lot of kinky sex. Sidlink and Zelink are vying for who’s the most popular ship. Also, this fandom has a shit ton of sub categories that are truly islands unto themselves and have their own conventions.

Methodology: I'm including all fics from the first page of AO3 results (20 fics per page) sorted by:

Hits

Kudos

Comments

Bookmarks

Anything tagged under the Legend of Zelda and Related Fandoms tag that was in the top 20 most hits, kudos, comments, or bookmarks made it into the spreadsheet. This ended up including 51 fics in total.

I put all the fics into one single spreadsheet in order to compare the differences between fics that are really high on the kudos count but not the hit count, or what has a lot of comments but fewer hits. Basically, I'm throwing a lot of things together to observe what gets engagement and looking at patterns that emerge!

Popular fandom subcategories:

Botw (41 fics tagged as such)

Linked Universe (9, including one mostly set in the world of BOTW)

OoT (2)

(I do wonder what it would be like to run these numbers on other fanfic sites, given the popularity boom of ao3 over the last 15 years or so. But also, Botw was an insanely popular game even by Zelda standards, so… who knows?)

Tags:

Character tags: Obviously, Link was by far the most popular character, but here are the characters that had a minimum of 3 appearances per category. Yay champions!

Zelda

Sidon

Mipha

Urbosa

Revali

Daruk

Story tags: Again, just going by sheer numbers, here are the story tags that appeared at least 3 times in every category:

Slowburn

AU – canon divergence

With honorable mentions to fluff, angst, double penetration, anal sex, amnesia/memory loss, and mute or selectively mute Link, who all cracked above 3 instances in 2 separate categories.

Relationships:

This was a tight race, but shoutout to Sidlink for eking out the win for the most highly rated ship in the Zelda fandom with 13 fics qualifying in my ranking. Zelink is close behind at 10 fics. (That being said, Zelink takes it by volume: 7,797 fics tagged as Zelink vs Sidlink’s 2,193)

Other popular ships:

Revalink (8) (this one surprised me! I didn’t realize my beloved birb was so popular)

Miphlink (3)

Link/Monsters (2)

Sidon/Reader (2)

Ganzelink, Ganlink, Malink, Miphzelink, and Miphzel all made single appearances.

(Pls don’t start ship war discourse in the notes kthanx)

All right, let’s deep dive into the numbers!

Fics in all 4 categories:

Interim - starkraving

Sands of time -tirsynni

Congrats you are officially the most popular Loz fics across all of ao3! at least according to my particular scope of analysis.

Fics in 3 categories:

Displaced - socksock

Drown In Me - bacchanalia

Alone We Fight - SilvermistAnimeLover

Blood Moon Rising - MarquesGillette

Popular authors (people who show up more than once in multiple categories sorry comments georg)

MarquesGillette

MaryDragon

SilvermistAnimeLover

ObakeAri

Hits:

Top 5 most popular fics by hit count:

Displaced - socksock

Interim - starkraving

To Save Hyrule - orphan_account

Sands of time - tirsynni

Drown In Me - bacchanalia

First page by hits:

Min: 117,917 – Sidon’s Epic Pining Adventure (ObakeAri)  

Max:  189,622 – Displaced (socksock)

Average: 145,385

Average wordcount for fics with the most hits:

140,909

Kudos:

Top 5 most popular fics by kudos count:

Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy - Icka M Chif

Interim - starkraving

To My Dearest Friend - surveycorpsjean

26 Minutes and 42 Seconds - T_5Seconds

Blood Moon Rising - MarquesGillette

First page by kudos:

Min: 4917 – Finding Link (Umbreonix)

Max:  10321 – Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy (Icka M Chif)

Average: 6981

Average wordcount for fics with the most kudos:

41,136

Comments:

Top 5 most popular fics by comment count:

Carlos from MarvelandZeldaFan's Children of the Heroes - KR5

This is an Adjuration - notfreyja

My Art - KR5

Sidon's Epic Pining Adventure - ObakeAri

Priestess of War - KR5

Woohoo! You all get to meet KR5 aka Comments Georg. Comments Georg has long conversations and RPs in the comments of their ao3 posts, which are usually fanart. TO BE CLEAR, THIS IS TOTALLY FINE AND COOL! I think it’s quite delightful! However, it does completely bork my ranking system because outside of comments, these posts do not have a lot of engagement (like, less than 100 hits and less than 20 kudos) and I don’t think they count towards my analysis of “what is popular in the Zelda fandom writ large”. But they qualified based on my criteria. Which I think speaks to the weakness of my criteria more than anything else tbh…

Anyways, shoutout to Comments Georg for truly showing off what it means to be a statistical outlier.

First page by comments:

Min: 1568 – The Quiet River Rages (MaryDragon)

Max:  43808 - Carlos from MarvelandZeldaFan's Children of the Heroes (KR5)

Average: 4131 (which goes down to 2042 if we exclude KR5’s impressive max, which is a full order of magnitude more than notfreyja in second place with 3470 comments. Very much demonstrating the power of a statistical outlier!)

Average wordcount for fics with the most comments:

275,593

Bookmarks:

Top 5 most popular fics by bookmarks count:

Interim - starkraving

Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy - Icka M Chif

Sands of time - tirsynni

To My Dearest Friend - surveycorpsjean

Alone We Fight - SilvermistAnimeLover

First page by bookmarks:

Min: 973 – Expatriate (thehoyden)

Max:  2984 – Interim (starkraving)

Average: 1468

Average wordcount for fics with the most bookmarks:

70,027

Fic Ratings:

G: 3 (literally all fanart from KR5)

T: 22

M: 8

E: 17

Unrated: 1

Observations:

I ran this twice. Once including crossovers, and once excluding crossovers. This filtered out a lot of large drabbles and things like “flash fiction fuckings” which, no judgment, you do you, they just weren’t super relevant for what I was looking for. If you wanna see these stats including all the multifandom stuff that shows up, here’s the link for that:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1DXDKXutIzVC-Iac93fFSDohAkphrn67yV-DmRt9xXmU/edit?usp=sharing

(I’m going to break academic professional analysis here and get on my soapbox for a sec – please don’t post big multifandom one shots where you tag like 20 different fandoms and every single kink that gets written about across 103 different chapters. This is literally what series are for. These kinds of things just clog up the tags, and it also makes it harder for people to find the things you’ve written that they want to read! I know this was a convention on ff.net, but this is not ff.net! We can make authors' lives and readers' lives easier!)

There were 38,427 fics in the tag “Legend of Zelda and Related Fandoms” (including crossovers, that goes up to 41,634). I manually added one back in though because it was entirely a botw story, just loosely inspired by another game.

Linked Universe fans comment a LOT. Strong correlation between high comment and Linked Universe fandom subsection. Y’all are very involved and active, and you show support to your authors. I salute you!

Sidlinkers, y'all are horny and I respect it.

Zelinkers, dear god we do love a slowburn.

All the most highly kudos’d fics are very low in the comment count. It’s almost an inverse correlation.

Excluding crossovers increased the correlation between hits and kudos quite dramatically.

There were not very many au’s other than canon divergence. Only one modern au as far as I could tell from a cursory examination of tags.

Lots more clustering, far less disparity between min and max numbers than when I ran this with A:TLA numbers.

Far less consensus on a vibe. Way fewer big writers, but lots of little writers doing their own thing.

Truly a lot of E fics. We are horny bastards.

We need more stuff written for games other than BOTW!!

There aren’t as many fics that are like “oh everyone in the fandom has read these fics”. There are probably those fics in each subcategory of the fandom, or within the specific ships, but there aren’t as many general fics that have entire fandom-wide appeal.

Thank you for reading! This was a lot of fun, and I hope you found it interesting. Shoutout to the Hateno Hangout discord for helping me refine this mess :P

Further shoutout to my partner who helped with writing some SQL to help with tag analysis. Truly partner of the year.

