#t; run from the noise of the street

[luvwestwood]

❝ DON'T WORRY 'BOUT IT DARLING! ❞ - Toji Fushiguro

— (18+) YOUR CAR BREAKS DOWN DURING A SOLO TRIP, AND A KIND MR. FUSHIGURO OFFERS TO HELP.

₊˚༊*· warnings. nsfw (18+), slow burn, rough sex, hair pulling, p in v, rough sex, slight age gap (r is 22, t is 37), pet names, raw sex, backshots, pulling out/cumming on face/mouth, pussy eating, fingering, light faceslapping, toji lives in a cabin..

₊˚༊*· notes. I missed writing sm... also, this was one of those stories where i just got carried away writing.. also if your car breaks down in the middle of no where, please don't follow a random man back to his cabin. toji is not real.

7,035 words (25m read)

header art used - credits to @/yunonoai on twt!

A holiday. The perfect thing you needed to ease your mind— work had been fucking you up lately, so you specifically had requested a few days off.

Realising you never spend time with yourself, and yourself only, had brought you to the idea of going on a solo trip. Although with budget cut short, you could only opt for a solo-road-trip; still well away from the city, and everyone.

So far, you thought it was perfect. Just you and your trusty volks beetle, cruising off for a few days to be surrounded by the county’s evergreen trees, and going down a spiral of constantly smelling wet bark here and there.

Crashing at the nearest motel just a few miles south, and digging into a typical, pancake breakfast at the closest diner the next morning. Quite basic, but you thought that it was unironically the calmest idea for a 'holiday' yet.

Pressing on the playback button, the car radio immediately sounded out the currently inserted tape that was halfway played through, your eyes rolling at the song choice.

“..I wake up in the morning I got murder on my min-“

The sound of the tape bypassing the opening filled with the car, along with silence and the engine running. “Oh for fucks sake, Yuji definitely put that in there.”

Balancing between keeping your eyes on the road, and your surroundings, you toss the DVD away to the passengers side; rummaging around the glove compartment for another disk.

But you found the peace as of now quite calming, resulting in you rolling your windows down by the slightest— taking in the natural noise of the environment.

Your cheeks turned cold to the touch as the breeze wafted throughout your entire car, your back pressing against the fabric seats, eyes only closing for a millisecond to take everything in.

Dressed in a tank top and shorts, my, it seemed like you were ready for.. who knows what. Hopefully no one takes you, accidentally, for a side-street hooker.

Bit silent, you suppose— seeing that there was no other car on this specific road too. It was eerie, but enjoyable at the same time. I mean, the road was in the middle of the woods so I doubt people would be passing in and out of here often.

Hand reaching back into the glove compartment, you grab a hold of a random disk, analyzing it as soon as you withdrew your hand back into your lap.

..The Cranberries, not too bad. Something to lighten up the mood a bit. Biting down on your bottom lip, you divert your attention away from the road for a millisecond— pushing the disk into the radio player with a swift movement.

The familiar intro of Linger began to play. Your two hands clutched onto the wheel tighter, letting out a squeal as a result of hearing one of your favorite songs.

What seemed like forever, you wondered if the road was going to look different anytime soon. It felt as if you haven't seen some sort of sign telling you there would be a bed and breakfast ten minutes up, but you simply brushed it off.

"..And I'm in so deeep, you know I'm such a fool for youuu.." Taking advantage of the empty roads, you notched the volume a bit higher, belting out your shower-learnt vocals with all your heart.

Concerning LEDs flashing on your dashboard suddenly caught your eye, your singing stopping right in the middle of the chorus.

Frantically looking down at the light, and at the road in front of you, the sensible decision to pull over came across your mind— your car quickly swerving to the side of the road, Linger still, playing as everything started to go downhill.

"W-what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Your hands fall onto your lap, brows furrowed at one warning appearing after the other, a whimper slipping past your lips as worry grew.

Looking out the rear window, then to the front, you've realised you're all alone. No help nearby, not for another while. Groaning, you darted your eyes back to your dashboard, seeing about three more warnings show up.

"Fuck- not now, oh come on!" ...Can't even get peace on my day off, can I?

Pulling on the latch underneath, you popped the hood open. Killing the ignition, you grab your zip-up from the backseat, throwing it on before stepping out of the car; sizzling, and smoke coming from under the hood.

"I swear.. if this is a trap for a murder film, just take me already. My survival instincts are through the roof.."

Sighing, you lift the hood up, a big cloud of grey smoke slapping you in the face, like you could suffocate any moment now.

"The hell?!" Coughing, you fanned your face, taking a few, cautious steps back from the vehicle. As soon as the smoke had went away, you leaned back in; analysing each part of your engine.

A scoff escapes your mouth, silently laughing at yourself. "Literally what the fuck am I meant to be looking at." Knuckles resting atop your hips, you stood up straight, chipping away at your fingernails with your teeth.

"..Okay, maybe I'll try and start it... and if all goes wrong- call the insurance company."

Blowing out a relieving breath, you sit back into the driver's seat, twisting the key, trying to get your car to start.

Nothing but the sweet sound of failure. Two more tries, and still the same outcome.

"..Insurance company.. right."

Unable to locate your phone, you let out a confused noise- looking sideways and upside down your car for it. "..Where could it.. be..?"

Though.. something seemed, off. Your head slowly rose up from below the passengers seat, peeping just above the car door.

A man, walking- closer, and closer.. It seems. Your heart began to thump against your chest- begging to jump out. Breathing labored, your eyes widen, body freezing at the most inconvenient of times. Wait, is he holding an axe?

"M-my.. my phone?!" With haste in your movements, you rummage through everything like a mad man, making a total mess of your car- the same mysterious guy getting closer and closer, tauntingly walking out from the deep woods.

Sitting back against your seat, your mouth gapes open; eyes glued straight ahead. This is it, I manifested it. Now why on earth did I say that?! It's over for me, I'm cooked.

You let out a mewl, attempting to sob, solely squeezing your eyes shut. Too scared to look one last time to your side, you took a few deep breaths, chanting mini prayers to save the last bit of you.

A tap on the window came from your side, your one eye opening itself. Hesitant, you slowly turn your head; seeing a muscular torso at the window tapping the glass with the handle of his axe, before the man leans down to show his face.

Dressed in jeans and a flannel, with jagged, raven colored hair— and a face to perfectly compliment his jacked up body. I see. But now's not the time to play a dating game.

"..Ma'am?" His voice deep, and rusty, your face grew more concerned, mouth still gawking like a freak in fear.

"..God, p-please don't kill me.." A quiet peep comes from you, the man resting a hand on your roof, still bent down, and chuckling.

"Lady, I could see your car smokin' all the way from my cabin. I couldn't help but see what's the matter. You want me to check it out for you, or not?" His voice happened to be quite faint from behind the glass, though you could make out what he seemed to be saying.

"..Oh... I don't mind, I just have no clue what to do, I.." Words coming out in a blabber, you stumbled over what you wanted to say, confusion written all over the mans face.

"Slow down, will ya? Can't even comprehend half the words you're saying."

Shaking your head, you brushed it off. "You know what.. forget it.. just.. check what's happening under that hood, please?"

He nods, disappearing from your window to walk around to the front of the car. Deciding to step out too, you came to the conclusion that he seemed like an okay man to trust with your car. But you just had to make sure he wasn't gonna fit some sort of tracker underneath your engine..

Crossing your arms, you walked closer to the man, who seemed to know what he was doing. Observing from a few steps away, you watched him twist and turn at a few things, no fear in getting his hands dirty. He seemed bigger at this angle, a bit bigger than you, so if he were to murder you right now... it's over.

"..Do you always carry around that axe?" Referring to the same tool that was now on the ground, you noticed his lips curl into a smile, taking note of the fading scar on the side of his mouth also.

Letting out an amused chuckle, his eyes remained focused on the problem in front of him, but his voice was able to answer something else at the same time. "Living in the middle of the woods, I think you'd do the same."

You nod, accepting the answer with no further questions. Although a few more silly ones came out of you..

"Have you ever been chased by a bear.. while living out here?" Swaying back and forth on your tippy toes, your arms stay crossed, teeth chewing at your bottom lip as you anticipated a genuine answer.

He stops, torso still bent down but head looking up at you, facial expressions unimpressed. "Do pretty girls like you always ask all these stupid questions..?"

Blinking, you freeze, at the blunt compliment and sharp stab of his words. "..I was just curious. Also, I don't even know your name. You know, if you try to kidnap me, and I happen to escape, and-"

"Toji." Short and direct, he answers that question. "Now that you've told me your game plan, I could've easily lied about my name.

Your throat running dry, you clear it out with a grunt, Toji standing back up with an unhopeful look on his face. "..Yeah, your car is busted." He picks his axe back up, turning his body to you.

"..What? But- there's no reception here and.. I have no where to go..." Great. You've told him that you're helpless, and a young, vulnerable girl who's all alone on a solo trip.

"Wait- so you're telling me you're all alone, in the middle of these woods. Lady, do you not know that there's literally nothing here but dirt and trees?" His face scrunched up in disbelief, he genuinely wondered what a girl like you would be doing here.

"..I just wanted a holiday... on my own and.. I thought.. I could crash at some motel like in the movies and.. and.. pancakes.. oh the pancakes.." A sob chokes out of you, warm tears beginning to stain your cheeks at the thought of your vacation going downhill.

Toji, on the other hand looks more confused at this rate, his voice stammering, unsure of how to console you. A random girl, crying in front of him.. Great.

"Uh, don't cry- I didn't mean to.." Scratching at his nape, he waits until you stop crying your guts out, and successfully, you do. "Look, how about I'll fix your car for you, but first we get you a place to stay."

Sniffling, you look up at him, an ounce of hope springing back into you. "..R-really?"

Relieved, Toji was able to relax by the slightest after finally getting you to stop sobbing in front of him. Comforting wasn't his forte. "Yeah, don't worry 'bout it darling. But my cabin is the only thing I could offer right now. I told you, there's nothing in this place. No.. 'motel'..."

Looking back at your busted car, then returning to Toji, he shrugs his shoulders; mouthing, 'the choice is yours.' He wasn't pressuring you at all, but it was true that there was no other option. Outside the city wasn't all that, and you learnt the hard way.

"...Fine, just don't.. don't murder me.. I don't wanna die." Toying with the zip of your hoodie, you divert your gaze away from Toji, deciding to look at the ground instead.

He grunts, grabbing his head in frustration. "Would you quit with that murder bull-crap?! How many times do I have to say it. Should be me who's scared of a Michael Myers venturing 'round these woods." Toji shakes his head in disapproval. "Just grab your things and get movin' will you? Sun's about to set soon."

Unamused yourself, you shoot him a glare, walking over to the backseat door to grab your backpack full of everything. Slamming the door shut, you sensibly grab your keys, properly locking everything before Toji shuts the hood, resting his axe on his shoulder.

The man gestures you to follow him, hopefully not towards your death. Trailing behind his large figure, Toji occasionally glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still there and didn't happen to run off; more than certain that you were shitting your pants right now.

Readjusting the heavy backpack on your shoulder, you struggled, mentally complaining, but too afraid to ask if you were there yet. Guess you'll take the blame for this one. Should've packed light I suppose..

"We're here, incase you were wondering." Toji stops in his tracks, turning his body back around to face you before making his way to the onto the porch.

Surprisingly, it was nice and big, and seemed homely. "Not gonna lie, I thought you lived in a run down shack in the middle of no where. With like, bugs and stuff?"

"Who do you take me for?" He scoffs, "Come in when you're ready. Also mind your step." Toji points out the mini stairs just below the porch, before disappearing off inside. He really made sure that you didn't feel pressured to do anything whatsoever. So he let you enter at your own will.

Taking note of your surroundings outside one last time, you let out a deep breath before stepping inside.

Warm air engulfed you, heat coming from a well built fire place. It actually was nice inside, and everything everywhere made sense. The architecture of the cabin really had Toji written all over it.

Nothing was run down. It felt like a home, just with a rustic style to it. The sofa actually had a throw draped over it, a flat screen tv mounted just above the fireplace. There was also a nice view of a body of water outside some large windows.

Toji paced around the sofas just after resting his axe safely in a corner, stretching his arms out; toned muscles flexing from the warm, yellowish light in the cabin.

"Make yourself at home, you take my room tonight. I'll crash on the sofa." He makes his way to the other side of the cabin, supposedly the entrance to his bedroom. Toji leaning against the door frame, he watched as you stood still in one spot, still observing your surroundings.

"Also has its own bathroom, so no need to worry about me walking in on you. There's locks too from the inside. And I don't care about you going through anything. I've got nothing to hide." Toji continues, he sure knows the questions you're about to ask. This man is always thinking ahead.

"..Thanks, Toji. That's really nice of you." Walking closer to the entrance of his room, you slide the backpack off your shoulder, holding onto the heavy load with two hands at this point. The backpack swings between your legs as you walk past him, Toji grunting before leaving you be.

He fucks off somewhere into the kitchen, meanwhile you lock the doors behind you immediately. You already smelled of bark and leaves, and not to mention, the stinky smoke from your car earlier.

Tossing your backpack onto an armchair nearby, eye glancing over a few frames with Toji in them. Some of him alone, with a fish in his hand, the other.. Possibly some old friends.

Curious, you looked around the dresser for some more things that could tell you a bit more about himself.

In the corner was a birthday card, which didn't evidently tell you his age, but you found out as soon as you opened it up to see what was written.

"Happy Birthday big guy, can't beleeve your old ass is 37! - Your pal, Gojo🖕"

Who the hell is Gojo? And, that's not old.. right? You scoffed more so at the fact that the word 'believe' was spelt wrong other than the badly drawn middle finger. Just a little habit of yours you can't control. Considering you were 22, Toji was kind of old enough to be your guardian, somehow.. but let's not get into that.

Attempting to place the card exactly where it had belonged, you were happy enough with your first try; still curious to find any hidden gems, but you were unsuccessful.

Letting out a hum, you took another look around your surroundings, nodding gently in approval at the view that he also had just outside of his bedroom. Seems like he knew how to build this place the way he wanted to.

Halfway pacing around his room, you realised that he probably thinks you've been silent for too long. Deciding to step into his bathroom, notice a shaver and some cream on the sink. Allowing the shower to run, you hoped the noise would calm his nerves to let him know you're still here, and alive.

Oh, being a curious cat you open his mirror cabinet just to take a tiny peek before your shower. Says he's got nothing to hide, so..

After-shave, lotion, pain-killers and a box.. An unopened box of extra large condoms.

You gulp before blinking rapidly, closing the mirror cabinet without a second to waste. You weren't sure if you should be mortified or impressed and relieved that they were unopened. Wait, as if it matters?

Locking the bathroom door just to be cautious, you quickly did so before stripping your clothes completely to the ground, kicking off your converse and socks before hopping into the warm shower.

The droplets trickled down your body, feeling more calm now that you've had a shower. Allowing the water to run over your hair, you scrubbed your scalp with your fingertips, completely soaking your body. You looked over to the shower caddy hanging on the wall before grabbing a familiar brand of shampoo.

Massaging that into your hair, you hurried on with your shower, making sure that you didn't hog all the hot water. You assumed that he had to start up a big ass generator minutes away just to get a drop of it, forgetting the fact that it was '24, and there was some such thing as a boiler.

The shower ended up being just fine, and Toji didn't bother you at all. He didn't force the door open, don't worry; and everything was just the way it was left in the room.

You didn't have anything else left to wear than the matching tank and shorts set you bought at TJ-Maxx solely for this solo trip. You didn't have to worry about your feet being cold, as the hardwood floors were surprisingly heated.

Quickly drying your hair with one of his towels, you figured that he didn't have a hairdryer, so you had no choice but to leave it to air dry.

Finally unlocking the bedroom door, you opened it to see Toji busy behind the kitchen island. Assuming he was cooking, you made your way closer, sitting on a bar stool nearby.

Toji had a tea towel draped over his shoulder, and the smell of cooked meat entered your nostrils.

"If you're a vegan, it's your unlucky day." He says, clearly knowing you were seated behind him.

You laugh, resting your elbows on the counter, watching him like a hawk . "I eat everything, don't worry."

"Good." He says before turning back towards you with a plate of steak, potatoes and asparagus. Unlike earlier, this time a pleasant cloud of steam hit you in the face, the smell making your tummy grumble.

Toji has a plate of his own, leaning against the counter behind him as he watches your every move, waiting for you to take a bite. He pokes at a potato, tossing it into his mouth before saying something.

"Wake up early tomorrow, I'll teach you what to do in case something like this happens again. I don't expect you to follow a man again back to his cabin in the middle of no where.." Prodding at a few more pieces of steak, he notices you were busy digging into your own plate.

You just let out a hum of approval, Toji slowly sliding a glass of water towards you before you could choke anytime soon.

Setting your cutlery down, you look up at Toji standing, busy eating his own dinner. Here comes the wave of questions.. "Hmm, do you ever get lonely out here?"

Unphased by the question, Toji continues eating, but answers your curiosity. "Nah, I like being alone. I'm used to it anyways. Friends do come visit, but not always." He shrugs, unable to make eye contact with you.

"..I see.." Nodding, your mind jumps back to the unopened box of condoms back in Toji's bathroom, your inner voice mentally cursing at yourself for being too curious.

Letting famish get the best of you, you devoured everything on the plate in record breaking time, politely pairing the cutlery together on the dish. "Uhm, Toji? I can clean up. It's the least I could do."

The man just finishing his own plate, he sets it on the counter beside him, looking at you, impressed. "Seriously? 'right then."

Hopping off the stool, you make your way past him, feeling Toji's gaze burn into the back of your head, before you reached around him for his plate, and your own on the island. Bringing the two to the sink, you began to wash them with the sponge, occasionally looking out the kitchen window.

It had gone dark quickly. Who knows if Toji never had come across you.

"You got a boyfriend or what?" A first time question from the man, and it was one you didn't expect. He remained leaning against the counter, watching your every move from behind you.

Suppressing a panicked turn of your head, you kept your vision down at the dishes, gliding your hand over the dishes and under the water, you gulped before answering.

"No, not anymore. I broke up with him cause I found out he was cheating on me with some girl on the majorette team in college." Your insides burned at the memory of you walking in on them at a party bathroom, but you didn't let it get to you, not now.

Toji didn't let out a hum of approval, and instead stayed quiet. All he did was place your empty glass beside the sink that you seemed to have forgotten all about. Taking that too, you scrubbed it with the sponge before rinsing it off and placing it on the drying rack.

"All done," you dried your hands on the fabric of your shorts behind you, turning back around to Toji who was in the same position, but this time, his hands held onto the counter's edge on either side of him.

Peering at the drying rack around you, he pouted in approval, "Done a fairly good job I suppose,"

You scoff, "It was just washing dishes. Nothing hard."

"I'll be right back. No tomfoolery, and don't open that door." Toji glances to the front door, before disappearing off into his bedroom, the door closing. You thought nothing of it, walking over to the L-shaped sofa to see what was on TV. Some stupid deer documentary was on, typical, but you changed it to something more entertaining like a soap.

You assumed that he had no Netflix on it, and you were right. You can't really imagine Toji watching an episode of The Office.

Propping the side of your head onto your knuckles, your eyes bored at the screen, barely paying attention to what was on the TV. Glancing over to the clock on the wall, you read the time to be almost 9 o'clock, which shocked you.

Letting out your fifth sigh of the day, you flickered back and forth through the channels before hearing a door open behind you, Toji stepping out of his room, and this time, dressed in grey sweats and a t-shirt. His hair was slightly damp, as you noticed him sitting just after your feet, ensuring a distance between you two.

"What's this crap you're watching?" Toji rests his elbows on his knees before relaxing back onto the sofa, legs spreading as he made himself comfortable.

Tossing the remote over to his side, you roll your eyes. "Knew you would say that."

The man attempted to focus on the shit show in front of him, brows furrowing, but eventually he seemed interested.

Sitting up, you cross your legs, groaning. "There's nothing good on TV. I'm going to bed."

Toji looked to his side, watching as you stood up and left, and he had to admit— he did get a look at your behind. But no one could beat that out of him. "Alright, suit yourself. Sweet dreams. Remember, up early tomorrow."

You glanced behind your shoulder before stepping into his room, not shutting the door fully but leaving a slight gap between the frame and the door itself.

After scavenging through the side pocket of your backpack, you returned back into Toji's bathroom with your toothbrush this time. Stealing a pea of his own toothpaste, you stared at yourself in his mirror as you brushed away.

You could still hear his TV coming from outside, and it sounded like the channel didn't change. He was probably fixated on the show by now. After spitting out, you rinsed off your toothbrush, before heading back out to place it back into your backpack.

Before hopping into bed, you neatly folded your things away, ensuring you cleaned up after yourself as you hated leaving a mess behind, especially if you weren't in a space of your own.

Letting out a sigh, you crawled into his bed, surprisingly filled with two fluffy pillows, and not just one flat ass cushion. Toji's bed strongly smelled like aftershave, supposedly the one in his bathroom mirror. It was comforting though, and wasn't an unpleasant scent.

Covering your upper half with the duvet, you laid flat on your back, eyes staring up at the ceiling before your lids slowly grew heavy and soon enough, closing shut.

You managed to sleep halfway through the night, until, it had began to thunder, and rain heavily. The drops pattered against the glass window, waking you from your slumber inconveniently.

Sitting up in bed, you look around, noticing everything was still the same. The door remained slightly open, and you could see that the TV has still been on until now, but sounded different.

Looking out the window, you couldn't see much from the heavy rain blinding the environment. It was lashing outside, and unfortunately, you were unable to fall back into sleep.

Pursing your lips together, you climbed out of bed, making your way to the door before opening it by a bit.

You treaded lightly, seeing Toji's head behind the sofa. Unable to tell if he was asleep or not, noticing that the TV was on, you approached him closer. Your head peeked over the sofa slightly, voice calling out his name.

"..Toji? ....Toji." You let out a loud whisper, the man grunting and turning his head around. It seems that he was fast asleep, but... sitting up. How scary.

"I can't sleep.. the weather, it's really awful outside." Nipping at the fabric of your shorts, you sucked in a labored breath of air through your nostrils before initiating a question. "..Can you- sleep beside me?"

Toji seemed less asleep, and now, he was wide awake. He looked over to the clock before reaching for the remote to switch off the TV. It was halfway through one in the morning. "What are you, nine?" He laughs before getting up from the sofa, trailing behind the sofa to follow you back into the room.

He questioned no more, and agreed. He'd do anything to be back in his room anyways, in the comfort of his bed, but of course knowing Toji— he'd never admit that.

The two of you hurried back into the bedroom, Toji automatically walking over to his side, while you, crawl back into bed. Making yourself comfortable again, you drape the cover over yourself, feeling the weight of the bed shift beside you, Toji making himself comfortable also.

You turn to your side, back facing Toji, unable to have him stare at your face all night. The room grew silent, and only the sound of the rain tapping against the window could be heard. Though you could still feel his gaze burning into your back, which happened to go away soon enough.

"No stupid stuff." He suddenly blurts out, which you were unable to decipher. Was he talking about what you thought he meant?

You decided not to respond, and instead, shifted around. You could feel Toji's natural body warmth all over your back, and with one more shift, you realised that he was close to you, actually, way too close to you.

But it was too late to move back, as you were too scared of irritating him by shuffling around so much that he'd kick you out.

A large hand snakes onto the side of your waist, gently gripping at your stomach. "Quit movin' around so much, will you?" It was Toji's hand, and he firmly kept you in place. Preventing any further movement. The continuous friction of your shorts against him had aroused him of some sort, and it was uncontrollable.

Another hard bump rested on the behind of your shorts, your eyes flying wide open, unable to shut now. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know.. I'll stop."

"Sure, you didn't know what you were doing?" You couldn't see the expression on his face, and could only judge by the tone of his voice. Too bad you were facing away from him right now.

Giving in, your body aggressively shifts to face him, the natural moonlight peering through the windows leaving a bright enough glow on his face.

You gulp, Toji hesitantly using his finger to move away the fly-aways covering your face to get a better look at you. "..Don't know why that jerk cheated on you."

"..You don't know me, so.." You let out, Toji's brows furrowing as he studied your features harder.

Alternating between your eyes and lips, he let out a mixture of a grunt and a laugh. "Should go for a real man."

Your breath hitches at his remark, your mind trailing off to other translations of his sentence. He talking about the fucking, or dating aspect?

Silence grew between you, his thumb carefully swiping over your soft bottom lip. The air grew thicker and thicker, a sort of tension lingering throughout the room. You couldn't tell what initiated it, but the air felt suffocating, like it had its own hold of you.

Leaning in closer to his face, your warm breath fanned against his lips before he cupped your cheek with his hand, holding you close as your mouths latched onto each other. The tension between you two diminishing as your tongues intertwined.

Toji laid flat on his back as you straddled him under the sheets, the kiss turning sloppier, with a blend of spit coating your chins, the two of you moaning into each other.

You whimper, pulling away as you felt his teeth tug onto your bottom lip, a long, string of saliva creating a bridge between the two of you, both panting, chests heaving heavily.

Swiftly stripping your tank above your head, the sudden air had bit your skin, nipples growing hard to the touch, all perky and erect. Unable to see in the midst of the fabric covering your sights, you could feel both of Toji's large hands cupping your breasts, massaging them— thumbs toying teasingly at your nipples.

Palms pressing onto the flat of your back, Toji guides your hips with no rush in his movements, back and forth, groaning at the grinding sensation over his sweats, head heavily leaning against the pillow. Your top slides down onto the bedroom floor, breath irregular as you felt the thick tent in his pants dig into you.

You both swap positions, Toji flipping the two of you around with ease and no struggle in his demeanor, the man anchoring himself between your thighs.

Toji's lips latch onto your breasts, warm mouth wrapped around one, sucking away hungrily as he fondled with the other. A pop leaves his mouth as he lets go, using a finger to flicker your nipple gently, your warm, spit-covered nipples growing hard once again as soon as it meets the cold air.

You watch as Toji goes down on you, breath shaking as he peppered kisses down your stomach, disappearing underneath the sheets; leaving a few pecks dangerously close, and somewhere on your inner thigh.

Feeling his pointer and middle finger tug at the waistband of your shorts, you could tell that he was waiting; and so you raised your hips up slightly, allowing him to drag them down your legs.

His hands clasp around your two thighs, bringing you closer to his face, though you just couldn't see; Toji's tongue leaving behind a wet stripe against your clothed pussy, your body shuddering at the feeling.

