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javier-pena · 7 months ago

Text

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

#materialists fanfiction #materialists #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #is this anything?#quicksand

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yaut-jaknowit · 5 months ago

Note

Perhaps the reader is teasing Vic’tao too much, maybe it’s time he truly gets his revenge lol. 🤔 I wonder just how good he is at tying rope

Pushed Too Far

Pairing: Vic'tao (male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: rough sex (like I may have gone a little overboard), P in V, P in A, anal, kind of painal, rope usage on reader, pain kink, rough fingering, consent. (I may write rough scenes but there's always consent between my characters. Said in the one-shot or not.)

Word Count: 3457

Summary: Vic'tao is peacefully catching up with a few hunt brothers before you come along. You sneak into the cockpit and distract him from his friends. Oh, how you will pay for that.

Author Note: I just came to realization that consent isn't always said in my writings. I will state that consent between my characters is always there. It may or may not be said in a one-shot but it is there. I do try to make sure there is a subtle pause to show in rough scene that the Yautja or reader is cared for, no matter what.

Masterlist

Ao3

In the cockpit of the ship, sat the handsome, lean form of Vic’tao. His off yellow scales covered his hide. He relaxed into a comfortable position in the co-pilots chair. One arm holding up his head. His bright eyes observing the screen of three other Yautjas. A smirk spread across your features.

Best of all Uihoy wasn’t here to interfere. Depends on his mood to either join in on the torment or tell you not to.

Since living on the ship for the last two years, you’ve learned the ins and outs of the space. You carefully lowered yourself down and snuck around the edge of the cockpit. All while staying out of his and the camera’s line of sight. He may be a hunter, but you know him well enough to be stealthy.

It works. You crawled underneath the main console and began to move closer to Vic’tao. He may not look entirely engrossed in what the three other Yautjas were speaking about, he was pay attention. That much could be told by just his eyes alone. They were zeroed in on the screen. Perfect. You continued on and crawled all the way to his seat. He never once changed his gaze.

Within those two years, they have taught you useful skills as a hunter. Skills you used to sneak forward on your knees until you were knelt between his open legs. This was always a sight you loved to see. The handsome face of your mate above you. You smiled then gingerly placed your hands on his knees. He jerked at the touch, head whipping down to find you.

That curl of your lips was dangerous. The yellow Yautja relaxed in front of the camera. His free hand dipped down to rest on top of your hand on his leg. You leaned forward and placed a kiss against the inside of his softer thighs. The muscles underneath your touch tensed.

His finger twitched against your wrist, nails slightly digging into feeble skin. Another kiss to the tense muscles had one of his mandibles quaking. He may be a hunter in a lot of ways but his strength leans at your gentle caresses.

The intensity of his eyes met yours. Warnings floating around in the yellow irises. Warnings you’ve never listened to once in your life.

When you leaned down again, you ran your tongue up a few inches. The hand on your hand snatched the top of your hair and pulled you off. All in his eyes shone need. A need for you. You airily giggle and stuck out your tongue at him. Vic’tao lifted his head off of his other hand and stuffed two fingers into your mouth.

You choked on the two long digits invading your mouth and swallowed awkwardly around him. Vic pushed down on your tongue. Your mouth was forced open. A hum sounded from the male before his attention snapped back to the three Yautjas beginning to chitter. You only knew some of language to understand they were teasing Vic.

The sound you had made reached the microphone and relayed to them. Vic’tao grumbled and rolled his eyes but refused to take his fingers out. Drool began to drip down your chin, unable to swallow properly.

“I wanna see the beaut that has Vic’s attention,” one taunted in a deep voice. “Why don’t you show them off? Fuck them on the chair you’re on?” Your eyes snapped wide while gazing up at Vic, wondering if he would just that.

A resonating snarl ripped from the tall male above you. His fingers gripped the strands of your hair tighter. “Don’t even imagine what they look like. They are ours.” Your core fluttered around nothing. Fuck, you loved when he got possessive with you. The marks they permanently scarred your skin with are a clear sign that you belonged to them. As much as they belonged to you.

“Look at little Vic, showing his nature off,” another jesters and laughs. Neither Vic or Uihoy would allow for another to see you naked. It is their privilege; one you agree with. Only they are allowed to see every inch of you.

The screen disappears before your very eyes. Vic’s mandibles are wide in a display. He drags his fingers out of your mouth and wraps that hands around throat. Despite the trust in him, you couldn’t help but grasp at his wrist. Your nails dig into his scales, unable to break the surface let alone leave a dent in their wake.

Vic drags you to your feet and bends down to push his face into yours. “Little hunter grew brave today. But will come to learn how much of a mistake that will be,” he rumbled and squeezed around your neck, fortifying his words. You held back a giddy smile and looked at him with wide eyes. “Fight me all you want, but you are begging for this.”

Instantly, you knew you were in deep.

Your scalp is released. He leads you out of the cockpit and towards the bedroom door. His steps are long and quick, forcing you to stumble and rely on his hold to keep you upright.

Once in the confinements of your shared bedroom, he shoves you back and let’s go. You are finally free. Or are you? The look in his eyes increases, showering you in a predator expression. A shudder runs along your spin. You felt like prey but you weren’t going to run away.

His fist slams against the keypad by the door, officially locking us in here together. Vic stalks to the side, towards one of the hidden compartments around the room. “That was sneaky of you.” The cabinet opens at a single touch. “To come while I was distracted by some of my old hunt brothers.” He grabs something colorful before it’s hidden by his torso. “Then to tease me, knowing I couldn’t expose you. I would never expose you in front of anyone besides myself and Uihoy.”

He spins on his heel to face. Rope was held in his large hands. “It irks me they dared to ask such a thing. Only your skin is for our eyes to see.” He stalked towards you in a slow, deilbrate manner. Every one step, you took two backwards. “I will punish you. You don’t get to tease me and walk away freely.” A smirk pulled at his mandibles. “I should say, you won’t be able to walk at all.”

Your back met the smooth, cool wall, shoulders jumping. Vic stood less than ten feet away before he ate up every foot between the two of you. His torso trapped you to the wall, officially pinning you in place. You had no place to run to.

Two fingers pinched your chin and tugged it up to face him. Your hands were splayed on the wall, frozen in place. His other hand trapped your neck. That’s when your own wrapped around his wrist, nails again biting into thick skin. The Yautja chuckled lowly into your ear. “Give me a good fight, little hunter,” he purred. The vibrations caused goosebumps to appear on your arms.

He wants you to fight him, like a female would.

A brow was raised at him before you locked down. One foot kicked out struck a softer area on the inner thighs. He grunts, hand loosening. You took the chance to force his hand off of you and kicked him in the torso. Vic stumbles back and stands up straight. A glint enters his yellow eyes. You forcefully swallow down a growing lump.

Vic’tao lunges. You roll just in time out of the way and scramble away from him. He follows. Like a game of cat and mouse. Every time he would attempt to grab you, you would dodge barely in time. He growls his frustration after the fourth time.

“Such a good game. Able to stay away but for how long can you keep this up?” His claws skate across your arm, leaving nothing in their wake. “Soon you’ll tire.” His heavily body crashes you to the floor and captures both of your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. Vic leans down. “Then, you’ll be at my mercy.” His long, skinny tongue licks up a bead of sweat rolling down your face.

Despite the weight difference, he uses just enough to keep you pinned in place to the hard, metal floors. Your legs kick out, kneeing him in the back. But, he just uses his lower legs to trap your thighs, effectively trapping you.

His palm touches your sternum and dipped down a little before ensnaring your throat again. “Remember the time you had tied me up? Remember that? When you had the time to do anything you wanted?” Your lips pressed into a tight line. That’s why he pulled out the rope. “I think it’s your turn.”

Your breath came out in shuttering pants.

You were turned onto your stomach before he slipped off to be knelt at your side. “Now, be a good little ooman,” he purred deeply before maneuvering you into position. The fight had left you. You wanted to experience what he was about to punish you with.

He put you on your knees, chest pressed to them with your arms back. With the rope, he tied both your forearms and calves to one another. This forced your ass up into the air to keep a more comfortable position.

One of his hands caress the swell of your butt cheek then grabbed a handful. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you. “This is a sight to behold, little hunter. Bent over and at my mercy. Paya smiles down on me today.” His hand lands beside your head as he curls over your back. His mouth next to your ear. In a low voice, he whispers, “Say red and I’ll immediately cut the ropes off.”

“Okay,” you responded quietly as well. He hummed then returned to his knees. Both of his hands touched the small of your back and ran up its length. All of your clothing still hugged your body.

This isn’t the first nor will it be the last he’ll have you tied at his mercy. Your empty cunt fluttered around nothing as he touched you in a non-sexual way. “Do you know the ways I could take you? And there is nothing you could do to stop me. These ropes far too thick for you to break.” The back of your shirt was crumbled then torn straight off of you.

A gasp tore at your throat. Not that you were surprised. It seemed to be a favorite thing for the two of them. “Vic’tao!” you scolded and pulled on the ropes but they didn’t even groan in protest. Fuck, he’s got these on there tightly.

“Hmm, much better.” He drags his claws over your exposed back. You tried to arch away from him but couldn’t due to the position he’s tied you in. They never cut. He hooked a claw on the waistband of your shorts and pulled. It tears through the fabric easily.

You whined at the feeling of being so exposed to him and tried to inch forward away from him. Until he palms at your soaked underwear. All movement stops. Only thing you could hear is the thundering of your heart and his deep laugh. He hooks a finger around the section blocking off your pussy and pulls. Before it could rip, he lets go and it snaps against your skin. You mewled, body trying to straighten despite being tied in a certain position.

It stung against you throbbing clit. You turned your head to press it against the cool floor and closed your eyes. He pulls at the fabric again until it rips from his strength. The rough pad of his thumb is soaked and pushed against your clit. You panted out mewls and whimpers. “My little hunter is singing for me. I sure do love the sound.” Your hips grinded down on his thumb, sending pleasure up your spine.