If you want more of this kind of egregious nerdiness, I did this with the top fics in the A:TLA fandom a couple weeks ago: https://www.tumblr.com/cooking-with-hailstones/751749202663669760/statistical-analysis-of-the-most-popular-atla

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Ears (Part 18) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090 @aponia-yue @likoplays @dilflover-3 @oak-leafs @phd-in-fuckery @weirdoartist21 @nicolezghostz @fauine @emmbny

Sorry if I missed you on the tag-list!

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, Henry being such a dad, grumpy x sunshine . Faz-Fuck TM. Cringe scenes ft. Henry.

Friday wasn't usually so exciting, but this Friday was special, and you were damned if you were going to let anything get in the way of it.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on Henry's office and heard his usually chipper voice answer for you to come on in, smiling as you took a step inside and saw the man away from his desk, pinning more drawings that the kids had made for him and William and all the other animatronics onto the wall that was already thick with the sheer volume of them. It always made you smile, and you still had the drawings that the kids had given you when you 'saved' Spring-Bonnie. Your name was called fondly, Henry stopping what he was doing to offer you a bright smile as he stepped away from the wall.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked, smoothing down his dark curls before he sat back at his desk a little heavily, forcing the chair to spin slightly under his weight as you closed the door and sat in the little folding chair near to his desk.

"I was um...going to ask if I can be cut early today, Mr. Emily." You asked, feeling your cheeks heating up already, Henry raising an eyebrow before waving a hand dismissively with a slight chuckle.

"Please, it feels weird you calling me Mr. Emily in private," He sighed, smiling reassuringly at you as you fiddled with the edge of your confetti patterned blouse. "But why, what's up chicken? Are you not feeling well?"

"Quite the opposite, Mr-....Henry." Correcting yourself as you watched his eyebrow raise in a fatherly way that reminded you a little of a telling-off. But your cheeks continued to heat up as you couldn't help thinking about the reason you wanted the day off early. "I'm hoping the have the day off early because.. Well... I'm seeing William later tonight."

"Sorry sweetie, but that's not a-"

"At his house."

There was a pause as Henry blinked at you, his shoulders mid-shrug before relaxing and his eyes widening as he looked at you. Scanning your face to see if you were being serious before leaning back into his chair, fingers laced together and index fingers tapping each other as he made a hum in thought.

"Seriously around his house?" The question seemed almost incredulous, and it was your turn to raise an eyebrow before you slowly nodded, unsure if the man in front of you was happy or not.

"I..I think he's cooking dinner?"

"William Afton is cooking dinner for you, at his house?" He asked, receiving another small nod in reply, thoroughly confused as to why he seemed so shocked. You knew that Sarah had said that he rarely invited people to his house, but surely it wasn't such a huge deal.

"Do you have what you want to wear sorted?" The question caught you off guard, but you nodded and felt your cheeks burning as you thought of the discreet little bag waiting for you on your bed, as well as the new dress hung up on your wardrobe, waiting to be put on after your shower.

"Do you think I should bring a gift?"

"Oh... I mean...I would. He would probably find it very cute." He said, voice darkening slightly as his brow furrowed and he swivelled in his chair, making you worry that he wasn't reacting like he usually did to news about you and William. Feeling the joy about your day slowly slip away as you wondered if you were in some form of trouble as Henry spun back around, clutching something in his hands.

The older man stared at you for a second, running his hand through his curls and muttering something under his breath as he closed his eyes briefly before opening them and staring at the ceiling for a moment, making panic rise in your chest.

"What do you know...about sex?"

Blinking rapidly, you looked at the normally bouncy, happy human in front of you and the dead-serious tone with which he asked the question and suddenly you were transported back to a similarly awkward talk with your parents years ago when you hit puberty. Cheeks fully heated as your embarrassment changed course and burned brighter than before, looking at your fingers as you picked over them nervously.

"I um...I mean, I know how it..works? Like and that it's...it's special. What are you-"

"Good, good. Um.. I'm going to give you these, on the condition that they are used, young lady. But I'm also going to give you a quick rundown on what could happen." He let out a shaking breath, equally embarrassed by the whole situation as he handed over the small blue box. Letting you inspect it for a second before you froze up as you saw what they were in your hands. Heart pounding rapidly as the box of condoms rested in your hands limply, barely registering Henry as he began to talk again.

"So...When a man and a woman love each other very much..well, um, other people like women and women and men and men can love each other too! Just that, you know, since he's a man and you're a young woman...you know?" He rambled, his cheeks burning a deep maroon colour as he talked, avoiding your gaze as his fingers picked at themselves, only relenting as he began to gesticulate nervously. "So a man's-"

"OH MY GOD, HENRY!" You managed to snap him out of his rambling as you buried your head in your hands, placing the box on the edge of his desk, Henry sat quietly in his chair as you extracted yourself from the iron grip you had on your face, speaking into your hands and muffling your words slightly. "Look I don't need...I-I'll be safe if we decide to... We're taking it slow. We're still nervous about kissing each other for fucks sake!"

Henry seemed to relax at your reassurances, his shoulders releasing the tension, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and his burning cheeks the remnant of his embarrassment. Lopsided smile gracing his friendly face as he awkwardly reached out and patted your back reassuringly.

"I'm sorry..You're like a kid to me and Will's...Will's my best friend. I couldn't bear to see either of you in a situation you weren't happy in. That's how it was with Clara, and he loves Vanessa to pieces, but he wasn't happy. You both deserve to be happy." His voice was soft as he rubbed your back lightly with that same fatherly smile, allowing you time to breathe and recover before your face was fully extracted from your hands. Offering Henry a reassuring smile too. Jokingly, he placed the back of his hand to your forehead, taking your temperature as you still appeared very flushed.

"Looks like somebody's sick after all. Why don't you grab your stuff and head home? I'm sure you'll do well with a home-cooked meal." He smiled, and you smiled gratefully back, carefully opening your arms for a hug and wrapping them around him, catching him off guard before Henry wrapped his arms around you too.

"Thanks Henry, I really do appreciate it. Promise to be careful and I'm sure you'll tease me for days after this." You joked, making the man chuckle as he held you at arms length and smiled at you, his eyes crinkling slightly as he widened his eyes in mock hurt.

"Me? Tease you?! Never, chicken! But Will on the other hand is fair game."

Both much happier and relaxed about the situation, you left his office to go grab your things and cycle back home to get ready for your date. Laughing as Henry practically chucked the box after you as he made sure nobody else was watching, giving a disapproving dad finger-wag as you departed. The excitement of what the evening had in store for you crept back into your stomach now that the embarrassment cleared, and you found yourself practically vibrating as you prepared yourself to go to the Afton house.

~~

The cab had picked you up precisely on time, although you were a little surprised that it wasn't William picking you up from your house. A neatly wrapped and bow-tie presented bottle of whiskey in your lap as you slowly made your way down the gravel drive. The cab had dropped you off half-way down, as they were unsure if there was enough room to turn at the end, and suddenly the small kitten heels you'd chosen to wear seemed all too impractical as you moved slowly.

Although, you arrived exactly on time as you reached the front door and knocked, admiring the space the Afton house lived in and the house itself.

A long, winding gravel drive in between a thick copse of trees, muffling the sound of the main road and making the clearing in which the house was built peaceful. The house itself was a classic American style, front porch and all with white bannisters and fencing, the house itself painted in a faded pastel purple that looked like it needed touching up, making you wonder if it had perhaps been more vibrant once before. It was small slice of paradise hidden away from prying eyes, and for a more private man like William Afton, you could see why he enjoyed such a place.