Your mouth could only gape open, your eyes peering up at the same ceiling as you let out breathless moans here and there.

Toji's middle finger tugged your panties to the side, allowing your bare pussy to be on show to him completely, finally landing yet another stripe with his warm tongue. He eagerly sucks, sticking his same middle finger in, fucking your hole gently as he alternates between licking and fingering.

Letting out quiet moans, you fondle with your breasts, legs squirming as he inserted another digit, Toji using both hands to rip your underwear completely as he sucked on your clit

Your hand reaches for the pillow behind you, fingers clawing at the fabric.

Toji raised his own hips, practically on his knees to be able to palm at his own cock as played with you for your own pleasure, getting off to your moans as he continued to have you undone with his touch.

You could hear him grunt lowly, from time to time, but grunting in disapproval whenever you'd stamp your thighs on either side of his head, trapping him between your legs.

Your head leaning back, you gasped, eyes rolling as Toji curled his fingers up into you, eventually allowing his movements to come to a complete halt, your throat mewling in dissatisfaction.

"Not so fast, wanna feel you cum 'round something else," Toji appears in front of you, arising from under the sheets; stripping his own shirt off his body before tossing it somewhere across the room.

His body shifted around, and you assumed it was to get the condoms, where you already knew was located. Though you quickly took a hold of the strings on his waistband, pulling him back.

"No- I wanna feel you raw, Toji," Looking up at him as you said so, still laid on your back; the man could've sworn that his cock twitched at what you had just said.

Surprisingly, he nods, moving about to get his pants fully off him, struggling a bit, but managing in the end.

Toji uses a hand to jerk his thick length repeatedly, the other free playing with the flesh on your waist. "You sure about this?"

"I am." You replied, busy wondering how he was gonna fit inside of you. The condoms weren't lying.

Slightly and slowly pushing his tip into you, followed by the rest, the two of you groaned at the feeling, Toji grabbing onto both sides of your waist eventually; grip growing tighter as he stuffed you full. Your fingers clawed at his wrists, a moan escaping your mouth as you felt his girth stretching you out, Toji using his thumbs to caress your sides gently.

"All good?" He made sure, and you nod, letting him know that he could move, and you were perfectly fine.

Toji's hips began to rock back and forth, occasional groans coming from him, mentally thanking you for the fact that you let him do it raw.

"..F-faster," you let out, Toji now placing both of his hands on either side of your head, his hips bucking into you faster and deeper; the bed slightly creaking from his movements.

He continues to groan endlessly, head jerking back as he felt your gummy walls take him completely, cursing over and over again. Toji smashes his lips onto yours again, you moaning as a result, the man taking your head into his hands as he held you close; forehead leaning on yours as his cock bullied your insides relentlessly.

Pulling away, Toji grabs both of your legs, resting your ankle on each of his shoulders— allowing him to fuck into you deeper, and be impossibly closer, the man fucking you into a nasty mating press as the creaking intensifies; the headboard beginning to hit against the walls, the legs of the bed scratching all over the floorboards.

"S-shit, To-oji," Voice breaking up your words, you dig your fingertips deep into the muscle on his shoulder, Toji moaning closely against the shell of your ear.

He growls, resting his forehead on yours once again, maintaining eye contact with you, so intimately; "That's it doll, moan my name, come on," he coos, watching as your eyes squeeze shut; the man reaching his hand up to gently slap it against your cheek— telling you to keep your eyes on him.

You do so, and endlessly chant his name like a prayer; Toji grinning and leaving a peck on your lips before letting your legs go, allowing them to flop on either sides of his waist, effortlessly flipping you back around.

Pulling out rapidly, the flat of his palm presses against your spine. Hands kneading at your ass cheeks as he spreads them apart, leaving a long wet lick from your pussy past your asshole, he slides his cock back into your dripping hole— maintaining his previous pace as he holds onto the headboard, drilling into you with no mercy.

Beads of sweat glistened his body like that pane of glass, strands of his recently washed hair now sticking to his forehead.

"Atta girl," he moans, slapping your ass and leaving a red hand-print. "Fuck, take this cock," Your ass rippling against his pelvis, Toji grabs a handful of the soft of your cheeks, fucking you back onto his cock; a symphony of ass slapping, and balls hitting against your clit sounding throughout the room.

Your forehead falls heavy onto the pillow, voice muffled as you moaned helplessly into it; Toji fucking you in all the right spots, he meant it when he said you should find yourself a real man. He was showing you, what a real man was.

"C'mon baby, I wanna feel you cum all over me, p-please?" Toji pleads, his thrusts slowing in pace, but still rutting in deep as he fucks you passionately, guiding you by your waist back and forth on his cock to get those last few strokes.

Toji leans forward, pressing a tender kiss on your shoulder blade, feeling down your back as he left a few more, shivers going down your spine as he roamed his hands all over you,

A creamy ring forms at his shaft, thickening over time as he continued to fuck in and out of you; playfully pulling his thick cock out to heavily rest it against your ass, gliding it between your cheeks before sliding it back in. His tip red, and glossy, your eyes rolled as he slipped himself inside.

Toji picks up the pace once more, urging you to your orgasm; your fingers clawing behind you, trying to stop him from moving any more, your two legs shaking as they attempted to stay up, and support you in your arch.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back towards him; fucking your mind as he finishes you off from behind. "I'm gonna c-cum, oh fuck," you squeal, eventually making a mess all over his cock, squirting— Toji still fucking into you as your orgasm had washed over your body.

A dark puddle forms on the bedsheets underneath you, and your slick soaks on the flat of his thighs, a squelching noise emitting from underneath as you lazily rubbed circles on your clit; eyes rolling from the several sensations hitting you all at once— Toji’s cock continuing to piston into you.

Toji grunts, feeling you clench and unclench round his cock; a firm slap stinging against your left cheek as he instantly pulls out. "Turn around," he commands, breathing heavily and you obey; a firm grip still in your hair— the man guiding his cock with his index and thumb towards your lips.

Slapping his heavy girth against your mouth, warm ropes of white decorate your face; Toji grunting as he watches your face be painted with white, smearing his artwork all over your face, pushing his tip gently into your mouth as you sucked, sticking your tongue out for visual confirmation of the white orb of cum resting on it.

"Fuck.." he whispers, "Swallow it baby," Toji smacks his tip against your cheek, soon enough letting go of your scalp as he jerked his cock with a last few strokes.

Upon letting go, he immediately cupped your face into his palms once again, rewarding you with a tender kiss on the lips, sneaking a quick fondle at your breast.

Toji glances out the window, returning his gaze back to you glowing under the moon's light. The loud storm had stopped long ago. "..Don't you think those backshots were louder than that thunder clapping out there?"

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[loganlermanstanaccount]

PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)

Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3

Touch

Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)

warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best. 

wc: 1.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on. 

He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.

"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?" 

He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired." 

"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."

He waves you off with a flick of the wrist.   "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."

"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll. 

You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily? 

It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads. 

His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake." 

You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."

You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek. 

"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips. 

You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up. 

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.

He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away. 

"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."

"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him. 

"No. Touching."

Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting. 

He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest,  you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact. 

Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss. 

"Mierda. Baby, please-"

"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed." 

"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?" 

"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven. 

You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip. 

"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"

When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds. 

With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them. 

"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"

He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so�� 

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath. 

Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him. 

"Fuck off, Miguel."

"Baby, I'm sor-" 

"Fuck. Off."

Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know. 

_

_

_

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ paboritong panalangin ko'y / makasama ka sa pagtanda

small gestures of affection from geto suguru, inumaki toge, and okkotsu yuuta

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), starting my first day of uni tomorrow so fics will probably take longer for a while, inspired by this prompt list by @writerthreads, this is kinda rushed and very short and not proofread, please forgive any mistakes !! title from sunkissed lola - pasilyo

GETO SUGURU sighs as he all but collapses onto your bed, sprawling across the mattress like a starfish. long strands of ink black hair cascade down to his shoulders like a waterfall, finally free from being tied into their usual tight half-bun. his pristine robes hang loosely around his frame. 

you stifle a chuckle as you wander over to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. suguru instinctively tenses slightly when you rest your hand against his back before he relaxes against the pillows. “long day?” 

“something like that,” he huffs. stray strands of ink black hair frame his soft features as he turns just enough to face you. dark eyes meet your own, heavy from the exhaustion of the day. “i’m just glad to be home.”

you hum, gently rubbing your hand against his back. suguru sighs; the noise is muffled by your pillows. tension leaves his body in waves as his eyes flutter shut. you take it as a sign to continue, slowly beginning to apply more pressure to his back. “that feels nice,” he mumbles.

you chuckle softly in return. “we’re getting old, suguru.”

suguru twists, rolling his head to the side just long enough for him to murmur a teasing, “shut up.”

a shiver runs down your spine as a chill blows through the air, making goosebumps arise against your skin. you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself in a poor attempt to retain some of your body warmth. INUMAKI TOGE notices almost immediately, concerningly glancing in your direction. “mustard leaf?”

you smile softly, dismissing his concerns with the shake of your head. “i’m fine; i’m just a little cold. i forgot my jacket earlier.”

toge nods in acknowledgement. his gaze falls to his scuffed shoes for a moment before he slips his jacket off, leaving him only in a white t-shirt. you startle slightly when you feel a soft tap against your shoulder. with shaky hands and flushed cheeks, toge gingerly lays the fabric over your shoulders, protecting you from the wind. his gaze lingers on his feet for a few seconds before he gathers the courage to look into your eyes once again. “tuna?” he asks, his voice low.

“yeah,” you smile brightly, tugging the fabric around yourself. it fits loosely around your frame, but the fabric is enough to provide some warmth against the cool breeze. “thank you, toge.”

butterflies swarm throughout his stomach as he turns back towards the street. he smiles softly. “salmon.” 

“are you cold?” 

OKKOTSU YUUTA tugs the sleeves of his uniform down, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm. shivers race down his spine; each new gust of wind feels colder than the last. snowflakes gently float down from the sky, momentarily decorating hair with faint spots of white. “i’ll be fine,” he says sheepishly. 

you frown softly as you watch how his hands tremble ever so slightly in the cold. goosebumps immediately rise against your now exposed neck as you tug your scarf off. “here,” you say, carefully wrapping it around his shoulders. 

yuuta watches with wide eyes as your nimble hands weave the thick fabric of his scarf around his neck. the frayed edges scratch against his bare skin, though he can’t bring himself to care. warmth immediately fills his face; a deep flush paints the tips of his ears light pink. “be safe out there.”

“thank you,” he chirps. yuuta leans in, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. his lips just barely brush against your skin before he pulls away with a bright smile and flushed cheeks. “i’ll see you when i get back!” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[steveseddie]

for protection

steddie | rating: t | wc: 5,2k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, scary movies, accidental hand holding, turned into non-accidental hand holding, soft boys, getting together, fruity four friendship

for week four of @softsteddieseptember using the prompt “protection”

click here to read on ao3

Steve never liked horror movies. 

He didn’t like them before the Upside Down and he definitely doesn’t like them now when he spends most of his time worrying and waiting for the next supernatural shoe to drop. There’s no reason why he would want to spend two hours peeking through his fingers at a screen and anticipating the next jumpscare on top of that.

Occasionally, he will let Robin or one of the kids— or lately, Eddie too— convince him to watch one. They might have gone through the same horrors as Steve, but somehow they’re not bothered by these movies at all. At least when Robin is around she’ll let Steve hold her hand, which has gotten him through worse things than movies about aliens or monsters or psychopathic killers. 

That is the only reason Steve agreed to go to the movies tonight.

“Who are you kidding, dingus?” Robin snorts when Steve tells her as much. She’s sitting in the passenger seat of the Beemer as Steve drives them both to The Hawk to meet Eddie and Nancy. “You agreed to come because you can’t say no to Eddie and his big Bambi eyes!” 

Steve sputters indignantly. “What? Yes, I can!”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Steve, I told you I wanted to watch this movie weeks ago and you kept brushing me off. You only said yes when Eddie pouted and complained that no one wanted to watch it with him!” 

Steve waves her off. “I would’ve said yes to you eventually.” 

“But you didn’t,” Robin says, poking Steve’s side and making him yelp. “You said yes to your boy—”

“He’s not my boy,” Steve huffs, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck at the words. 

Robin ignores him and keeps teasing him. “You said yes to him because you love him—” she says, dragging the word love and making obnoxious kissing noises. 

“Christ, what are you? Five?” Steve protests, pinching the bridge of his nose while he waits for the red light to turn green. Robin keeps making those kissing noises, making Steve groan. “Ugh, shut up. Or I’ll shove you out of the car and you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.” 

Robin huffs. “If you do that you’ll have to explain to Nancy that you abandoned me in the middle of nowhere,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him. If she keeps up acting like a child they’re not going to let her in to see this movie. 

“We’re like, four blocks away,” Steve says, pointing ahead where the sign for The Hawk comes into view. “That’s hardly the middle of nowhere.” 

But they both know he won’t do it anyway— not even a horror movie sounds scarier than having to tell Nancy he left Robin to walk the streets of Hawkins alone at night. 

So he finds them a parking spot instead, a few blocks away from The Hawk so by the time they walk up to the entrance it’s exactly 7 pm. They agreed to meet up at that time, meaning Nancy is already there—and probably has been for a while—and Eddie is nowhere to be seen. 

As soon as she sees Nancy, Robin leaves Steve’s side and runs up to her, wrapping her arms around Nancy’s shoulders to hug her. Nancy stumbles back a few steps, taken by surprise but then she smiles and wraps her arms around Robin’s waist, returning the hug. 

As Steve approaches, he hears Robin rambling with her arms still around her. “Hey, Nancy! I hope you haven’t been waiting for long, I told Steve we were gonna be late but he still took forever to fix his hair. And I was like ‘dingus we’re going to be in a dark room for the better part of two hours, no need to fuss about it so much!’ but you know Steve. Duh, you dated him, of course you do. I think he just wanted to look good for—” she pauses, pulling back to look around them and make sure they’re alone, “—for Eddie, which is silly, y’know? Have you seen Eddie’s hair? He does not care about hair care routines and stuff!”

“I should’ve made you walk,” Steve mutters, feeling his blush tinting his cheeks pink again. Nancy stifles a chuckle behind her hand and Steve waves at her. “Hey, Nance.”

“Hi, Steve. Your hair looks good,” she says with a tiny smirk that makes Robin cackle loudly and makes Steve roll his eyes. She turns back to Robin, “And I haven’t been waiting long, I just got here.” 

Robin throws some finger guns at her. “Cool,” she says, “Should we get the tickets?” 

“We still have to wait for Eddie,” Steve interjects, looking around for any sign of Eddie’s van or Eddie himself. 

“You can wait for your boy,” Robin says with a smirk, “and Nance and I will get the tickets!” 

Steve lets out a long-suffering groan. “For the last time, Robin, he’s not my boy.”

Once again, she ignores him and holds her palm up at him. “Money, please.”

Steve sighs, pulling his wallet from his jeans and handing her a few bills, enough for four tickets. 

“Thanks!” She says, whirling around and hooking her arm with Nancy’s, dragging her towards the ticket booth and leaving Steve to wait for Eddie alone.  

He entertains himself by kicking a plastic bottle back and forth. He keeps his eyes on the ground as he does so he doesn’t notice Eddie approaching— not until he jumps on Steve’s back, wrapping an arm around his neck in a chokehold.

“Got ya, Harrington!” Eddie yells in Steve’s ear as Steve stumbles with the added weight but manages to find his balance before they both end up on the ground.

“Christ,” Steve mutters, trying to wiggle out of Eddie’s hold while he laughs like a maniac. “Eddie, get off, man!” 

“As His Majesty commands,” Eddie giggles, jumping off Steve’s back and sweeping down in a dramatic bow when Steve turns around to face him. 

Steve’s hands land on his hips. “You couldn’t just say hello like a normal person?” 

“That, my dear Stevie, would require that I was normal, and as the Hawkins population so graciously accused me of, I am—” he pauses for dramatic effect, “—a freak.”

Steve lets out a snort. “You’re late, that’s what you are,” he says and Eddie gives a dismissive wave. “The girls went inside to get the tickets.”

Eddie gasps, his eyes sparkling under the streetlights. “And you waited for me, sweetheart?” He asks, placing both of his hands over his heart. Steve’s cheeks pink up at the pet name. “You shouldn’t have!” 

“Noted,” Steve smirks. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, jerking his head towards the entrance. “C’mon, they’re waiting.”

Eddie falls into step beside Steve as he starts walking to where Robin and Nancy are whispering and giggling about something.

Robin notices them first. “Eddie!” 

“Lady Buckley,” Eddie greets her with a little royal twist of the hand, then repeats the motion in Nancy’s direction. “Lady Wheeler.” 

“Hey, Eddie,” Nancy says, playing along with a curt nod. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Late as usual,” Robin says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. 

“Time is nothing but a social construct, Birdie.”

“Tell that to the movie starting in fifteen minutes,” Steve says, checking his watch. “We should head in. C’mon, Eds, I’ll buy you popcorn.” 

Eddie gives him a lopsided grin. “You sure know your way into a man’s heart, Harrington.” 

“Do I get popcorn too?” Robin asks with a knowing smile. 

Steve flicks her on the forehead. “Dude, I already paid for your ticket.”

“You also paid for Eddie’s!” She argues, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. “Why does he get popcorn and I don’t?”

Steve glances at Eddie and finds him staring back at him with wide eyes, a strand of hair tugged in front of his face. Steve doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say— other than tell Robin to shut up. 

But before he can, Nancy, bless her soul, jumps in. “Hey, Robin,” she says, putting her hands on Robin’s shoulders so she can steer her away. “I’ll get you popcorn, okay?”

Robin lets Nancy guide her away, narrowing her eyes at Steve over her shoulder one last time.

Steve lets out a puff of air. 

He feels Eddie bump his shoulder. “Hey, I- I can get my popcorn, man. And I can pay for my ticket too,” he says a little awkwardly. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble with Buckley.”

“No way, Eds,” Steve is quick to say, bumping his shoulder right back. “It’s on me.”

Eddie offers him a shy little smile. “Well, I’ll get the next one then.”

Steve nods, stomach fluttering at the thought of doing this again with Eddie— maybe just the two of them next time. “Sure, as long as you don’t drag me here for another crappy horror movie.” 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “This isn’t a crappy horror movie! It’s supposed to be the best one of the year, I guarantee you’ll be scared.” 

Yeah, that’s precisely what Steve is worried about. He tries not to grimace at that. 

As long as you sit next to Robin, you’ll be fine, he thinks to himself. 

To Eddie, he says, “Whatever you say, Eds.”

They join the girls at the concession stand where Steve and Nancy get large popcorn bowls to share with Eddie and Robin, sodas for each of them, and Steve also asks for some gummy worms because he knows Eddie will put too much butter on their popcorn, get sick of it halfway through and will want to eat something sweet. 

As soon as the kid slides the bag of gummy worms over the counter, Steve puts it in his pocket. He doesn’t want Robin to see them and call him out on that too.  

He hands the popcorn to Eddie who, as expected, soaks it with butter, earning horrified looks from everyone around them, including Steve. Though Steve’s expression might also be overly affectionate. 

“Hey, don’t forget the napkins for your gross buttery fingers,” Steve tells him when Eddie deems their popcorn soggy enough and waits for him to grab a handful of napkins before they follow Nancy and Robin. 

“Why do you care if I have buttery fingers, hm?” Eddie asks, getting all up in Steve’s space. A few popcorn kernels fall on the carpet from Eddie moving so much. “Planning to hold my hand in there or something?” 

And Steve isn’t— he’s planning to hold Robin’s, but the thought of holding Eddie’s hand instead makes his heart stutter in his chest, pink tinting his cheeks.

“You wish, Munson,” he says, picking up the pace to catch up with the girls and walk into the dark movie theater, hoping it will help hide his blush from Eddie. 

“Oh, but I do, Stevie, every night,” Eddie says, following him with a shit-eating grin. 

It’s relatively empty inside and the four of them head straight to the back rows where Steve ends up sitting between Eddie and Robin, with Nancy on her other side. 

While they wait for the movie to start, Eddie leans over to whisper in Steve’s ear what critics are saying about the movie, what he’s most excited to see, what the scariest parts are supposed to be. Someone else might find it annoying— to have Eddie loudly chewing popcorn right next to their ear and talking about the movie they’re about to see— but Steve loves hearing Eddie talk, and maybe knowing what’s going to happen in the movie will help ease his nerves a bit.

Eddie doesn’t stop talking until the opening credits start to appear, settling back on his seat with a happy little squeal. 

Cute, Steve thinks as an idea occurs to him. Maybe if he focuses on Eddie instead of the screen it won’t be so bad. 

And so for the first thirty minutes of the movie, Steve keeps his attention on Eddie with the occasional glance at the screen to not be too obvious— even if Eddie is unlikely to notice since his eyes won’t leave the screen, barely blinking as he shoves handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. Halfway through, just like Steve predicted, Eddie shoves the popcorn towards him, buttery lips scrunched up. He downs his soda as he tries to wash away the taste of salt and butter before using the napkins to wipe his fingers. 

He glances away from the screen for the first time since the movie started when Steve nudges him with his elbow and holds out the gummy worms. 

Eddie’s eyes widen and then he gives Steve a slightly awed look. “Thanks, Stevie,” he whispers, grabbing the bag. 

Steve just winks at him, and when Eddie faces forward again, Steve thinks he can see a pink flush high on his cheeks thanks to the glow coming from the screen. 

Pleased, Steve finishes the popcorn and his soda, setting everything on the floor to pick up later and sitting back to stare at Eddie a bit more, paying little to no attention to the screen. 

That’s when bad things start to happen in the movie. 

Shoulders tense and heart hammering in his chest, Steve does his best to not glance at the screen but even then there’s no way to block out the screams or the other disturbing noises. When he looks at Eddie, he actually seems excited about the horrific, gruesome scenes taking place. On Steve’s other side, Robin and Nancy seem mostly unbothered, though Robin’s nose keeps scrunching up at times. They’re all handling it better than Steve is— fingers digging into his legs, eyes screwed shut, breathing in and out as he tries to calm down. 

Steve makes the mistake of opening his eyes and accidentally glancing at the screen just as some awful monster jumps at them, almost giving Steve a heart attack. His hand leaves his lap to grab Robin’s hand, needing physical comfort. 

It takes him a few seconds to realize that, while the hand he just wrapped his fingers around is thin and bony like Robin’s, it’s also bigger and uncharacteristically cold. Steve glances down at it with a frown and realizes that the reason why it’s so cold is the multiple rings adorning the fingers— fingers that don’t belong to Robin. 

Because Steve reached out with the wrong hand and grabbed Eddie’s instead. 

Fuck.

He glances away from their hands and finds Eddie already looking at him. Steve knows he must look like a startled deer, but instead of the teasing expression he expects to see on Eddie’s face, his eyebrows are knitted in concern. 

“You okay, Steve?” Eddie asks softly, leaning into Steve’s space even though the noises coming from the speakers are enough to drown out their voices. 

“Not really, but um, I didn’t mean to do that, sorry, I thought I reached for Robin,” Steve nervously stammers out. He manages to get his scrambled brain cells working and lets go of Eddie’s fingers— but before Steve can fully retrieve his hand, Eddie flips his hand over, trapping Steve’s there.

Steve blinks at him.

“Does it help? Holding someone’s hand?” Eddie asks and Steve nods dumbly. “Okay, then.” 

And so Eddie slides his fingers through the spaces between Steve’s fingers, intertwining their hands.

Steve looks down at them, blinking repeatedly, expecting them to disappear. “Eds, you don’t have to—”

“Shhh, I’m happy to,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand.  Steve’s breath catching in his throat. “Don’t you worry, big boy. I’ll protect you,” he adds with a wink. 

Steve knows Eddie is trying to lighten up the mood but he doesn’t laugh it off because the truth is that he does feel safer like this, more relaxed. He gives Eddie a small smile. “Okay.” 

“I guess it’s a good thing you made me grab those napkins, huh?” Eddie says, and this time, Steve does laugh, though he muffles it behind his other hand so hopefully the girls can’t hear it. He doesn’t need them glancing over and noticing their hands— Steve is already blushing enough as it is. 

After that, Eddie turns his attention back to the screen but Steve keeps his eyes on their hands for a while, taking advantage of the glow coming from the screen to study each of Eddie’s rings, his chipped nail polish, the tattoo on the side of his wrist, the scar from a demobat bite in the back of his hand. 

When he glances back at the screen, the worst of the movie seems to be over and he’s able to push through the remaining and significantly less scary scenes by squeezing Eddie’s hand and feeling Eddie squeeze right back. 

At one point, Robin glances at him, probably to check on him and her eyes end up on their held hands, a loud gasp slipping past her lips. 

Steve whips his head at her and meets her bulging eyes. She mouths her words at him— “Oh my God!”

“I know!” Steve mouths right back.

Because this might’ve started with Eddie being a good friend and comforting Steve, but as the movie droned on, it started to feel less like that— it started to feel like more. The way Eddie started rubbing his thumb over Steve’s hand, the way he blushed when Steve started to play with one of his rings, the way they both kept glancing at the other and smiling almost shyly. Steve’s heart hasn’t stopped jackhammering against his ribcage at the thought of all of this meaning something. 

But they can’t address any of that right now and Robin seems to realize that, so after giving Steve a dorky thumbs up, she turns her attention back to the movie. 

Steve does the same. On the screen, those who survived are being rescued and Steve can breathe a little easier. Before he knows it, the end credits start rolling up and Steve finally fully relaxes. 

He expects Eddie to let go of his hand right away but to Steve’s surprise, he doesn’t. Without letting go, Eddie leans over Steve to ask the girls what they thought about the movie. 

“I probably could’ve lived without seeing that many guts,” Robin says, her nose scrunching up. 

At the same time as Nancy says, “Oh, it was good!” 

Steve stares at her, dumbfounded, but Nancy has always been the bravest out of all of them. 

“Hell yeah, Wheeler!” Eddie whoops, reaching over with the hand not currently holding Steve’s to give her a high five. 

Nancy returns it with an amused chuckle. If she notices Eddie’s other hand intertwined with Steve’s, she doesn’t show it. “What about you, Steve? What did you think?” 

“I think I’m never letting the kids rent this fucking movie,” he says with a scoff.