Fingers grabbed at the roots of your hair and tugged you up. A cry left your lips. “Such a needy little ooman, grinding on my fingers. Are they not good enough for you?” He eases your head down back to the floor.

Dulled nails prodded against your soaked entrance before three were shoved in. Your eyes snapped open as you choked on a gasped. The soft, plush walls of your pussy clenched down on his hand. He roughly presses down on your sensitive bundle of nerves sending shocks of pleasure-pain up your spine.

“So tight around my fingers. You could push me out if you wanted but I feel how greedy you are. You are sucking them in. You want me deeper, hm?” He continued to push more into you, overpowering the muscles of your vagina. “You want me deep. Say… here?” His fingertips brushed against the smooth texture of your cervix. Your knees knock against each other at how fast your closed them. As if that’ll do anything to stop him.

A groan resonates from his wide chest. You squeaked out his name, feeling overwhelmed. He pulls out his fingers and licks them clean. “Don’t fret. I’ve got something better than just my fingers. Something that’ll reach that deep.”

The familiar feeling of a pointed cockhead pressed to your entrance. As you took a breath in to relax, he forced the entire length inside of you. You cried out and clawed at you calves; the only thing you could reach. It hurt but fuck, it felt so good.

Vic’tao placed a hand between your shoulder blades and leaned down. His palm rubbed soothing circles there. “Good little hunter. I feel you so tight around me,” he praised before lifting back off of you and pinned you down by your upper back.

There was no time to recooperate your feelings or emotions. Vic’tao pulled back until only the head rested inside of you then shoved all the way to his hips. And he didn’t stop. You whimpered and whined while shimming your knees wider.

“That’s it. I feel you opening up to me. You like it when I take you rough, like I would do to a female Yautja,” he growled and slammed harshly into you. You hissed behind clenched teeth and panted heavily. “You want me to bend you over any surface and push my cock into you. I can do that. Anytime. Lay my claim on you on every surface of our home.”

His pace began to speed up. If it wasn’t for the pressure between your shoulder blades, he would’ve pushed across the floor.

Obscene sounds echoed back at you from the force of his thrusts pushing your juices out. You whimpered and glanced over your shoulder at Vic’tao. The man had a possessive look on his face. His hunt brothers’ words probably whispering into his ears as he ravaged you. He growled when he noticed you peeking at him.

The hand that held your hip in a bruising grasp moved. The slightly wettened thumb toyed with your other hole. You inhaled sharply and whipped your head up. It wasn’t like they haven’t before but you weren’t expecting the touch. Vic pressed in. A low moan escaped your throat. The feeling of being filled in such way was delicious.

“You just got tighter. I wished Uihoy was here. He may not like the fact I treat you so roughly despite you craving it. But when the two of us are inside of you at the same time…” Vic’tao trailed off into a groan, head tilted back. “It’s a feeling I would never forget about.”

Then, Vic’tao pulled both his thumb and cock out of you. You shouted and whipped your head to look at him angrily. You were getting close. Yet, the glint in his eyes before the head of his cock shoving into your other hole had you screaming out. Pain shocked through your system and lightning raced up your spine. You groaned and squirmed. His sharp hip bones kissed the swell of your butt cheeks. He stayed still.

The weight of his hand lifted off of your shoulders when he curled over you again. “Remember, red if you want to stop. Is this okay? It’s not too much, right?” he whispered into your ear. One of his hands cards his long digits through your locks.

At first you groaned, soaking in the pain. “I-I’m fine,” you responded in a quiet voice. With every molecule in your body, you trusted not only him but Uihoy with your life.

He grunted but stayed blanketed on top of you. His hips shifted and pulled his cock out slowly. You moaned. The head stayed nestled inside of you. Vic pushed at the same speed as before and filled you again.

There was something different, maybe primal about the way he’s claiming you. It reached deep into your heart and brought out a whole different person in the moment. Not only does he need this connection with you, but so do you. You need to feel him everywhere.

One of his hands reaches below and goes between your legs. Rought finger pads pressed against your throbbing clit. A high pitch whine escaped you at the extra pleasure. Your toes curl in. He hooks his entire arm around your throat and forces you slightly up. Your arms fight against the ropes to claw at his arm. Yet, the ropes stayed.

“That’s it. Take it. Good, so good for me,” he growled and started to pick up his pace. The pain melted away like always and brought forth a different kind of pleasure soaking into your bones.

Your muscles allowed him in, relaxing. It wasn’t long before harsh slapping echoed back at you. With the way his arm surrounded your neck, your weight and his forceful thrusts slowly deprived you of air. Your head grew light, face turning red. There wasn’t anything you could do to stop it.

And you just let it happen.

Vic’tao tensed the muscles in his arm and quickened his speed of his thrusts and fingers. Your legs began to shake before you knew it. “Yeah, yeah. That’s it. I can feel you tightening. Come around my cock and milk me inside of your ass.”

With a choked mewl, you harshly locked down on his pounding cock. A grunt echoed in your ears. Your entire body locked up, unable to move from this position. The lack of air made you dizzy, uncoordinated. You felt like you were floating above your own body.

The harsh reality slammed back into you when he didn’t stop rubbing his fingers across your oversensitive clit. You tried to squirm away from the assaulting digits but he didn’t relent. Your eyes widened. Pained pleasure washed over you and rubbed every nerve raw until you were crying.

A familiar pain expanded your hole wider before sitting just past the tight ring of muscles. You groaned with relief when the fingers stopped, body going lax in Vic’tao’s hold. The Yautja grunted and continued to rut his hips ruthlessly until the last drop of seed was spilled inside of you. Only then, he carefully slid his arm from underneath your neck and let you lay limp on the ground.

Massive hands petted your back, soothing your panting and subtle whines. A body draped over you. Warm digits brushed through your hair to get a clear view of your face. “How are you feeling?” he questioned in a voice that matched the soft ambience of the new scene.

You peeled open a crusty eye and found him peering down at you softly. A throat hum answered him. He returned his own. “Hm, that’s good to hear.” He worked on a knot in your hair for a moment. “I hope you remember this punishment for interrupting me. It’s a lesson well learned.”

Despite the drool leaking from your lips, your mouth curled into a subtle smirk. “Yeah, lesson well learned,” you mocked and laughed hoarsely. If that punishment meant you got tied up and pounded within an inch of your life, sign you up again.

His claws dug into your scalp for only a moment. “Oh, you sneaky little devil. If only I hadn’t knotted you. I’d show you how much of a punishment I can dish out.” The grin didn’t leave your lips. You purposefully clenched around him. He snarled straight into your ear. “By Paya’s name, you’ll won’t be able to walk or even sit down properly once my knot goes down.”

All you could hope for was for that to be a promise.

#yautja #predator #yautja x you #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #vic'tao

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slasherbvnnie · 2 years ago

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Until We Found You | Part IX

And we’ve finally made it to the last chapter of Until We Found You. Fun fact, I had the first part and this one ready at the same time. I had the vision for it and you’ll see why it’s titled the way it is at the end. I really enjoyed writing this, I love it so much. Thanks to everyone who also voiced their love for it, you all are so kind and I wish you the best. Also, in true scream fashion, we had to mention psycho. For this last time, heed the tags.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Poly!Ghostface x reader, NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

Word Count: 1404

”Baby come on! You’re gonna miss the movie!” Stu yelled out as he took a seat on the left side of the couch. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you huffed out as you walked down the stairs. “if someone kept all my things where I leave them I wouldn’t be running late,” you said teasingly, hearing Stu laugh. “Oh come on baby, you know seeing makeup and hair shit scares the ladies away,” he teased as you rolled your eyes. “Careful Stu, she’ll probably choke you out if she finds out about another girl,” Billy said as he walked by you, offering you a soda which you gladly accepted, planting a kiss to his cheek as you two walked to the couch together. You sat besides Stu, Billy on your right as Stu placed a blanket over all three of you.

“So what are we watching?” You asked as you relaxed back, smiling as Billy set the popcorn bowl in your lap. “Psycho,” Billy said with a smile. “ah, going old school today? We should watch Rebecca after,” you added in as Stu smiled. “I like your thinking, doll, I was gonna say we should watch that too,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You three were about half an hour into the movie, your head resting on Billy’s shoulder as you held hands with Stu. You felt his hand leave yours, making you whine in protest and look over to him. “I’m bored,” Stu said as he yawned, Billy looking over and rolling his eyes. “How about we play a game then?” He asked as you and Stu’s attention now settled on the older male. “What kind of game?” You asked as Billy smirked. “Our own kind of game, baby,” he hummed, Stu smirking as if he knew exactly what Billy was talking about. “You’re gonna let Stu play around with you, but I’m going to question you. Don’t worry, it should be easy for you baby, it’ll be all about horror movies.” He smirked, looking at you like you were about to be his prey, you cowered a little at his gaze, pushing your thighs together as you grew needy just from his look. ��Awh, look at that Billy, already getting turned on for us,” Stu said as he adjusted and set you on his lap, his hands running over your clothed body as Billy moved to sit next to you two. “Easy question as a warm up baby, which character and me share the same last name?” He questioned, his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps raising on your skin as Stu’s fingers twiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Sam…Sam Loomis…” you spoke out, looking to your side before Billy turned your head back to the tv, “eyes on the movie, baby,” he hummed, smirking as you squirmed as Stu lifted up your shirt.