The door opening disrupted your thoughts, and you turned to face William, smiling brightly and being caught slightly off guard as he wore an apron over his clothes. White with little bunnies on it like some house-wife despite being able to make out the black button-down tight across his broad frame and the neatly pressed slacks. His greying hair brushed through and slicked back, beard trimmed and you could smell his cologne faintly already, mixed with the smell of something delicious cooking inside.

William paused as he opened the door to you, his heart pounding in his chest as he drank you in. Little black heels, a cute little dress that the top looked a little like a button down, a small belt tied around the waist to accentuate your figure, and the deep green colour with the embroidered flowers across the collar made him melt at how sweet you looked. Your hair pulled back into a cute up-do with strands falling either side of your face, a little mascara making your doey eyes pop as they looked up at him. He felt so lucky in that moment to have somebody as colourful and as pretty as you fall for him.

Opening the door wider with a smile, he invited you inside. Quickly checking that everything was as ordered and perfect as he wanted it to be for your arrival before you stepped over the threshold.

"You look amazing tonight, bunny." He smiled, making your cheeks heat up as you shyly looked to the floor. A smile gracing your own features as you glanced up at him through thick lashes.

"You look great too, William." He chuckled at your compliment, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to the apron he was wearing.

"Oh you know, I figured that the apron really sold it. Gave me the real 'dad who can provide' look." You laughed as he poked fun at himself, making his smile wider and making a little dimple on one side as his eyes lit up. "I'm sure there's more 'hip' names for that, but it was a gift from Vanessa for Father's Day." He shrugged, turning towards the kitchen and gesturing for you to leave your shoes by the door. Padding through in his socks to go stir the food and check on it.

"So, what's for dinner then, chef?" You asked, almost hearing his eyeroll as he turned to look at you over his shoulder, tutting at you sligthly and giving you a chance to admire the kitchen.

The floor was neatly tiled, cabinets painted a cool white with a dark granite countertop to work on. A back-splash above the gas-stove and a good few selections of knife-blocks and cutting boards made you raise your eyebrow as you looked at William curiously.

"There's...a lot of knives?"

"Ah, yeah. Were you an art kid growing up?" He asked, making you blink as you wondered if he was brushing off the question, brow furrowing as you shrugged slightly.

"Yes?"

"Remember all the times your relatives got you paper reams and cheap pencils cause they didn't know what else to get you?"

"So...the cooking equivalent is knives?"

"Cheap knives. I keep my good ones hidden for my own use. And my sanity." He winked, making you laugh as you looked at the three or four blocks taking up counter space, shaking your head and sighing dramatically as you leaned against one of the counters near to him, earning you a curious side-eye.

"Guess that's my plans for your birthday out of the window."

"I say this with all the respect in the world for you, bunny. You get me knives for my birthday, I'm going to use them to make the worst meal imaginable and sit and watch you eat it." He threatened teasingly, making you giggle as you shook your head. Biting at your lip as you stood on your toes to try and peer at what was being made, only to have a large hand shoo you off with a smile on William's face.

He wasn't sure he'd ever smiled so much as when he was around you.

"Geez, that is a serious threat. Alright, baking trays it is!" You joked, making him groan and shake his head as he gestured to a cabinet by your leg, watching you as you curiously opened it and laughed as you found plenty of trays all neatly stacked together inside. "Is there anything you actually want?"

"A stand mixer?" He suggested, glancing at your hands and realising that you were carrying a neatly wrapped box and raising an eyebrow at you as he nodded towards it. "Going to a party after?"

"Oh! It's um...it's for you." Smiling shyly as you held it out, having forgotten that you had even carried it with you. William paused for a moment before he wiped his hands with a cloth and took it gingerly, smiling softly as his shoulders relaxed slightly. His large, rough fingers working quickly to undo the bow and pick apart the paper like it was a precious thing in itself.

His eyes widened as he looked at the contents, the box with the bottle of whiskey inside felt heavy in his hand and he couldn't help but wonder how much of your paycheque you'd spent in acquiring it. Looking back up at you before he placed the box down, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace and kissing the top of your head softly.

"Thank you, bunny. It's a wonderful gift, and..I have one to give you after dinner. Maybe you'd like a glass of whiskey with me, since you so nicely provided one for us?" He asked, feeling you nod with your head pressed to his broad chest. Reluctantly letting go of you to open a cupboard above your head and pulling out two glasses for the pair of you, carefully opening the bottle and pouring two fingers each to savour and clinking his glass to yours. "To us, and this hopefully wonderful dinner."

"To us, and this it-already-smells-damn-good dinner." You chuckled, William joining in too as he snuck a kiss from you before the glass could reach your lips. Melting under his touch as he moved back to the stove, silvery eyes bright as he brought the glass to his lips and watched you do the same.

~~

"That was amazing William, thank you for cooking for us." The older man rubbed the back of his neck nervously, smiling at your compliment as you both finished eating, sitting back the wooden seats of the dining table that had been so perfectly laid out for dinner. Dark napkins on the plates, bright silverware, good quality glasses, a worn bronze candle holder the centre piece with a white candle burning down, the warm light flickering across both of your faces as you ate by relative candle-light.

"Thank you for coming and joining me. It's a nice break from chicken nuggets and peas and the occasional Freddy's pizza."

"Vanessa's a picky eater? With a cook like you for a dad?" You asked, incredulous as William groaned, running a hand over his face and disrupting his gold wire aviators before he settled them back into place.

"You'd think it would be the opposite! I usually get her to eat different things but sometimes it's just a lazy cooking day, you know?" He asked, sipping the last of his drink down as he looked at you. Admiring your features in the candle-light and wondering if he had been right in seeing a slip of black under the collar of the dress as you'd shifted and moved during dinner, moving the thought out of his mind as he felt a fluttering in his stomach.

"Would you like to dance with me?" He asked suddenly, making you look at him in surprise, cheeks burning as you looked shyly at the table, head tilted slightly to one side.

"I...I don't really know how to dance." The reply made him pause, but he chuckled and stood up, slowly padding over to you and tucking one arm behind his back, offering the other to you as he approached your chair. Now that he wasn't wearing the apron, the black shirt and slacks in the candle-light made him look dark and mysterious. Like something out of a romance novel you once read.

"Then it's a good job you're not wearing your heels." Laughing as he joked with you, taking his arm and allowing William to guide you back through the door and towards the kitchen, leaving you a little confused until you turned left instead of right and ended up in the lounge.

What struck you first was how the furniture was arranged oddly, pushed back and leaving a large clear space in the centre, until you realised that it was cleared for the pair of you. William reaching to one side and pushing a button on the music system that you hadn't even noticed besides you as he smiled down at you, the soft music playing gently. The first few notes catching you off guard as you tipped your head to one side, trying to recognise it before smiling.

"Claire de lune?"

"You have a good ear, bunny." He complimented, taking your arm and guiding you to the cleared floor. Looking to you for permission before one of his large hands settled on the small of your back, pulling you close to his body whilst the other held your hand lightly. Towering over you as the closeness made your heart pound dramatically in your chest. "Why don't you step on my feet, I promise you won't hurt me." He suggested lowly, letting you press your body to his as you did as he asked. Shifting slightly to account for the additional weight before he began to move.

William Afton danced with a lot of grace, his expression a soft frown of focus even though his eyes sparked in the way that you had come to recognise as him truely being happy. The soft music and the way the world spun as you danced feeling like something from a fairytale as the warmth of his hand on your back made your stomach flutter nervously, his cologne filling your sense and taking over as you let him move your smaller body. A dreamy look on your own expression as he moved you, William found his heart melting more and more with each twirl and excited laugh as he spun you. He wished he could smell your perfume all the time, have you in his arms like that forever.

Eventually though, the dance ended, both of your breathing slightly quickly from the movements despite the fact that William had been doing all the work for you both. Cheeks flushed as he looked down at you, a warm smile coming to light as he removed his hand from yours and reached into his pockets, brow furrowed slightly before he found what he was looking for and kept his hand on your back, allowing you a chance to step back however.