Eddie throws his head back with a laugh, loud and full-bellied. It’s a good thing that the movie is over because the sound reverberates around the rapidly emptying room.

Next to Steve, Robin snorts. “You know Dustin is just gonna convince Eddie to rent it for him, right?” 

“Lies and slander!” Eddie protests. “I would never corrupt the youth like that!” He says, pulling his hand and Steve’s towards his chest, clutching it as he plays the to offended part. Well, if Nancy didn’t notice they were holding hands before she sure did now. 

“You would,” Robin says with a shake of her head, “You have.”

“I resent that, Buckley.”

“She’s right, Eds. Max told me you let her try beer last week,” Steve says, voice shaking slightly from Eddie keeping their hands on his chest, letting Steve feel his heartbeat. 

It stutters at Steve’s words and his eyes go wide. “That little snitch! Okay, it was one sip and she was blackmailing me!” 

Nancy raises her eyebrow. “With what?”

Eddie’s cheeks go pink and he averts his gaze, his eyes darting to Steve for a second before focusing on the rips in his jeans, tugging at them. “Um, nothing. All I’m saying is those little shits are menaces. They’ll find a way to watch the movie, y’know?”

“Well, god-fucking-speed to them,” Steve grumbles, “I’m never watching that shit again.”

Eddie leans close. “Not even if I agree to hold your hand, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and accompanied by a squeeze of his hand. 

Steve flushes— from Eddie’s voice in his ear, his hand still on his, the thought of holding it like this again. He opens his mouth and closes it, he wants to say no but he’s afraid the word will come out will be an embarrassingly eager yes. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything because Nancy speaks up. “You guys ready to go?” 

They all nod and set about picking up their trash, which means Eddie finally has to let go of Steve’s hand. He tries not to look too disappointed by that but probably fails. As they start making their way out of the room, Eddie and Nancy fall into step together, engaging in conversation about their opinions on the movie, which in Eddie’s case includes a dramatic reenactment of his favorite parts.  

Steve and Robin are a few steps behind and Steve watches Eddie as he gestures wildly and makes weird noises and even falls to the ground at one point, pretending to die like one of the characters in the movie. Nancy laughs and helps him up and Steve feels a wave of affection for Eddie so strong he nearly doubles over with it. 

“Ugh,” Robin groans next to him. “Tone down the heart-eyes, dingus, it’s gross and I literally just saw someone’s insides explode.” 

“Fuck off, Robs,” Steve says, shoving her lightly, his cheeks dusted pink. She stumbles before crowding against Steve again, a bounce in her step. 

“Nope, you still have to tell me how you two ended up holding hands.”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck, wishing he could say he pulled it off by being smooth or something. God, he used to have game. “Uh, the movie was a lot and I accidentally reached for his hand instead of yours.”

Robin throws her head back with a loud cackle. “Oh Steve,” she says, holding onto Steve’s shoulder as she laughs. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Hey!”

At Steve’s protest, Robin shrugs. “What? I called you pretty!”

Eddie comes bouncing over. “Ohhh, are we calling Steve pretty? Can I join?” He asks, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. Robin meets Steve’s eyes and waggles her eyebrows. If Steve wasn’t trapped against Eddie’s side he would pinch her arm. 

“No, she’s just being annoying,” Steve says and Robin sticks her tongue out at him. 

“Doesn’t mean she isn’t right, pretty boy,” Eddie says, dropping his head to Steve’s shoulder and looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. Steve goes warm all over. He ducks his head, unable to keep a dopey smile from stretching over his lips. 

Robin clears her throat— she and Nancy are trying not to smirk as they look between the two of them. 

Steve squirms. “Um, you ready to go, Robs?” 

“Actually,” Robin says, exchanging a look with Nancy. “Nance is giving me a ride home.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “What? Why?” He asks. “Is it because I threatened to push you out of the car and make you walk?” Next to him, Eddie lets out an amused snort. 

Robin waves him off. “No, it’s because um- she left a book! At my house last week! And she needs it back tonight, right Nance?”

Nancy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Oh, yes, it’s a very important book.”

Steve narrows their eyes at them. He’s not buying any of it. “Right.”

“Yeah! So I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she tells Steve then to Eddie she says, “And I’ll see you, well, probably tomorrow at work too when you inevitably show up to annoy me and Steve.”

Eddie grins, wiping a fake tear. “Oh Buckley, you know me so well.”

“Yeah, yeah, sometimes I wish I knew you less,” she says but the corners of her mouth are turned upwards. 

Eddie lets go of Steve so he can give Robin a quick hug. Then she throws her arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Call me when you get home and tell me everything,” she whispers in his ear and Steve frowns. 

He already told her about the hand holding and that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t know what she thinks will happen between Eddie and him when they say goodbye right here in the middle of the street, but he nods anyway.

They each get a hug from Nancy too and then she leads Robin away towards her car.  “Bye, boys! Miss you already!” Robin says, waving enthusiastically at them. 

Steve wiggles his fingers at her and Eddie gives her a two-fingered salute, both of them chuckling in amusement. 

“Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Steve says when it’s just the two of them and a few other moviegoers trickling out of the cinema. He can see Eddie’s van parked just across the street while his own car is a few blocks away. 

“Nope, Stevie, I’m walking you to your car,” Eddie says with a wink. “For protection, of course.”

“You know I keep a nailbat in my trunk, right?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. He’s over the movie by now, not worried about some creature jumping him on his way to his car— not more than usual at least.

Eddie shrugs. “My protection then.”

“If you insist,” Steve says with a chuckle.

They start walking towards Steve’s car, the street getting darker and quieter the further away they get from The Hawk. Their shoulders keep bumping together, the back of their fingers brushing with how close they’re walking. Every time it happens, Steve wants to grab Eddie’s hand and hold it again. 

“Hey, um, sorry I dragged you to this movie,” Eddie says after a short silence. 

Steve glances at him and finds Eddie looking at him shyly. “You didn’t drag me,” he says, nudging Eddie with his elbow. “I said yes.”

“But why? If you hate horror movies so much.” 

“I like hanging out with you,” he says and Eddie’s eyes widen almost imperceptively. “And I had fun just— not during the movie. Though holding your hand wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie chuckles, ducking his head. “Mediocre hand holding is what I’m best at,” he jokes. “And I’m glad you said yes, you know I love my Stevie time, but maybe next time you can pick the movie.” 

“You mean next time we come here with Robin and Nancy?”

Eddie bites his lip, side-eyeing Steve. “Sure, yeah, or y’know just the two of us, if that’s a thing you’d want to do.”

His voice is small and he’s anxiously playing with his fingers and with a start, Steve realizes that Eddie is nervous. Cute, Steve thinks.

He tilts his head. “Like a date?” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath and then Eddie is grabbing some hair and tugging it in front of his face, but Steve still sees the way his cheeks turn red. He mumbles, “Um, yeah?”

Butterflies explode in Steve’s stomach then and he feels a dopey smile stretching over his lips. Eddie’s eyes go wide, looking hopeful at Steve’s expression. He spits the hair from his mouth, revealing a small smile tugging at his lips. “How about next Friday?” Steve asks.

A disbelieving laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “Really?” When Steve nods, Eddie lets out a cute little yelp at the confirmation. “Friday it is,” he says. His eyes get a little twinkle in them. “Do I need to pretend to be scared so you’ll hold my hand?” 

“Nope,” he says, and after looking around and making sure they’re alone in the street, Steve finally reaches over and grabs Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers like Eddie did in the movies. 

Eddie’s mouth makes a little “o” shape as he blinks down at them, color rising in his cheeks. 

Steve tugs on his hand to get him walking again, pressed together to hide their hands between them even if it’s dark and there’s no one around.

Sooner than either of them would’ve liked, they reach the Beemer. “Here we are,” Steve says, leaning back against the car, their hands dangling in the space between them. “And we didn’t even need my nailbat.” 

“You know that’s not the only reason why I walked you to your car, right?” 

Steve’s eyebrows go up as he feigns shock. “You mean you didn’t actually expect us to get attacked by slimy monsters with razor-like teeth?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, stepping closer until he’s pressed against Steve’s body, pushing him against the car. “Not that I’d be surprised in this fucked up town but no, um, I was also hoping I’d get to do this.”

Steve opens his mouth to ask what he means by this but Eddie shuts him up by hesitantly grabbing Steve’s neck and leaning in, softly pressing his lips to Steve’s mouth, who gasps in surprise before the sound melts into a happy sigh. He lets go of Eddie’s hand so he can wrap his arms around Eddie, bringing him closer, tilting his head for a better angle so their lips move together more easily and he can taste butter and salt and the slightest hint of sugar. They keep the kiss short, knowing that despite the lack of street lights around them and the late hour, they’re still in public. 

When Eddie pulls back, his cheeks are bright pink and his eyes are sparkling, his smile giddy and so beautiful. Steve already wants to kiss him again. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve, don’t look at me like that,” Eddie groans, and Steve’s eyes snap up from Eddie’s lips, where they darted to without Steve realizing it.

He blinks. “Like what?”

“Like you want to—” His hand slides through the air as he gestures aggressively, “—eat me or something. I’m trying to be a gentleman here and not drag you into the backseat of your car.”

Steve smirks. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Steeeeeve,” Eddie whines.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, holding his hands up with a laugh. He doesn’t trust himself not to jump Eddie right now if he stays here any longer anyway. “Goodnight, Eds.” 

Eddie’s face softens. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

When neither of them move— Steve to get in the car and Eddie to go back to his van— Steve shoves him and sends Eddie’s clumsy ass stumbling back. “Go! Before monsters actually jump from the shadows and murder us.” 

“You’d protect me though, wouldn’t you, Stevie?” Eddie teases, batting his eyelashes at him. 

“Always,” Steve says, then makes shooing motions at him. “Now go.”

“Yes, your Majesty, I’m going,” Eddie says as he starts walking— backwards so he can look at Steve some more.  

Steve blows a kiss at him, making Eddie trip over nothing and stumble, but he catches himself and he catches Steve’s kiss in his hand— and then makes out with his hand, making Steve scrunch up his nose and chuckle fondly at the same time. 

He waits until Eddie turns around to get in his car, catching sight of his dopey smile on the rearview mirror as he adjusts it. But he can’t help it— he held hands with Eddie, he’s going on a date with him, he kissed him. 

Turns out Steve does have a reason to call Robin when he gets home after all. 

[jellyfishbug]

SEATBELTS FIRST

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot ! this is part two of pop the hood f'me not proof read.

content; mechanic!chris, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected (wrap ur shit or ill catch you), spit, slight dumbification, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names, swearing this one is shorter because theres less build up. anyway, sorry for edging you guys, heres pt 2 :)

I got the call around six thirty the next day.

I was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter island in the center with an apple in my mouth when my phone started to buzz in my back pocket. I set my belongings down and struggled until I finally tugged it out of the tight sleeve and glanced at the screen, an unknown number displayed at the top.

I swiped my thumb to answer, pressing it up to my ear and taking the apple out of my mouth to speak, "Hello?"

"hey, it's Chris," I feel my eyes go wide, the apple that was once in my hand dropped onto the counter with a thud. "your truck is good to go- I can drop it to you when I get off."

I swallow, my mouth now paper dry as I reach to stop the apple from rolling off the counter. "Okay- yeah, sounds good. Thank you,"

I could hear the smile in his voice as he laughs lowly before replying, "can't wait."

The line went dead, indicating that he'd hung up. I lowered my phone away from my ear and placed it on the counter next to the apple and stared at it, momentarily averting my gaze to the clock a couple seconds later. He gets off soon .

I'd felt nervous about picking up the car; the night before, when I'd had to reluctantly deny his advances in the backseat to get home on time, he understood and said something along the lines of ''S okay, its not the last time i'll see you, m' sure of that."

But regardless, I felt even more awkward when I had to make him park at the end of the street so i could walk up and make it appear like I'd taken the bus to my dad, rather then have him watch me pulling up with a random kid in a car he'd never seen before. Chris just laughed and nodded at my request, pulling over near the sidewalk at the end of my street and leaning over to press a kiss on my lips, smiling at me when we parted. He opened my door for me with the other hand and said, "I'll call you tomorrow,"

And he did.

About an hour after he called, I saw my truck roll up through the kitchen window above the sink. Chris sat in the driver's seat, and I watched like an idiot as he popped open the drivers door and hopped down, running his hand through his hair mindlessly.

He was wearing a black t shirt that hugged him, partnered with a pair of light wash levi's. His hair wasn't hidden by a bandana this time; it hung loosley, some strands hanging on his forehead and eyes.

My keys were firm in his grip as he walked up the stone pathway. I almost forgot I needed to answer the fucking door, too busy watching him duck his head to avoid the part of my roof that hovered over the front porch, tooth pick in his mouth as he pressed two knuckles to the door and knocked lightly.

The noise of his hand meeting the wooden door startled me back into reality - I shuffled around in the kitchen for a second before I walked up to the front door, taking a deep breath as I twisted the knob and opened it.

His head snapped towards me, a smile appearing on his face whilst he looked me up and down. I did the same, sizing him up with a nervous expression before finally turning it into a grin to match his.

"Hi," he said softly, taking the tooth pick out of his mouth and leaning against the doorway. Before I could even respond, he opened his palm, and I glanced down to see a pair of keys.

I took them from his grasp and grinned, pressing my bottom lip between my teeth. "Thank you," I paused, "For fixing the truck and for bringing it."

He nodded. "Not a problem."

I look away momentarily, glancing between him and the setting sun behind him. I turn around to look at the clock again; 7:34. My dad isn't home for a couple more hours, and I really don't want Chris to leave yet.

He raises his eyebrows at me once my eyes were back on him, like he already knows what I'm about to ask.

"D'you wanna go for a drive?"

A grin is back on his face, this one open-mouthed so I can see his teeth as he licks his lips and nods.

"Absolutely,"

I drove this time. Chris sat in the passenger seat, grinning stupidly with his hand out the window resting on the roof from the outside. The windows were rolled down, and as a result the wind was blowing through the car loudly, leaving no room for any sound between us besides laughter.

Finally, we started to approach a red light. Once we rolled to a stop, a he turned to look at me, toothpick still resting in his mouth. I kept my eyes ahead, nervous to look back, but once i realized he wasn't going to look away until i did, I finally glanced over at him.

His grin was still there, cocky as ever. He took his hand of the roof and let it back in through the window, resting his chin on against his palm.

"Whatch'ya thinkin about?" He asked, his voice soft and curious.

I leaned back against my seat with my head hanging off the head reat slightly, pausing for a moment before answering honestly;

"Yesterday."

He swallowed thickly, and my eyes followed the movement in this throat. He turned to face the road and dropper his head slightly to huff laughter through his nostrils, "Oh?"

I felt my stomach flip, and an excited feeling flooded my gut. I nodded slowly and Chris shifted in his seat, a flustered expression on his face at my words. It wasn't flirting - it felt too lewd to be flirting. But whatever it was, It was fun.

The silence was sharp enough to cut skin. I almost wanted to jump out of the car and leave it running in the intersection with Chris in it, but instead, i felt a pang of satisfaction when Chris raised his eyebrows and asked, "What time do you need to be home?"

The clock on the dash told me it was already 8:30. At this point, It wouldn't make sense for me to go home anyway, and I didn't plan on ending this conversation anytime soon. "Whenever,"

He nodded, a simple acknowledgment of what i said, but he didn't say anything else. The light turned green, and we were moving again. The wind blowing was loud, but quieter now; quiet enough that i could still hear him.

"D'you remember what i said yesterday?" He finally said, turning to stare at me.

I thought for a second, all the words - both filthy and sweet - that we'd said the day before. "One thing specifically?"

He nods. I want to remember, but considering the sheer amount of possibilities he could be referencing, I shake my head.

He licks his bottom lip. "I said I was gonna get you off- but you had to be home . ."

My breath hitches in my throat, and my grip on the steering wheel turns knuckle white. I nod my head. He hasn't looked away, and his gaze is starting to feel like it's burning my skin with every glance.

"You don't have to be home now,"

It came out breathier than he meant it to - I'm sure of that.

Immediately, my mind goes to how uncomfortable shuffling around in the backseat is going to be, especially when theres still daylight and someone could see us, but as if Chris is reading my thoughts, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth again to speak. "Pull over- ill drive."

I nod, not wasting a second to pull over once we're out of the intersection. I pop the drivers door open, leaving it open and walking around to the other side to switch seats, closing the passenger door loudly.

Chris steps up into the driver's seat and shifts the gear, "My place, yeah?"

I'm nodding before he's even done talking.

We're moving again, and he makes no effort to hide his excitement, my eyes darting to the speed tick on the dashboard as he swerves dangerously through and across lanes.

I'm almost nervous my car will end up back in the shop before we even get to his house with the speed we're going, but if it means I get to see him again, it doesn't sound so bad.

His hand moves to rest on my leg, the other carelessly gripping the steering wheel with occasionally glances in the rear view mirror, as well as occasional glances my direction. I pretend not to notice, but the anticipation is burning in my core at the feeling of his eyes grazing my frame.

Before I even noticed we were in a neighborhood, we pull into a driveway. Chris pushes the gear into park and twists the keys in the ignition until the truck is off and glances at me, a knowing smile on his face.

"You good?"

I must've looked red and flustered, and part of me knew that because of how hot my face felt, but embarrassment still lingered in my thoughts as i nodded.

"Yeah,"

He shakes his head and laughs lightly at my response, turning to open the door and step down. I watch as swings around to my side of the car to open mine, reaching a hand out to help me step down, smiling once my feet are on the concrete and the door shut behind me.

As we approach the front door, he fiddles with the keys on his carabiner before finding an orange one with "house" written on it in black sharpie. He unlocks the door and opens it with a small creak, glancing on either side of the living room before turning back to me, signaling me to follow him inside with a tilt of his head.

We walk up the stairs and down a small corridor before reaching the room at the end of the hall, wooden and covered in stickers. He opens it and waits for me to enter behind him.

Once i'm inside, i glance around to take in my serroundings; his bed is in the right corner of the room, neatly made with a handful of pillows carelessly thown against the headboard. Theres a small desk at the other end of the same side, and a handful of license plates carefully hung up above the window. Theres sports memorabilia too, some hockey sticks in a pot and a framed jersey hung near the closet.

I step closer to the frame, tracing my fingers along the glass to examine the fabric. "You play hockey?" I ask, glancing back at him with my hand still against the hung jersey.

He laughs, walking closer to me with his hands in his pockets. "Used too- haven't really played much since I graduated,"

I nodded with a hum of understanding, letting my hand fall back to my side as i walked back towards him. He studies my movements, and once i'm in front of him, i reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind is ear. I purse my lips, eager to fill the silence thats suffocating the both of us. "D'you street race?"

He makes a puzzled face, evidently surprised at the random question, eyebrows furrowed as he tilts his head at me. "Uh, yeah. I mean- sometimes with friends, or on roads in the middle of nowhere for shits and giggles. Why?"

I shrug. "You just... go really fast," my hands are still running through small strands of his hair. "And you swerve- but it's controlled and clean, like it's really familiar to you, or like you do it a lot - so I was just curious."

He grins, raising his eyebrows and stepping ever so slightly closer to me to peer down at me through hazy vision. "You starin at me or somethin?"

I feel my face flush pink and I roll my eyes, my hand finally falling away from his hair. "Maybe."

One of his hands leaves his pocket to draw circles on the waist of my jeans, still eyeing me mischievously. "I don't necessarily like racing for money," he says, his tone honest. "I just like the adrenaline of it- feeling your heartbeat in your throat n' shit. Its fun."

He gently drags one of his hands down my lower pack and puts it into my back pocket, pulling me closer to that we're pressed together completely. "Maybe I'll take you sometime,"

Before I can respond enthusiastically and tell him how much i'd love that, he hooks his other hand on my face with his fingers grazing the back of my neck, pressing his lips against mine.

I'm alarmed for a second until finally kissing him back, my hands on either side of his head, brushing against the stubble on his face. He's kissing with intention; almost impatient, like he's been thinking about this just as much as i have.

It's not long before he's sliding his tongue into my mouth, tilting his head to kiss me deeper, the taste of marlboro red's strong and tangy on his lips. He groans against my mouth, the sensation making a hushed whimper escape me.

He's so fucking cocky with everything he does, the smirk on his lips condescending and teasing as he bites down on my bottom lip in between kisses almost hard enough to bruise. His hand slides out of my back pocket to rest against my back, pushing my lower half against him.

I pull back for a split second, eyes opening to glance into his momentarily, "you're a really good kisser."

He raises his eyebrows, and in an arrogant tone he responds, "oh yeah?"

I nod, a whiny noise building in my throat, growing tired of the absence of his pink lips and leaning back in quickly to kiss him again.

Faces still attached, he spins us around so that my back is facing my bed, walking us slowly towards it until my legs hit the frame and i plop down, frowning at the loss of the kiss.

He tugs at the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head before lowering to place one more kiss on my pouting lips, chuckling when my hands start to fiddle with his belt. "Lie down, sweetheart."

I furrow my eyebrows, "But I-"

He shakes his head, "No," he says, lowering to his knees in front of me. "It's my turn, isn't it?" His fingers trail along the waist of my jeans, fingers fiddling with the button. "Told you i'd get you off, didn't i?"

I lower my back against the bed, propped up on my elbows to eye him as I nod slowly. He grins, dragging my zipper down and wrapping his fingers beneath the fabric of my jeans, tugging them until they're completely off and forgotten on the floor next to him.

He leans down to trail open kisses from my stomach to directly above my core, then on the inner plush skin of my thigh, biting his teeth down lightly into the sensitive skin and swirling his tongue against the mark.

My fists curl against the sheets as I whine from the feeling of the bite, watching as Chris glances up at me with wild eyes through his eyebrows. He lifts his head and wraps his hands around my upper thighs, tugging until i'm resting directly at the end of the bed with my legs on either side of his head.

He tugs at the lining of my underwear, glancing up at me. "This okay?"

I nod quickly. "Please,"

He impatiently pulls them off me and tosses them to the side before continuing the previous action of kissing at my legs, and I start to squirm below him, impatient and restless.

"Patient," he says lowly. "We're not in a rush anymore, remember? 'Wanna take my time with you."

It's sweet; it is, but when he's hovering above where I'm aching the most lazily pressing kisses anywhere but where i need them, it just feels like torture.

"Chris, please, i don't care- jus' need you-" I'm cut off with a slight yelp as he's biting down again, harder this time, savoring the feeling of the soft skin in his mouth before pulling away and all but shoving two of his fingers into my mouth.

I swirl my tongue around his digits, the length of them causing them to brush against the back of my throat harshly enough to gag slightly, but i maintain composure as he slides them back through my lips.

He prods them at my entrance, lowering his head again to finally lap his tongue against my neglected clit. My head knocks back with a whine, lower lip between my teeth as he messily plays with the bundle of nerves.

He's cruel with his mouth, occasionally licking stripes up my cunt messily and groaning. My eyes roll into my head at the feeling of his stubble brushing against my inner thighs, feet shaking against his back as I dig my nails into the cotton sheets beside me. "Wet jus' for me, huh, baby?" he grumbles, his words muffled by me.

I part my lips to answer, but my jaw goes slack as he presses his spit covered fingers into my entrance, his mouth still latched to my slick folds as he pumps them in and out an agonizingly slow pace.

"Fuck," I hiss, one of my hands flying up to grip his hair. "Oh m' god, Chris." My back arches up slightly, but Chris firmly presses his free hand down on my hip, forcing me back against the bed and pressing his nails into the flesh to keep me still.

His fingers speed up the pace, and be grins against me as I whimper pleadingly. He lifts his head for a second to speak. "Yeah? Feel good?"

"So good," I babble, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair as he wraps his lips around my clit, swirling his tongue aggressively as his fingers continue to pump at a stupid pace, whimpers and desperate cry's of his name flooding out of my mouth.

"close?" He taunts, watching as my legs shake on either side of him. He replaces his tongue with his thumb and rubs circles on my clit. "gonna cum for me?"

The lewdness of his words makes the knot in my stomach get impossibly tighter, and I nod helplessly. My legs are aching to close as i chase the high, but Chris keeps them open effortlessly.

I finally snap as his fingers curl against a specific spot inside of me, a loud cry ripping from my throat whilst he continues to sloppily thrust his fingers and mutter praises. He finally stops when i grip his wrist tightly, squirming and whimpering in discomfort from the overstimulation.

He licks his fingers clean and extends back to his full height to lean down and kiss me, "You good?" he asks genuinely, the palm of his hand pressed against my stomach as he rubs his thumb back and forth soothingly.

"Really good," I respond, a warm feeling in my chest when he smiles cheekily. "Good," he says, standing back up to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down to his ankles, stepping out of them and leaving them bunched on the floor.

My lower lip mindlessly rests between my teeth, my expression flushed as i watch him palm himself through his boxers. He takes them off too, stepping closer to place his hands on top of my knees and glance down at me.

He wraps his hand around my wrist to gently tug me up, his fingers tugging at the end of my tank top a a silent request. I lift my arms and he pulls it off an throws it next to me. He leans down to kiss me again, his finger on my chin to lift my head up. "You're really pretty," he hums. I flush pink, the feeling of his eyes glancing over my frame stirring unfamiliar and needy feelings in my gut.

He cups his hand below my mouth, and when I glance between him and his palm dumbly, he clarifies. "Spit for me, sweetheart."

It felt almost dirty; too dirty. But when you compared it to me knee deep in the driver's seat of his car with his cock halfway down my throat and ducking to avoid the steering wheel a mere day prior, it felt like light work.

I pooled spit at the front of my mouth and spit into his palm. "Good girl," he hummed, eyes shifting down to his cock as he pumped it with his saliva coated hand.

He stepped closer, parting my legs and aligning himself with me before glancing at me. "Tap my thigh if you want me to stop, 'kay?"

"Okay," i say, bracing myself as he slowly starts to push himself inside me. My grip on the sheets turns my knuckles white, wincing at stretch, my walls clamping down around him.

Chris digs his teeth into his lip, and he pauses, glancing at my pained expression and my bottom lip that is also snug between my teeth, brows furrowed. "I know, baby. S'okay-doin' so good for me,"

I whine and shift below him as he finally bottoms out, his pressed firmly against me with his dick buried to the hilt. I want to squirm away and tell him its too much, but the painful stretch quickly turns to the pleasure of being full to the brim, and i dig my nails bluntly into his forearm.