“Another one, baby,” Billy whispered into your ear, it had been another half hour since they started their little game. Tears streaked down your cheeks, your skin was blushed and already bruising from their marks being left on you, and you were shaking and squirming in Stu’s lap. “Please Billy, please, Stu,” you whined out their names, trying to get away from the pleasure as they chuckled at your state. “One last question sweetheart,” Billy promised you, swiping his tongue over his lips as he looked over your exposed body. “How many different times did they film the shower scene?” He asked, his hands groping your breasts as Stu’s fingers pumped into you. “What?” You questioned as Stu smirked against your neck. “How many different takes did they have for the shower scene baby? Come on, it’s easy,” Stu said as you whined, a loud moan leaving your lips as Stu played with your clit. “90! It- It’s 90!” You exclaimed, letting out a cry when they stopped their touches. Billy tsked, shaking his head, “you were so close baby,” he said as you whined. “78 shots, all for those famous 45 seconds,” Billy hummed, smiling and kissing you before Stu pulled you away for his own kiss. “Please…please, I wanna cum…” you begged, giving them both puppy dog eyes. Stu visibly melted, now looking to Billy with the same eyes, knowing both of you might get in trouble if he didn’t get his permission. “I’m dating two needy fucks, aren’t I?” He sighed, giving you another kiss before reaching over to Stu, whispering into his ear before giving a kiss to his cheek. “You’ll cum, but only if you let both of us cum first,” Billy said to you, you nodding your head quickly. “Since I got you to myself last time, why don’t you use that pretty mouth on me while Stu plays with that pretty cunt of yours,” he said as he moved back, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down along with his underwear to his mid thigh. You moved, getting onto your hands and knees on the cushions as you crawled slightly to Billy, opening your mouth and licking his tip. A groan left his lips at the touch, his hand snaking into your hair as Stu got to work with stretching you out.

It wasn’t hard, having already been fingering you relentlessly during their game, using the slick that you were leaking to help lube you up even more. You took Billy into your mouth, holding the base of his cock with one hand while your other held your body up. Moans left your lips and vibrated through his cock as Stu played with you, little whimpers and whines helping aid to Billy’s pleasure as Stu took his fingers away. You could see through your fluttered eyelids that Billy’s head had tilted up to match Stu’s gaze, finding out why when you felt Stu push against your entrance. “So pretty f’me baby, so fucking wet,” Stu groaned as he pushed in, making you moan as your walls sucked him in further.

“God, you’re fucking sucking me in, doll,” he moaned, taking his time thrusting into you to allow you to adjust. But with the two boys who had been worked up for nearly an hour now, they were quick to use you for their release. It felt like four seconds before they began to thrust into you from both ends, you could tell they were trying to match their speed to make you delirious. You enjoyed times like these with them, when their pleasure was focused on, not that they didn’t pay attention to you, but it made your head spin when they used you freely. Stu reached one hand down between your body and the couch, circling around your clit, making you moan and arch your back in pleasure. Billy gripped your hair harder, fucking into your throat with grunts and groans leaving every other second. Stu was just as vocal, his thrusts getting sloppier with time. “Be a good girl and open that mouth wider for me, little bunny,” Billy said as he pulled out, you looked up to him with a fucked out look as you held your mouth open, feeling your sanity being ripped from you as Stu thrusted even harder into you. Billy moaned out your name as he pumped himself, cumming into your mouth and partially across your face. Stu meanwhile had one hand bruising your waist with his grip while the other played with your clit, making you moan and push against him. Stu came and slowed down his thrusts slowly, you whimpering and moaning out as his hand didn’t stop pleasuring you. “Cum for us baby, you want to be good, don’t you?” Billy asked, holding your chin up to look at him as you gave a weak nod, your moans getting more high pitched before finally climaxing, crying out as Stu helped you through your high.

“You know, I’m still kinda sad I was on your kill list,” you mumbled, cuddled between your two boyfriends on the bed, all ready to go to sleep now hours after their game. “hey, you know that was just the plan until we found you” “and before we found out you had the hots for ghostface,” Stu added after Billy, making you smile and shake your head. “whatever dorks, just go to bed already, gotta wake up early for that gale interview,” you said, smiling as you gave them both a kiss.

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princessbiteme0o0 · 9 months ago

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Um this is like my first time asking but I have an idea which I really like so here I am asking!

So basically Ted is in theatre school with you and he your in the same class and you were paired up to do a scene of Romeo and Juliet. And there was a kissing scene you had to do.

In the evening Ted and you do into the theatre empty to practice the scene and you were really scared to do the kiss and he helps you out and then it slowly from a kiss gets more passionate and deep then… you two ended up doing the dirty in the theatre.

but during sex, he becomes more dominant and degrading like “imagine you took me like this infront of the class next week? You would look like a total whore.”

AHHH I HOPE ITS OK! and if you do it then I will give more ideas defo 💗

I adore you (and everyone that asks), having said that- this is BY FAR my favorite one 😭 Shakespeare is one of my favorite writers, along with Poe.

Thank you, Nonny and thank all of you that enjoy my writing!! It genuinely makes me SO HAPPY to see people enjoying and appreciating my writing.

Mainly for my home girl- @writingduhh 🩵🩵🩵

Having said all of that…

FIRST OF ALL- I don’t think Ted has a kinky bone in his body; I think he’s a cute lil vanilla baby, but fuck it we ball. MINORS DNI. I FEEL LIKE IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS AT THIS POINT.

Warnings: smut, slight bullying, degradation, praise, sexual tension, arguments, (kinda enemies to lovers), slapping (not abusive- purely sexual), choking, spit kink, spanking?, fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, unspoken daddy kink?, melodramatics, ‘pup’ and ‘puppy’ used (don’t judge me) but no pet play, As always, let me know if I need to add more 🩵

Shakespeare in Love (Teddy Nivison x Reader)

—🩵—🩵—

She thought she was far over having to work with him on this play. She thought it would be a simple one and done; that maybe he’d have a simple two or three liner part. However, the moment she read the names next to each character, she felt her heart drop to her stomach. There it had been, in big, bold letters:

Tybalt- Kyle Jean

Capulet- Chris River

Juliet- (Y/N Y/L/N)

Romeo- Ted Nivison

She still remembers the anger that she felt at him for even auditioning, the rage directed at the casting director, the dread she felt at knowledge of the script; but like any good actress, she played it off.

So now, she sat on stage, reading over the script while waiting for mister always late. Had it have been better (and easier) circumstances, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the door to the auditorium swinging open. Her eyes lifted and met his gaze, smirk and all. She felt a heated anger drop to the pit of her stomach, but that smirk caused a different kind of warmth to drop between her thighs. Rolling her eyes where she knew he could see, she stood to her feet while looking over the script once more.

She was a tall woman, she knew that, but he was so much taller. His shadow lingered over her and when she looked up at him, he wore a goofy grin, eyes boring into her. “You ready, Pumpkin?” He asked in a mocking tone that made her eye twitch for a moment.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” She grumbled softly, glaring up at him. He reached his hand out and his fingertips ghosted over her bare shoulder and down her collarbone.

“Why not?” He pouted lightly, fingertips brushing up her neck now. “I know it feels good.” He whispered the second part, winking at her and she raised her hand to slap him, before the director scolded her.

“(Y/N)! Let’s save our emotions for the audience, hmm?” He shouted over the talking students in the room. Everyone went quiet and turned their eyes to her, making a warm blush flood her cheeks.

“You’re so cute when you blush for me.” Ted teases softly, pinching her arm.

Today is going to be a long ass day…

—🩵—🩵—

She watched on with fake love in her eyes as Ted read off his lines like a beautiful poem, especially for her. He took her hand in his as he continued, voice warm and welcoming, as if it were a soft pillow for her to lie back on-

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” The words weren’t his, but the look in his eyes and the way he said it so clearly to her made her body grow warm. My character, it’s just his character speaking to mine.

“Good Pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do not touch, and hand to hand is holy palmers kiss.” She spoke skeptically, eyes watching his every move. As he moved his body closer to hers, she had to fight the urge to step back. She could practically feel the magnetic urgency trying to pull them together, but she denied it, craving the comfortability in safety. His hand carefully raised to her jaw, cupping it with a gentle palm.

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” His voice was softer, careful almost, as if he was afraid of her pulling away. Taking in a sharp breath, she paused a moment, seemingly forgetting her lines- though she was quick to steady herself.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” She placed a careful hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he slipped an arm around her waist, fingertips resting in the small of her back. She knew it was coming, yet the more he touched her, the harder it was to keep up the boundaries she held.

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” His words were a deep rumbling whisper as his other hand slid up the side of her body. His fingertips gently massaged a path up her shoulder, her collarbone, just to rest carefully on her jawline. His thumb carefully ran over the apple of her cheeks as she struggled to find her line once more.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” Her mouth ran dry as he leaned forwards ever-so-slightly. She felt heat strike through her body and liquid heat pool in between her legs.

“Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.” His voice is deep rumble that vibrates her to her very core. When he leant down and pressed his lips carefully to hers, her world suddenly burst into vibrant colors, warmth immersing the room in the fireworks that flew between them. Both parties had a difficult time pulling apart, but she managed to pull away, only to realize she had a firm grip on his hair. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ted struggled to get his line out without stuttering, “Th-Thus from my lips, by then, my sin is purged.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers for even the slightest millisecond of time and his grip around her just tightened; until the director and everyone else in the class clapped. “That was absolutely stunning.” The director calls out. Almost instantly upon realization that they weren’t alone, they quickly tore apart from each other- she was blushing madly, while Ted just wore a look of confusion.

—🩵—🩵—

It was a few hours after practice and most of the staff went home, while she sat on the stage, silently going over her lines. She was reading through every detail, looking for every emotion. Lying back, she laid the script over her face, mind still flying from the previous events of the day. Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps and a soft shift of air around her as whoever it was sat beside her.

“Ted…” She grumbles, without even moving the script from her face. She knew it was him- of course she did, she hates him. His scent filled her nostrils and tempted to distract her.

“(Y/N)…” His voice is gentle; hearing him say her name like that was a surprise. Reaching up, he gently pulls the script away from her face. When her pretty eyes meet his, he smiles softly and just watches her for a moment. “Can we talk?”

“Hmph.” She lets out a soft puff of air and crosses her arms.

“(Y/N).” His voice is still gentle, but this time it takes on a warning tone. She looks back up at him through her lashes and sighs. Rolling her eyes, she moved to sit. “Now that you’re situated… Why do you hate me?”

“Can we just go over our lines, please?” Her eyes are silently pleading, but he just slowly nods with a soft sigh of succession.