Looking at what he was holding, your heart felt like it stopped as you saw the black velvet flat box, eyes wide as he expertly used his thumb to flip the catch and open it up and revealed a delicate silver chain with a clear gem pendant on it. Tears pricked at your eyes and made you feel hot as he kissed the top of your head adoringly.

"I wanted to get you something special. You're special to me and I..." He paused, swallowing softly as you looked up at him, seeing William struggle to get his words out as he took a shaking breath and steadied his nerves.

"I haven't seen you when you're sick, or when you're angry or even if anything aside from your best clothes, pjs that one time and the honestly ridiculous uniform at work. But...Whenever I see you, you look radiant. I couldn't ask for somebody more perfect in my life, and you have made me so happy. I tried to find the right words to say all this, and so, so much more." He said, breath shaking slightly as he forced himself to keep looking into your eyes, feeling your body tensing against his hand slightly. "And all I could find was; I love you."

The words took your breath away, tears spilling down your cheeks and William's face turning into shocked concern before you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close and holding onto him as tightly as you could. His broad body tensing up before relaxing and wrapping around you too, placing his chin ontop of your head and holding onto you as you tried to compose yourself in his chest.

"I-I love you too, William."

"It makes me an even happier man to hear that, bunny." He whispered, planting another chaste kiss against your head before your arms moved and allowed him to move. Gently taking the necklace from the box and undoing the clasp, your body moving automatically and feeling his rough fingers ghost against your neck as the cool metal sat between your collarbones and across your skin. Turning around so he could see it and smiling brightly, his hand reaching up and touching where it sat, making your chest tighten and stomach flutter nervously.

"It's beautiful, thank you."

"Nothing could be as beautiful as you, not to me." He said softly, moving his hand up and cupping your cheek softly, leaning in and claiming your lips gently. Feeling how you trembled in his arms and holding you close, lips moving together in the way only somebody who knew them so well could, his beard scratching at your face slightly before you parted. His eyes hazy for a moment before they focused on you. "Would you like to cuddle with me and watch a movie?"

You nodded, and he kissed you once again before he gave your hip a gentle squeeze. Guiding you out of the way before he grabbed one end of the couch that had been taken out of it's usual position. Grunting as he moved it back into place quickly and grabbing the remote, sitting down with a breath of finality and laying his arm across the back of it as the tv turned on. Letting you lay across his side and your head next to his heart, listening to the strong thump of it inside as he scrolled through the options available.

"Do you remember being locked in the office together?"

"How could I forget?" He groaned, chuckling and looking down at you, moving his arm to wrap around you and his eyes scrunching up as he felt himself blushing slightly as he looked at you adoringly. "You looked so cute, asleep against me."

"That's still embarrassing!" You groaned, making him chuckle and shake his head as he looked at you.

"Why? It was the first time I ever thought about kissing you." He admitted, making you pause as you blinked up at him, checking he was serious as he smiled lopsidedly. His thumb stroking across your shoulder in a way that felt familiar to you, vaguely recalling it was something he'd done when he started to drift off too on that day.

"Then why don't you show me how you wanted to kiss me then?" You weren't sure where the boldness had come from, and it even caught William by surprise before he smiled. Moving his other hand so that it helped to support you, leaning in slowly and whispering against your lips before he claimed it.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The words were as delicious as his kiss. His lips claiming yours with a soft intensity that had your mind reeling as they moved with yours. A soft whimper escaping you as the intensity filled you, consumed you. The noise spurred him on, tongue wiping across your bottom lip before pressing into your mouth, yours moving with his as they danced together. Slow at first, but that quiet intensity building up as his grip on you tightened slightly. William was keeping himself in check however, though it was made harder by the little noises you made that made something in him a little feral. Biting at your lip gently when he moved to part the kiss, tugging at it slightly and feeling a sense of satisfaction with how pink the skin looked after he'd claimed it. Your eyes glazed over slightly before you seemed to come to, as if waking from a dream.

"Was that satisfactory, bunny?" Chuckling as your cheeks flushed and he cradled one in his large palm, feeling the heat from it as you looked up at him. Clearly deciding on something before you moved against his side.

Carefully, you moved and allowed your thumping heart to take control, stomach tight with nerves as you focused on his expressions as you straddled his lap. Hearing the sharp intake of breath as your weight settled against him, both quiet and looking at each other as his hands settled on your hips, holding you still as you seemed to be gauging each other's reactions.

"I feel like this is you asking for more." He teased, making your cheeks burn brighter and he chuckled somewhat darkly as you nodded. Freeing one hand from your hip and cupping your chin, thumb stroking your bruised lip as he held you against him. Sure you could feel his pounding heart too. "I don't want a nod, bunny, I need to hear you say it if you want more."

"I...Please. Please William, can we...may I have more?" You asked, feeling your chest tightening as he looked at you so seriously, planting a soft kiss onto your lips, letting it linger as his hand moved back to your waist. Gasping into the kiss as he experimentally dragged your hips across his, trembling softly under his grip and hearing a groan escaping him too.

"Good girl for using your words. But remember we can stop at any time okay? You control the pace here." He whispered against your lips, waiting for you to nod before he carefully reached between you and slowly undid the belt on your dress, ghosting over your form as his fingers began to work on the buttons and allow it to fall away from your body.

"And i-if I want more?"

"Well, now you know how to ask so nicely for it."

[mingoooossii]

Library crush.

Seokmin x reader

Synopsis: In which his favourite book is actually a person.

Warnings:fluff, min being a goof ball(as usual), mentions of some authors(should that be a warning??),and yeah, that's it.

A/n: the synopsis sucks yo I'm sorry.

Seokmin wasn't a bookworm by any stretch of the imagination. Words on paper held about as much allure as a soggy napkin.

Perhaps it was the flickering image of a vintage library in a movie he watched recently or maybe a subconscious yearning for a different kind of escape. Whatever the reason, he found himself, standing awkwardly infront of the city library.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the doors, the hushed reverence of the place instantly washing over him. The scent of aged paper and leather mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere of quiet knowledge.

Rows upon rows of books lined the walls, their spines whispering untold stories. Seokmin, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, felt a flicker of panic.

"Excuse me." a soft voice broke through his anxiety. A young figure stood behind a mahogany counter, your smile warm and welcoming. Your name tag read "...." "Can I help you find something?"

Seokmin, caught off guard, fumbled for an answer. He couldn't very well admit he was a book-reading novice venturing into uncharted territory. So, he did what any self-respecting charlatan would do – he lied.

"Ah, yes," he cleared his throat, feigning confidence. "I'm looking for something… philosophical. Maybe something by...Camus?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Camus? Excellent choice! Have you read 'The Stranger'?"

Seokmin, whose knowledge of Camus extended to a vague recognition of the name, mumbled something about "meaning to" while internally panicking.

But you, oblivious to his charade, launched into a passionate explanation of existentialism and the absurdity of life. Seokmin, surprisingly, found himself captivated by your enthusiasm.

As you expertly guided him towards a shelf overflowing with philosophical texts, He couldn't help but steal glances at you.Your eyes sparkled with genuine love for literature, and your smile radiated a contagious warmth.

He ended up leaving the library with a book on existentialism (one you had highly recommended), a head full of borrowed knowledge, and a heart inexplicably lighter.

The following day, Seokmin found himself drawn back to the library. He couldn't admit it, not even to himself, the lure wasn't the philosophical treasure clutched awkwardly in his hand but it was you. It was the prospect of seeing you again, of getting lost in the world of ideas reflected in your bright eyes.

His charade continued, his fabricated bookish interests intertwined with genuine curiosity sparked by your recommendations. He learned about dystopian novels, explored the fantastical worlds of fantasy epics, and even dabbled in poetry (all the while hoping you wouldn't ask him to recite any).