"Fuck, so big," I gasp, looking at my lower stomach to see the clear bulge. Chris grins, and i know i'm boosting his ego, but the brain fog flooding through me isn't allowing me to bite my tongue.

"Takin' me so good," he groans lowly, hands still gripping my thighs as he starts to move, and i moan breathily at the feel of his cock dragging against my gummy walls.

He starts to pick up his speed, his grip on the sheets on either side of me tightening as his head hangs to watch my blissed out expression as moans escape my swollen lips, the grip i have on his arm turning animalistic. "S'good, fuck,"

He pulls his arms away to wrap around my legs to go faster, "Oh my god- Fuck," he grunts, and I mewl when he presses his hand down on my lower stomach to feel himself, applying just enough pressure to make my back arch, his dick pounding relentlessly into my gut.

"Yeah? You like that? 'Like how deep I am, baby?" He asks in a way that makes it so rhetorical when he watches my hands brush against his lower stomach mindlessly with pitful hiccups and whines escaping me. I want to answer him, but no words will form.

I'm starting to feel glad he didn't flip me over to fuck me from behind - the view of his pretty face and lips with his jaw dropped in a gasp was too good, and it only made my squeeze around him tighter, desperate to be filled.

"Too dumb on my cock?" he teases at my lack of response, letting his hand fall against my aching cunt to rub lazy circles on my sensitive clit. I squeeze my thighs together with a loud mewl, the pleasure raking through me like a wave.

"so close," I choked out.

It only encouraged Chris to press my knees closer to my chest, dropping his weight against me to fuck deeper. My mouth drops open silently as my legs begin to shake, the twist in my stomach snapping with a loud cry. My body trembles beneath him, his movements not halting as he fucks me through the high. I go limp below him, still whimpering as his thrusts turn sloppy. "Fuck, gonna cum," he rasps, pumping slower but deep. "Where d'you want it, baby?" i wrap my legs around his torso, muttering a 'inside, please.'

He curses under his breath. "Inside you, huh?" he chuckles, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "S'that what you want?"

I nod rapidly, "Please, 'need it."

That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he presses his hips firmly against me, coating my walls in thick spurts of white. His nails are digging into my legs, panting heavy while he presses lazy, tired kisses to my legs before leaning down and doing the same on the side of my head.

We stay like that for a second, catching our breath. I feel an ache growing in my legs as they lazily lower onto the bed when he leans off of me slightly, glancing down through hazy vision. He strokes his hand on my stomach affectionately, his touch soothing and sweet as he slowly pulls himself out, whispering apologies when i wince at the sudden soreness.

"You okay?" He hums. My arms fall to lay against my flushed face as i nod, swallowing to aid my dry throat before answering a small "yeah," He brushes thick strands of my hair out of my face with his index finger before lowering his fingers to cup my chin, "Gonna get somethin to clean you up, 'kay? Hold on."

He disappears for a minute into his bathroom, coming back moments later in a fresh pair of boxers with a clean, damp washcloth in hand. He gently parts my legs, carefully cleaning the mess we'd made off of me, his thumb rubbing circles on my upper outter thigh with his free hand.

When he's finished, he tosses the towel on top of his hamper, and then turns back, smiling at my relaxed expression. He puts his hands on either side of my frame, leaning down to press a kiss on my red, bitten lips. When he pulls away, he hovers just a couple inches above my face, the chain around his neck brushing against my chest.

"Next time you have truck troubles," he murmurs, his gaze flicking up to mine. "Don't come to the shop - jus' call me, ill come pop the hood for you."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated! ! criticism is also appreciated, its how i improve, but please be nice. links below . . . masterlists ! guidelines / info !

[evilminji]

:T Hello there, Thought(tm) of the day...

I? Just remembered that Constantine's "Laughing Magician"(?) title is... f*ckin HEREDITARY?

Like?? As in The Constantine Meances have been out here, harrasing divinity and demons alike for GENERATIONS on behalf of a Good Time, the Lols, and probably Humanity if they can be arsed and you make a good case.

W... What chance would there even BE of at least like? HALF those f*ckers(conflicted but affectionate) NOT becoming Realms Ghosts? With the sh*t they're exposed too? With THEIR luck??

You think DEATH can trick them? Take them away for good? Take away the local Rat B@stard, Tricks Gods Just To See If He Can, Fate Is My Second Mistress and I Cuckold Glory On Your Mother's Bed, Constantine?

They run down main street, *ss in the breeze, wearing someone else's shirt and two shoes that don't match, not a stitch else, like run away lovers. Let Death TRY and catch them. Sorry, Luv, it's not them, it's definitely you.

..........I bet they're the wooooorst~~✨️

No joke, I bet they set up a whole *ss TOWN of Constantine.

Where the odds are in THEIR favor, gods fear to tread, and reality straight out stops working right. Like Diagonal Ally for B*stards, extended to a whole floating island. Everyone's related. It's Chaos. They can barely stand each other. Would sell each other for a toothpick.

Mess with ANY off them... and you can kiss your afterlife good bye.

They have NO neighbors because both no ones dumb enough to get NEAR them AND no one can stand to be around that many Constantines at once. The physical Manifestation of Fate wants to take the whole LOT of the handsy F*CKS to court for child support and a restraining order.

Somehow... they keep getting Earth Booze.

They SHOULDN'T have access. It's been anywhere from decade to centuries since they died. Millennium for a few. Howms't The F*CK, do they keep getting cheap gin and vodka? Bourbon and beer? Even the odd fruity cocktail for funnies.

Please... PLEASE! Tell the Zone at large, that their innate birthright powers STOPPED at Death. They... they are just REALLY good at smuggling right? Excellent con men?

Tell us they can't f*ckin PREDICT AND INFLUENCE Natural Portals!!!

*smug sipping noises from a large room full of Dead @ssholes*

Okay... They Won't Tell You~ 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip*

Now! I hear you ask? Why are John's Terrible, Terrible, God Awful Ghostly Relatives relevant? Absurdly powerful as they are... they seem to take the afterlife as an extended "Ha! GET F*CKED, DEMONS WHO WANTED MY SOUL!" Vacation/Family get together.

Minded their business and expected everyone to mind THEIRS, or ELSE.

Didn't give two solitary SH*TS that Pariah woke from his little nappy-poo to cause a tantrum. After all, in their family? When DOESN'T some "great and terrible Power That Be" get itself in a snit? Meh... it's baby Johnny's turn to clean sh*t up. Best of luck to 'im~!

But THEN!

They must've been drinking... making out with their equally terrible and bamf trainwreck significant others... sitting around playing "who can cheat best at cards"... when? Huh.

Never seen the Fate and The Odds... STRANGLE like that.

Billions of billions of What-Ifs, Maybes, Could-bes, and more... suddenly YANKED towards a single spot. The allowance of Only One Outcome. Almost like what they can do, but... not, WRONG, per say...

Just... impossible.

There's NEVER.. JUST one way this plays out. You can control the big notes. The script. But the details and set dressing will always decide themselves.

NO ONE can just... Decide What Will Happen. And yet?

...............was....... was that Little Johnny? Has to be. Right? Where's his old man? Oi! Was that your Kid??! John's closest relatives are baffled. Nope. They can still feel him laying a beat down on some demon in Norway. So then? Who?

How?

Well mark them CURIOUS(tm).

They decide to actually get up. Put their various drinks and cards down. Put pants on. Somebody's done something... INTERESTING(TM) and they want to know what's up. So? Off they trot.

It's traumatizing for everyone who sees them. The Constantines have breached f*ckin B*stard Containment and are spilling into the Zone. On this! The DAY Pariah Waged A War! THEY JUST GOT RID OF HIM!

And Danny? His everything hurts. The Eyeballs are starting to come out of the woodwork and ARGUE about him like he's not even there. He's DANGEROUS blah blah blah. Give them the crown. Right now! Etc etc.

Somethings telling him not too.

It's... it's HIS isn't it? Has been for centuries and seconds. And... and... everyone one of him is King. There is only one of him. The Zone covers all the multiverse and all of the Hims that were and aren't here and helped and... and...! His head is starting to hurt.

But the more they try to push him to hand it over, the less he feels like unhanding the dang gaudy thing. No. His now. He'll use it as a DOOR stopper if he dang well feels like it! Stop yelling.

Then all these blonde ghosts saunter in... and all he can think is "F*ck. I think they noticed."

Huh?

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites @bjurnberg @the-witchhunter @hdgnj

[yuutasprincess]

Day 1: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, primal play, Yuuta's sweet but also male manipulating you

The doors are locked, of course they are- every night you make sure to twist the knob. You hold your breath, making sure the faint noise from your phone is muted and all that exists within the house is the sound of your heart pumping in your chest.

There’s a pause, silence. The door is locked, nothing is inside the house except you.

Outside, the street lamps cast their glow across the deserted yard, blocking any view of the desolate neighborhood. There's no one in sight, and the only sounds are the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the periodic rustling of leaves. It's a typical night, with the neighborhood slowly succumbing to darkness as the clock strikes 10. Curtains are drawn, windows are sealed shut, and doors are locked to keep whatever resides out.

Inside the house his shoulders sag. Back pressed to the locked door, how he got inside is no one’s business but his. He stays still for a frozen moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the dark as he watches shadows dance.

No one is outside. The man has found his home for the night.

Yuuta stands tall, lips sealed, he simply watches, taking in all the details of your home: the unfolded blankets on the couch, dishes drying in the sink, and the pair of shoes carelessly tossed by the entrance where he now stands. He thinks it’s a lovely home, he’s never been inside. His chest swells with an odd sense of contentment as he continues to stand motionless, he is inside your house.

The grip of paranoia keeps you awake, your body tightly tucked under the blankets, phone clutched to your chest. Your eyes refuse to shut, and you anxiously await the appearance of a ghost in the doorway. You tell yourself it's just your imagination, but then you hear it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Then it’s rushed footsteps, heavy, pounding footsteps and the sound of someone crashing into your walls and shaking the house. You swallow your fear and force yourself out of bed, stumbling into the closet and grasping anything that could be used as a weapon. 

He can’t contain himself any longer, his cheeks round and lips pulled as he smiles while marching up your stairs. Yuuta’s far from discreet, his ragged breaths and the slam of your bedroom door echoing, the weight of the doorknob creating a hole in the wall from the force. He’s practically panting in the doorway, hair clinging to his forehead, he raises a thumb to the corner of his tilted lips.

“Anyone home?”

He laughs to himself, flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes unsettling as he makes his way to your bed. He flings the blankets aside, crawling onto the warm spot where your body lay just moments ago, its imprint still visible in the mattress. 

"I know you're here," Yuuta whispers into the oppressive silence of the room. He digs his face into your pillows, fingers gripping the material as he sniffs loudly. It's disgusting, the way his eyes roll into his skull and how his hips stutter into your bed at your smell.

The only thing keeping you from screaming is the hand you’ve slapped over your mouth, fingers curling into the skin of your cheek as you watch with bated breath. He makes a mess of your bed, tossing your blankets to the floor and rising with a heavy thud as he runs his hands through his hair. You think you might get to laugh about this in a couple years when telling the story, some creep who broke in but didn’t do anything except lay in your bed. 

With knees tucked to your chest you watch him move around the space, fingers tapped rhythmically against various surfaces as he avoids the closet. Your own trembling fingers hover over your phone, help on speed dial, while you clench your teeth, jaw tight, trying to suppress your tears.

Then, silence.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled out of the closet, leaving your phone behind, as his hand firmly covers yours over your mouth. His other hand cradled the back of your head, and for a horrifying moment, you imagined him crushing your skull. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gaze at him, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, hair falling across his face.

He breathes heavy, hot air fanning your face. “There you are pretty girl,” he’s practically cooing at you while you cry.

You're terrified, not sure what he wants but not willing to let him do whatever he plans. Clawing and kicking, you fought to break free from his grasp, letting out sobs as you bolted out of the room. Your feet slid across the floor, thighs burning as you raced down the stairs, taking each step two at a time. He pursued you, eerily silent, and although you couldn't hear him, you could feel his presence, his fingers brushing against the back of your shirt, and his lunging attempts to grab you.

He follows you quietly through the house while you stumble and push things aside trying to reach the front door. Your body slamming into the wall as you cry out twisting the knob.

It’s locked. Of course it’s locked, you lock the door every night. You make sure of it. 

Thoughts finally enter your mind as you try to push towards the kitchen, the rack of knives practically reassuring you. He grabs you, not too tight but effective in keeping your arms pinned to your sides. He pressed his body against yours, wedging you between him and the door, gently shushing your cries. His chin resting on your head as you pleaded with him, promising not to reveal his face, not to tell anyone, begging for your life.

He tosses you over his shoulder with ease, hands gripping the meat of your thighs as he grins over his shoulder watching you wail. “I’m not going to hurt you sweet girl, you’ll feel real good in a second.” gripping your ankles he keeps you from kicking at him, the shaky hits against his back doing little to nothing to deter him.

Laying you onto the couch he’s quick to rest his weight over you, knee between your thighs and hands keeping your arms against your head. “Cute” his nose runs up the column of your throat, inhaling your scent and licking at a sensitive spot under your jaw. His touch is dirty, goosebumps rising on your skin as he kisses at your neck and bites the skin softly, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you anxious.

Releasing his grip on you, he rises to his knees, his gaze fixed firmly upon your heaving form. “Don’t move alright? I don’t want to have to force you still.” His eyes never leave you, jaw tight while glaring through fat tears, stomach churning as you watch the way his thick fingers idly tug at his belt.

In that moment, your instincts kick into high gear—fight or flight takes over. Your body scrambles to break free, and you manage to slip your legs out from under him, delivering a hard kick to his side before bolting away. Hands grabbing ornamental decoration on the table and sending glass shattering his way. Your mind races ahead of your body as you reach for the kitchen door, hand instinctively finding the knife left on the counter. Shaky fingers gripping the heavy handle as you glance back to see him rising from the couch with a frown before you’re out the door.

In the dimly lit room, Yuuta's laughter fills the doorway. He stands there, one hand on his hip, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he casually runs his fingers through his hair. His belt dangles from his free hand as he watches you, the thrill of having you apparent in his eyes. A chase wasn't what he had in mind for tonight, but he can't resist the allure of your determination and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight, he decides to play along.

The treeline at the end of the block is a promising escape route. Your plan is to cut straight through the woods, finding your way to the main road where you can seek help. The only thing preventing you from pounding on a neighbor's door for help is the unsettling sight of those piercing blue eyes fixed upon you from your own front lawn. He's playing with you, casually biting the end of his thumb, watching you like a predator stalking its prey.

Determined, you rush into the woods, heart pounding as you leave behind any trace of him. You slow your pace to a brisk walk, inhaling the crisp air to soothe your burning lungs and alleviate the ache in your thighs. Feet numb as the lack of shoes settles into your brain, keep going- don’t stop. “Fuck. fuck!” The watery curses under your breath is all you can do to resolve the blood boiling anger you feel as you step over dirt. 

To Yuuta, you’re the most darling thing he’s ever seen. The way you clutch the knife like a lifeline and attempt to muffle your breath, straining to hear his movements, is utterly endearing. He could just eat you up. He bites at the skin around his fingernails, eyes unblinking as he watches you start to speed up and waits for an opportunity to have you. As if he can wait.

In the blink of an eye, he materializes at the corner of your vision, deftly disarming you before you tumble into the unforgiving soil. The sensation of sticky leaves and portrusing roots beneath you sends a shiver down your spine, you clench your fists. “What the fuck do you want!” You try to roll over to stand but his converse nudge at your side to force you onto your back. Legs moving so his shoes are on either side of your hips while he toys with his belt. 

He doesn’t answer you this time. Only pushes a thumb under the button of his pants with one hand and lets the material slip down, fingers pulling the elastic of his boxers before reaching in and pulling his leaking cock out. You don’t look. Hold your breath and turn your head with shut eyes as you choke on your own cries. Yuuta moves his shoe up to tap at your wet cheek softly, coaxing you into looking at him with the threat of a swift kick to your face. He’d never hurt you, but you don’t know that. 

With watery eyes you watch him wrap his fingers around himself, the tip an angry red as he starts to slowly jack off on top of you, teeth tugging at his lower lip while he whines. Giving himself a couple of torturous pumps he teases his slit, thumbing at the pearly beads of precum before squatting down to bring it to your lips. His thumb tapping on your sealed lips before forcing you to taste him, it’s salty. 

Yuuta's smile remains intact as he observes your reactions, an effortless "Good girl" slipping from his lips as you suddenly whip your head back, pulling his thumb away from your tongue. The look of infatuation in his eyes never wavers, not even when you desperately attempt to kick his feet away from your hips, or when you unleash a barrage of curses and screams until your throat burns raw. And most definitely not as you lie there, utterly helpless, with his belt securely fastened around your wrists, restricting them above your head.

Picking up the knife he knocked away from you he runs a finger over the dull end before pointing the tip at your collar. “Such a smart girl, my smart girl you really had me worried with this” dragging the knife under your night shirt he sucks his teeth and makes quick work of tearing the material to reveal your soft chest. Tossing the knife aside he falls to his knees and straddles your waist, one hand massaging your tit and other curving to fondle his heavy balls. He whines desperately over your cries, fingers pinching at your nipple until it’s hard and moving to the other one. 

Goosebumps spread over your clenching stomach, body trying to sink into the ground away from his touch. “You’re so beautiful, so soft.” Yuuta's hand falls from his aching cock, fingers skimming the cold skin of your abdomen until they brush the edge of your sleep shorts to pull them down. Flipping you onto your stomach with your face in the dirt he adjusts your hips up. 

Legs moving to keep yours spread as he rubs at the back of your thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the end of your spine he brushes a hand over your mound, fingers skimming your lips to feel your wetness. “Please- please” he coos at your shaky voice, hearts practically in his eyes as he sinks a finger into your heat, “I’ll give you just what you need pretty girl” Yuuta moans at your warmth, exposed cock twitching as he watches your cunt swallow his finger. 

He fingers you eagerly, breath labored as he hears the way you sniffle and bite back a moan of your own. Easing another finger into your warmth his free hand rubs circles into your hip, body hunched over to continue kissing along the expanse of your back. Yuuta fights the urge to rut against your thigh, forearm tensing as he pulls his fingers away to rub at your neglected clit. Tight circles making you writhe in the dirt as he pinches at your bundle of nerves. “So pretty, keep making those noises- my pretty girl.” 

Straightening up he admires you for a second, body pliable and dirt sticking to your cheek. God, he can’t get enough of you. The sound of fabric is all you can hear, heart beating quickly before a warmth hits your back. Yuuta fixes his jacket to cover your naked upper half, the chill of your skin urging him to provide you some comfort in a sick way. 

Pushing your hair to the side his body rests over yours, cock smearing precum against your thigh as he presses wet kisses at your nape, “So, so good for me.” Thumbing at your puffy lips he collects your arousal on his fingers before wrapping a fist around his cock and bringing to tip to kiss your cunt. 

His actions scramble your thoughts, the gentleness that he treats you with while partaking in rough actions makes your head pound. A heavy sigh leaves you when he starts to roll his hips into your cunt. He’s big. Careful as he whispers candy in your ear- his sweet girl, taking him so well. Your eyes burn with a sudden dryness as tears are unwilling to form, fuck, he feels so good inside you. Kisses searing as he rubs down your spine, his jacket and the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix keeping you warm in the dead of night.

Yuuta doesn’t even try to stop the whines bubbling in his chest, lips parted to exhale and lick at his lower lip, eye’s never leaving the way his hips meet your ass and the pretty arch he keeps your back in. It’s addictive, the way your pussy keeps sucking him back in, warm walls clenching down on him and squelching lewdly when he tries to pull out only to bully his way back in. Sweet noises leaving your lax body, hair hiding your face but he can only imagine how hot your cheek would be if he cupped your face in his palms.

“Oh- you’re so good to me, c’mere pretty girl” reaching for the knife tossed inches away he slices up, cutting the tight hold his belt had you locked in and pulls out to flip you onto your back. His jacket keeps your skin from touching the dirt as he shivers at the feeling of cold air hitting him, fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker.

The kiss is gentle, lips hovering above yours as his soaked cock rests on your stomach, hand cradling your cheek as he hums into the one sided kiss. “Please princess, one kiss and I’ll take you home,” He’s so evil, moaning deeply when you entertain him, tongue slipping into your mouth and eyes rolling until there’s a dull ache behind his lids.

Keeping good on his promise he forces himself back in his pants, hands moving to slip his jacket onto your naked form before picking you up, arms around your back and under your knees as he runs his nose against your hairline, inhaling deeply. “Let me fuck you in your own bed princess- I’ll be so good to you.”

The walk back is silent. As silent as the neighborhood. The only sound your thumping heart and racing thoughts as you let him carry you home.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Cottage in the Woods

Stepbro!Anakin Skywalker x Female reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: sexual content, PiV (unprotected), oral, alcohol (no one is drunk), stepcest

Info: Established relationship, mechanic Anakin, college student reader, Anakin does have his mechnahand but it’s not actually mentioned

Anakin stirred awake slowly, his eyes still half-closed as he snuggled closer to you. His hand gently massaged your lower back, and a small smirk formed on his lips.

"Morning, Darlin’." He murmured, his voice deepening with sleepiness. "How's my favorite little princess feelin'?"

He yawned widely, exposing his perfect white teeth before sitting up straight, pulling the covers over both of you.

“M’feeling perfect,” You said as you breathed out happily.

Anakin chuckled, reaching over to grab his phone from the nightstand. He checked the clock before looking back at you.

"Well, we've got plenty of time to make sure you stay that way." He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, showing off his toned abs and muscular arms.

"Get dressed, dollface, it's Saturday morning, and I swear I'm takin' you somewhere special today."

He made a show of rummaging through his clothes on the floor, finding his favorite pair of jeans and a baggy T-shirt, which he threw carelessly over his head.

“You’re taking me somewhere?” You asked, immediately perking you up from your formerly subdued state.

Anakin nodded, grabbing his shoes from the floor and putting them on. "Yeah, you deserve a little treat don’t you think?"

"Get dressed, I'll be back in a sec," he said, heading towards the bathroom.

As he left, Anakin's steps were lighter than usual, almost bouncy, as if he couldn't wait to surprise you.

You changed quickly. Putting on baggy jeans and a black crop top with the oversized black zip-up jacket stolen from Anakin ages ago. You were pulling on sneakers just as Anakin returned from the bathroom.

His tousled hair wet and messy. He wore a pair of black jeans that accentuated his toned legs and a plain black T-shirt that clung to his muscular torso.

"You look fuckin' adorable," he complimented, walking over to you and running his fingers through your hair before kissing your forehead lightly. "Let's go."

He held out his hand for you to take, and together, you left your room, heads bent in conversation as you made your way downstairs.

Anakin chuckled softly, opening the passenger door of his car for you before climbing into the driver's seat. Slamming the door shut behind him, he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

"Well," he began, turning the corner onto their sleepy suburban street. "We're heading about an hour away from here."

His eyes lit up with excitement as he glanced sideways at you, waiting for your reaction.

“An hour away?” You asked confusedly, wondering what the hell he had planned.

Anakin grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just trust me, alright? It'll be worth the drive."

You sighed, teasingly pretending to be disappointed.

As they drove, he began to hum a familiar tune, and you noticed the car's air freshener had changed from its usual generic scent to the sweet fragrance of lavender.

You spent the rest of the drive smushed against the center console to hold his hand and feel his warmth. Playing music low with the intent of just having background noise while you talked and caught up on things.

Anakin's hand squeezed yours back, returning the comfort with equal intensity. "Sweet girl," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

"So, how was work yesterday?" He changed the subject, hoping to distract himself from the growing anticipation and an anxiety building inside him with each mile marker that passed.

“The worst.” You sighed. “I would rather sprint up Mount Everest than serve that large of a party again.”

You told him the drama and tidbits of conversation picked up from that large group of 25 people. The gossip was the only redeeming factor of waitressing that large of a group. It was hell while you worked it with one other waitress, but damn what an interesting conversation you had with her by the dumpster when you both took a smoke break later that night.

Anakin chuckled, his eyes never leaving the road. "That's what you signed up for, ain't it?" He teased, reaching over to give your leg a light squeeze.

“Just cause I signed up for it, doesn’t mean I can’t whine and complain about it occasionally.” You teasingly pouted, but shook your head and kissed his cheek in agreement after he made a quick redemptive comment about your shared luck in having each other to confide in.

"So, how's my little bookworm doing? Everything alright in school darlin’, any trouble with your classes?"

You shared some interesting highlights of the past week’s classes and lectures. Watching Anakin’s facial expressions while you spoke was just as entertaining as the stories you were telling him. The animated way he responded to practically everything you said was heart warming; he gave you that ‘only girl in the world’ feeling that you only ever heard of in books.

As he drove, the landscape outside changed from suburban neighborhoods to rolling hills dotted with trees and colorful wildflowers, signaling your departure from the city limits.

“What about you Ani?” You asked, turning in your seat alittle while you held his large hand in your two smaller ones, tracing his knuckles with your thumbs.

“How’s everything at the mechanic’s shop?” You continued. “are you still thinking about applying for that supervisor’s position?”

You were of course referring to his job as a mechanic, he’d used his two year degree in engineering to get him started in his career. His ultimate goal being owning a garage of his own someday.

Anakin smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Well, I got offered the supervisor's position actually."

"I accepted," he added quickly, as if anticipating your reaction. "It starts next month. More responsibility, more money, and more freedom to do what I love most—fixing cars."

He glanced at you briefly before returning his focus back on the road. The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, casting warm rays through the windshield that danced across his features, highlighting his natural beauty.

“No way really?” You squealed out of excitement for him, dropping his hand to clap almost involuntarily. “oh Ani! I’m so proud of you!”

You picked up his hand again and laced your fingers with his, leaning across the console to lovingly place a hot, wet kiss on the softness of his neck.

Anakin's hand tightened around yours, squeezing gently in response to your excitement. "Thanks, dollface," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

"You know you're the reason I even accepted it, right?" He teased, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully. "Without you, I wouldn't have found the motivation."

As he drove further into the countryside, dense forests stretched as far as the eye could see. Finally, your destination came into view—a small cottage nestled amongst the trees, surrounded by a tranquil lake and lush greenery.

“Ani you’re so sappy.” You teased, secretly extremely pleased that he would admit such a vulnerable thing.

“What are we doing here?” You asked in confusion. “it’s so pretty…” Your words trailed off.