“Where do you wanna start-“ He’s quickly cut off as she basically launches at him, crashing their lips together in a heated kiss. His mind is telling him to pull away, but everything else is telling him to pull her closer. His hands grip her hips, tight enough to leave bruises and he helps her climb into his lap. Pulling away, he looks up at her with a small smirk, “If you wanted me that bad you just needed to tell me.” He teased gently.

“If you want me at all, you’ll shut the fuck up.” She growls lowly. Raising a brow at her, he reaches behind her and places a firm slap on her rear.

“You better check your attitude with me, Sweetheart.” A squeak left her lips when he spanked her and she jumped, making her grind forward against him. Ted bit back a groan and closed his eyes. “Princess…”

The warmth in his voice and the tempting softness in his eyes made her melt right there in his lap. She was careful and hesitant with each movement she made. Exploring the new territory was terrifying, but it felt so… Right. Her lips traced along his neck, kissing and sucking every exposed inch of skin she could reach. Her canines would occasionally scrape over a patch of skin and her tongue would dart out to soothe it.

“You feel so good… Being such a good girl for me.” Ted mumbled, eyes closed and simply enjoying her sweet touches.

“You taste so good, Teddy.” She mumbles against his skin, tongue flicking out over his pulse point. “Makes me angry how good you feel.” Letting out a deep, breathy chuckle, he pries her away from him and lays her back on the stage.

“I know, Honey, I know…” He coos, pulling her shorts down her legs. His eyes settled on the wet patch on her panties, light hitting it and making it glisten in the most tantalizing way. His mouth watered at the sight. “Why don’t you let me make you feel good? Hmm? I bet you taste as beautiful as you look.” A high pitched whine leaves her lips and she grabs for him to try and pull him close again, but he denies her, instead moving his hands down her thighs and massaging the skin there. His thumbs kneaded her flesh, making her relax for him.

“There ya go, babes… That feel good?” He hums, hands creeping just slightly higher. A soft moan of relief leaves her lips.

“Yessss…” She hisses out softly, eyes fluttering shut.

“You seem to be carrying quite a bit of tension here…” He says smoothly as his hands move to the inside of her thighs and slowly creep higher. “But I think most of your tension is held here.” His fingertips brushing against the wet spot on her panties made her body jolt and a mewl sound around them, the sound bouncing off of the walls.

“Ted.” She whimpers, making him chuckle.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got so much tension… Right here.” As he finished his sentence, he gently pressed his thumb to her clit, making her back arch away from the stage and up towards him.

“Teddy!” She cries out in a lewd beg, hips moving against his hand in a desperate attempt to gain more friction. His thumb just continued to move in slow circles around her throbbing bud, making her cunt clench around nothing.

“What’s wrong, Hon? Hmm?” He teased, watching as her wetness continued to soak through her panties until she was dripping on the stage floor.

“I- I can’t- ‘S too much!” She cries out, nails digging into the skin of his forearm that she held onto for dear life. The confidence in his eyes flared and changed to a much darker expression, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Aww, does it feel too good, Pumpkin? Can’t handle feeling so good?” He mocked her in the most condescending way, but it made a whimper leave her lips as her eyes flashed open and met his. “You’re going to lay there and take it like the filthy slut you are.” He growls lowly, free hand slapping the outside of her thigh hard enough to leave a hand print, but her squeal morphed with a lewd moan of desperation.

“Yes Teddy… I- I can take- take it.” She stuttered out, legs shaking. His degrading hit her body like a truck, making her head go fuzzy. Ted nearly lost it when he saw the pure submissive state that she had slipped into, her eyes staring up at him innocently.

“Look at you, Princess…” He mumbles, pushing her panties aside and slipping his middle finger into her. Her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted in a silent moan. Her eyes locked on his as he curled his finger upwards to hit her most sensitive spot. “So fucking pretty.”

“Ted-“ She tries to speak, but he quickly shushes her. He slipped his ring finger into her as well and placed his free hand on her abdomen, very gently adding pressure. The feeling intensified for her and she cried out a sob, body shaking.

“You know I won’t let anyone else touch you now.” He mumbles, working his fingers faster and harder. “You’re mine now. Mine to degrade, mine to praise, mine to fuck… Mine to protect.” As the words continued to fall from his lips, her chest swelled with a new, overwhelming, uncertain emotion. Her cunt tightened, just as her chest did when she realized what emotion he was evoking in her.

“Ted I-“ He’s quick to cut her off.

“No, Shhh… Trust me, (Y/N)… Let me make you feel good, then you’re free to go back to hating me.” He speaks softly, eyes watching her face, rather than her body.

“No, Ted I want you.” She whimpers softly, her voice so soft and so weak. She sounded so innocent. “Please.” A warm smile broke out across his lips and he nodded, pulling his fingers from her and popping them in his mouth. A low groan rumbled through him, and he closed his eyes to savor her taste. When he pulled his finger free from his mouth.

“So fucking sweet.” He growls, literally ripping her panties from her body. “Because of course, the world’s biggest brat has to have the sweetest little pussy I’ve ever tasted.” He unbuckled his belt and yanked it off, folding it in half. Ted used the folded leather as a riding crop, slapping the outside of her thigh. “Spread ‘em, Cupcake.”

A smirk crossed her lips at the opportunity so clearly in front of her. Shaking her head, she huffed out one simple word, “No.” Ted grabbed her ankles and yanked her towards him. Giggling wildly, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Mmh, maybe I just won’t let you cum…” She whined at the idea, pouting and smacking his arm, making him use his free hand to hold hers down. “Maybe I’ll just stuff you with my cum and plug you up. Let you throb around a silly toy instead of me.”

“Teddy!” She basically begs, tears of frustration welling up in the corners of her eyes. He let out a warm, hearty laugh at her response and slowly dragged the belt across her abdomen, using it to brush her shirt slightly upwards.

“Aww, poor Pup wants me to breed her?” He asks, raising a brow as his free hand carefully massages her hip. She quickly nodded her head and her hands made a little grabby motion for him, a high pitched whine leaving her lips.

“You’re so precious, Honey.” He hums, undoing the button on his slacks and pushing them down -along with his boxers- just enough for his cock to spring free. Biting her lip, she watched as precum dripped from the tip and fell onto her thigh. Her eyes slowly went up his body to settle on his, boring into his soul.

“I wanna taste you, Theo.” She fluttered her lashes at him in the prettiest, most sweet and innocent way she could.

“As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think you deserve that treat today, Puppy.” He hums, gripping her legs and placing them over his shoulders and leaning so close to her that his lips brushed against hers and he whispered, “You only get what I chose to give you.”

The second that he finished his sentence, he buried himself to the hilt. A cry tore from her throat as her back tried to arch, but couldn’t as he pressed further forward, basically bending her in half. Her hands flew to his back and her nails bit into the fabric, nearly tearing the threads apart piece by piece.

“I’m gonna fill you up until your pretty little body can’t hold anymore.” He growls lowly, biting her lower lip. His words made her cunt tighten around him in an attempt to draw him in even closer. Drawing his hips back slowly, she drew in a sharp gasp when his hips lurched forwards, burying himself inside of her once more.

“Teddddyyy nnngh!” She chokes out, body trembling beneath his and he chuckles darkly, mouth attaching to her.

“What’s wrong, Cupcake? Can you not take it?” He mocked, cooing in her ear as he quickened his pace, fucking into her harshly and caging her in with his arms beside her head. She wildly shook her head, grappling for him with her nails nearly shredding the fabric of his shirt.

“P-please- ta- Ahh~ take it off.” She stutters out, gripping over little moans and whines. Ted found it impossible to resist her pleas when they sounded just so pretty. He kept his eyes on her face as he felt her nails dragging down his back.

“That feel better, Hon?” He mumbles and she buried her face in his neck.

“Yessss…” She hissed, teeth biting into the skin of his neck. “Oh God, Theo…”

“If I’d have known that you’d stop being such a fucking brat, I would’ve fucked you sooner.” He growls, sharply slapping the outside of her thigh as he changed the angle of his hips, making her let out a shaky sob. Tears fell down her cheeks as her vision clouded. Ted smirked as he hummed, watching the way her body morphed and changed position with every thrust.

The way he filled her so full, made her mind fuzzy and her thoughts fade away. Her cunt tightened around him as she threatened to fall over the edge, “Please Ted!”

“I dunno, Pumpkin. Do you think you deserve it?” He asks, halting in his movements, making her so frustrated she nearly screamed.

“Please, please, please, I’ll be so good, I swear. I’ll be so so so good for you Theo, please.” She begged and pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Gimme a kiss then, cutie.” Before his sentence was even complete, she launched herself forward, capturing his lips on hers. While she was distracted, he slipped his hand between the two of them, thumb massaging quick circles on her pretty little bud, picking his thrusts back up. His ministrations, made her let out a squeak against his lips as the band in her belly stretches so tightly that it could break at any second.

“Go ahead, Honey. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up. How’s that sound? Want me to fill you up? Get you all round with my babies?” His words were all that she needed, her world exploding into stars and butterflies as her orgasm hits her like a comet hits the earth, shattering her every nerve. Ted watched as her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ and her eyebrows pinched together. He held eye contact with her the entire time, reminding her to breathe as she rides off the effects. “There ya go, there it is. You alright, Sweetie?”

Her breathing began to steady as overstimulation kicked in, “‘M good, Teddy… I wan’ it.” She mumbles as he helped her move her legs from his shoulders to around his waist. His thumbs gently massaged her hips as he slowly picked his thrusts back up.

“I know, honey… Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got ya.” He speaks calmly, watching her as she starts to come back to attention. “There ya are… Welcome back to reality, Sweetheart.” He chuckles softly, giving her a goofy smile. A giggle punctuated by a soft moan leaves her lips and she smiles up at him, her own hands gripping his biceps and rolling her thumbs over his skin.

A soft groan leaves him and he lets his head fall to her chest as he struggles to hold it together. “My God, you’re so fucking tight. Gonna squeeze the life outta me.” He grumbles, placing gentle kisses over her chest as he lazily rolls his hips against hers. Her fingers gently card through his hair as she mumbles her own praises to him.