Days turned into weeks, and the library became Seokmin's unexpected sanctuary. He still hadn't finished the book on existentialism, but he did discover a love for the quiet company of books and the even more captivating company of you.

However, one day, disaster struck. As he was attempting a particularly dramatic recitation of Kierkegaard (butchering the pronunciation in the process), you appeared beside him, a pile of books in your arms.

"Interesting interpretation of 'The Dread'" You said, a smile playing on your lips.

Seokmin's face flushed crimson, embarrassment filling him."I, uh…" he stammered, the book clutched to his chest like a blanket. "I just, really love… philosophy?"

Your smile widened. "Min," you said, your voice gentle, "you do realize the book you're holding is actually a cookbook, right?"

Seokmin's face flushed. He'd been caught, his charade exposed. Shame burned in his gut, the fear of rejection looming large. He mumbled an apology, expecting you to laugh him out of the library.

But to his surprise, you simply chuckled. "Don't worry about it," you said, your eyes twinkling. "It was actually quite entertaining watching you struggle with existential angst over a quiche recipe."

Relief washed over him, warm and sweet. "You weren't… mad?"

You shook your head. "Not really. I found your enthusiasm… endearing. Even if it was a little misplaced."

A blush crept back up his neck, this time for a different reason. "So, you… you don't mind that I, uh, pretended to be something I'm not?"

"Honestly," You admitted, leaning against the table. "the library can get pretty quiet sometimes. Having someone, even a fake philosopher, to chat with is a nice change."

Seokmin's heart did a happy little jump. Maybe he wasn't Dostoevsky, but at least he wasn't a complete fraud.

"Well," he stammered, a newfound confidence blooming in his chest. "how about we skip the existential dread and move on to something a little lighter? Like, maybe grabbing a coffee sometime? You know, discuss real existential problems, like what kind of roast is truly the best?"

You chuckled, a melody more beautiful than any book he's borrowed. "I'd like that very much, Min. And hey, maybe I can even teach you the difference between a philosophy book and a quiche recipe."

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

AND IN THEIR TRIUMPH DIE | chapter 1

— Seven years after the Outbreak, all efforts to find a cure have been unsuccessful. Nearly a forgotten pipe dream, it's kept alive by a small team of scientists scattered across the country and fiercely guarded by what remains of the military. It was coincidence that brought the missing piece to the cure into the hands of Levi Squad. It was sheer misfortune that it would carry him across the country.

[ WORD COUNT: 4.3k ]

[ levi ackerman x fem!reader ]

[ TAGS/WARNINGS: violence, loss of a limb, cursing, reader described as severely malnourished, mentions of contamination from germs, awful descriptions of lockpicking, levi definitely has anxiety. please continue with caution if these are sensitive subjects for you <3 ]

“Christ!—Levi! Watch out!” 

Fifteen minutes.

No pause.

No reprieve.

Just a full-blown sprint.

“Pick up your goddamn feet, four eyes, or I swear to Christ, I’ll feed you to the assholes myself!”

The formation was ruined. The plan went to absolute shit. 

“I’m trying—he’s heavier than he looks, ya’know!” As though he wasn’t carrying him too.

“Mikasa will kill us if we bring this sorry sack of shit back in more than two pieces—if I don't get to you first.” Levi decided to spare himself the wasted breath of adding that the kid had an extra foot of height and one hundred pounds of weight on him, and he still was not struggling the way they were.

“Levi!” Their leader chastised, jamming his blade through the sinus cavity of a particularly soft-headed Runner. “Leave Hange be and move it. Or have you forgotten what we're doing here?” There was an authoritativeness there that was hardly ever used on him.

Perhaps the jab was poorly timed. 

A pained yelp escaped from the boy as the pair had to lift him over fallen debris. Levi’s unfortunately small build meant he had to assist for a moment and put weight on his injured leg to clear the obstacle. “It’s okay, Eren. Just hang on—me and Levi gotcha. We’re almost there.” He could only respond with a groan.

(If only he knew it was a damn lie.)

(He probably did.)

He was going into shock.

“Erwin,” Hange cried, “you gotta give us something here.”

“There’s more buildings around the corner.” He was so out of breath. His words hardly made sense: “They can't all possibly be boarded up.”

Too much was happening. Too much had already happened. Too much that could not be undone, and too much would haunt Levi for many sleepless nights to come. 

His group of six turned to four, with one member rapidly approaching an involuntary amputation from a tourniquet fashioned from a decaying leather belt and a hacksaw, and Levi with a nasty sprain—he could hardly remember how it happened. He was sure that if anyone other than Erwin and Hange were left, he would've been long dead and beginning incubation.

It all happened so quickly.

They were so quiet. 

It was only a few seconds; he knew that for certain.

The last thing he recalled was Hange rambling about their breakthroughs in stimulating fine motor skills in newly turned Infected—how it’s another lead for the cure. Levi only half listened, briefly catching another one of their theories about recovering explicit memories in different regions of their brains. None of it made much sense to him, and he stopped trying to decipher it for several years now, having long given up on Hange’s ability to further any research for the cure—not because he doubted their intelligence but because a cure was impossible. Eren was complaining about the heat—understandably so, as Virginian summers were known for their brutality. Erwin walked by Levi’s side in silence, aside from his periodic warnings to Hange and Eren to keep their volume to a whisper and their occasional gripe in response. The remaining two members (they arrived only two weeks prior, much to Levi’s disdain. It was their first run.) hovered near the back line and listened in on the periodic childish banter between Hange and Eren, though they were primarily distracted by an old Tamogachi they found tucked inside of a rusted-out Nissan.

They were the first ones to go. 

Their screams were the only signal to the other four that Infected were on their asses.

Eren, a notoriously suicidal maniac and practically a child that Levi knew was not ready for more challenging runs, tried saving them.

He was going to lose his leg for it.

Most likely his life too.

In the chaos of it all, thoughts of Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Jean—the faces of the people he’s spent the last seven godforsaken years with—filled Levi’s head. And in that split second, he became reckless. He made an uncharacteristically impulsive decision based on his own feelings rather than what he knew made sense. He should have left the brat behind to suffer the consequences—he knew that made sense. He would have done it with nearly anyone else. But in that split second, he thought of how he watched those insufferable brats at home (though he isn't sure he truly thought of them as such anymore) all grow up together; how they were still just a bunch of damn kids sitting together at the dinner table; how Eren’s mother brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes and gave him her only hair tie to make sure he could keep it out of his face; he thought of how he was supposed to tell them—to tell his mother that Eren was dead because he was too practical to do anything about it.

He knew he wouldn't be able to. 

In that brief moment of distraction and all-consuming empathy, Levi went for Eren, knowing if anyone had a chance at getting him out of there, it would be him.

In the end, Levi misstepped, suffering a nasty sprain in his ankle. Eren was still bitten, and he was still going to die regardless of his interference.

(Why was he never fast enough?)

Their formation couldn't hold with just the three of them. There was no one for backup, no room for error, and no window to fight. Their only option was to run and drag Eren along.

“Why the hell didn’t you let Erwin handle him?” He was never great at holding his tongue in moments like this. It seemed as though he saved his breath specifically to spend on berating his companions when all hell broke loose.

(Hange was used to it at this point.)

Sweat poured down Levi’s forehead, burning his eyes and obscuring his vision as he supported well more than half of Eren’s weight on his left side. With every step he took, Hange seemed to support less and less of his weight. His ankle screamed in pain with every step, the potency of adrenaline having worn off as a painkiller. His hand was sweating as he held his machete, which was missing an approximate half of the blade, and he struggled to keep it in his grasp while he stumbled through the broken, pothole-infested city streets.

(Apparently some of the skulls were too hard for a half-rusted blade.)