Anakin parked the car and turned off the engine, grabbing your bag from the back seat.

"Patience, my love," he said, his voice laced with excitement. Opening the door, he helped you out of the car and led you towards the front door.

"Just wait til you see inside," he teased, unlocking the heavy wooden door and ushering you in.

Inside was a cozy interior, filled with vintage furniture and decorations. A fireplace sat unlit in the living area, but you could just picture it casting warm light across the hardwood floors and exposed wooden beams.

You looked up, seeing a loft with a beautiful iron spiral staircase leading up to it. You assumed that it was a bedroom or perhaps a small lounge room.

“Aw it’s so cute…” You said, doing a slow 360 to really take in your surroundings.

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing here now?” You turned to ask Anakin, tucking yourself against his chest as he chuckled.

Anakin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. "I thought we deserved a little something—just us," he said, revealing a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"We'll explore the place later, but for now, I have something else planned."

With that cryptic statement, he led you to the living area, where the coffee table was set up with a bottle of champagne chilling on ice and two beautiful 70’s style crystal wine glasses. There was a small wooden box beside it the spread, adorned with a bow.

“What’s this?” You asked, head on a swivel as you looked curiously over at Anakin and back at the box. He pulled you down onto the couch with him, a rumble of amusement coming from his chest. Before he poured you both a glass of champagne.

He reached over to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles on your cheekbone. Watching how your eyes looked over that small box, how your fingers twitched with the impatient need to open it up. He knew you were horrible with waiting, he knew it was practically torture for you. His next statement only further confirmed that for you.

"Open it when we're finished with our drinks, alright?" he requested, raising his glass in to his lips.

You grinned at having been caught ogling over that tiny surprise. You cleared your throat before taking a sip of the bubbly drink. It was light and crisp, perfect for the setting.

You chatted, talking about how quaint the cottage was. He told you about the lake you’d seen as you drove in, how it was only a short walk away. How he wanted to take advantage of the secluded area to go skinny dip that night.

“It’s been a real long time since we’ve done that.” You giggled, remembering the last time you’d went skinny dipping. That was the night you’d shared your first acts of intimacy beyond making out with each other.

Anakin laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I know, I know," he teased, taking another sip of his champagne. "But this time, we'll make it special. I’ll get to take my time with you."

He said, remembering how rushed he’d been. How terrified of getting caught you were. How you both giggled and couldn’t stop smiling. How you blushed anytime you saw him for the next week after… and how that was the night that officially sealed your fate. After that, things were never the same again; you crossed a line that couldn’t be erased, and neither of you cared in the slightest. You were just happy you’d finally admitted the love you shared for each other.

You teased each other, joking around and bantering like it was second nature. It practically was, you’d always been attached at the hip and it only got more intense after deciding to say ‘fuck it’ and reject the title of step-siblings and mold yourselves into something romantic, into a real relationship.

Occasionally you’d glance at the small present box, fingers twitching in anticipation. Your impatience was getting the best of you and Anakin knew it.

“Anakin please!” You complained. “you’re killin’ me. I gotta know what’s in there.”

Anakin chuckled, setting his glass down and taking yours from your hands as well.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, standing up to retrieve the box. "But remember your manners, princess."

He leaned toward the table, then placed the box in your palm. Smiling as he saw you testing the weight of the box.

"Go ahead, open it slowly, alright?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was just a little tease of his. Finally, you reached out tentatively, steady hands brushing against the loose bow on the box. As you carefully opened it, a wave of anxiety hit your chest.

“Anakin… w-what?” You asked in confusion. “A key?”

You looked up at him, taking in his wide grin and devilish glint in his icey blue eyes.

“Wait… wait no way Ani.” You gasped standing up. “is this? Did you? Is this place ours?” You asked with your voice cracking in surprise as emotion squeezed at your throat.

Anakin nodded, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered.

"Yeah, baby girl, it's ours. I’ve had this place in the works for a while. I got it ready as soon as I could."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. "I want us to start fresh, just the two of us. No more pretending, no more secrets. From now on, we're together for real."

He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When you finally broke apart, there was a newfound depth in his gaze, a vulnerability that matched yours.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I know our love needs space to grow without the constant pressure of keeping things hidden for the sake of others. I can’t hide you anymore.” He said with a shaky breath.

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you close as he spoke.

“The dates where I can’t hold your hand or kiss you even though you look so pretty, so beautiful, so kissable, so deserving of proper attention; it’s torture. Having you so close but not being able to give you the love and affection you deserve, it’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes held an intense piercing gaze into your own.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in another passionate kiss, one filled with need and desire. When they finally broke apart, he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes.

"I know marriage isn’t an option for us. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be together." he murmured, running his fingers through your hair. "Just us. No more lies, no more secrets. Just us living our lives together, just like we always wanted."

"I love you," he said softly, his voice softer, smooth with honeyed promises. "I don’t need a stupid piece of paper to prove that, not when I can prove it to you everyday on my own."

“Here, we’re away from everything. An hour from our hometown, close enough to go be with friends and family but far enough that we won’t have to hide. You’re closer to your college now, it’s only 40 minutes to the garage for me. It’s perfect.” He concluded his little speech with a tug at your waist to bring you closer so that he could bury his face in your neck and breathe in the scent of you.

“Anakin…” You sniffled, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks. “I love you. I love you, yes. I- I want this. More than anything.”

Anakin's heart skipped a beat as he felt your body tremble against his, your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours, seeking any trace of doubt or hesitation.

"Really?" he asked, his voice cracking with the weight of your response. "You mean it? You really want this?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead, lifting you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist so that your legs were locked around his torso. As he carried you towards the bedroom, his long legged stride fueled by desire and need.

He panted, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. "Gods above, I fucking love you."

You sniffled, attacking his neck and throat with hot open mouthed kisses while he pushed the door open with his foot. Giving you a fraction of a second to see that he’d furnished the room and made the bed before he laid you softly onto the new comforter.

Anakin followed suit, falling onto the bed beside you, bodies pressed against each other. He broke the kiss long enough to crawl down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at your cleavage to slip your shirt off your torso.

"Tell me," he murmured against your skin, his breath tickling the hills of your breast when he’d freed you from the confines of your bra.

His tongue flicking your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, eliciting a moan from the both of you. "Tell me you mean it."

You squirmed beneath him, arching your back, begging for more of his attention. "I mean it. I want this new life with you."

“Then let’s break in the new bed the way it’s meant to be huh?” He teased in a low voice, his hot breath fanning over your throat as he forced you to wait in between each slow and sensual tongue-filled love bite.

Anakin chuckled against your sensitive skin as he licked down your sternum and up to each hardened peak of your tits. Releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He trailed kisses down your stomach before reaching your pants and unbuttoning them slowly, exposing your lacy black panties.

"I want to taste you," he murmured, his hands hooking into your waistband and lowering your pants and underwear simultaneously. His face hovered over your exposed pussy, his breath heating up your moist folds.

Your body twitched, begging for his touch, but he teased you mercilessly, trailing his tongue around the edge of your entrance before finally diving inside, flicking your clit with his tongue while his fingers teased your tight hole.

Ohhh…” You breathed out in bliss, keeping your hips as still as possible. Knowing he preferred for you to trust him to make you cum. He was always telling you that eating pussy is a privilege and that he’s going to make sure he earns it everytime. “Mmm Anakin, that’s s-so good.”

Anakin groaned, his tongue delving deeper into your wetness, seeking out every hidden crevice of your body. His hand reached between your legs, massaging your sensitive spot before his thumb pulled just above your clit, exposing it for the flat of his tongue to lave. Passing back and forth over it slowly, increasing the pressure until you were on the brink of orgasm.

His tongue slowed down, flicking your sensitive folds before retreating to your leaking hole, teasingly circling it before dipping inside, probing and stretching you with the delicate strokes of his tongue.

With each moan and whimper that escaped your lips, he knew he was getting closer to claiming what was rightfully his—your cum.

“Anakin,” you moaned in a way that felt like it originated from your soul. Anakin’s eyes fluttering as he hummed in response to your pleasured noises.

“Faster please I’m so close.” You whined, bucking your hips.

He didn’t verbally respond, he just smacked your thigh to make you stop wriggling and shook his head. He wasn’t planning on speeding up.

No- not at all.

He slurped at your clit louder than necessary before sucking it into his mouth to provide suctioned pressure as he continued to massage the sensitive nub with the flat of his tongue. His fingers keeping their steady and firm snail’s pace to rub circles into your spongy front wall.

It was a combination of all of it, the added sensuality of the act and the lewd noises that tipped you over the edge. He coaxed the bubbling orgasm into a rolling boil that had your back arching and your juices coating his face.

Anakin groaned, his own cock throbbing against the mattress. Savoring the taste of you on his lips and tongue. After a few moments of post-orgasmic bliss, he finally pulled away, his face messy and his eyes glazed over.

He stood up straight again, towering over you with an expression of adoration, worship. Like he’d discovered a goddess fallen from the heavens sent just for him.

"Feel good huh baby?" he panted, his voice hoarse from his efforts. "Never seen you so speechless."

His eyes gleamed with power and satisfaction in equal parts.

He brought his palm to his mouth while tugging his boxers down, wiping the mixture of salvia and slick from his skin. Using the fluids to lube up his hard, veiny cock.

He nudged his cockhead against your wet hole, testing its readiness and indulging in the satisfying warmth against his sensitive tip.

“Just relax doll, I’ve got you.” He murmured, resting his weight above you on his forearms that he slid beneath your upper back, one large palm cradled your skull while the other gently squeezed your shoulder in a possessive grip.

Anakin lined up his swollen member at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock as it pushed barely past your sensitive folds. He waited for your body to adjust to him, his hips rocking back and forth, pushing just in just enough to make you writhe in anticipation.

"You're so tight, baby girl," he groaned, unable to control himself any longer. With a single thrust, he plunged into you, filling every inch of your tightness. You let out a sharp yelp of pleasure mixed with pain that he loved hearing.

“Relax. Open up f’me.” He soothed with loving kisses, moans swallowed by his eager mouth. He pushed past your lips gently trading the flavors of your cum with that of your tongue.

“Gonna make love to you right.” He promised in the most seductive tone he could muster. “slow and deep.”

“Gods Anakin…” You whispered, bringing your knees up higher and spreading your legs a bit further to accommodate him properly and get comfortable with the feeling of being so full.

“Yes.” You whined, mouth hanging open in a silent moan as you felt every ridge, throb and twitch of his heavy cock. “you’re so deep Ani.”

Anakin grabbed your legs, holding them in place for you as he began to move in and out of you slowly, savoring the sound of your moans escaping your throat. Each thrust was deliberate and powerful, filling every crevice of your pussy with his length.

"Pretty girl," he groaned. "Y’keep squeezing me so tight. Let go for me doll, you can do it."

Catching his breath between each thrust, he continued to praise your body, telling you how much he loved feeling connected to you in this way.

“That’s my girl, just like that.” He nodded, looking down at you with pride written in the corners of his crooked smile. “Perfect. Good job darlin’ there we go.”

“M’gonna… gonna cum.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling the vibration of his deep groan as his response.

“Yeah you are, aren’t you babydoll?” He growled, eyes burning your blissful face into his memory for ever. “Almost there darlin’ I can feel it coming.”

“Uh huh.” You nodded in agreement, stomach clenching as the tightly wound coil finally burst and allowed your body to feel a heavenly warmth as your flesh pricked with goosebumps.

Anakin groaned, his thrusts becoming more sloppy as he felt your climax flood out around him.

"Oh god, I’m right there.” He mumbled, his sweaty forehead resting on yours, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

With one final stroke, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, holding you tight as his cock throbbed violently within your depths. A hot, thick stream of cum shot out of him, painting your insides with his seed. It was like fireworks as your bodies shook with shared ecstasy. His orgasm lasted long enough for him to pull out slightly, then plunging back in again, claiming every inch of you before collapsing on top of you, spent but satisfied.

“Mmmm Anakin.” You moaned softly. “Gods, I think you’ve ruined me.” You laughed quietly, a tear or two escaping your eyes from the intensity.

Anakin chuckled, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.

"That's what I aim for," he panted, his voice raspy. "Never gonna let you forget how good it feels to be mine."

He rolled over onto his side, pulling you close against him, spooning your body against his, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively. "Rest now doll. You’ll need it.”

“I’ve got you all alone for the first time in a while. You’re not leaving this bed till I’ve made sure my little princess has been fucked stupid." he whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against your temple in a gentle kiss.

Tag-List:

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[snixkers]

Einstein's Theory of Relativity

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Fluff

Content Warnings: Large dog, mention of rabies, allusion to cheating, slight suggestive content, kissing

Summary: Spencer comes home to find you in a compromising position.

Author's Note: Decided to post a drabble I've had for a while, enjoy!!!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

Usually, I was greeted by her face as soon as I got home, rushing to the door and enveloping me in a warm hug that smelled of citrus and comfort. But today, I set down my things and looked around at an empty apartment. Even though it was illogical, my first thought was to panic.

Did she leave? I knew I worked unpredictable hours and was hardly ever there, but I always tried to make it up as best I could. Maybe she decided she couldn’t take it anymore and left. Then my mind slipped into darker territory, worries I buried in the back of my mind and refused to let out.

What if it wasn’t of her own volition? The BAU was no stranger to targeted attacks, especially on their loved ones. I kept a tight grip on my service weapon as I crept through the house, using my training to carefully clear each room.

Finally, I reached the bathroom, where slivers of light were peeking through the door. I sighed in relief, putting away my things when a noise caught my attention.

She clearly was not alone in that bathroom, and she sounded out of breath as she splashed with the other person in the bath. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I immediately assumed the worst. I opened the door quickly, stepping inside and-

I stared in surprise at the sight of her wrestling with a large rottweiler, her t-shirt left soaked from an unsuccessful attempt at a bath. She turned around to face me, offering an apologetic smile. “Welcome home?”

I stood there dumbfounded for a moment before realizing what she had done.

“Where did you get it?”

She rolled her eyes at me, brushing off his concerns as if the 100-lb dog sitting in the tub was just a guinea pig.

“It is a he, and he was wandering the neighborhood. I wanted to take him home and clean him up.”

“You can’t just take dogs off the street. Up to 99% of rabies cases are from domestic dogs.”

She grinned, ready to dismiss my concern with a counterargument as soon as the words left my mouth.

“He didn’t have a collar, so I took him to the vet. He’s not sick, but he’s not chipped either, which means he’s ours to keep.”

I narrowed my eyes, not ready to give up quite yet.

“Well, where are we going to put him? Who will watch him? I’m halfway across the country most of the week.”

She stood up, crossing her arms proudly at how much effort she had put into this.

“Our apartment is big enough, and pets are allowed. I work from home most days, so I can take care of him just fine.”

I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair as I tried to convince her that this wasn’t the great idea she thought it was, but every time I came up short. Despite trying to be rational, something about the dog made me want to just hold him close.

She sighed, pouting softly and standing up to move closer to him. “I just need a week to prove it to you. He’s the cutest little thing. Please?”

I stared down at her, my resolve crumbling as she stuck her lip out slightly.

“Fine, we’ll see how this goes.”

She broke into a huge smile, wrapping her arms around me gratefully. I pulled her closer, trying to take in as much of this moment as possible. I stepped back a few seconds later, squinting my eyes at the dog in the bath.

“What’s his name?”

She grinned, clearly pretty pleased with her idea.

“I was thinking of Einstein.”

[idyllcy]

this is a drama. i am the drama.

word count: 10.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of SA, mentions of sex trafficking, mild violence (all r kinda glossed over but still warning), Nonexplicit smut

summary: your soul drowns Tim, but he finds comfort in it.

The city of Gotham is not phased by much.

From the drug trafficking in the docks to the human trafficking happening under everyone's nose, the average citizen doesn't really care. Though, arguably, they do mind when their sleep is disturbed by the sound of racing cars— something else that isn't necessarily new in Gotham. However, there had been news that the racers were steering off into the city at night, so Tim finds himself in civilian clothes, holding up a pass to access the venue that the racers were using, stepping in past the loud noises and people screaming. Ah, he made it in time.

He's surprised to find actual racing cars— cars that look like they could be in a grand prix.

From the seats, he meets eyes with a racer. He can't tell anything, but from posture and body frame, a woman. Now that he looks at it, all the racers seem to be female-presenting. He turns down the drink offered by one of the men, striking up a conversation instead, batting his lashes at the man, hoping to seduce him in some way. He wore too much clothing to be able to do so with his body, but it was still worth a shot. He hates dressing up like this anyway.

"So, what's a goody two shoes like you doing here?" The man smiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"A friend gave me his pass because I said I'd never watched a Gotham street race." He bats his lashes. (Hopefully the fake lashes Stephanie glued don't fall off. God, did he hate dressing as Caroline)

"Really? Usually we place our bets on a racer." He hums, waving a guy over, dropping a twenty in a box. "I'd recommend you vote for Spitfire, she's an oldie and usually wins."

"Who are the others?" Tim slips a twenty from the back of his phone, blinking at the other names.

The man chuckles. "Lightwing is another good contender. She's been around forever. But also, her vision is spotty from an accident last time, so she's not as popular as before."

Tim nods slowly, staring at the other two names. "Who's Moonknight and Aquastar?"

"Moonknight is making her debut tonight, but her test run streaks were pretty bad because she doesn't have as big of a team as the rest of them." The man waves his hand. "You don't need to bet on her, pretty girl." He grins toothily. "Oh, and Aquastar is a visiting racer from a nearby city. We usually have more racers, but Cardinal got suspended for going off the race tracks and breaking into Gotham two weeks ago."

Now that he thinks about it, all of the names were practically knockoffs of the vigilantes and heroes who protected the cities. Although, he's surprised the street racing had ended up this big without any of the bats shutting it down. Someone must have a hand somewhere. He just wonders if it's Hood or B. It could be neither for all he knows.

"How does one race?" Tim blinks at one car in particular. It looks too much like a batmobile for comfort.

"You'd have to talk to the racers for that."

"Ey, Chris, are you hitting on newbies again?" A woman walks up the stairs, shoving him to the side playfully, tilting her head at Tim.

"Oh, come on, Spitty. You know I only do that so I can collect profits when you win."

"Arguably," She tilts her head at Tim, pausing. "You should bet on Moonknight."

"A-ah?"

"If she wins," Spitfire smiles, "then you collect all the profits. It's only a twenty, after all."

Tim frowns.

"But there's also a tradition for newbies to bet on newbies." She laughs. "You never know. That girl's got more speed in her than Cardinal. She just refuses to tell people."

"What's the cash prize?" Tim raises a brow.

"Driver gets ten percent of the bet money on top of the two million that WE pours into the track." She pauses.

"WE pours money into this?"

"We're not sure why, but they have been for a while now. The whole race track was from them." Spitfire sighs. "It's an old story, so it's not that surprising anymore."

Tim glances at the car again, pausing. Ah. This was where Bruce tested out his batmobile by using other people. No wonder he didn't push anyone to check the driving out. If Bruce was testing out all of his vehicles here, then there was no way he'd want it to be shut down. It would explain why he handed him an access card without having him get one. Tim glances around to look for seating, and Spitfire notices.

"You wanna sit in the grandstands?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Really?" Tim puts the money into Moonknight's box. The woman was right. It's only a twenty. Worst case, he loses the money. Though, he wonders what kind of a racer would have a leading champion telling him to vote for her. "Oh, is there a reason all the racers are girl?"

"We tried co-ed racing for a while." Spitfire holds her hand out for Tim, and he takes it. "But the men would get too aggressive and lead to unnecessary accidents on the track. Our goal is to test out cars for our sponsors before they're taken onto the field."

"Is that why there's a pass to get in?"

"Yeah." She hums, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Spitfire, favoring a newbie?!"

"Spitfire, who do you think is going to win!"

The woman turns her head, smile on her lips. "Me, obviously."

But it proves wrong when Tim meets eyes with the same woman from the first time.

You stare into his eyes, white racing suit snug on your body, a look in your eyes he recognizes. Though, the longer you look at him, the more you seem to read him— as if his entire past were exposed in front of you at a table. There is a sort of darkness to both your eyes and hair, the stare of a thousand souls. He breaks eye contact first, waving goodbye to Spitfire as she hops back to her position, final checkups of the cars in progress as Chris asks him if he wants a drink. Tim waves him down, but he mentions a can of Zesti would be fine. Chris barely makes it back in time for the announcements.

Tim catalogs the majority of the announcements in, checking for their voice on his phone, blinking when he finds a lack of match for it. He'd ask Chris, but the man is practically leaning over on the stand, eyes glittering as the cars prepare to race. He stands up, cracking open his soda, blinking when the four racers seem to fly off, and his eyes glance at the big screen, camera flying after the cars.

Moonknight goes from second to third, and Spitfire goes from third to first. He doesn't have much faith in his twenty bucks, but he wonders if the batmobile would really be helpful in a race like this. It didn't—

Moonknight goes from third to first at the final moment, boosting past Spitfire and racing to first place as she makes it into the second lap. Tim pauses while recalling the batmobile, and he remembers the change he had made just a week ago on the car, letting it accelerate faster than the other cars. Seeing his own creation in action hits something in him, blinking as she swerves.

"Oh, I might actually lose my money today." Chris laughs. "I didn't think she'd be able to do it."

"Who is Moonknight?"

"She's a completely new racer. She's called Moonknight because he sponsor gave her a car that looks eerily like a batmobile every time. Though, her car is in light grey." Chris points. "I'll hand you the pamphlet later."

"Thank you." Tim mumbles, watching as Spitfire races neck to neck with Moonknight. Tim wonders if it's going to be a tie. Though, he did add something else to the car. Maybe Bruce told you, maybe not. If she manages to find it, she could win. Though, he's more curious to know if rocket boosters were technically allowed in a race like this. Who knows.

You grimace in the car, pressing a couple of buttons as your fingers brush over something new. You wonder if it's the self-destruction button that Batman had told you not to touch. Yet, you shrug it off, clicking it anyway, slamming back into your seat as you speed past Spitfire, breaking past the finish line, steering with one hand as you try and stop the rockets on your car, clicking on the screen, grimacing. You'd rather not call Oracle. Last time you did, she tried pulling your social security number on you, only to find a lack of one.

Your heart races in your chest as you press the button again, the rockets only growing stronger, and you groan as you type in a code you had memorized from the Batcave, successfully shutting down the systems on the car, turning it back into a regular vehicle. You don't know who invented that line of code, but god were you thankful that you memorized it. The car eventually slows, and you drift next to the other racers, parking successfully. You step out of the car, leaning on the door as it closes, the blood in your body flushing your skin.

"Moon, are you alright?" Spitfire rushes next to you, hand on your bicep.

"I'm fine." You pull the helmet from your head, meeting eyes with Tim's again. You raise a brow, and you lower your voice to Spitfire. "That girl isn't a girl."

"Drag maybe?"

"No." You mumble, turning to shield your mouth from his eyes. "Undercover cop. Either that or they're a vigilante. They used Batman's card to get in."

"Ah." She frowns. "Are we safe?"

"I'll deal with it if he throws a fit." You stretch your neck, placing your helmet onto the top of your car. "Gotta submit a report later."

"I'm not looking forward to that." Lightwing groans. "Our next race is supposed to be motorbikes."

"Ewwww." Spitfire shudders. "I hate racing those."

"I hope they don't have rocket boosters like on my car today." You shudder.

"Alright, go get your cash prize, girlie." Spitfire smacks your back to send you walking to the podium.

You step over to the makeshift stage, taking the cheque from the announcer, blowing a kiss at the phones as you stare at the blank cheque. Two million was the max, but you were told you'd get to cash out five if you could win the race. You pause, though, when the girl you were staring at earlier makes her way out of the stands and walks over. Spitfire tries stopping her, but she seems to say something that has her quiet as she steps up the podium to meet you. You tilt your head at her.

Tim opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

"You know." You pause to wave the announcer off, hooking your arms under her knees to rest your chin on her chest. "You're real hot as a woman, but I'm sure you'd look better as a man."

Tim flushes as you press a kiss to the crown of his head, and you set him on the podium, lips pulled into a pretty smile. Your voice lowers as you rest your chin in the valley of his tits, blinking up at him. You jut out your bottom lip as Tim swallows thickly. Your fingers lace into his hair, nails digging into his scalp gently, blinking slowly, reading his emotions, his expressions, his everything. You look entranced, and Tim almost feels bad that he's here undercover and you're staring starry-eyed over someone who doesn't exist.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" You raise a brow at her, grinning.

"Caroline." He swallows again, heart racing in his chest. You're too attractive for your own good. Maybe you were using that against him. "Caroline Hill."

"Well, Carrie," You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Care for a drink sometime?"

"A-as much as I would like to, I'm not into w-women." He stumbles. (A bold lie. He's never had a worse panic over a woman in his life.)

"Quite a shame." You mumble. "You're so pretty too..."

You step down the stage, holding the cheque up as the girls cheer with you.

Tim should really talk to Bruce about what the batmobile was doing in a street racing event.

Though, as Tim tries to run a background check on you, he finds nothing come up. Even in the private files of the batcomputer. Even on the card that gave him access, all the fingerprints were wiped clean. He finds practically nothing, not that it gets to him, he just looks harder. He practically lives in the cave now. He doesn't remember the last day he got regular sleep. He has nothing on you.

So, he shows up at the next race as himself this time. He enters with the same card, and this time, you find him first.

"So? You related to B?" You hand him a can of unopened zesti, and he raises a brow at you. You raise a brow back at him, pointing at his card. "Card. That's a B exclusive card."

"How so?"

"Sponsor card." You smile. "Since it's light grey, that means it's my sponsor. My sponsor is B."

Tim frowns. "Who are you?"

"My question first."

"He's an aquaintance. Now my question." He opens his can, pressing the drink to his lips.

"I'm a racer." You smile.

"I meant as a person." He clicks his tongue.

"Why don't you find out?" You bat your lashes at him prettily, hand pressed to his abdomen, leaning in to blink at him devilishly. "Or are you not into women too?"

Tim's heart races in his ears, swallowing as he tries his best to match your pace. "What does the media say?"

"Lots" You grin, pressing yourself closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck, your air mixed with his, lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. "But all I hear these days is how someone keeps trying to hack my personal information."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, placing the can to the side.

"Mhm." You hum.