“You feel so good, Ted. Ya’ make me feel s’ good.” She hums, locking her legs around his waist as he starts to lose his pace. Lifting his head with the little energy he has left he gives her a questioning look.

“You sure you don’t-“ But she was quick to cut him off.

“Cum for me.” She whispers in his ear, placing a careful, open mouthed kiss on his neck. Right when she spoke, her pussy clamped down on him, making his eyes roll back in his head as his hips stutter and he bottoms out inside of her.

“Mmh, fuck…” He growls, filling her to the brim. “So good for me… Takin’ it so fuckin’ well.” His head falls to her chest and he mumbles something into her shirt. Whatever he said made him blush, the tips of his ears going red. She gently cups his jawline and lifts his head to look at her.

“What did you say, Theo?” She asks gently, thumb running across his lip. He paused and just stared at her for a moment, silence floating between them.

“I can’t believe you never realized how in love with you I am.”

#ted nivision smut #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison imagine #ted nivison fluff

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 1 year ago

Text

It's Called Murder, Baby!

A Scream x Stranger Things AU

Part II

Read Part I Here

Synopsis: A string of gruesome murders takes a toll on the small town of Hawkins. Friends and family start looking like suspects making it hard to trust those who you are closest to.

Chapter Summary: A killer is still on the loose with the whole town on edge. Was this a single incident or is there more to come? Hopper puts his foot down leaving things tense with you and Steve.

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

This work will contain elements of violent themes (depictions of crime scenes, murders, etc) and smut. This is a slasher fic!

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. AFAB!Reader. Graphic character deaths/murders - depictions of how they were found after the murder. Semi-Public Sex. Oral (m receiving). Pet names. Choking. Degradation. Smoking marijuana. P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie.

Word Count: 5.3K

In all of Jim’s twenty plus years on the force, he thought he’d seen it all. Hawkins had its share of crime, but murder was never high on that list. The usually quiet town had only seen something of this caliber once before.

He was here 10 years ago when Principal Higgin’s was strung up by his feet and found hanging on the goal post at Hawkin’s High football field, sliced open from neck to navel like a freshly killed deer ready for processing. It was gruesome and bloody. They had never seen anything like it and hoped they’d never have to deal with something like it again.

The murders of Jason and Chrissy brought a whole new meaning to what he’d thought he’d seen.

Jason was found tied to a chair. He had been stabbed at least ten times before his throat ultimately slit. They were still unsure if he was already dead before his neck was reached.

Chrissy was found a few feet away, strung up by her feet. Rope tied to the second-floor landing, extending over the living room. In eerily similar fashion to that murder 10 years ago, she was also gutted.

It was as if Jason had been made to watch. This was brutal and seemed personal.

He had the file spread out across his desk, looking and relooking at all the evidence as he reached for another smoke. He’d been chain smoking since he’d left the crime scene this morning.

It was now well past two in the afternoon, and he was no closer to figuring this shit out. It was going to be a long night.

A knock came at his door followed by Deputy Callahan poking his head in.

“Yeah?” Came his gruff voice, already irritated by the younger man’s presence. Callahan was a constant pest.

“Hey Sheriff, uh, sorry to bother you, but I thought you might like to see today’s paper.” The shit eating smirk on his face told a different story.

Callahan waltzes over, handing him the latest edition.

He read the headline and briefly skimmed the article underneath.

“Meeting, now!” He finally huffed, reddened face on display. Callahan didn’t miss a beat.

“On it, sir.”

It wasn’t unusual to have an “emergency” meeting at the station, especially with the way the morning had gone.

Steve was settled at his desk, Robin was sitting across from him rambling about something he wasn’t paying much attention to, still too distracted by the evidence before him. Looking at it all as if he would magically see something they had missed.

Callahan hadn’t even bothered knocking, door opening with a crooked grin.

“Meeting, Sheriff’s office. Now.”

Robin looked at Steve and shrugged.

Everyone shuffled into the room, cramming into the corners trying to fit into the small office.

Hopper was unusually quiet, not meeting anyone’s gaze as they filed in. Steve immediately clocked the newspaper he had folded in his hand.

Powell was the last, closing the door behind him. As soon as it clicked into place Hopper spoke up.

“I don’t think I should have to remind you all how delicate a case like this is.” Everyone nodded in agreement as he finally looked around.

“Yes. Yes, sir. Yes, Sheriff.” Came from around the room.

“So, who the fuck talked to the press?” He threw the paper on the desk, unfurling to reveal the headline. His finger pinning it and pointing to your article.

Steve maintained his composure, but he wanted to rip his hair out. He hadn’t seen the paper yet, so he stepped up reading the contents, Robin shuffled right in beside him.

His jaw tightened. He hadn’t told you anything about the mask they had found.

A few more seconds ticked by. Steve finally stepped back catching Callahan looking straight at him, that same smirk plastered to his face from earlier.

Little Fucker, Steve thought.

Jim groaned as he sat back down, before finally speaking again. “Powell, Callahan. Get out and close the door.”

Wasting no time, quickly doing as they were told to make sure to stay on Hopper’s good side. Callahan skirted past Steve, smiling as he went. Steve was already seething with his fists clenched tightly to his sides. If looks could kill, the other would have been a dead man.

Robin clutched the paper reading it more carefully, as she took the seat in front of his desk.

Steve strolled up behind her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Look,” Jim sighed, looking right at him. “I don’t care what the hell you do after hours but do not let it interfere with my investigation.”

“Hop,” Robin went to interject but was quickly cut off.

“Let me finish,” She snapped her mouth shut and nodded. “Unfortunately, I know it had to have been one of you. No one outside of this room knew about that goddamn mask.”

He let his words wash over them both. Robin’s shoulders sank as she sat further into her seat. He noticed Steve’s jaw clench.

“Callahan had a run in with her here today in the station. Care to explain?” He sat back, reaching for yet again for another smoke. Joyce would kill him if she knew how many he’d had today.

“Hop, I swear,” Robin was the first to crack, always was. “She just came in for a visit. We had coffee…” She trailed off when she felt Steve’s hand rest on her shoulder.

“She came in to talk to me,” Steve looked Jim in the eye as he spoke. “But I swear to God I didn't say a word about that fucking mask.”

Hopper sighed; he knew Steve would never undermine him like that.

He nodded. “No more press in the station until this shit is over. Not even her.”

“Yes sir,” they stated in unison.

“Ok then, who else could have known?”

Steve trudged out of Hopper's office in a huff, with Robin hot on his heels as she followed him back into his office, shutting the door behind them.

“Steve,” she started.

“Don't.” He sat down, with a sigh as he opened the folder once again in front of him and rubbed his hands down his face.

“You didn't tell her that, did you?” She asked quietly before taking the chair in front of him, eyes worrying over him. Surely, he wasn't that stupid?

“Of course not,” he scoffed, incredulously. “You know better than that.”

“Right, yeah, I know… but you two are… close.” She wouldn’t dare meet his eyes after it slipped out.

“Close, yeah. But I wouldn't jeopardize an investigation like that.” She nodded, as he got up wearily from his seat.

‘Hey, where are you going?” She shouted as he was halfway out the door.

“To get some answers.”

The copier was currently holding your paper hostage, as it got lodged in the rollers. Cursing the damn thing as you started the process of digging it out.

Nancy walked by just in time to see you struggling.

“There you are, heads up. Trouble is headed this way.” You looked over her shoulder in time to catch Steve's stern face looking right at you as he stepped through the door.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

She gave you a wry, pitying look before leaving you to it.

“Hey Steve, I…” you began, but he grabbed your bicep pulling you along with him, giving you no choice but to follow. He dragged you into the small conference room down the hall in which you two frequently met.

Only letting you go once you were both in, shutting the door. He was unusually quiet, eyes lingering down as if contemplating what needed to be said.

“So, I take it, you've seen the paper?” You asked softly.

He nodded, “Who told you about the mask?”

You knew it would come, but you were prepared.

“It was an anonymous source, and I took the chance.” You shrugged.

“Anonymous source? Who?” He narrowed his gaze, but you stood your ground, standing up a little straighter crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don't know, Steven, it was an anonymous tip. They didn't quite let me catch their name before they hung up.”

“Right, like you don't know. So why would you run it if you didn't know if it was true?” He stepped closer into your space.

“I just had a gut feeling. Looks like I was right if you're here.” Gesturing toward him.

He planted his hands on his hips, looking down his nose at you trying to look intimidating, only managing to turn you on instead.

“Yeah, and now Hop is on my ass thinking that I leaked it. You sure you didn't see something in that file on my desk?”

“And when would I have done that? While I was in your lap, and you were balls deep? You were there too. I didn't snoop in your fucking file.” You start turning away from him, tired of the questioning.

“Wait, look,” his hand wraps softly around your wrist, catching you from moving too far away from him.

“I'm sorry, I know you didn't snoop. This is just a big case, Hops worried about making sure it isn't fucked up.” You nodded, secretly relishing the way you could easily get him worked up and then he’s always the first to apologize.

“I know Steve, I wouldn't do something to compromise your job. You should know that.”

He absentmindedly bit his lower lip, his mind in overdrive once again.

“I've got to get back to the Station. I'll be there late tonight.”

He turned and headed back out into the newsroom. Turning heads as he went, permanent scowl etched onto his face.

It was getting late in the evening, around 8 pm. Eddie should have been by to pick you up at 6 but had called earlier saying he was running late.

“Sorry sweetheart, boss wants me to stay and finish up this last car that came in today.” He had said.

You were the only one left in the building. Nancy had offered to take you home, but you didn't want to be an inconvenience.

You were doing some research on another story Tom had assigned you, paying little attention to anything else around you.

The doors were locked. All the lights were low except the one still at your desk, head buried in a pile of copy you were looking over.

It was then you heard a sharp screech, as if a door creaked open making your head shoot up. You stood, walking slowly to the doorway leading to the back of the building, listening closely for any other sounds.

You rounded the corner that led to a narrow hall, and beyond that was the back of the building. There was only one exit door in the back, and you were sure that Tom had locked it on his way out.