(Or perhaps the machete was too dull after slicing through nearly twenty Infected. No matter, a portion of Levi’s blade was forever embedded in the nasal cavity of a freshly turned Runner in a mechanic’s jumpsuit.)

“You're useless with your ankle like that, and I’m out of ammo, and my pack is—”

“I fucking know the situation, four eyes!” 

“Then why are you asking—!”

“Hange! Levi!” Erwin, forever the voice of reason, shouted, “That’s more than enough! You can bicker when we're safe.”

At the same time, Levi spoke: “Why are you the only one struggling!?”

“LEVI!”

He decided to silence any further complaints, not wanting to endure another lecture when—if—this was over. He wanted to tell Erwin that if safety is what they're waiting for, then he may as well cut out his tongue now and spend the rest of his days in silence. He reckoned Erwin would have an infuriatingly eloquent response along the lines of, ‘I fail to see how that would differ much from your usual day-to-day, Captain.’ And—as much as it pained him to admit—Hange was right. His ankle put him in no position to be leading them through the city or carving through Infected, Hange was out of ammo and lost their supply bag to the pack behind them—it wasn't looking good for the three of them, but Erwin had the best chance of guiding them to safety.

“There!” Erwin shouted. “Up ahead, to the right—that hardware store!”

For the first time in about one hundred yards, Levi looked ahead of him as opposed to Eren’s bleeding, rapidly discoloring leg and the potholes littering the streets. The first thing he noticed was the wooden planks, chairs, tables, and various couches blocking the entrance of every store lining the downtown. Then he noticed the barricades did not look all that old—maybe two weeks. It wasn't an uncommon sight… at the start. Plenty of larger communities were holed up in cities and downtowns, capitalizing on the space and sewer systems below, when everything first started. It seemed practical at the time.

Those communities typically failed within the first couple years. He hasn't heard of a successful one in the area in at least four years. It should have looked decrepit.

Not recently vacated.

And then he noticed the lone storefront Erwin was locked on. With no planks, no furniture to block the entrance, only a chair pushed a few feet off to the side, a thick line of chain link between two door handles, and a padlock hanging in the center. And he noticed how strange that was.

Out of the dozens of buildings we’ve run past, why is this the only one? And was everything so boarded up when we scouted this last month?

Levi had a bad feeling about this, one that made his stomach ache. “We should find another.” When did his voice become so hoarse? It felt as though he had swallowed razor blades.

“What? Are you crazy?” Hange added.

“Something isn't right here, Erwin.”

“We’re not arguing. Levi—take care of that lock. Hange—you take my weapons and hold them off. I’ll hold onto Eren.”

Levi had a bad feeling about this. It seemed no one else did. 

He passed off Eren to Erwin, who was able to hold him in his arms with what seemed to be little to no effort despite his fatigue, while Hange (who was objectively the best shot, aside from Levi) fired off rounds into the crowd of Infected. 

“Levi,” Erwin called, dragging out the last syllable to feign placidity. “How close are we?”

He was too absorbed in selecting the right pick to respond.

“Hurry it up, shorty; we only have so many rounds left.” 

“Can it, four eyes! Just- just hold them off.” His fingers weren't as deft in lockpicking as they used to be, having been years out of practice. Infected rapidly closed in on them, their groans echoing off the buildings and the stench of death emanating from their decaying maws, making his hands shake and his stomach turn. Or maybe it was the lack of food. Oh God, was he panicking? The situation was fucked; he knew that—was it worse than even his own consciousness knew?

God, when was the last time Eren made a sound? Was he still alive?

Were they all going to die?

Was it all for nothing?

“LEVI.” Erwin shouted, squaring his shoulders, preparing for the likelihood of having to toss Eren to the side. Fuck, what was happening to him? He never lost his nerve. He never panicked. Had the pain from his ankle left him delirious? 

“Hold the fuck on!”

“I’ve got six left, headshots or not; I can't handle them all!”

They were getting closer. They were so much closer. He still had three out of four pins left, and he was almost confident that his rake pick was not meant for this lock. The relentless groans of Infected began to sound more like a steady roar—like he was a child holding a seashell to his ear in one of his nightmares—and distracted him from the task at hand.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath from his stomach, like his mother always told him as a child. Fear has never been a luxury that was afforded to him.

The second pin gave way.

“Almost there.” His voice finally steadied.

Images of his mother flashed before his eyes. Why would he think of her now? 

And the third.

“Erwin, get ready to bar the doors!”

Only one more left.

"Hange, grab that chair; we can use it to brace the handle.”

Snap.

And the world seemed to stop for a moment.

Levi wasn't sure what he was actually looking at. He thought he was seeing one half of his lockpick in his palm while the other was broken off inside the lock, with no feasible way of removing the thin piece of metal to retry with another pick—but that wasn't possible. No. No, he was about to have the door opened, and the four of them were going to be inside in just a few seconds. They were going to perform a shoddy amputation on Eren’s leg, wrap up his ankle, and find a way out of the city and back to their camp. It surely had to be fatigue, dehydration, or early signs of a heat stroke because Levi did not fuck up like this when lives were on the line.

(There was only one accident.)

(But he was better. He got better, and it was so long ago. He made a full recovery, and he vowed to never make that mistake again.)

How was he doing it again? 

“FUCK.” 

“Levi, what happened?!”

“The goddamn pick broke off in the lock. I can't get it out.” 

He was sure he would never forget the looks on their faces if they managed to live past this. Erwin’s shoulders dropped, his eyes closed, and his brows were slightly furled. It was almost as if he were wincing away from Levi’s words—maybe even Levi himself. Hange’s jaw dropped, their eyes as wide as saucers underneath their glasses, with a look of pure shock. Eren, who remained mostly out of it, tensed his jaw. 

He could feel their disappointment in him.

They were all going to die.

It didn't matter how strong he was; it didn't matter how good his aim was; it didn't matter how fast, silent, knowledgeable, or small he was. None of it mattered. It was never going to be enough in the end.

It wasn't before. He wasn't quite sure why he thought it would've been different this time.

“Alright… We hold on as long as we can. If we’re going to die today, then we take as many of the bastards with us as we can.”

“What makes you so certain we’re dying today, Commander?” Levi said, slowly bringing himself to his feet, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Aww man… I was really looking forward to examining that bite wound.” Hange pouted. 

“We’re soldiers, Captain. We’re certain to die every day. But give your heart here today, and we might live to see one more.”

That son of a bitch. Even knows how to make dying seem like a contribution. “You sound ridiculous.”

They were closing in.

The stench was nearly unbearable, and Levi hated the thought of walking around as one of those disgusting creatures. He’d rather burn in Hell than suffer such condemnation. He hoped someone would put him out of his misery soon enough.

The machete would have to do. Hange emptied the last of their rounds into the monsters and took out a small blade they kept sheathed on their thigh. Erwin was left without a weapon. 

“OVER HERE.”

A shrill voice called out to them, nearly sounding like an angel amidst the chaos.

“Follow me!” It only took a single glance between the three of them to agree to follow the voice. 

Erwin continued with Eren in his arms, while Hange braced Levi to help him run faster. They were led down a narrow alleyway, then to the right, and then left, all while the ravenous hoard stayed close on their trail. The sharp turns of the blocks helped deter them, but it wasn't enough. The pain in his ankle was nearly unbearable, and sweat burned his eyes, but it was too late to stop, and turning back wasn't an option.

“Here!" the voice called. A large, metal door was opened, and the four of them were being taken into what seemed to be a poor excuse for an office. No sooner than the door slammed shut did the Infected begin beating, clawing, and banging on the door, making the whole room feel tense. Levi looked between Hange and Erwin, who didn't appear to have any bites, scratches, or open wounds from their final sprint.

And then his eyes shot to you. 