Tim smiles at you, dangerously, all while his mind is a jumbled mess. You had an effect on him that he dared not to pry further into, but god were you intoxicating — bad for his brain even. He finds himself leaning closer to you, all systems going off about how this was bad for him, but he doesn't care. Not when your perfume smells tantalizing and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you sick— make out with you until you're whimpering against his lips, knees giving out under you, and brain fuzzy with only him. His eyes darken with the thoughts, a smile on his face.

You remove your arms from him, tapping his shoulder twice with an innocent smile. "Thanks for giving me the last piece."

Tim raises a brow as you peel yourself from him, his mask in your fingers, smile not so pure anymore.

There was no way.

Tim grabs it back from you as you back up, both hands in the air, and as he shoves it into somewhere you can't touch, you hop over the stands, landing on the dirt with a thud. Tim frowns in frustration as you send a wink his way, starting final check-ups for the race. It's bikes today, and Tim recognizes all of the models. A copy of his own bike is in Spitfire's hand right now. Maybe this was how Bruce figured out whether or not his bike was safe to ride after his own customizations. Jason's bike is in another rider's hands, red helmet with black— presumably Cardinal, and Dick's bike is in Lightwing's hands. You have Bruce's bike still. It checks out now.

This was the testing ground for the vigilante vehicles in Gotham.

The fact that you had figured him out so quickly only meant that you had realized faster than everyone else.

But there had to be a reason that no one part of the team saw the similarities between their vehicles and the ones that the Gotham vigilantes used. There had to be a reason that only you would be crazy enough to figure it out just based on vehicle models. Maybe he could use the status card to talk to you all for a little. Too bad you were already checking the vehicle. He should have asked earlier— strange. It's not like him to be this disoriented.

You win the race.

It's obvious. B's bike was designed with the fastest engine possible, and in a race of pure speed, it would win. No matter how much Tim tinkered with his bike, he wasn't allowed to go faster than Bruce. The man had said it was too dangerous, and Tim could see why. The Batbike was a nightmare to steer at such high speeds. Though, he does wonder where everyone on the track gets their practice. There's never a peak of sound during the day on the track, and neither was there much noise at night when you weren't racing.

Tim does not dig the idea that he has to pull his money card out, but the more competitive part of him does wonder what it would look like to have you fold for him.

"A drink?" He leans over the railing, card held up, raising a brow at you.

You wave him off, handing your helmet to someone else, clicking your tongue.

"That's not the way to ask a pretty woman out on a date, boy." You raise a brow, lips pulled upwards in a grin. "Maybe ask better next time. Some of us have black cards too."

So Tim watches as you leave with the rest of the racers, his heart racing in his chest.

It takes ten more tries for Tim to trace from someone else to you.

He blinks at the woman on the screen, and he pauses to ponder. Perhaps.

However, all of his thoughts are thrown off when a command is called from behind him by Bruce with a new case. A file is handed to him, a file with a rather unoriginal name, and it makes Tim raise a brow. Surely it was a jest.

"I assure you, they are very much real." Bruce rolls his eyes, cowl peeled off, humming with a drink pressed to his lips.

"Is this related to the serial murder of rapists going around in Gotham?" He opens the file.

"Not just Gotham." Bruce hums. "Clark did a report on the serial murder of both registered and unregistered sex offenders in Metropolis as well. It has been a trend. Despite the vigilantism, it is still very much illegal to kill someone."

"I don't see too much of a problem with killing a rapist." Tim presses his coffee to his lips, scanning through the files Bruce hands him. The target seems rather clear. The killer does not regard anyone in the way, knocking everyone out and always only killing the rapist. A maneater. The name given to the murderer was maneater, as if it were some ploy. In some cases, the victims were found with their pants unzipped and an anti-rape condom stuck on them, writhing in pain as they were almost always found dead with poison in their system.

Those who suffered more gruesome deaths... either found castrated with their genitals lying not too far away, or a hole where their heart was supposed to be, the organ missing. It reminds him almost of Heartless, but... that is not the case. This is a vigilante no different from them... just less sparing and guaranteed murder. Now, does Tim solve the case or let the vigilante free...

He does not know what possesses him to ask you of all people, but your response does not help much.

"Moonknight." Tim hums, adjusting his glasses as he puts them on. "May I pick at your brain?"

"Is this about the serial murders?" You wipe the helmet in your hand, cheque tucked safely into your wallet.

Tim nods. "Thoughts?"

"I feel like the murderer's doing us ladies a favor." You shrug. "Think about it."

"I know, but murder is a little..."

"Little hypocritical of you, you know?" You raise a brow. "Must I name your war crimes?"

"No." Tim hums. "Perhaps I should do some digging anyway."

"Wouldn't hurt to have it on file in case you do need it one day." You eye one of the newer men on the track, grinning at Spitfire as she greets him. "Hm?"

Tim's eyes trail up to Spitfire.

Similar build. His glasses indicate the same.

"It's not any of my girls." You crack open the can of soder. "I promise they're clean. B runs background checks on all of us."

Tim mulls over your words.

Scary.

Yet, he visits you anyway, money piling in his back pocket as you win round after round, small talk rolling off your lips in a sort of practiced way, smile inviting as you turn down his request to grab a drink again, humming quietly as Tim's eyes trail down to the small of your back, brow raised as he notices your shorts peeking out past your pants.

"What does it take for a date with you?"

"Maybe not being part of law enforcement." You hum. "Legal or not."

"Why? Worried I'll turn you in?"

"No..." You trail off, chewing your top lip as you turn your head at Lightwing. "Well, if you save Lightwing from some trouble, I'll consider."

"What's wrong?"

"You see the man talking to her?"

Tim raises a brow and spots another group of men not too far off. "Bingo."

You wink in her direction, and Tim hums.

"Hey big fella. Having fun so far?"

You watch as Tim tears the man apart, Lightwing leaving at one point to stand next to you.

"Really, I don't know what you see in that man."

"Not much." You purse your lips, smiling. "Something tells me he's the one."

"I'm willing to bet that he is not." She mumbles.

Yet, as Tim barely lifts a finger to piss the man off, you grin.

"Oh, he's definitely the one."

Tim runs the information, stalking down the final member of your racing team, matching the majority of information to the final member, brow raised when he realizes that Cardinal was not part of B's files either, hunting the woman down as he searches for her current location, and it makes Tim's stomach churn uncomfortably when he realizes how eerily similar the racer is to the described criminal. The person who was dubbed Cardinal had been face-matched to someone who had entered Metropolis just a little bit before the serial murders. It made Tim nauseous.

"Got any leads?"

"Might be one of the previous racers." Tim grimaces. "Of the race tracks."

"Cardinal? I assure you it is not her."

"Really? There had been rumors—"

"It is not." Bruce mumbles. "You know who Cardinal is. It is not her. They may have similar builds, but it is not her."

"Who is Cardinal?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Bruce's evasion of his question does not help the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

You end up with Tim on the date, hair ruffled as he picks you up in his bike, hand held out to you as you take it, humming. It's supposed to be simple. Though, you suppose simple for a Wayne is impossible to determine. You never know what to expect from him. Though, when he pulls you to the local diner, you find it impossible to not know he's the one. It's really too simple.

"Would you tell me about Cardinal?" Tim finally asks you proper questions once the two of you finish ordering.

"Do you think she's the one?" You raise a brow.

"You said your girls are innocent."

"The ones I currently race with." You hum, reaching for the bread on the table.

"And Cardinal?"

"I don't know much about her. She didn't talk much."

"But she was aggressive, no?"

"No." You hum. "She drove into Gotham because she saw something. She also raced her own bike. No one knows who she is."

Tim connects something in his mind, and it sends him back to step one.

"Would you be able to help if I gave you the file?"

"Isn't it just what's available online?"

"One final thing. The killer in Metropolis might be the same person." Tim mumbles. "Thank you."

The food is presented before the two of you, and you stab into your pasta. "I don't think so. Did you track anyone else that entered and exited Metropolis that was a Gothamite?"

Tim shakes his head. "I find it strange."

"Perhaps magic?"

"Not impossible." Tim mumbles. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Tinker." You hum.

"With your bike?"

"No. That's B's property. I tend to tinker with smaller things. It's always fun to build a PC from scratch."

"Ah, you're quite handy with tech." Tim hums, blowing on his pasta. "Anything else?"

"I like watching detective shows." You pause to think. "And racing. I think that's about it. How 'bout you, boy wonder?"

"That's my brother." He laughs dryly.

Tim finds that it's intriguing to talk to you. You know everything that he does, and it seems you know much more than what you let him in on. Dare he say it, perhaps he's met his match.

Tim sends you home and starts patrol. Gotham had become eerily quiet since the murderer had been on the loose.

Though, he has a knack for saying things too early.

A man dies the same day, and B finds his way there with Tim, the two of them sweeping down and kicking the man down, a woman shaking as Tim shields her, holding his cape out, making sure to not look at the way her clothes are ripped up and she's shaking with an intensity unknown to him. He can feel the vibrations of her skin through his cape. The fear is easily contagious had he not known.

"B?"

"Dead. The poison spread too fast."

The woman doesn't look like she was aware.

"Did you buy the product?" Tim raises a brow, eyes scanning her face for any changes in emotion, and she shakes her head.

"I... a-a friend got me o-one on because—" She gasps, shoulders trembling still. "I-it saved her life."

"Do you know where she bought it?"

The woman shakes her head. "Th-they were giving them out on the streets a while back. It's been m-months."

"May we take one back?"

B shakes his head. "Gordon is coming. We will decide then. Oracle?"

Oracle has no intel either, and Tim wonders just how far this murderer is willing to go. If he just let them kill all the rapists in Gotham, then it would result in a number of the population as gone. If he checked them, perhaps the offenders in Gotham would assume they are protected by B — which truly could not be further from the truth.

"Where are you living? I will take you back." Tim catches a figure in the corner of his eye.

"B."

The man shakes his head.

"I-I'll be fine." She mumbles. "May I borrow a... clothes?"

B nods, and Tim hands the woman to him as he takes a good look at the man on the ground.

Familiar. He looks familiar.

The scan from his mask indicates the same. The man who had been talking to Spitfire at the tracks. It was the man who had been talking to her. Some clicks in the back of Tim's mind, his fingers pressing to the silicone, pressing the dirt and grime to the back of his glove to check for DNA.

Just the shaking woman.

"B, I need one of them." He speaks firmer this time. "There has to be some unidentified DNA on one of them."

"There are in one of the files on our computer. It was sent this afternoon." B hums. "The police are arriving. Come on."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, yet he lingers, eyes trailing on the woman as he waits.

One of the policemen is an unregistered sex offender.

He clicks on his mask as he zooms in, a dark figure flying out of the alleyway at the man, and Tim watches as a claw digs into the man's genitals, ripping off with a sound that shakes the walls, followed by a guttural scream. The policemen shoot at the figure, but they don't react, only retreating back into the walls, seemingly unhurt by the bullets.

"Oracle, did you catch that?"

"No face was detected."

"How about figure?"

"Non-human." Oracle mumbles. "I can't identify anything."

"Tsk." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Though, it has to be a shadow ability. Perhaps something adjacent to it. They're gone, right?"

Tim hums into the mic. "Affirmative."

Tim ignores the way the shadow shapes weirdly underneath his feet.

"You can come out." He taps the corner of his mask for reinforcements, taking a step back into the moon as the shadow forms, a smile of white forming into a human.

"Can you—"

"Neither. All indications of sex are missing."

"Oh..."

Their voice is nothing short of horrifying to him.

"I caught a bird." It grins, and as Tim takes a step back, he finds that his other foot has a shadow warping around his ankle.

"Who are you?"

"We are the night." It sings. "We are the darkness..."

Tim knows what's next.

"We are... vengeance."

"That's rather cringe, don't ya think?" Tim raises a brow.

A batarang flies from behind him, and the shadows only create a hole for the weapon to fly through. The shadow splits into two people, and Tim smiles.

"Gotcha."

"Ah ah," The one on the left shakes its hand. "We were promised... freedom."

"Only where you belong." Batman shines a flashlight at the creature, and Tim watches as it retreats back into the shadows, his ankle free. "And you. Next time, just shine the flashlight."

"Are they weak?" Tim raises a brow. "Just to light?"

"It stuns." Batman nods.

"Go track the leftovers on your ankle back in the cave."

"Will do." Tim pauses before he goes. "Is it an alien?"

"No. Something worse."

Tim does NOT know what could be worse than an alien. (He lies. He does.)

The DNA tracks too many women to count. One shows up and then the next, and eventually, Tim has at least twenty women pulled up on his screen, all pronounced dead after being found used and discarded. It is horrifying. Tim may not understand just how terrifying it is to be a woman, but as he finds children, he seems to understand just how disgusting this is. Girl after girl, woman after woman, every last one of them were used and discarded bare for the world to see, photographed and made a case study out of — all who met their unfortunate end and their rapists never see the end of their life the same way they did.

It is disgusting, but something else is discovered.

He does not remember if it is something new, but it seems strange. It is not a shadow, but rather a composition of human souls forced to merge into an unrecognizable shape. It is science, not an alien, and Tim understands why it is worse. It is an unfortunate victim and not an alien. It is someone who had been forced to change into something unloveable. He wonders if the souls of the unfortunate make up the shadows.

Ah. If they are shadows...

Tim turns around as the shadows form a human again, shorter than he is, apple of its cheeks soft and gentle. A girl. It is a girl this time; not a woman.

"Are you a victim?"

It does not answer him.

"Tim? Tim, do you hear me? Red!"

"It has not attacked yet." Tim answers. "How many of you are there?"

The child does not respond, holding up one finger, and then two, and three, and eventually there are too many fingers sticking out of the hand that Tim had lost count.

"Many."

"What's the deal?"

"I matched the DNA." Tim swallows. "I won't hurt you, but please—"

The shadow dissolves, and Tim lets out a breath, staring at the faces plastered across the screen of the Batcave.

"Tim?"

"Oracle." His voice goes quiet. "They are all victims of... The computer just keeps going."

Eventually, B returns, staring at the wall of faces Tim left, finding the man in his room, glasses on as he stares at his PC, case file after case file being read, news article after news article. There is more than one soul occupying the shadows, and Tim reads one after the other of how they were murdered. Stabbed, strangled, shot, mangled, burned. None of the souls were able to escape death at the hands of their rapist. It was sickening.

"It is not a human." Tim speaks, staring at Bruce at the door. "We can not arrest it."

"Is it humanoid?"

"No. It is a shadow of vengeance."

"There has to be a way to stop it from collecting more souls."

Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he sighs.

"And if I do not want to?"

"Tim."

"I know." He mumbles, exhaustion written all over his face. "How will we destroy the remaining souls?"

"How many women were identified?"

"There are currently twenty seven." Tim mumbles. "There may be even less if more of the men die."

"The vengeance of a ghost." Bruce mumbles. "Just find a way to stop the addition of souls. Surely, someone is collecting souls and adding them."

Tim finally closes his eyes when the sun starts peeking over the horizon.

"Sorry." Tim shows up to your meetup place, eyebags extra bad, and you raise a brow at him.

"Something up?"

"What would you do if someone was collecting the souls of the victims of rape and kill and turning them into a shadow of some sort to let them have vengeance on their rapist?"

"Wow, what a loaded question." You mumble.

"Thoughts?" Tim closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Feel free to ignore it if not—"

"I mean... it makes sense." You hum. "Is it scientifically immoral? Yes. Is it in some way morally correct? Perhaps. Their lives were taken and their souls haunt the earth because they are still held down by things they could not resolve while they were alive. Perhaps to the living, they are a monster, but to the dead? to the dead, they are a savior."

Tim pauses to think. "Should the person be punished?"

"Under the law? Sure."

"How about according to yourself?"

"No." You mumble. "If I was raped like that, I would love to ruin the life of the man who ruined mine. I heard a police officer got his dick ripped off. Is he still alive?"

"Alive." Tim nods. "Vitals are stable, but he can no longer procreate... obviously."

"Deserved, maybe. I heard he got off with only two months of jail time after the initial trial."

Tim does not answer, pausing to mull over the case.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You stand up, stretching your legs. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"You have food by here?"

"No, but since you brought your bike, I can take us somewhere."

"It better not be the diner from last time."

It is NOT the diner from last time

Instead, Tim finds himself seated outside of a Batburger place, thanking you as you hand him his order, clear view of the alleyway.

"This place is a little..."

"It's where a lot of drug trades happen." You hum, staring at the alleyway behind him. "Also where a lot of sex trafficking occurs."

"Ah, right." He mumbles. "Red Hood manages that, no?"

"Not as much." You bite into the burger, humming happily. "Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I think the burgers and shake could fix me."

You raise a brow.

"As much as it can try, of course."

"Nah, I have those days too." You hum. "Did you find much on the souls?"

"I just wonder if they are decreasing after extracting revenge on their former rapist." Tim mumbles.

"I heard somewhere they started off in the fifties." You hum, continuing with your burger.

"...fifties? Where did you even hear that?"

"Rumor gets around quickest at the racetrack." You mumble. "Cardinal kept closely with the news. Apparently the figure was as large as a human at one point."

"Is twenty souls not enough to form a full grown woman?"

"Perhaps it picks a child for other reasons." You reach for a fry. "Am I being of much help, mister detective?"

"Somewhat." Tim pauses when he hears rustling behind him. "...May I?"

"Careful, they carry stun guns."

Tim nods, leaving you alone, and you click on your phone as you watch Red Robin swing in, kicking and freeing the poor girl, handing her off to the police as you stare at the two men knocked out. Tim had overestimated just one thing.

From behind, a spike of darkness pieces through the men's hearts, killing them on the spot as Tim holds a hand over the eyes of the woman.

Dead. The two men are dead.

The shadow forms behind them, three young women who look no older than the one that Tim is covering the eyes of.

"How many of you are left?"

This time, the shadow forms a 24.

The number is going down.

So, Tim reports the findings to Bruce, changing out of his suit to get back to you, nodding as he sits down and sighs.

"Sorry, stomach died."

"Nah, don't worry about it." You sip on your shake, humming. "Duty calls."

"Are you racing sometime soon?"

"I think B's trying to have us race less lately." You hum. "I won't be racing for some time. The only reason we raced so often a while back was because there were so many upgrades being implemented."

"So you have more free time?"

"Yeah." You hum. "I was thinking of traveling."

"Where to?"

Tim knows something you don't. The gentle taps of your painted nails omit some eerie sense of death, and it seems that no matter how much Tim likes you and feels fine around you, it is impossible to ignore that eerie sense of death. It reminds him of the first time he met you, stare of a thousand souls. Yet, it seems that...

"Staring?"

"You're rather pretty." He hums, pressing his napkin to his cheeks. "Is it not normal to stare a little?"

"Oh, look at you and your smooth words." You hum.

"I mean them." Tim stares at you.

You only give him a weak look.

You don't seem to believe Tim when he says you're everything.

And maybe at some point in time, Tim had realized that your words swayed him harder than they need to. He does not know when he had ended up so deep with his fingers and hands stained with a passion for you, but as it drags him under, he finds that it's fine. Maybe you were just destined for him in some way. If he would be dragged under, then he would simply find a way to clear it out. He enjoys the sensation of drowning in you. Maybe he is just weak for you.

"Do you love me?" You tilt your head, milkshake straw on your lips as Tim sorts through his files.

Tim stares at you, pushing his glasses up. "Why?"

"Curious." You hum. "You've brought me to your place, after all. Isn't this the nice little boat you got with your boyfriend? I remember the media going insane."

"Perhaps." Tim mumbles. "I brought you here to help me with the case, though. I don't think love is the right word for what we feel towards each other right now."

"Mm." You nod slowly, picking up some papers. "The number went down?"

"Yes. The two men who were killed resulted in three less entities in the shadow." Tim mumbles. "I just wonder if the number is going to increase."

"You wouldn't want it to, huh?" You hum.

"Prefferably no." Tim pauses. "Though, I suppose if the entity is acting on its own, then I can not do much to stop it. Someone is letting the souls merge into the shadows."

"If it's just cells, shouldn't it be the act of a human? That must mean they have some sort of way of accessing the victims' bodies."

"That would be the case, but a further search indicated that they were not picking up the cells, but rather just souls. I don't know when we got an upgrade to be able to locate souls, but—"

"It was probably when you tried cloning your best friend." You don't bother letting him finish the sentence.

Your statement freaks Tim out.

"H-how the hell do you know?!"

"B." You puff out your cheeks, continuing with reading the file.

B does NOT have that information open to just anyone to access.

Yet, Tim shuts his mouth, continuing with the file, taking the chance to seal your fingerprint. He runs the match while you continue checking, and he ends up in a dead end again. You do not exist in the database. Your fingerprint is not a real person. Surely there was a chance that you were not quite human either.

"Just how cautious are you?"

"Very." You hum. "My fingerprint won't show up."

"What gives you the boldness to say that?"

"A gamble." You hum. "I race for B. Surely, he would not do something as cruel as that."

"He is consistently paranoid."

"That does not matter." You click your tongue. "He could not hold me down if he tried."

Tim senses that there is a certain level of untruth to your words, but he can not say just what it is.

Three days later, four more men are found dead by the docks. Tim checks them with the police, Oracle's voice in his ear as he observes them. All three have had their hearts pierced through, a gaping hole left behind. Tim looks to the side at the shadows brewing beneath the water, and he observes that the number shown is four less than before.

"These men have to be part of an organization."

"They are." Oracle notes. "Human trafficking. These are the men who are part of a human trafficking specifically for sex workers."

"So... rapists."

"Yes."

"Did we ever get a number on them?"

"No."

Tim nods at the police as they arrive, grappling away.

Maybe he's committing a sin by letting the shadow get away with the murders. It would be impossible to hold them down, but he wonders if he should ever shine a light on them when they kill.

Back at the cave, the young girl emerges again, smiling at Tim as he raises a brow.

"What?"

"Twenty." The voice speaks, much younger this time.

"Are you all children?"

The widening of the smile indicates a yes.

"How old were you?" He holds his hand out for the shadow.

His question goes ignored, the shadow disappearing as B returns to the cave.

"The number of shadows decreased again." Tim stares at B as he undresses.

"How do you know the shadows aren't lying?"

"Here." Tim shows B the newest scan of the souls, and the number has shrunk.

"How did you scan it?"

"I do not know. We hadn't been able to scan based on soul previously."

Bruce clicks on the computer, eyes focusing on the application, taking over as Tim sits to the side. He looks further, digging into the code as he pauses and points at a line.

"Moonknight."

"The racer?"

Bruce reads the code, and Tim follows, pausing.

"She's a computer system?"

"No, but you probably scanned some system in when you ran her through the system the first time."

"Just what is she?"

"I don't ask questions, and neither does she. Just a worker."

"Alright." Tim mumbles. But the issue was you do ask questions. You ask plenty of questions and each one brings you closer than the last. He had already lost his identity to you because of your charm. Perhaps Bruce was not far off. Though, if Tim could not find you, then Bruce probably could not either.

The next time he meets up with you, you finally let him into your apartment.

"Oh, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you love me." Tim hums. "What brings you to invite me here?"

"No, I didn't feel like going out today." You shut the door behind him. "Pizza's on the counter."

"Where are the others?"

"Racing." You hum.

"I thought you said there weren't any races?"

Tim finds that you're a liar.

Somewhere down in the place he's been pulled to, he finds that there is endless amounts of darkness, something brooding behind your soul as you talk to him, smile on your face. You called him the one, but if you were the one, he wouldn't feel so turbulent. Shaking waters. The water he's been pulled under is unmoving and serene, only in the middle of the sea, making the peace eerie rather than soothing. Rather than the liquid moving, he finds that he's spinning further and further down.

"I'm not racing for the time being." You hum. "The others are racing with their own bikes."

"Do you not own one?"

You shake your head. "I prefer other forms of transportation."

Tim raises a brow but doesn't question it.

Even when the two of you are tangled under your sheets and he listens to your heartbeat, the sense of uneasiness doesn't leave. You are too perfect. Even if you were to drag him down with you, he would only know how to hold onto you and not swim. Maybe this is his end. Unless you free him, he fears he will be stuck with you forever. Drawn to the beating of your heart, Tim is stuck being in love with you for the rest of his life. If you would drag him into the depths of your world and ruin his life, then so be it. As long as neither of you cross the line, neither of you would be hurt.

"Would you like to race?"

You raise a brow at Tim.

"Once in a lifetime." He offers.

"On the track?"

"We can race during the day." He hums.

"Not a day person."

"Then at sunrise."

You pause to think about it.

"If that's what you want."

"You make it sound like it's something I want to do." Tim whispers, chin resting on your chest as it rises and falls.

"Is it not?" You run your fingers through his hair, vibrations of your voice making him purr.

When Tim wakes in the morning, Oracle sends him a news article. Ten men found dead at the docks. Ten men were killed, and Tim can only wonder how many of the shadows found peace from their deaths. Though, as your fingers scratch at his scalp again, he could worry about it later. He'd rather not stir up deep waters.

"Ten died?"

"Mhm." Tim closes his eyes, mumbling. "Ten men."

"From the same organization?"

Tim is too tired to consider how you would know all the men are from the same organization when it has not been disclosed to the public.

"You seem to know much more than you let on."

"Of course I do." You hum. "But I won't race you until you find out."

"Then give me a month." He mumbles, eyes closing as he drifts back to sleep. You're warm, and for the first time in a while, he gets some rest.

The next race Tim goes to, he notices Spitfire and Lightwing are missing.

You tilt your head at Tim from the track, waving as he waves back, lips curled upwards in a gentle smile.

He refuses to meet the truth.

There is some sense of security that lies in playing stupid, eyes closed and fingers reaching out into a void of nothingness, knowing that as long as he did not know, he would be safe. Yet, there is always the nagging in the back of his mind, uncertain about his future, uncertain about what would happen if he continued to play dumb. He knows he'll get called out for it by Steph soon, but it really... he was only a fool in love. He can not do something so terrible to his heart.

Even as you bring back the trophy and greet Tim with a thrashing kiss against his lips, breath hot against his as he tries to ignore the truth of the world beneath his feet embedded into the shadows, he knows that he can only play stupid for so long. Soon, this racetrack will become empty, and one day, you too will leave him for the world that he refuses to uncover for his own safety. He loves you, but he can only do so much when he's young and stupid.

"Can I take you back to mine?" Tim whispers, eyes begging quietly as you lick your lips, helmet in your hand as you confirm with a kiss.