“Hello? Is someone there?” You shouted down the darkened hall. No sounds or movements from that direction. Heart beating heavy in your chest as your eyes adjusted to see further into the dark but there was nothing and no one.

“Shit, get a grip.” You hissed to yourself.

You turned to go back to your desk, bumping into something very solid, as you jumped and let out a small squeak of surprise. His hand wrapping around your waist, steading you. Looking up into a familiar face with deep hazel eyes immediately calmed your now jangled nerves.

“Shit Steve, you didn’t have to sneak up on me.” Your heart still beating rapidly.

“I was checking the doors. The back was unlocked. Why aren’t you being more careful? There's still a killer on the loose.” He looked worried then, always caring about your well-being. He brushed the loose strands of hair behind your ear that had fallen after a long day, cupping your cheek in the process.

“Good thing I have a big, bad Sheriff to keep an eye out for me.” You smiled, as his gaze softened.

“Eddie coming to pick you up?” He whispered, inching closer to you. Crowding into you even further, closing the distance, pushing you into the wall as your back came to rest against it.

You nod. “He's just running a little late.”

“I’d never keep you waiting,” he mumbled against your lips, letting them finally meld into yours as you hummed in response, he let his other hand meet your hip, pulling you back into him.

“Stevie, I… I can't. He'll be here any minute.” You breathed out, pushing him away slightly.

He nodded, kissing your forehead tenderly before pulling completely away, immediately missing the warmth his body provided.

“Steve, wait, I'm sorry about the paper. Sometimes I just get ahead of myself and don't think about who else it might affect.” You placed your palm to his cheek, forcing his eyes on you.

Your other hand trailed the length of his shirt, past his belt, firmly cupping his bulge as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I don't have a lot of time, but I could still make it up to you.” You whispered, looking up at him innocently.

“Let me make it up to you.” You gripped the front of his shirt, as he held out his hand to help lower you to the floor.

Your knees hit the hard linoleum with a small thump, as he allowed himself to bump into the wall behind him.

He looked down at you with an affection that suddenly made your chest ache. You were expecting lust, not his doe eyes sparkling in the low light.

He removed his duty belt, sitting it on the table to the side of you.

“Stevie, don't look at me like that.”

“Like what, honey?”

You looked ahead, choosing to ignore him instead, popping the button on his slacks and undoing his zipper slowly, his cock beginning to strain against his confinements as you reached into his briefs, fingers wrapping around the base. He let out a small moan, as he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall.

His cock kicked up with your touch, engorging further, growing to his full length before your eyes. You licked your lips as your mouth began to salivate.

You moved your hand up his velvety length, collecting the growing bead of pearlescent precum at his slit, letting your thumb slowly spread it across his head before bringing it back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned out, every touch sending electricity through his veins, as if he hadn't already been inside of you earlier today.

You held his base, and kitten licked at his head, eliciting more breathy moans as you began to kiss up and back down his hard cock at a torturous pace before finally wrapping your lips around his head, swirling your tongue and sucking lightly before taking as much of him into your mouth that you could fit. Slowly bobbing your head and then picking up the pace, working in tandem with the hand wrapped around the rest of him.

You gagged just a bit, when he nudged the back of your throat a little too hard from your own eagerness.

He looked back down at the sound, cupping your cheek gently, thumb softly caressing you,

“Hey, hey take it easy baby doll. Can't make a mess of this pretty little face right now. Just take it easy honey.”

You nodded, bobbing your head slowly once again.

“That's it baby doll. Slow and steady now.”

You free hand toys with his balls, rolling them deftly between your fingers.

“Oh shit, yeah. Just like that baby.” He cooed.

You speed up your movements on his length, feeling his sack tense and draw up a bit from the change in pace.

“That's it, baby doll, I'm about to cum already. Can I cum in that pretty mouth?”

You nodded as he grunted and spilled down your throat, relaxing a bit more so you could swallow as much as possible. The salty, tangy taste had you humming around him.

His cock twitched once more before stilling, as you moved off of him with a slight pop, wiping the drool and any of him that escaped down the side of your mouth. You wrapped your lips around your finger, licking it off, not letting a single drop go to waste.

“C’mere,” giving you his hand once again to help you up, winching as you felt the pain in your knees from being in the latter position.

“I…” you were about to speak, as headlights cut through the blinds, illuminating you both.

“Shit,” he hissed, drawing back, putting himself away and grabbing for his belt before securing it back around his waist.

“It's Eddie. He'll be ok for a few minutes.” You straightened your rumpled shirt, smoothing some errant stray hairs back into place.

You grabbed your purse, as he finished fixing his clothes.

“Come on, I'll have to lock up behind you. Walk me out.”

He followed closely, Eddie's eyes cut to the both of you upon exit, taking a slow drag of the cigarette held tightly between his lips.

He rolled down his window as you cut in front of the van to climb into the passenger seat.

“Evening Harrington,” he grinned. “Out on patrol?”

Steve glared, licking his lips before striding up the van, clearing his throat a bit.

“Eddie,” nodding toward the other man. “Just checking some doors around town. Y/N would forget her head sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he clicked his tongue, “yeah she would.” He looked over to you as you rolled your eyes back at him. You leaned over as he met you halfway placing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for checking on me Steve.” Throwing him a soft smile and wink, sitting back into the seat as your seatbelt clicked into place.

Eddie smirked, tapping his fingers against the top of the door. Steve caught sight of the newly formed bruises and scratches there.

“Yeah, Steve,” grabbing your hand from the console, pulling it in for a soft kiss, before turning back to him, “thanks for checking on my girl.”

“No problem. Nasty cuts you got there.” Nodding his chin toward them.

Eddie flexed his hand, “Yeap, caught it on a bitch of a radiator yesterday.”

Steve, growing tired of the awkward small talk, decided to take his leave.

“Well, you two be careful.” Patting the side of the van, turning back in the direction of the station.

“See ya’ around Stevie.” Eddie called out, chuckling loudly, sliding the gear shift into reverse, backing out from his spot.

“You don't have to be rude to him.” You scolded as he pulled out onto the road.

“He's just so easy to fuck with babe. I can't help it. Especially when he's so smug thinking you two are cheating behind my back.” He laughed deeply.

“He’s not smug about it. He worries about you catching us all the time.”

“Good. He should be.”

Eddie took a left, instead of the right back to your house.

“Where are we going?” You asked but he didn't answer right away, grin only growing wider, more devilish looking.

“Don't worry baby, it's a nice night for a drive. Thought we might go parking.”

“Parking, huh? Wanna do it in the back of the van, like in high school?” You comically lifted your brow. “How romantic.”

“I'm just kidding, unless you wanna?” Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, that had you laughing.

It was always the little moments with Eddie. He'd know exactly how to make you laugh or quell your nerves after a long day. You trusted him wholly.

“I wanted to take you to a spot I found the other day. Wanted to share a joint and see where the night takes us.”

“You do know there's a killer on the loose, right?”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. You're safe with me.” Somehow you knew he was telling the truth.

He took you further out of the main city, a few more twists and turns, you were thoroughly lost. Never one with a good sense of direction. Kicking your heels off and tossing them in the back, you got more comfortable, pulling your legs under you.

Asphalt turned into gravel, as he slowed to a roll, finally throwing the van into park at a clearing.

You looked out the windshield, it was a clear night. Moon brightly reflecting off of Lover's Lake, small waves cresting on the shore in front of you.

Though this wasn't a new spot like he'd said, it was your spot. You recognized the big tree directly by the lake.

“Surprise,” he sang out.

“This isn't a new spot, Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Sue me.” He laughs, digging into the pocket of his jumpsuit, producing a pre-rolled joint, bringing it to his lips.

“You’ve been a naughty girl today.” Stating it matter-of-factly. Lighting the end, sucking lightly until he knows it's lit.

He looks at you, eyes hooded, dropping his voice a little deeper. “Haven't you sweetheart?”

His words ignited your core. You knew that tone well.

He offered it to you, taking it gingerly, bringing it to your own lips inhaling the sweet strain as he intensely watched your movements.

“And you,” pointing over at him, “have always been a very jealous boyfriend.”

He scoffs, taking it back from you, letting it wash over him.

“If I was jealous, I wouldn't let you whore around with him all over town.”

You laughed out, clear and bright as the weed began to flow through your system.

“Let's get one thing straight, you've never told me to do anything in this relationship. I do what I want.”

He slowly places the joint in the ashtray, and then moves quickly before you have time to react, pinning you by the throat pushing you into the passenger seat, rings biting into the tender flesh. You gasped out, reaching up to grab his hand.

“Sweetheart, maybe it's time to put that mouth to some good use.” He whispered close to your ear.

“Maybe I already did.” You grinned wickedly at him.

“You little whore, kissing me with that mouth after his cock’s been shoved halfway down your throat?” His fingers tightened, as you nodded.

“Bet his cum’s still lingering on your tongue. Huh?”

“Mmmmm, yeah baby. He finished right before you pulled in to pick me up.”

He removed his hand from your throat to pinch your cheeks harshly, forcing your lips into a sweet pout, as he roughly brings his lips to yours, you close your eyes, humming in contentment.

You felt him smirk against you, pulling back slightly, “You’re fucking filthy baby. How'd I get so lucky? Hey, look at me.” You snapped your eyes open to see his own blown wide with lust, so dark they were almost black.

“Get in the back. Take your clothes off.”

You didn't hesitate, as he finally released you, climbing over the console as quickly as you could. He picked up what was left of his joint, inhaling deeply, letting it sit in his lungs a moment before exhaling.

Eddie kept the back of the van clean, a spare blanket folded into the corner just for occasions like this to save your knees or ass from a wicked carpet burn. You had learned from experience.

You carefully unfolded it and smoothed out the edges. He was still smoking and concentrating on the water beyond the window, like his mind was elsewhere.

Unbuttoning your blouse, and quickly shimmying out of your skirt leaving you in just your panties and bra you laid down, awaiting your next instruction.

“I said take your clothes off. That means everything.” He spoke without looking back.

You quickly shed the offending articles.