The first thing he noticed was how concerningly malnourished you were: dead eyes sunken into deep sockets, collarbones protruding beneath the collar of a thin, long-sleeved shirt with half-rolled sleeves, limp hair on your head, and an excess of body hair covering what was visible of your skin—you were slowly starving to death. The next thing he took in was the pistol on your hip and the knife on your belt—both contained and clasped within a holster. He didn't overlook how your hands shook as you held them out in front of you. In fact, your entire body was wracked with tremors. It seemed that the dead sprint back to your base (for lack of a better word) took the last scraps of energy your emaciated frame held. Your eyes drooped, your shoulders sagged, your head seemed too heavy for your neck, and you looked slightly disoriented.

It was a miracle you made it to them to begin with.

By all accounts, you were no threat to them.

Levi reckoned even Eren could overpower you in his current state.

However, in Levi’s current state, that didn't matter.

What mattered was Eren's leg. The discolored veins radiating from the bite on his ankle and up to his calf. The tourniquet that Hange tied from their belt and the dirty rag stuffed in his mouth to keep him from biting his own tongue off when the sawing started. The dull hacksaw and the last of their rubbing alcohol being poured on its blade. Hange’s heavy breathing. The five hearts beating in the room and the four that meant anything to him. The knowledge that it was up to him to make sure Hange was not disturbed while Erwin held him down. The stench of rot that was invading his senses. The sheer adrenaline pumping in his veins and a faint throbbing in his skull that reminded him of how hungry he was.

What mattered was you—who you are and who you were. Where you came from. Why you helped them, and why you waited until the last second to do it. Why you were starving but surrounded by a surplus of food. What your motive was for saving them. When you planned to show your hand and what cards you would be holding. If you were bluffing or holding a full house. 

What mattered was that you were an anomaly. 

The last of his energy was shifted into you, and he began invading your space, doing his best to fight off the pain in his ankle and subsequently noticeable limp in an effort to intimidate you. His efforts were not in vain, if the way you backed into the wall behind you was any indication. But there was an unsettling look in your half-lidded eyes that gave him pause—something wild that told him he had just cornered a stray animal that had nothing left to lose.

(He knew what he needed to do.)

(He knew how to tame a wild animal.)

He continued his trajectory forward until your spine was flush with the wall. Leaning slightly on his toes, Levi caged you in with his forearm against the base of your throat and his broken machete kissing the bottom of your jaw. What he lacked in height, he made up for in strength as you desperately tried to claw his arm away. He nicked your skin as a warning, as if to tell you that one more wrong move would end with his blade piercing through your jaw and kissing the bottom of your soft palate. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I'm not sure that's how you talk to someone who just saved your ass.” You hardly had the energy to speak. Up close, Levi could see the deep cracks in your lips and the discoloration under your eyes. You were trembling and on your last leg.

“Oh yeah? And how would you talk to someone holding a knife to your throat?”

“Touché.” You whispered, breathing heavily.

The silence, while only lasting a few seconds, spanned an eternity while the two of you were locked in a staring contest. No one dared to move. No one dared to speak.

“Eren, you're going to need to breathe for me. Can you do that?” Hange’s voice broke the silent battle. All he could do was whimper behind the rag stuffed in his mouth. “Bite. Hard. This is going to hurt.”

They were going directly below the knee. It’s possible he would've only lost a few inches above his ankle had they gotten away sooner. 

“What are you doing to him?”

“None of your business, rat. Where’s the rest of your people hiding?”

“I’m alone.”

“Bullshit.”

Levi vaguely registered Eren’s breathing picking up behind him. His heart hammered into his throat.

“Okay, Eren. On the count of three...”

He was already screaming.

“One…”

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing to him?”

Levi pressed even harder into your throat, effectively cutting your air supply and forcing broken coughs from your chest. He tried not to wince at your spit landing on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Two…” 

He was sure he had never heard someone scream like that. And God, has he heard his fair share.

“Three.”

A bloodcurdling, agonizing scream came from him. Something entirely inhuman, too monstrous to even have belonged to one of the Infected.

And then nothing.

“What the hell, four eyes?”

“He’s passed out. Probably the best we can hope for. But he’s losing too much blood.” Levi reckoned that was an understatement, considering the sheer amount covering the floor, Erwin’s pant legs, and Hange’s arms.

“I have a Bunsen burner.”

“Did I say you could fucking speak?”

“Wait, we need that. We're going to need something to cauterize this, or he’s never making it back to camp. But—wait, there's no gas lines in here, the thing is useless."

“Don't need it. It's just a glorified camp stove—butane-powered but does the same thing.”

Another moment of tense eye contact was shared between the two of you—yours still wild and Levi's still scathing.

“Where?”

“Desk. The middle drawer. Right side. Matches should be there too.”

Levi jerked his head towards Erwin, who understood the silent signal and went searching for the burner.

“Are we gonna find something in there we don't like?”

“Christ, I’m the one that went out of my way to help you.”

“Not what I asked.” He applied another small amount of pressure to your jaw. “Try again.” 

“...no.”

The slamming of a drawer and the relieved sigh from Erwin told Levi that he had found the torch. After a few moments of rustling, Levi heard the gas ignite and looked behind him to see a flame burning. It wasn't much, but it would certainly heat up a blade.

Eren, thankfully, remained unconscious for the rest of the procedure, and Hange managed to—mostly—cauterize the wound. He was far from stable, still subject to turning, and heaving shallow breaths.

(Somewhere in Levi’s heart, he knew this was a win.)

As Hange carefully wrapped Eren’s leg in a clean shirt they borrowed (read: stole) from you, Levi—who never turned his blade from you or lifted his arm—directed his attention back to you.

“We're going to try this again. What's your name?”

“Blue.”

“The fuck kind of name is that?”

You did not deign to answer him.

“Alright, Blue. Where are the rest of your people?”

“I already told you, I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah, you're alone. Now, tell me the truth.”

“Levi.” Erwin said, still crouching on the ground with Eren. His fingers were around his wrist, checking for signs of a pulse. “Leave the girl alone. We’d be dead by now if it weren't for her.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Shut the hell up.”

And for the first time since the five of you entered the room, you listened to what Levi said on the first go. Begrudgingly, he removed his forearm from your throat and lowered himself back to the soles of his feet. Only then did he seem to remember the searing pain in his ankle and collapse to the floor when putting his full weight back on the joint.

“Levi!” Hange called to him, but they were unable to go to him with Eren’s head resting on their lap. 

(His hair was up, just as his mom told him to.)

The adrenaline was worn off, and the pain was too much.

“Levi, when is the last time you've eaten?” 

Two and a half days.

Unbeknownst to Hange and Erwin (or so he thought), Levi was skipping out on his portion of the already slim rations to ensure enough was left for the others in their group.

If the plan didn't go to shit, it would have been fine. He would have indulged upon their arrival at the comms site.

He would have been fine.

He continued to tell himself as such, as the sides of his vision blackened and his ears rang to the pitch of Eren’s screams.

[ a/n: oh boy oh boy! as i'm positive you can tell, we're taking heavy inspo from TLOU here and by inspo I mean we're basically shoving AOT and TLOU into one universe

we're going to be miserable here <3 ]

masterlist and new updates coming soon

[chronically-ghosted]

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour. 

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round. 

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known. 

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity. 

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it. 

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying. 

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth. 

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.” 

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?” 

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.” 

Trish smacked him over the back of the head. 

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks. 

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious. 

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely. 

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled. 

“To Ned!” 

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?” 

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick. 

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?” 

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat. 

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo. 

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap. 

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour. 

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening. 

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you. 

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement. 

At least, the only person you can see. 

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing. 

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked. 

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all. 

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze. 

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here! 

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap. 

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.” 

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint. 

Caravaggio, eat your heart out. 

“Max, what the fuck was that?” 