The gentle rocking of Tim's place is peaceful in the Gotham waters, port comfortable as he pushes back all of his knowledge. It is a curse to be wise, yet Tim finds that there is nothing he can do when he just refuses to. He would choose you even if it meant laying what he had known before down. It pains him to know that he should not, and you would not let him, but he is foolish and young, eyes gentle as he drinks up the way you lay beneath him, the moon coating you in a lovely white as he furrows his brows to forget about it all.

Your skin is soft against Tim's hands, plush of your waist filling the spaces between his fingers as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes half-lidded as he pleases you — himself. It makes no difference. Turbulent waters have long become the place where he finds his rest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the way you breathe, both beneath him and in the dead of the night. Life becomes slightly more bearable with you around, exhaustion no longer as suffocating as he's used to. Perhaps he loves you or such. Perhaps he does not. Most certainly, he knows he cares.

In the afterglow of sweat and skin, Tim finds that you are no different from him.

"How many of them are left?"

Tim stares outside the window, recalling the last murder in Gotham.

"They're almost gone."

"That's good."

You close your eyes, lashes brushing Tim's neck as you rest your neck over his arm.

"When will we race?"

"I told you. When you find out."

"Find what, exactly?"

You do not answer, closing your eyes and succumbing to exhaustion instead.

Ultimately, Tim knows.

He knows what he's to look for, and he knows just what you might be. It scares him that you might have lied to him for so long, the shadows and souls lurking beneath the surface of the water finally snaking around his ankle and pulling. The big screen in the Batcave is of no help either, only a single person with an obscured soul, and Tim knows deep down that it is yours. You are a victim of the same organization, an amalgamation of vengeful souls all combined together for the sole purpose of seeking vengeance.

Tim stares at the shadow forming behind him, digits dropping by the day as he reports to Bruce about just what was happening in Gotham. The moral code to prevent murder is strong, but the understanding that a few lives of a few criminals for the cost of a safer Gotham was not a world-ending trade-off. Tim understands that much, at the very least. He knows Bruce does too. In a world where neither of them have to work against human trafficking as hard as previously, Tim finds that the waters are both comforting and vicious. He can not be touched in the warmth of your skin, but others will die from the toxin that he is immune to.

So, as Tim crosses off the final ones in the list of souls, he texts to let you know that the organization has been wiped, asking you which sunrise would work best for you.

You refuse to pick a time during the day because you are afraid of being burnt.

You do not exist in the database because you are not quite human.

You exist because you are someone's hatred and memories, manifesting in the form of the shadows and risking a life you do not have in order to see what is worth living for, vehicles meaning nothing to you as you speed through the racetrack at night, only Aquastar left next to you as she too disappears into the shadows after all the guests leave. There are barely any guests now that Tim looks. Perhaps more than half of them had been tired souls, begging for some sort of help, seeking refuge in the way you would risk your life for some sort of power above the law.

You are home to the souls, regardless of whether they are alive or dead. If someone seeks death, they reach for your arms, holding their hands around your shoulders as you stare past their skin, into the depths of the darkness beyond — something Tim is terrified of touching, Yet, with the feeling of your skin memorized between his fingers, he knows why people go to you to look for something.

You are so living yet so dead.

There is comfort only you can provide.

You meet Tim at the racetrack, sitting on your bike as Tim drives in past the gates. The darkness in your soul has grown lighter. Something has changed from when he first met you. You are still so lovely in his eyes, yet it seems that you can not be together in a case like this. It is a shame. At least he gets to race you, popping off his helmet as he notices how empty the stands are compared to when you used to race. The end of your need in Gotham has arrived, and the end of your services to WE has ended as well. There will be no more of you one day in the future, and Tim knows that one day, he too will be cursed to forget everything about you.

The people are gone.

The racers are gone.

And perhaps after this race, you will be too.

You enable the speaker, fingers clicking on the screen at the podium, giving the two of you a twenty-minute warmup.

Tim wonders just how fast he can go. He watches you from the side as you warm up your bike and drive, speeding around the track with practice that can only come from muscle memory. Yet, he drives around the track and gradually speeds up, trying to get a hand on how to race around. Tim finds that he's a little rusty, making several more rounds around the track as you sit on the side, clicking on your phone and scrolling through. Tim does not know how to bring it up.

"What does the winner get?" You look up from your phone, hopping on your bike as you wait for the countdown.

"Whatever the winner wishes."

"That's quite the bet." You hum, staring up at the light as Tim gets ready.

"Of course."

You start your bike, speeding past Tim as the light shows green, Tim tight behind you as he catches up to you. You wonder and think, leaning to the side as the bike follows, letting Tim pass you as you trail behind him. Tim finishes the first lap relatively quickly, and he realizes that you've fallen back a significant amount. He's unsure whether or not to speed up, but as he finishes his second lap, he finds that you're still far behind.

You cut him from the left, successfully stopping Tim from hitting a wall.

Tim speeds up to chase after you, wondering when you had the time to cut him off.

Yet, the end is evident, your bike parked at the end after your third lap, a grin on your face as he stares at you.

The souls are gone, and you look so, so lonely.

The lights shut as the two of you sit by the podium, tablet in your hand as you kick your legs, and you finally speak up.

"I know you found out."

Tim grimaces. "...why?"

You stare at Tim, peeling back your jacket, throwing it at him as he stares at you, watching as your eyes turn pitch black, shadows forming underneath your skin and turning the entire podium dark, some sort of ancient power creeping up your hands to your forearms, darkness evident in every blink at him, lips curled up into an apologetic smile, and Tim feels the water surrounding him drain all at once. If he would not leave you, then you would leave him. You would force him out of the comfort of your waters, knowing that it would drown him one day.

"The shadow moves with you." Tim stares at you, swallowing thickly. "There is only one victim left. We both know who it is."

You stare at Tim, lips curling upwards as he remembers why your smile started looking so familiar at one point.

"You are the last." Tim picks his words carefully. "Are you a shadow?"

"No. Just a medium. I am very much alive." You smile.

"Who are you waiting to kill?"

"No one." You hum. "I am alive because I must hold onto the shadows for the next ones seeking vengeance."

"You are the source."

You ignore him.

"Are you human?"

You blink at him again, ignoring him once more. "Luckily, it seems the victims have lessened lately."

"Why had there been so many at once?"

"There was an organization." You rock on your heels, lips curled upwards. "Everyone in the organization has been wiped. No fret. They alone resulted in over fifty deaths of women after they reached the age threshold."

"The youngest was ten."

"Yes."

"And the oldest?"

"Most of them were killed once they turned 21." You hum. "Occasionally, if someone looked young enough, they would be killed later, but the majority of them were killed at 21."

"How many souls were there initially?"

"Well over a thousand." You hum.

"And only you are left."

"Yes."

"Why play savior?"

"Why not?" You grin. "I have done nothing but host the poor souls. That does not warrant for my arrest."

Tim knows there is an argument against it, but he does not think too hard.

"Next time a soul finds you, notify me. Send me an invite to your race."

"You know, Tim." You hum. "B no longer needs me."

Ah.

"Will you be gone?"

"Very much so."

"To where?"

You do not tell him.

"Write to me." He speaks again.

You shake your head.

"I can not."

"Why not?"

"Send me some flowers when you see me on the news. That is my wish."

Tim tries to not think too much about your final words to him. You left the next morning, morphed shadows in the city leaving with you, and Tim finds that soon, almost everyone forgets you had ever existed. You had come and gone, shadow of death leaving with you, but he finds that occasionally on the news, he hears word about a new racer, gender unidentifiable, face consistently hidden, only known by their speed. You have become a criminal under the law, racing between the crevices of cities, fake trophy after fake trophy taken home, death following wherever you went, sex trafficking decreasing whenever you rested at night.

Tim tries not to follow you all that much, but when you show up on camera on accident, your home is raided and you are killed on sight by the same men who had killed so many others.

It hurts Tim in the head, eyes closed as he tries his best to not think too much about your death and how you had known all this time, but it would forever haunt him. He still remembers the way the waves would rock gently underneath the moonlight when he was engulfed by you, eyes always tired but comfort always found, knowing that you would be his rest when he needed it. So, for him to see you dead on the news, he finds that perhaps he was just cursed to not be able to hold onto you — that he was destined to be stuck in place and watch as you died because you had made a minor mistake. A mistake that would not have cost his life, but cost yours instead.

Yet, he honors your promise, white chrysanthemums placed at your grave as he holds onto the umbrella, humming quietly. The rain splatters gently against the plastic, quiet drumming calming him as he stares at the carving on the grave. The media had reported this was your place of burial, though Tim did not know if it really was you. He could have only assumed off of the information given, matching your age slightly, and he wonders if there is some sort of universe out there where he would be able to just stay with you.

"Here to see her too?" A masked woman steps next to Tim.

"Yes. I promised I would send flowers once she showed up on the news."

"How lovely of you." The woman hums, placing down a blue lotus.

"Did... you know her?"

"I knew her quite well."

Tim stares down at his flowers, finally looking up at the woman.

"It's such a shame, huh? That she would die to the very organization that she had been working to take care of."

"Well, perhaps she had just understood what it meant to live when she died." You turn to Tim, pulling down your mask as you wait for it to register in his head. "What do you think, Ca—"

You don't get to finish your words before Tim wraps his arms around you with closed eyes.

"I love you too, boy wonder."

[court-jobi]

Tired Eyes

((Banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Todoroki x reader (UAteacher!reader x Pro-Hero Shoto)

Rating: T+ (smol insinuated spice between lovers)

Words: 2k

Warnings: GN!reader, Behold the FLUFF, est. relationship, stress relief, Shoto is a good partner, just comfort hours, yall, tender kissing, *light suggestive pining* Shouto is a petname king

Summary:

An overworked hero and his under-rested lover are both due for a vacation. You are certainly dreaming of such a time where you can get away, and pose the idea one night when the dreams become just a bit too real and appealing to all your senses to ignore.

A/N: Ok, I super love writing Shoto now. Y'all's love of my first fic convinced me... more love for our half-and-half beau awaits~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Night sky. No clouds in sight. There is only a sky of deepest blue, a sea of deepest green, and sparkling gems of reflected starlight in between. Music rises from the sandy beach band beneath you, but out of sight from the serenity of this island paradise. 

There’s light, despite the lateness of the hour. Streams from the moon above you: so brightly that it casts shadows through those teetering, cascading palms over the entire balcony.

Just slightly too cold, this wind. A perfect midnight breeze, but you’re hardly chilly. There’s a perfect set of arms holding you around the waist– paired by a warm cheek pressed against your right side: his left.

You don’t get views like this living in such a thriving city. Those skylines hold their own beauty, but it’s hardly a candle to this unspoiled beach. Distant rolls of waves crashing at low tide act as the perfect background noise. Your better half is humming the familiar song that’s playing downstairs there by your ear; a relaxed state emanating from him that you rarely see– 

Todoroki slips into your study, on the hunt for where his darling lover could be. Catching you catnapping at your desk, he runs a hand through your hair to test how deeply you sleep.

‘What’s gotten into you, huh? You never dance!’

‘We’re on island time, aren’t we? What’s the saying.. ‘there’s a first time for everything’.’

‘Breaking news: Japan’s number four hero, SHOTO, dancing his life away with the love of his life’- that’ll make headlines! I gotta make a call-’

‘They’ll never believe you…’

‘Where’s my phone- I gotta get proof-OOPHM!’

‘Stop talking. Come dance~’

A cool hand swipes a finger up your neck, another test.

Kisses outline your cheek in a curve, coupled by dreamy, airy hums. Lips that sear with their ‘want’ of you, laden with heat and obsessed with covering you in their wake. Making you weak for someone who proves his strength with utter softness– and his power with gentleness. 

The man atop you -who worships you- has held your hand for years, but your heart for much longer. Friendship turned to something dearer once you both tested the waters together, which led to seeking out new shores in whatever spare time you could afford– time away being a precious treasure. You’re set on committing these kisses to memory, making the most of this respite that resets his busy mind and serious outlook.

He’s making sure you let go of every ounce of worry, now that he’s feeling better. Making you sing his praises without a care for who might hear over the billow and sway of hala trees.

Making you his.

‘M’love… My love….’

‘-My love?”

You stir suddenly and wake like nothing’s happened. That work email draft still sits idle on your browser and as you turn, the discovery that your boyfriend’s returned from the streets of Esuha comes to life as well.

You breeze past your bleary-eyed stare at the man who was just carrying you to bed, distracting you with his mouth, looking fondly up at you unbound by responsibility…- you were sure it was real, just moments ago..

“Oh Sho– sorry about that, I was just um– heh.."

A teasing eye studies your masking. "Long day?"

A curriculum planning session with Aizawa and Cementoss you’d thought was wrapped up yesterday continued in the main office today. Both heroes had flanked your desk with recommendations for your third year students, as well as the intern assignments for the first years. There also lay plenty of midterm e-filing on the administrative end you’ve been putting off, in favor of helping each of the department heads with their assignments so as to not stop their momentum.

Yet where has that left you? Stretched too thinly, as usual. 

Not only has the Principal wagged a cautious tail at you for this level of stacked taskload, but in your carrying it home, you’ve received disapproving looks from your life partner as well.

Luckily, Todoroki appears more docile than normal– likely the result of his own weariness coming into play and softening his reaction to finding you this way yet again.

Long day yesterday. Long day today, and a long day most likely to face you tomorrow. 

"Yeah.. they do tend that way now.”

"You haven't touched your tea, it's cold." He eyes the way the cup beside you doesn’t steam anymore, with a raised brow. All you can do is rub your eyes and stretch for a little added cuteness.

"I like cold tea- just add a little lemon and some ice~" 

While charming, it sadly does little to sway your Pro-Hero. 

"You're working too late again, sweetheart. We talked about this."

"Look, it was my bad forgetting the deadline. I got carried away with other stuff,” you explain your shortcomings, “But I don't want to be more stressed out later; I just… thought I could tackle it now?..."

“You ‘tackle’ too much during the day. Surely something can be left for tomorrow?”

“There is plenty for tomorrow– but there’s still some tonight.”

Without much expression, Todoroki sinks from his authoritative stance. A blur of mussed red and white hair knelt beside you to allegedly listen… only to swivel your chair for you, and hold his hands out to you. 

You reached out, knowing you needed one of his award-winning hugs. Anything to settle the jolt of waking from such a pleasant dream.

…only Todoroki doesn’t offer you such a solace. Instead he pulls you up the rest of the way, and tosses you up over the shoulder and carries you by your pinned thighs. Paying no mind to your exclamations along the way to the bedroom,  you can’t even look back at him from this angle he carries you in .

"Sh-Shoto! C'mon, I can do this! I just need another hour or two - like two-and-a-half, tops."

He set you down on your feet by the bed, though you plop down onto the edge under his intensive -yet loving- stare. Todoroki lightly bridges over you, a hand atop each thigh to keep close to you.

"After… you take a shower, change out of these clothes, and eat something, then we can discuss your work schedule. But I won't let you run yourself into the ground." 

He cupped your face and tenderly ran both hands down your hair and back to cup your entire face. His hands finding their comfortable home on your cheeks, you melt at the soothing touch of Todoroki’s thumbs brushing tender skin that’s graced by your shut lashes- where some semi-dark puffiness lies from interrupted rest. 

"You have tired eyes, love.” your sweetheart whispers to you, “You're not listening to your body. Let's take care of it."

It’s the same argument you’ve coached him through sometimes. Though as a Pro-Hero, he’s taken the hint of self-care that you selectively ignore when it’s turned to you.

You sighed, but opened up to a well-meaning gaze; Shoto really was the most beautiful human you’d ever seen. 

"Okay, honey. You win."

He smiled- wrenching your heart again, “I'll warm up our dinner."

“What do we even have?” you fight for the memory of what’s in the fridge.

“Don’t worry about that,” Todoroki settles you with a kiss on your forehead, “I’ve taken care of all of it.”

You hop in and out of the shower in record time and dress down in a curated set of pajamas, courtesy of Todoroki himself. Prepped and pre-heated in the towel warmer right beside the shower door, the gesture was just one of the many expressions of his love for you. 

He timed his reentry perfectly, changed into lounge clothes as well and armed with a small tray complete with an assortment of some of your favorite poppables you can make a meal out of: crisp veggies, some rice balls, a touch of fruit for sweetness– all expertly topped with a green onion finish. 

It’s a taste of something you’d maybe find on vacation. Even the way Todoroki plates this late-night snack meant to share… you’re spoiled by the presentation, without any special occasion sparking it at all. He makes ordinary Tuesdays feel like more. Sunday evening scaries aren’t something to dread anymore. Small moments in the daily -that hearken to the indulgent moments you work hard for- make the biggest difference in your weekly grind.  

“You’re not off the patrol rotation around Golden Week, are you?” you ask wistfully, armed with a lightly sauced onigiri.

Todoroki stills from putting away some clothes; midthought, in puzzling fashion.

“Actually, I think so,” he gives a soft little smirk that’s more sleepy than pleased. “Iida and I worked out that he wanted some family time off the week after, so I offered to team up our agencies for that month to ensure smooth coverage while we’re both gone. The school is closed too, right?”

It’s perfect timing, you think. How you want to make your dreams a reality…

“We are. Got me thinking…”

Settling your finished tray aside to join you, Todoroki listens in.

“D’you think maybe if I get back in your good graces -not doing so much after-hours work-” you make a few bats of the eye to him, “...maybe we could get away for a bit? Take a little holiday?”

“A trip?” Todoroki asks. 

You hum your request, hoping he’ll be open to it.

It’s hardly a fight; by the way his brows lift in amusement, it’s only obvious he’s never been asked about such a thing before, but loves the idea.

“Where did you have in mind, darling?”

Only the subject of your dreams: a beach hidden from the rest of the world, where cell reception is next to none (you pray) and where good food and good music are all you need to focus on while you spoil each other rotten with a selfish streak of alone time. 

You shouldn’t feel so possessive of him -he’s a Pro-Hero who’s responsible for keeping this corner of the world safe… but you have to say, the idea of taking a break at his side has been seeping into your dreams long before tonight. 

You can’t stay silent on it anymore. 

“Somewhere there’s water.. And at least a six hour time difference. And a comfy bed.. N’ you.”

An amused huff leaves his nose again, transfixed on how soft your face looks at this moment. 

“Big end of the bargain you’d have to hold up,” Todoroki teases, his voice worn by a day on duty and tenderized to sleepy perfection, “I know you can’t always escape it.. Can you promise no more after 9PM? Would that be fair?”

You accept the challenge, “That’s a good window. I could do that.”

Todoroki trails a warmed hand up your arm to ultimately cup your cheek.

“Promise no more lukewarm tea?”

“Is that so bad an offense to you?”

“Nearly unforgivable. Grounds for disowning, if you’re Nana Yaoyorozu.”

You giggle in your delirium, “Well, certainly can’t have that! No more, pinky promise.”

Leaning in, Todoroki seeks out a last condition, 

“Promise I get my kisses in the doorway again?”

“Missed them tonight, huh?” you sigh guiltily.

Todoroki teased your partly open mouth, “Terribly.”

Nudging his nose, you beam at your sweetest reason to get up in the morning, 

“I promise, my prince. Whatever you want. So please, can we?”

Matching the nuzzle and never one to refuse your wants or needs, Torodoki dives back in to kiss you, 

“How can I say ‘no’ to my angel. Of course we can. A little break in paradise might just be what we need~”

You know no one works as hard as he does. Carrying the legacy of Endeavor is a hefty enough charge, forget that he’s set to forge his own path past what the reputation has already afforded him. Shoto has become a household name to many; though yours is where he is most content to come rest his head and heart.

With the dangling treat of a getaway with him on your horizon, you set the intention to finish your work after this aside for the morning, entirely. Shoto has already made his plea to hold you for the rest of the night, and you could never refuse his tender asks. When he treats you like royalty, how could you not in return? 

With your shared kisses and brainstorming of vacation destinations now on the mind, you’re hardly focused on student affairs; you have dreams to fulfill. 

[theowlwrites]

What’s with that attitude?

Melissa Schemmenti x F!Reader

Summary: Mellisa and Reader have been married for a few years, and the decide to start a family. The story will follow the pregnancy + some other scenarios with the baby. Hopefully I can turn this into a little series.

This is my first time posting my work, so im excited, but also very nervous haha. Hope you like it.

Warnings: A little bit of swearing, and some fluff.

You will never forget the day when you found out you were pregnant. Mel and you had been trying for almost a year, and after what felt like a thousand pregnancy test taken in the dark and coldness of your bathroom floor, that time was different.

8 months earlier

Melissa wasn´t home just yet. She was driving the fastest she could. You just left early, just sended her a text message that didn´t explain why, she was worried.

For some reason, that past week you´ve been easily irritable, but today you exaggerated a bit.

In the morning, while Melissa was driving the both of you to school, you have complained about Mel breathing “to hard”.

“You don´t have to make that much noise” you said in a very harsh tone. Mel just gave you a look, and kept driving (and breathing just as she has been doing her whole live). ”Im asking nicely, just breath a little more quietly”

“That’s asking nicely?” Melissa dares to reply to your complain, and immediately regretted it.

“Im just saying” your tone higher than before “I´ve asked you several times to not breath that hard because It irritates me a lot, and you simply don´t care” suddenly you felt the urge to start crying, to scream, to get out of the car and start running. You really don´t understand where all this fellings are coming from.

“Oh c´mon, what’s with that attitude? You don’t like the way I breath, the way I chew my food, the way I drink coffee. Please tell me what I´m allowed to do in your presence my love, please enlighten me” Melissa´s voice was also higher that before, and full of sarcasm. It is very rare when Melissa burst out like this, and especially towards you. She actually never talk to you in bad way or anything, and usually saves this part of her personality to people that she doesn´t like, so that she was directing it towards you this time, was more than enough for your tears to flow.

“I want to get out” you said in a shaky voice, you were crying. Mellissa’s face immediately softening, putting her hand on your thigh.

“C´mon darling, Im sorry, I didn´t mean to talk to you like that … I just don´t know why you are being like this lately” You know she meant it, and you also knew that you were exaggerating, but you couldn´t help it.

“I want to get out …. Please” you said again in a calmer voice. “I don´t want to get to school like this” You pointed to your face, your eyes red and a little bit swollen for the crying. “Please” Melissa looked at you one more time, and nodded her head. She puled over at the side of the street. It was only 3 blocks to school. You started gathering your stuff, and before you opened the door, you turned around and kissed Melissa on the cheek.

“Im sorry ... im okay, we are okay, I just need to calm down” she gave you a quick kiss on the lips and nodded. She was preoccupied about you. It had been a hard month, you both were going through a lot, but still, all this attitude, all the fights you have had over nonsense, were really getting out of control.

“Please be careful, call me if you need anything”

That whole day at school, you didn´t see Melissa. In part because you felt embarrassed for your behavior earlies, but also, you have been feeling a little sick, you just wanted to stay sitting in you classroom. During the day, you have been texting each other. Just to let her know when you arrived at school, and then to let her know you were not going to the teacher’s room for lunch. Melissa didn´t argue, she understands you needed space, and to be honest, she needed it as well.

It was already 1 pm, just tow more hours till school was over, but you really couldn´t pull your self together. You were dizzy, with nauseas, and a headache.

Your kids were coloring, the have been doing it for the last hour, they have been pretty quiet and well behave, leaving you a little peace of mind to try to calm your symptoms and also to think about the emotional mess you have been lately.

Then, an idea crossed your mind.

You shook your head, it couldn’t be.

It has been a little more than a month and the doctor said that after three weeks it was very unlikely to happen.

After the first let down Mel and you had 6 months ago, both of you decided to give it one last chance. You were both very excited and hopeful, but 2 weeks after the procedure you had a little bleeding. You went to the gynecologist who said that, sadly, you weren’t pregnant.

Melissa was your rock, but even behind all that toughness you could see that she was devastated. That night you both didn’t even bother to go to bed, you just stayed on the couch, hugging each other, traying to calm your sobbing and making up to the idea that you were not going to start a family any time soon.

So the idea of being pregnant now, was very unlikely. But what if it was not a crazy idea?

You kept debating inside your head whether you should take a pregnancy test or save yourself from another disappointment. Fuck it. You were going to take the risk.

It was 1:30. You asked Barbara, the other kinder garden teacher to take care of your class for the remaining of the day, you explained to her that you weren’t felling very well and wanted to go home as soon as possible. You also begged her not to tell Melissa. Barbara wasn´t very sure of it, but knowing you for several years now, and being married to her best friend made it easier for her to trust you, therefore, help you in this situation.

You took an UBER, on the way home, you texted Melissa <<Im going home on my own, so you don´t have to wait for me on your way out>>  You barely remember when you got home, and how you went to the upstairs bathroom to pee on that too familiar little stik.

The sound of a notification forced you took look to your phone, It was Melissa <<What??? You okay?>>. You just answered with a <<Yes, Im fine, don’t worry>>

It was already 2:40, you had no idea how it was already that late and still you couldn´t look at the pregnancy test results. Instead, you peed on another one, and another one, until you had like 10 pregnancy test on the bathroom cabinet, covered with toilet paper so you couldn´t look at the negative result and feel disappointed once again.

You were sitting on the floor, with your arms crossed, with your head between your knees. You didn’t listen when the front door opened, or when hurry steps approached to the bathroom, much less did you hear the voice calling your name. It was until the redhead came to the bathroom, opening the door a little aggressively. She looked worried. She kneel in front of you, taking you hands into hers.

“My love, come on, what on earth is going on?” She started caressing your hair.

“I did something very stupid, and didn’t want to tell you because I don´t want to hurt you” You started crying. Melissa´s face harden and put some space between the both of you, thinking the worst.

“You cheat on me?” Your eyes widened. 

“No Mel… God, no” you clean your tears, and took her hands into yours once again, feeling how she relaxed at your touch “I… took another pregnancy test” It took Melissa a moment to say something back.

“Why?” She sat next to you, back against the wall, hugging you with one arm. “I mean…It´s okay, thank you for telling me… but what made you do it?”

“I felt sick, and I have been an emotional mess, getting angry for everything, crying at the slightest situation…” You sight. “I felt that I needed to do it” Melissa was quiet for a moment, she noticed the pregnancy test in top of the sink cover with toilet paper.

“Have you looked at the results?” You shook your head. “Would you like to look at it together?”

“No” You answered quickly. “I know is negative, it is just my mind playing tricks” you start crying again. Melissa hugs you, starting to cry as well. “Just throw them all away.., please baby”

Melissa nodded. She helped you get on you feet and guided you to the bed, were you laid looking at the celling, waiting for Melissa to come back from the task you have assigned her.