“Good girl.” He purred, finally facing you to get a good look.

“Open your legs, yeah, that's it baby.” He had a perfect view of your cunt, untouched but already dripping.

“Go ahead, touch yourself f’me.” Slowly reaching down between your thighs, taking some slick from your leaking hole, bringing it back up as you slowly start to draw circles around your clit.

“Oooooh, Eddie,” you moaned, throwing your head back at the feeling, already worked up from sucking Steve off.

“Eyes on me baby.” You look up just in time to see him pushing his coveralls past his hips, his cock straining his boxers. He pulled those down slightly, freeing his already hard cock.

It had you licking your lips at the sight. He didn’t quite have the girth that Steve does, but he was just a little longer, with a slight curve upward.

He spit in his hand before wrapping it around the base, hissing out, sliding it up and back down, setting a slow pace as he watched you torturously toy with your bundle of nerves.

“That's it sweetness, go ahead finger fuck that tight pussy.” Moving your fingers down, you easily slid two in, whining out and arching your back. You began to rock your palm into your clit as your fingers slid in and out.

“Bet you wish that was my cock instead? Huh?” You nodded, mouth going slack at the feeling as another whine escaped but you needed more. You needed him.

“Please, Eds. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me.”

“Jesus, you are a greedy whore. Two of your holes stuffed already today and you still want more?” He chuckled but opened his door exiting to move around to the back. He didn’t intend to leave you hanging. He needed your cunt wrapped around him just as much as you needed him to fill you.

The back doors opened with a flush of cold air, as he quickly worked to push his coveralls down climbing in to meet you, shutting the door behind him. He removed his shirt and threw it in the corner to meet your own pile of clothes.

You turned yourself around to face him, as he crawls in-between your thighs, pushing them further apart as he made his way up.

He trailed hot, open mouth kisses along your sternum before turning his attention to your pebbled nipples. Quickly drawing one into his mouth, sucking sharply. Palming your neglected breast with his free hand.

“Oh Eddie,” you thread your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip on his curls when you feel him bite down.

“Oh fuck!” You squealed, as he releases his mouth, bringing it to the other repeating the same motions.

He continued his journey upward, laving his tongue up your breasts, neck and jaw.

His arms finally cage you in, as his body pushes you further into the floor. You wrap your legs around his lithe waist, as he pushes his hips down, rolling them into yours letting his cock brush through your folds.

“Eddie, please.” You gripped his shoulders, throwing your head back as his ruddy tip nudged your clit, sending sparks through your core and up your spine.

“Eddie, please.” He mocked, high pitched and whiny. His lips kissed up your jaw as he found the shell of your ear. “Such a needy little whore.”

He braced himself with one arm by your head, taking his length with the other bringing his leaking tip to your entrance.

He caught your entrance and slightly pushed in, but it already has you arching into him. He watches himself slowly disappear into your tight heat, inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby. She's sucking me in. So, fucking tight.” He lowers his forehead to yours savoring the sensation for a moment, before he quickly grips your thigh, pushing it higher onto his hip as he's pulling almost all the way out, just to sink straight back in.

“Oh fuck… mmmmm… Eddie.”

He rocks his hips back and forth, setting a now brutal pace that has you both moaning and crying out.

He then ceases his movements momentarily, pulling up slightly, only to push your knees to your chest. The new angle has him reaching impossibly deeper as he begins giving you long, slow strokes. It’s his favorite view. Your tight cunt swallowing him whole. He can barely tear his eyes away.

“Fuck, look at you. Already so drunk on my cock and she's taking me so well.” Now watching your fucked out face. Eyes closed, heard thrown back and mouth slack with moans and expletives spilling out.

His words spur that flame within you, only burning hotter with each drag of his cock along your frontal wall. Your pussy flutters around him.

He lifted up, placing his hand around your throat, picking up his pace once more. Grip growing tighter with every thrust. You expect finger shaped bruises to be blooming in the morning.

The sounds of skin slapping skin along with the moans pulled from you and the grunts from Eddie fill the back of the van. You were getting close as your cunt pulsed around his thick, fat cock.

“I can feel her baby, she's getting tighter. You need to cum huh? Tell me who's pussy this is. And I’ll let you cum.”

He loosened his grip so you could speak.

You gasped as the newly found air entered your lungs, “It's yours Eddie, she's all yours.”

“That's… fucking… right.” Punctuating each word with a thrust. He moved his deft fingers down your body, resting for a moment on your mound, before his thumb began rubbing harsh circles to your clit.

“I know you're close. Cum with me baby.”

It only took a few more thrusts, with his thumb never ceasing its movements, you were coming undone. Your pussy clamped down around him with such a force it almost pushed him out.

“Oh fuck, Eddie!” You cried out as your orgasm hit with a blinding force. Your toes curled, as your whole body felt like a livewire.

“Goddamn, baby. You're strangling me.” He hissed out.

He regained his composure, pounding into you, chasing his own high. A few more sloppy pumps and he was spilling into you, thick ropes of his release filling you to the brim.

“Fuck baby.” He kissed your forehead as you caught your breath.

“Fuck, Eds.” You giggled.

He pulled his softening cock from you, watching as some of his spend leaked from you.

“What a beautiful site,” he whispered, moving out of your space to retrieve your underwear, sliding them back up your legs to keep the mess contained then leaning down to place a kiss on your mound. Such a tender gesture.

“Sorry, I don't have anything to clean you up baby.” Kissing your knee as you bent up to retrieve your clothes.

“It's ok Eds, we'll shower when we get home.” You cupped his cheek as he nuzzled into your palm briefly. You both dressed and got back into the front seats.

He headed home at a leisurely pace, both content to ride in the peace and quiet of the night.

You watched the streetlights pass, growing more frequent the closer you got into town.

You'd only passed one other vehicle on the way back in. Hawkins was on edge, houses shut tight and barely any lights to be seen. It was eerie to say the least. All hoping this was a single incident, but a killer was still on the loose.

He slowed at a stop sign, before making the turn back to your house and in the distance, you saw the glow of cruiser lights.

“Oh great, what now?” He huffed. Your attention already trained ahead.

“I don't know, but I've got a really bad feeling.”

He slowly rolled past the scene. Two cruisers and the medical examiners van were parked out front of one of the newer homes on Elm Street.

“Doesn’t Chase Owen live there?” You asked.

“How the hell should I know baby, haven’t heard from that asshat since high school.”

There was a deputy stationed out front, he waved the van through. Trying to quickly get rid of any rubberneckers that dared to pass by.

You caught his eyes, Steve, looking at you with this unreadable expression as he quickly looked away.

You would come to realize Jason and Chrissy were just the warmup.

Soon, the body count would rise, and it was going to get messy.

@barbedwirebats I know you wanted to be tagged!

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #ghostface!eddie munson #ghostface #ghostface!eddie #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #ghostface!eddie munson x reader #ghostface!eddie x reader #steddie x you #pervy! eddie munson

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uglypastels · 1 year ago

Text

Not Wholly Evil |IX| pirate!Eddie au [NSFW]

a/n we are getting so close to the endddd oh my god i am so excited and sad at the same time because i don't want this story to end as much as some of you, but I also cannot wait to share my next lil projects with you 🥰 thank you for all the support on the last chapter!

this chapter will include explicit scenes. Minors DO NOT Interact. 18+. if you have read the previous chapters but do/should not wish to consume this content, please read:

Chapter 9 (safe for work version)

Series Masterlist

word count: 13k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near-death experiences in water. men are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. [in-dream] non-consensual behaviour. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. small wounds inflicted by fire. blackmail. binds and knifes. SMUT 18+ ONLY, MDNI - p in v sex. oral (f receiving). no condom (this isn't the 18th century. wrap it before you tap it). choking. thigh riding. jealous!eddie.

Chapter 9: Paragon

“Perhaps the wolf wasn't quite so dangerous as he pretended. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out for sure——give him a little rope and see if he hung himself… And pray that he didn't tie her up with it instead.”

― Sabrina Jeffries, Dance of Seduction

He looked like he saw a ghost. And maybe he had. You didn’t feel like yourself, so who was to say if you were still alive? You had comprehended how you carried yourself back to the Hellfire. Standing in his room felt like you were looking down at yourself. Aware of everything around you but understanding none of it.

‘I thought you had left.’ He stepped into the room, leaving the door wide open. As he walked, you noticed he was clearing the way for you, allowing you to leave if you wanted to. His eyes were intently focused on yours and threaded lightly. Like any wrong move would cause you to disappear.

‘I wanted to,’ you admitted. You still wanted to. Your thoughts had screamed through the night for an escape. Yet, something tied you down to this ship and made you return.

‘Then why didn’t you?’ He came closer, and so did you. That string pulled at your ribs again, pulling you two closer. You had tried long enough to fight it to no avail. Whatever you thought you wanted did not compare to your subconscious need to be next to him.

‘I don’t know.’ Deep down, you knew the reason, but the time was not there yet to admit it. In your mind, you still despised everything about him, this ship, the crew, and, therefore, yourself for needing his touch as much as you did at this moment. It was weak to give in to him like you did.

The candle’s light fell upon him at angles that brought something new out in him or maybe revealed what had always been there. The signs of the wear and tear of a life at sea. He wasn’t hiding it any more, letting all that pain be visible, and he looked beautiful. You held back from reaching out and tracing the thin scar against his brow or the flawed line of his nose that must have been broken once. The longer you looked at him, the more you realised that you could look at him in this way forever.

And that scared you.

Munson walked past you to his desk, occupying himself with whatever he could reach. It would have been good for you to have something to focus on instead of him, but you stood in the middle of the room with nothing but him to clutch onto. Neither of you spoke, stuck in an awkward limbo, tiptoeing around one another to see who would be the first to step over that line. The line that had kept you, your heart, safe until now. You could impossibly predict what was to happen if it was crossed.

The ship creaked as the tide softly bounced off it. For the rest, it was uncharacteristically quiet on board.