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall. 

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple. 

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth. 

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.” 

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise. 

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder. 

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you. 

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier. 

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth. 

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt. 

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose. 

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?” 

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.” 

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,” 

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits. 

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around. 

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down. 

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat. 

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt. 

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .” 

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you. 

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation. 

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.” 

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear. 

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this. 

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily. 

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,” 

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you. 

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning. 

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.” 

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs. 

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.” 

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours. 

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office. 

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be. 

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable. 

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin. 

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that. 

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks. 

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.” 

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.” 

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.” 

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours. 

It is dangerous, your feelings for him. 

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes. 

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door. 

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water. 

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches. 

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords. 

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term. 

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world. 

[mammalsofaction]

I Hurt You

Rating: G

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirt/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, mute Perry, POV Outsider, possibly a sister fic of When We Didn't Get Along, whipped this up real quick before I go back to actual productivity.

A/N: Inspired by the ask sent to Liz here

---

Chamy shushes everyone in the bullpan pantry so loudly it throws spittle in James' face, making him quickly twist his body with a hand over the his cup of coffee to keep it from contaminants. He kicks Chamy in the ankle to retaliate, but they ignore him easily, already distracted by the screen.

He doesn't know why they think they needed to do that; the chatter falls into a deathly silence when the gentle whoosh of Dr Feelbetter's post opening credits flashcards whirl on-screen, which is impressive, considering the sheer volume of bodies a 6 by 9 ft room could ever hope to comfortably contain. But OWCA work PCs were monitored, and there was no hope in recording Dr Feelbetter's Specials on the Evil Channel without your device somehow blowing into pieces anyway. The only way to catch today's episode was to watch it live, and there was not a single gossip hungry soul in OWCA that would dare to miss it.

The camera pans to Agent Panda, hefting an armchair over his head, and James' eyebrows creep up his forehead, wondering if the drama happened in studio before the cameras could catch it. The audience would never forgive him.

But then Agent Panda throws the couch into a messy stack in the corner of studio, and the camera catches someone in the crowd swooning. Ah, comic relief. Someone in the pantry, James thinks it's Sergei, snorts loudly.

"Thank you, Agent Peter the Panda, I've been meaning to stack those chairs." Phil says, to which the agent bows sarcastically. The camera pans back into the studio set, and James is sure they weren't going to see Peter again. "Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, it's time."

The statement is almost somber, the lights of studio turned down low. The camera switches focus, back onto the men of the hour, and Jesus, fuck, James doesn't think he'll ever get over how agent Platypus looks like.

He's looking, there was simply no way around it, absolutely horrible. With the unmade hair and red-rimmed eyes, the unshaven stubble, and darting eyes. Hunched shoulders and chapped lips. Not fidgeting, though, and his suit—sans Blazer and tie--was nothing short of crisp and pristine, but it is a pocky sheen of dignity. It's…startling. Disconcerting.

Perry was the best of them. He always had been; the kind of hero-eque idol you'd count yourself lucky to meet, much less work with on a daily basis. He had a spleen of steel and the aura of giants, despite his less-than-impressive stature. Perry had the family, the respect, the reputation and the skills to back it up. Christ, Perry the Platypus had it all. The freshies talk about him like he's a God among men, and Perry even had the envy of haters who can't even pretend he isn't worth the hype when they look him in the eye. And to see him so reduced, and for…what? Some hacky evil scientist Francis keeps insisting wasn't worth the audio recorders they planted all around his laboratory is…

James sips his coffee, internally disturbed. Just who was Heinz Doofenshmirtz? What makes him so special?

"Tell Perry the Platypus how you feel." Feelbetter suggests, and James watches as Perry rubs his lips with the tip of his finger, the hollow look in his eyes.

"Perry the Platypus, I'm," Heinz starts, and stops, and starts again. His voice sputters, and his fingers twist, but his gaze-on Perry-they do not waver, and Perry seems to smile despite himself. "I'm sorry, I really am. Perry, I am so so sorry. I'm sorry that I-I hurt you, when I wasn't trying to hurt you."

Heinz's eyes, blue and watery, there was no mistaking the apology, the watery sincerity. When he gets on one knee by Perry's feet, James could've sworn he hears Chamy quietly sniffle. The songtrack, instrumental, slow and sentimental, is subtle—but it plays out the scene of the studio in perfect harmony. They're really milking this for all it's worth.

"I swear," Heinz continues. "If you give me one more chance, I promise to only hurt you in the right way. With cartoonish physical violence, and elaborate traps constructed out of strange things I purchased over the internet."

The humor is half-hearted, but Perry (along with some of the in-studio crowd, and the pantry itself) finds themselves chuckling anyway, despite the mood of the hour. Perry buried his face in his hands, the crooked upwards curl of his lips unmistakeable, but so was the sniffle (crackling over the mic), the fresh tears trailing down his cheeks.

There is a collective gasp in the pantry, and James hides his gawping behind the rim of his coffee cup. Behind him, Agent Beatrice the Bee lets out a sympathetic coo, and he hears someone go, "What the hell?" James can relate; he couldn't have brought himself to imagine in a hundred years he'd ever see Agent Perry the Platypus, the best agent of OWCA, brought to tears. He didn't think that was physically possible.

The studio had also been brought to sympathetic cries, but Heinz isn't paying attention to any of them. He was crying too, reaching out, and Perry clasps both Heinz's outstretched hands in his own, still attempting to muffle loss in composure. It's a beautifully heartfelt moment. He's sure Feelbetter's going to want to keep this one in the books.

"What do you say?" Heinz asks, like a vow. Christ. Feelbetter squirrels in by the edge of the camera, right by Perry's shoulder and James feels like throwing his coffee at the screen for ruining the moment.

"Well, Perry the Platypus? What do you say?"

Perry spares Feelbetter only a single glance, before he turns back to Heinz. Their eyes meet, gaze heavy with all the words they couldn't say in front of a live studio audience, before Heinz, finally smiles.

Perry smiles back. Off-screen, someone hands him his hat back on a silver platter, and he doesn't hesitate a single more second before he takes it, putting it back on his unruly hair. The audience coos and cheers.

"Oh, what a beautiful conclusion folks! How absolutely wonderful!" Feelbetter cries.

In the third floor OWCA's employee pantry, the crowd bursts into their own cries of relief, patting each other on the back as they celebrate while pretending nobody had cared either way.

"That's better than any of my soaps." Chamy quips, as the crowd begins to thin along with the end of lunchbreak. Both of them were still standing there, because James had a hunch that something was About To Happen. "Nice to be reminded that Perry's just like any one of us, really."

Chamy would know, of course. Their nemesis-ship with the Sinister Sisters would hit their 20th Anniversary this Friday. A nemesis-ship, he'd been repetitively told by his graduating supervisor back in the Academy, was a commitment, so maybe they all should've seen this coming, really.

James wonders about Peter. He'd heard the guy had his own nemesis, back in Seattle. Someone should be looking into what happened there, but Mystery—some Doctor or Professor or other—was infamous for being almost undetectable. Perhaps they had the better sense to keep whatever happened there under wraps instead of coming onto a live studio recording for professional help. Maybe Ann was right and Perry really was a sucker for attention.

James is pulled out of his thoughts as Heinz gets to his feet, pulling a button out of his lab coat pocket. Uh-oh.

"Thank you, Perry the Platypus." He says, before he clicks the button, effectively trapping all studio staff members and OWCA agents in the crowd, and alarms began blaring all through the headquarters as Monogram and Acronym are demanding cavalry to the Feelbetter set in LA, double time. Chamy curses, and James finishes off the last of lukewarm coffee in three large gulps.

"Let's never speak of this again," he says.

"Agreed." Chamy answers. Agent Jackal and Chameleon shook on it, before they rush out of the office to save the day.