Mel went inside the bathroom, letting her tears run free know that you weren’t there. She doesn´t mind being vulnerable in front of you, she just feels the need of being strong for you.

She took the trash can with one hand, with the intention of just throw all the pregnancy test to the bin without looking at them, but she just can´t help it. She picks up a test, closing her eyes and sighing. She rises her hand to the level of her face, and opens her eyes.

She picks another one, and another one, and another one. Positive. “Oh my god, sweetheart” It´s all she managed to say, better said, to scream. At the sound of your wife screaming, you rushed into the bathroom. “They are all positive love, you ARE pregnant, we are going to have a baby” Mel showed you the pregnancy test on her hand.

Two stripes.

Positive.

Next thing you remember, you were crying happy tears, while Mellissa hugged you, kissed you, and of course kissed your belly.

After a while. you are lying in bed, with Mellissa hugging you, with one hand on your stomach.

“So this little bean here is to blame for the attitude I´ve been having all week” Mellissa just laughs. “I´m sorry love, I should have suspected earlier”

“Oh, forget about that, I mean… I was a little freaked out with everything that was going on, but now” She kissed you belly once again “All that matters is that this little bean and you, are okay”

“And you too” You add, running you fingers though Mel´s hair “I can´t do this without you”

Mel moved to be facing you. “I´ll always be around for you tow” She kissed you on the lips. “I´m not gonna lie, feels a little challenging having a kid at my age, but” You cut her off, she usually has this little break downs about her being too old for you, or too old for having a baby.

“There´s nothing wrong with your age, I think you have a perfect age, actually, it is one of the things I love the must about you” You begin to trace with your finger the expression lines that form on Melisa's forehead. “You are beautiful, the most beautiful woman I´ve ever seen… And you are going to be an excellent mother” You kissed her forehead.

“I love you” She says hugging you even tighter, trying not to squeeze your belly. “You are going to be an excellent mother as well.”

“We make a great team Schemmenti, we are going to take good care of this little bean”

She hums in responds and in one quick move stands up from the bed, and extends her hand towards you. “Speaking of which, you need to eat, c´mon. That bean ain´t gonna grow on its own” You smiled at her and took her hand, letting her guide you towards the kitchen. On boy, you have to get ready for overprotective Mellissa. But you don’t really mind, you loved seeing her happy and excited. Your only concern right now is to take care of your pregnancy, and enjoy this whole process with the love of your life. ​

********************************************************************

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 1,731 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers) Summary: Daryl can't figure out why there is distance between you and him since arriving to Alexandria and he worries as you venture outside the walls almost every day. A/N: This is Part 1 of a two part commissioned miniseries! Final part will be out Friday, 9 Feb 2024 A/N: The patron and requester for this fic is the lovely @easy-peasy68 so thank her for her amazing generosity and support! Thanks again for the commission, hun!

“Who was that?” Daryl asked, flicking his lighter open and closed aimlessly as Carol came back into the kitchen.

“Y/N,” Carol said. “She’s heading out. Said she’ll be back by dark.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, ducking his eyes. “What’s she doin’ out there anyway? Seems like she’s been goin’ out a lot.”

Carol shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she forages a bit. But mainly I think she likes being out in nature, outside the walls instead of in here.” She gave Daryl a pointed look. “Sound familiar?”

He hummed another non-committal noise and headed out onto the porch. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of you heading down the street. Carol followed behind him.

“You could go ask her yourself, you know,” Carol said.

Daryl shook his head. “Nah… I feel like she’s been avoidin’ me since the road.”

“Avoiding you? What do you mean?”

Daryl shrugged and sunk down on the top step, digging in his pocket for a cigarette. “I dunno… I’ve seen her chattin’ with some of the people in here but doesn’t seem like she’s around the house much anymore. Seen her outside the walls once or twice, but—she just kinda moved off when we saw each other. Like, in a hurry…” he drawled. His face fell and it wasn’t lost on Carol.

“Hmm. Maybe she’s just trying to fit in here. Find her footing, you know?” suggested Carol.

Daryl shook his head. “I dunno. I dun think it’s just that. Just seems different than it was—out there, ya know…”

Carol leaned down and stole the cigarette dangling from between his fingers and straightened up. “Well, maybe she thinks you stink like cigarette smoke,” she said, dropping it to the porch and putting it out with the toe of her shoe.

Daryl glared up at her, clearly annoyed. “Real nice,” he drawled, squinting ahead into the growing daylight.

Carol laughed. “I’m sure you’re reading too much into this. This is a huge adjustment for all of us. I mean look at me,” she said, twirling so he could take in the full effect of her meek, suburban housewife outfit.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ya look stupid,” he commented.

“Oh, now who’s being mean, Pookie?” she laughed, ruffling his hair playfully. Daryl pulled away and she let out another good-natured laugh. “I have to go figure out how to make casseroles out of sardines and almond flour,” she said. “Just—go talk to her. You know, like a grown-up,” she teased him. Daryl only let out another low growl, annoyed, and waved at her as she left.

Throughout the day, as he passed the time building his bike in Aaron’s garage, he was run through with sudden bolts of anxiety and fear that caused his hands to still in the middle of a task. He kept one eye on the sidewalk outside, hoping to see you wander in safely so he could let go of the worry that was plaguing him. What if something happened to you out there? A bad run-in with strangers, a herd, something as simple as a fall or trip that left you injured enough you couldn’t make it back… Shit. He had a hard time focusing on what he was doing and found himself screwing on and unscrewing the same nut three or four times in a row. Curses murmured under his breath punctuated the metallic tinkering sounds. Daryl refocused and tried his hardest to put it out of his mind.

But as the day wore on and the light outside started to wane, he replaced his tools and wiped the oil and grease from his hands, and he was absolutely certain you hadn’t passed the garage on your way home. The lightning bolts of worry had now turned to an acidic rolling boil in his stomach and he couldn’t help himself any longer…

He rushed home, took the stairs down to the basement two at a time, and retrieved his gear. He didn’t know what the hell he was actually going to be able to do to look for you… It would be dark soon and tracking in the brush and brambles by the beam of a flashlight was no easy task. The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t wait around doing nothing any longer.

He was halfway to the gate when the familiar sound of your laugh drifted across the manicured lawns toward him. He looked up and—there you were. You were illuminated in the warm glow of the porchlights on a house up ahead. You were standing on the top step, one hand on the railing, talking with the elderly couple who had fussed over Judith only that very morning.

The pit in his stomach relaxed and he let out a relieved sigh, his muscles unknotting. You were back inside the walls and you seemed to be completely unharmed. You looked happy even, talking animatedly to the couple. It produced some kind of pang between his lungs. Daryl watched as you swung your pack off your shoulder and dug inside, retrieving a small burlap bag that you handed to the woman. Daryl felt as if he was peering through a window at a life he’d never have, though he wasn’t able to put any name to the feeling in the moment. He felt as if he didn’t belong.

And then another emotion welled up in his chest, tightening his lungs. He was, frankly, annoyed. He’d spent all day worrying about you, watching to make sure you made it back in one piece, and then panicking when you hadn’t returned and the sun was sinking. And then he finds you here, already safely inside and chatting away with community members you’d hardly known for two weeks. How long had you been back? How long was he needlessly worrying and picturing worst case scenarios? What the fuck? Why did everything feel so different in here than it had on the road? He felt like you hardly looked at him. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a real conversation with you. Goddammit! He turned around and headed back home with a different kind of unsettled feeling in his midsection.

Without saying a word to anyone, he slipped down into the cool dark of his basement room, dropped his gear, and flopped himself down on the bed.

But sleep was not forthcoming and he found himself tossing and turning most of the night.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl splashed water on his face then cupped it into his hands and took a sip—it was cold and bracing. He straightened up to stare at himself in the ornate mirror. He had a somewhat ragged look because he simply refused to let Carol trim his hair still. His skin was bronzed to a dark tan from endless days wandering in the sun on the road. He shook the wet strands of his dark curtain of hair out of his eyes, dried his face and hands, and headed outside.

He almost ran right into you.

“Oh!” The noise of surprise left your lips and your hand shot back from where you’d been reaching for the doorknob. You were staring right at the broad chest and shoulders of Daryl.

“Sorry,” he drawled, but he didn’t move out of the way. His eyes drifted to your pack slung over your shoulder. “Goin’ somewhere?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m just dropping something off for Maggie,” you said, gesturing with the little sack of dried leaves in your hand.

“Nah. I mean yer pack,” he said, nodding toward your shoulder.

“Oh. Just heading outside the walls for a bit,” you said. You couldn’t understand why he was still standing in the doorway, completely blocking your path.

“Mmm,” he hummed, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. He seemed to be on the edge of saying something else.

A nervous tightness appeared in your chest and you couldn’t help looking up at him, perplexed. You shifted your weight anxiously from one hip to the next.

Whatever he had been considering saying, he thought better of it and he stepped out of the way for you, holding the door open so you could get inside. “Well, be safe out there,” he said as you slipped past him.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said over your shoulder. You heard the snap of the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Why had he seemed so tense?

Having delivered the leaves for tea to Maggie, you chatted with the rest of your found family for a few minutes before leaving the house again to head to the gate. Daryl was nowhere to be seen but you had an expanding emptiness between your lungs. Things had been hard between you and Daryl since that night on the road… You needed a distraction. The woods were good for that. Going out and soaking in the wonder of the natural world seemed to put everything right, if only for a time. You marveled at the abundance of yellow and orange chicken-of-the-woods, the crimson warning of fly agaric mushrooms, and the tangled brambles that would be weighed down with wild berries come late summer and early fall. So, with that peace and quiet in mind, you headed through the gate, thanking Sasha who rolled it back and shut it behind you. You were soon among the trees.

You had no idea that Daryl too was resolved to head into the woods as well. In fact, he was resolved to follow you and relieve the troubled feeling that plagued him—that combination of annoyance, perplexity, and worry that kept him awake all night. Why were you going outside the walls damn near every day and why were you avoiding him? He couldn’t stand it anymore. He fucking missed the way things had been before Alexandria. It even had him yearning for the time on the road despite all the thirst and hunger and grief he was wading through… and that thought was insane. No, he was going to deal with this, whatever it was.

[crguang]

kafka with prompt 9 fluff please

domestic bliss with kafka after a mission, yeah… <3

The low bedroom light and the scent of clean linen are making you doze off. The shower runs in the adjacent bathroom, its patter a comforting tune that has you burrowing further into soft sheets and fluffy pillows. It’s warm enough that you don’t need a blanket to cover you for the time being. Each blink becomes slower than the next. Beyond the large windows next to the bed you’re laying on the skyline glints with distant stars, some of which you’ve only learned about earlier this evening when you were strolling through the city’s marketplace and overheard a mother teaching her daughter the constellations. From the hotel’s 50th floor, with nothing but rooftops and the night sky outside, it feels a little like you’re back in space traveling with the rest of the Stellaron Hunters. You haven’t seen some of them in a while, the script brought you to different worlds but you find reassurance in knowing that it will also bring you back together eventually. It always does, somehow. In a way, you’re not only working towards achieving your own destiny, but theirs as well. Each of you are building blocks in each other’s predetermined end, the strings of fate link you together like intertwined fingers tugging you forward.

You don’t remember when you closed your eyes but the shower stops running and they sluggishly blink open as your brain registers the sound of curtains being drawn. You bring a hand to rub your eye. Minutes later, a door opens and the shower steam seeps into the room, adding to the existing warmth and disturbing the careful balance of the thermostat.

“Open a window,” you mumble tiredly, adjusting your position to lay on your back. The yellow lights display soft shadows on the ceiling.

A low sigh reaches your ears, then the window opens a crack and lets the streets’ commotion intrude on your down time. You can faintly make out a car’s horn, but the rest of the road’s racket eventually all melts together to create background noise. The bed dips and you sit up against the pillows. Kafka sits with her back to you, plugging the blow dryer into the electrical socket before fiddling with its settings. She was in the shower for almost half an hour, her hair is still damp from the water and there’s a white towel around her shoulders to keep her clothes dry. You shift closer to her frame and wrap your arms around her waist, your cheek resting on her lower back. She doesn’t stiffen, unsurprised by your behavior, only lowers the tool in her hand.

“What took you so long? I missed you…”

Fatigue influences both your words and their delivery, they’re uttered quietly and somewhat sluggishly. You find it difficult to keep your eyes open for a long period of time.

An endeared chuckle rises in Kafka’s throat. “There was blood in my hair.”

“I told you there would be.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t going to wear that hideous hat.”

“That hideous hat saved my hair.”

Kafka doesn’t respond but you know she’s rolling her eyes. She turns the blow drawer on and starts carefully running it through her hair. The noise grinds your tired ears, you tighten your hold on her waist and close your eyes. The mission completely exhausted you, it was more physically demanding than the ones you’re used to. You don’t have Kafka or Blade’s stamina, so it’s a normal occurrence for you to fall asleep before the rest of the group. You shared a room with Silver Wolf once and she spent the night on her computer, cursing during co-op games— never again. The others are relatively quiet but Kafka’s your favorite despite her elusive ways, you sleep easier when she has a whole night to spare you.

You wait until she deems each lock of hair dry enough and unplugs the blow dryer. She makes a move to stand and you squeeze her tighter to keep her where she is. You hear a long sigh that holds no malice. Kafka wraps the cord around the blow dryer and puts it down on the nightstand, then slides the towel from her shoulders to throw it on the chair in the farthest corner of the room.

She pats the forearm holding her against you with a hand. “Move over.”

You obey her command, letting go of her to sit on your knees as you watch her put her hair up in a high bun before she reclines on the bed over the covers, comfortably settling into the pillows. Her expression is amused when she regards you, eyes slightly narrowed and that usual smile on her lips. Her brow raises, expectant, and you move to lay next to her with a hand laid flat on her stomach under her shirt and a leg over hers trapping her next to you. You bury your nose in her chest; she smells like the same citrus soap you used in the shower before she went in and a short hum of contentment escapes you. You feel her fingers on the back of your neck leisurely wandering over your shoulder blades. The touch is familiar, soothing, and you feel sleep rapidly creep up on you.

“After the dome tomorrow, we have to go back to the marketplace,” your speech is slow but Kafka doesn’t rush you, “I have to get that butterfly hairpin for Firefly. I forgot.”

“Mm. That’s the wrong insect.”

“They look the same.”

“They do not. Fireflies are beetles.”

You click your tongue. “Whatever, Kafka. They both have wings and it looks pretty.”

“Why do we have to go?”

You raise your head slightly to look at her with furrowed brows. Your sleepy, affronted face makes her suppress a grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You got somewhere to be?”

The corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. She traces the back of your ear and rubs your earlobe between two fingers.

“Of course not.” Her reply means to appease you. Tomorrow, she’ll find a way to distract you long enough for her to slip out of your sight and fulfill her own plans before you notice she left.

You settle back against her chest. A yawn makes your eyes water as you shut them. “That’s what I thought.”

The room is warm, Kafka’s warmer, and a tender breeze blows from the open window. You’re so at ease that you could fall asleep in minutes.

“You’re a baby.”

“I’m your baby,” your mumbled words are almost incomprehensible.

You don’t see Kafka’s smile widen, only feel her hand tangling in your hair. Everything is quiet, your breathing slows with each passing moment and the faint thumping of her heart beneath your ear sings you to sleep. Kafka gazes down at you, eyelids heavy, and her free fingertips brush the soft skin of your cheek.

“Good night, baby.”

[azullumi]

drunk habits — various characters ☆彡

summary — him and his small drunk habits.

characters — kaveh, venti, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, alhaitham, ayato, kazuha, diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — kind of fluff, a little bit of crack also, drunk drunk drunk, not proof-read; headcanons

words — 1289

note — was supposed to publish this yesterday but got busy so it's just now, i'll be working on the requests later!

KAVEH — He reminds you of those people who'll randomly say how your life will turn to doom as you walk down the streets before then disappearing from your sight. He spills unbelievable secrets and shocking gossip, one that you don't even know exists and feels like it's exaggerated, to you when he gets drunk after some glasses of strong alcohol. He'll give out so much juicy details and tea that will keep you on edge on your seat and asking for more but once you throw him a question, he doesn't respond and you'll only be greeted with silence—it is when you'll realize that he has fallen asleep. If he's not asleep, either in some random place or just on his chair, you'll find him creating architectural designs that he wouldn't remember the next morning he'll wake up.

VENTI — Years or maybe millennia of being used to the taste of alcohol in his tongue and the burning feeling of the liquid on his throat had made his tolerance of it grow and become stronger. However, it doesn't mean that he doesn't get drunk in his every drinking session in the tavern or anywhere. He makes it a goal to reach that level of intoxicatedness every time, those moments and ways of him dancing around as he sings a gleeful and joyful song with you, spinning you around and swaying your body to the rhythm along with his. It's either that or he's making stupid pickup lines to you: "Are you a fart? Because you just blew me away," or "Are you not tired? Because you've been running around my mind all day," which will make you sigh as you urge him to shut up but he continues.

TIGHNARI — You’re at a party, hell yeah, but you’re inside the bathroom stalls, vomiting while your hair is being held back by a certain man who goes by the name Tighnari who also happens to be your boyfriend. He's the type of person to only drink a few glass and would prefer looking after everyone, especially you, so he doesn't drink much. However, when things go south and everything turns away from the path it was supposed to go down to, when he gets drunk, let's just say that he has a lot to stay and becomes a little bit grumpy—asking to be doted on and showered with affection by you. While his personality still remains, some bits of him just turns into a 360 like how he blabbers and talks about a certain topic he seems to be obsessed with.

CYNO — He would deny a few offers to drink a glass but then would give in just so to stop the pestering. He doesn't like to drink nor even attend such parties that mainly revolve around alcohol because getting drunk would put him in a vulnerable state but what's wrong with trying it once in a while? You could hardly tell if he is drunk at first but once you recognize the light and warm shade on his cheeks, the realization will strike you like lightning. He tries to act sober, walking in a straight line and not slurring out his words but he fails, maybe not miserably but he fails because he stumbles on his pacing and says words that make his sentences confusing and hard to understand. Speak about the events on the next day, however, and he will shoot you a glare.

WANDERER — A few glasses and maybe more and you find him much grumpier than ever—he's annoyed with all of the noises, sounds, and probably also lights happening all around him, demanding his attention and overwhelming him so he steps out of the place to get some fresh air. However, he's still irritable and would be more demanding to you, specifically your attention. Let's just say that this man when drunk will become the neediest person on earth ever. Putting him in bed, tucking him to sleep, becomes an easier task for you though not until he's grabbing on to your hand so tightly even as he slowly drifts to unconsciousness which leads to you staying by his side until his grip loosens up—it will only happen after an hour or so—and you can finally leave or perhaps, you could sleep beside him if you won't be able to shake off his grasp.

ALHAITHAM — He could handle his alcohol really well, in fact, if you'll challenge him to a drinking session to see who's the first to get drunk, he'll win no matter what—even if his head is already spinning and he's seeing two or three of the same thing at once. He becomes a rambling and chatty person, however, and often mixes words from another language to the conversation which creates confusion. When you'll ask him what the word means, he'll respond in another language which causes you to just give up and pretend that you understand what he is saying. If you were to compare him to his sober self to his drunk one, you could say that they are essentially the same but also fundamentally different as he still retains majority of his personality and adding only a little bit to it.

AYATO — Just like the people who prefer looking after everyone else and watching out for them so that they don't end up doing anything dangerous. He's extremely aware of what is happening to him and his surroundings, being on guard and attentive as always. He still pretty much maintains the responsible demeanor of him, drinking only in moderation, however, things can happen and it will be late until he realizes he's drunk and the alcohol is getting to his head already. That is when he gets—how do you say this?—a little bit reckless and careless, he takes off his clothing one by one and reasons that he's getting hot and he doesn't want to feel sweaty. He becomes flirty or maybe he's just forgetful because he confesses his love for you out of nowhere and asks you to be his.

KAZUHA — An idiotic fool who is stupidly affectionate when he gets drunk. He's not a lightweight nor a heavyweight but in every drinking occasion, he is always drunk. There is literally little to nothing changes in his behavior, he's still the same composed and sweet man that you know, just a little bit outgoing and friendly to everyone. In addition, he also becomes extra nice and a little bit energetic, becoming cheerful and everything but he will eventually become quiet and silent and soon you'll find him asleep on the chair he is sitting right after, this happens as soon as his energy is depleted. The next morning when he wakes up, he'll be greeted by the bright afternoon sun shining on his face and a major headache as he suffers from a hangover and he'll say to himself not to drink again.

DILUC — He doesn't admit it nor does he deny that he is drunk. When his drink has taken over his rationality, he becomes—admittedly— adorable and the clingier side of him comes out as he tries to be close to you as much as possible, not wanting you to leave his side even if you're just going to get some water for him so that he could sober up for a bit. He'll have you sitting on his lap or beside him as he wraps his arms around your figure, his head resting against your shoulders as he breathes in your scent. If you stand up and walk around, he'll follow you, his height and body towering over you as he stays so close to your back and if you'll ask him what he is doing, he would only respond with nothing.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[fanficsbyme-causeimgay]

Disclaimer: Image this in the Van Helsing werewolf design, please. I love that movie.

Imagine, if you will, the full moon.

Now— you were never superstitious or believed in the supernatural, but when it is running at you on all fours in the darkness of the street, with sharp white teeth and with a single red glowing eye? Then, you do believe in the supernatural. So you do the sensible thing: You forget about putting the trash out, closes the door, and says, "Nope!" Before simply locking all doors and windows.

You stay in your room, door locked and under the blankets, just to make sure nothing bad could get you— After all, monsters don't fuck with you if you got a blanket on, that's the rules! You ignore the weird whining sounds and the weird scratching sounds, and fear gives way to tiredness once the adrenaline fades away.

You wake up the next day, believing the whole thing to be a nightmare, a figment of your masochistic mind paying tricks on you.

Werewolves don't exist!

But neighbors do. And you got a new one!

The first time you met was just a tiny little bit surprising, but normal when context was given— His dog ran into your porch. He had this beautiful Black Labrador that had a harness that read [Service Dog] on it, and her collar had [Leyla] written on it. And she was looking for something? She was sniffing everything around. Apparently, she was a new dog and was still being trained, which explained a lot about her behavior.

"Oh, hi- I apologize for Leyla!" He was tall. Definitely taller than you. Maybe 6'6? The most striking thing about his appearance was the eyepatch on his left eye, a plain black one. He walked with a limp and had a darkish green jacket over a plain white shirt and tight shorts. "I'm your new neighbor, Kata." And oh, his voice was just like the best thing you've heard - It was beautiful.

You soon find out that he used to be in the military. He worked closely with the K-9 bomb-sniffing unit to help clean the fields, and sadly, a newly trained dog missed one of the bombs, which led to his incident. He seemed pretty open and sincere when speaking about his experience as a veteran, not shy to express and answer your questions even going further and above.

When asked why, he simply answered: "You just wanted to learn more about me, so I taught you more." With a smile that was, honestly, quite breath taking.

Regardless of your little interactions, nothing seemed to be going on - much to your dismay - because he was clearly very hot and showed interest in you. Maybe it was the "don't ask don't tell" thing that the military has? You felt silly thinking about it, mostly because he never showed clear interest, so you decided not to assume anything of it.

In truth, however, he was unhealthy obsessed with you. He was constantly spending hours of his day listening to your breathing, to your heartbeat, to your little noises that you weren't even aware you made! Did you know you have this habit of clicking your tongue when you're playing games and sometimes something you didn't want to happen happens? Did you know you hum the sound of commercial jingles sometimes? Did you know that when you're asleep, you're quite vocal about your dreams, even if what you're saying doesn't make any sense? Did you know you smell like soft petrichor mixed with tulips and brown sugar when you're relaxed? Did you know he likes to watch you sleep from the window? Did you know that sometimes he breaks into your room while you're asleep and just stands beside you? Did you know he can't control it?

It's in his very nature.

Like humans can't help but breathe, tell stories, eat, and lie - Werewolves can't help but obsess over their Mates. Their Soulmates. Their one and only. Their destined - Call it what you will, but he loves you in ways you can't ever hope to understand... He wants you so badly, you should be happy he isn't laying it thick on you, that he is controlling himself to not jump you and fuck you everywhere, that-

Oh.

The full moon is here.

It happened really easily. You were asleep when you heard a pretty clear and rough sound of snoring, alongside the heavy weight of an arm on you, a weird, smooth, and wet sensation on your neck, and the heat of a body hugging you from behind. You couldn't move your body. Was this sleep paralysis? You look down and see arms of black fur holding you tight, and although you're confused, your mind finds reason: This is just a dream.

Oh, a dream! Of course this is a dream.

You huff... This might not be the exact first time you've dreamed of a big werewolf man and probably won't be the last! What? They're hot!

What was hotter, however, was waking up with a naked man in your bed. It was a shock at first, mostly because you're pretty sure you didn't have Kata sleeping in your bed last night...? Right? Was the dream about the werewolf his brain making up something to summarize or excuse Kata's presence in his bed? Dreams do that sometimes... But hey, looking at that dick was more than enough to make you forget about his presence for a few moments - It was, uhm, quite big.

"My eyes are up here..." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and like his tone of voice, he was looking very smugly at you: "Well, eye. Singular." He chuckled at his own words, poiting at his lack of eye - In fact, an unnaturally dark hole was there, almost like darkness originated from it.

You ask him what he is doing in your bed. Naked as the day he was born - but much, much hotter (and legal!)

And that is when he drops the ball.

So... as it turns out, werewolves are real... And they soulmates, and you are Kata's soulmate... Although overwhelmed at first, curiosity overwhelms you because of the fucking implications. What else is real? Magic? Fairies? Wizards!? Do they go to walmart!? Also, do werewolves follow normal wolf biology - Can they smell really far, hear really well, and do they mate for life too? And, also, do they have knots? As a rather curious person, you asked them.

"Well... I can show you." He replied, taking your hand for a moment and hesitating: "I-if you want?" He was rather nervous - the truth is, although he seemed confident, he was quite nervous. A wolf needs to be strong for their Mate. What about him? He is crippled. He is weak. He isn't good enough...

"...show me." Although a bit oblivious to flirting, you wouldn't say no to this.

As it turns out, werewolves do, in fact, have knots. And they can knot even in human form!