‘Is the rest coming as well? Will we be departing soon?’ It was ridiculous to change the topic in this manner, but you simply did not know what else to say, and this barrier between you and him was dreadful. You could sense it in the middle, waiting for that catalyst to burst. And you wanted it to. Just how?

‘No, I doubt they realised I’ve gone.’ He finally turned back to face you, leaning against the desk, arms crossed, eyes on the ground. If he could just look at you—would that make things easier or that much harder?

‘Why did you? Leave the tavern, I mean.’ With your heart pounding in your throat, tightening your breath, you stepped toward him.

‘I noticed you were gone. Then I heard you had gone to the harbour with some man and I thought…. I grew worried.’

‘Why?’ You could not imagine him caring for you to go out, away from his crew and his festivities, to look for you.

‘I know what you’re thinking, and at first, yes, I was thinking about the money,’ he admitted, which took you aback. You took a step closer. ‘But then I—when I realised, or thought, that I had actually lost you, I thought about how I would never see you again, and I realised—’ his words faded as you took your final step towards, letting your chest press against his. He finally let his eyes meet yours.

‘Realised what?’ Considering your proximity and seclusion, you hadn’t meant to whisper, but it felt right.

‘That I was scared’ His breath was shaky as his eyes took all of you in. ‘Of loosing you.’

‘I was scared too.’ And maybe that is what kept you from leaving. The idea that if you would go, there was a possibility that you would never see him again, and it was enough to hollow out your entire being with dread. It felt wrong. But that gnawing in your chest stayed there the whole night, even when you had returned to the Hellfire, and it only left once you felt his fingers intertwine with yours. A flutter of a touch at the fingertips.

‘And? Are you still scared?’ He matched your hushed tone with his response. The question was simple on its surface, but only the facade for an obliterating iceberg was the truth.

‘No.’ Standing in front of him, feeling his breath on you, the warmth that radiated off him, his gentle touch on your skin, seeing the smile hiding in his features, you saw nothing to be scared of anymore. There was nothing to fear anymore. The voice in you that had screamed for help all those days was silenced for a final time when you leaned in to kiss him.

His lips were chapped, cheeks rough with scars and the light shadowy scruff of a beard. His touch was featherlight, as if he was scared to pursue it as if you were to break underneath him. It starkly contrasted the force he had pulled you in with hours before. The intensity had been dizzying, and yet this was what genuinely shut your mind down entirely. But you could tell that he was not there yet wholly. Something kept him guarded.

You pulled away, but your lips still shared the same breath. When you opened your eyes, you were met with his and how they were shaking with uncertainty as he took all of you in.

‘Is there something you’re still afraid of?’ you asked.

‘Many things,’ his hand found its place on your waist, ‘but mostly of myself,’ and gently pushed you away. ‘And what I will do to you. I have made so many mistakes, mistakes that hurt you, already in that I will have to live it for my eternity, but I do not know what I will do if I make one again.’

There was silence as you took in his words. You understood them, possibly more than anyone could, for they were yours. As your lips met, you thought if what you were doing would lead to your doom, if it would all end in a disaster, but could something that felt so right be so devastating?

He had let his eyes fall to the ground. You reclaimed the one step he had made you take, closing the gap between you once more and letting your hand guide him to look up at you.

‘Do you think that kiss was a mistake?’ Your heart beat faster than it ever had as you waited for an answer, but his lips remained shut, so you continued. ‘If so, do not play with my heartstrings, but tell me, and I will leave. I will return to my cell, and you can lock me up and never see me again until you bring me back home.’ It would only be a couple of days, and it would hurt to mend this extremely fragile piece of you that you had just opened, but like all wounds do, it would heal eventually.

‘Answer me, captain.’ You kept your voice as steady as possible, regaining the confidence you had built up since you got onto the ship. ‘Was that a mistake?’

‘No.’ And with that one final word, you both leaned in for a kiss. Your hand was still on his cheek, his holding you tightly, but you still felt that urge to pull yourself closer to him. As you felt the press of his chest fully against yours, he actually pulled his lips away from yours. He hesitated but finally spoke against the corner of your mouth. ‘But… call me Eddie. Please.’

You couldn’t help but smile into your next kiss. Just like that, all that weight of the world fell off both your shoulders, down into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. You didn’t hold back with this newfound freedom when you pushed him up against the desk. The furniture shuffled with a creak over the floor, and you could hear some things topple over at the impact. Still, neither of you cared, too occupied with one another. He could just about manage to extend his hand and begin to push all the loose items off the desk to make space for himself. The papers flew around you, and all the measurement equipment clattered onto the crowd.

As the kiss intensified, Eddie shrugged and smoothly sat up on the desk, pulling you in with him. As he slowly let himself fall back, you followed, attached by the lips, hands, and hearts, until you practically lay on top, arms keeping you up from falling entirely onto him. Well, one hand, as the other found him and laced your fingers together once more. He had tried to make more space around you, pushing objects aside, when he cursed loudly.

You startled away and saw the clench in his jaw as he took a deep breath. He must have read your panic-stricken face as he showed you his hand. ‘It’s alright,’ his voice was calm, humour peaking through it. ‘I might have just put my hand right into the flame.’ And indeed, the side of his hand was glowing red.

Hearing this did not put your mind at rest as you tried to grab his hand and inspect the damage more deeply, but he pulled it away from you, instead taking your fingers in his and kissing your knuckles.

‘Don’t worry, my darling,’ he smiled while kissing your hand, ‘Can barely feel it.’

He had just made direct contact with fire; you doubted it would be alright, but then again, you had seen all the scars on his body. This would just be another small blister among the list of many. But you blinked the thought away. Tried your best to not think about the pain he had endured. You doubted he wanted you to feel pity for him and what had once happened to him.

The look in his eyes was adamant. He needed you to let it go, so all you could do was sigh.

‘You’ve gone mad.’

Eddie chuckled at your comment as he let his lips travel over your wrist, over the length of your arm. ‘As mad as any other sane man.’ His kisses moved over the material of your shirt. The lack of contact that was so clearly there shot sparks of anticipation through you, but he took his time taking you all in until his lips reached your collar. He had practically strained his neck to reach you from his position. Some of you wanted to back away to see how far he would follow you, but your weaker portion gave into his touch and melted over it.

He had just kissed your neck, sparking a fire through you on the spot, when a noise boomed over the silent ship, bursting you out of the solitary moment of bliss. In an instant, Eddie held you by the hips as he gently pushed you off him and got himself back on the ground. There was an alarm in his features, and so, when he looked at you and told you to “Stay here”, for once, you listened.

He closed the door behind him as he left to see what the noise was, and when minutes later, he had not returned, but there had also not been any more ruckus or signs of danger; you calmed down. Unsure of what to do now, you lay down on the bed. In the past few days, the bed had gotten more comfortable as you got used to it, but it still felt strange. You lay down on your side, facing the wall. The patterns in the wooden planks almost seemed to move in the shadowy light and, unfortunately for you, brought you into a trance of clarity and thoughts.

What were you doing? How could you have let all this happen? Kissing the man that had caused the death of so many people that you had deemed friends. How could you betray their souls by… by falling for him? You had lost control of all your feelings and emotions.

It was a trick of the sea. You had simply been captured on this ship for so long that you did not know what was wrong or right. How else could you explain the yearning feeling that still circulated through you? Why else did you wish he was still here with you, touching you?

With all these thoughts occupying your mind, you must have missed Eddie walking back into the room, mumbling something about how it had been a few of his crew that stumbled back up to the ship. Too busy with your own mind, you did not hear him calling your name softly, assuming you had fallen asleep and telling you good night. You did not hear how deflated the last words came from his mouth. You only caught the sound of the door closing behind him.

And soon you managed to turn all these thoughts off and fall asleep. Except then, they came back even stronger and in the form of dreams. You found yourself back on the Red Tail. The hawk flapped its wings on the flag in the wind and every man’s uniform. The sun shone brightly in its last few minutes before hiding behind the horizon. It was a strange illusion as you stared down at the ship and the two figures that stood out looking at the sparkling sea. You watched yourself talking to Admiral Carver.

‘I would have imagined you to have grown tired of the water by now,’ he laughed.

‘I won’t say I will be happy to return home, but I can’t ever see myself becoming tired of this view. It is beautiful.’ You leaned forward onto the balustrade and breathed in the salty air. ‘Besides, you have done this for much longer than I have, and you’re here too, so it can’t be that bad.’ It seemed it was only your first expedition while he had crossed the world several times. If anyone was to grow tired of it, you thought it would be him.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he had his arms behind his back, ‘but everything is more bearable when there is something back home to look forward to.’

‘I suppose so.’ You would not exactly know what he meant. Of course, you could not wait to see your father again, and your friends, but nothing at home gave you the sense that it genuinely anchored you there or drew your heart in for your return. ‘I am sure you miss your family very much.’

‘Yes, of course,’ He took a step closer to you, ‘but I will miss these moments.’

‘Oh,’ you were startled by his proximity, unsure how to respond. Politely, you smiled and tried to keep the conversation going, ‘I’ve enjoyed them too, uhmm-’, but you were suddenly thrown off-guard when you felt his hands on you. Before he had the chance to do anything, you were quick to push him off. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Taking our last chance before it’s too late.’ He leaned in again, and you stepped back.

‘What about your–’

‘She does not need to know.’ The sea was a free playing field for most men, so what happened out there was not up to the women at home to know. You had seen adultery but never thought the admiral would participate in such activities. He had been drinking; maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Before he would make any more mistakes, you attempted to walk away, but he caught you by the arm, putting all his strength into the hold.

‘Admiral, you’re hurting me.’ You tried to pull your arm back, and this is where things began to change. Where the dream made itself apparent. Carver’s handsome features turned into vicious angles as he spoke.

‘So you’ll kiss Munson, but not me?’

‘What- what are you–’ you tried to get away, but it was as if he grew in size. And there were flashes. These flashes of light. Like lightning, there was no thunder, rain, or light. It blinded you, and you tried to regain your sight by blinking, but each time you did so, he seemed to change right in front of you.

There was him like you knew him, but the next second he turned into this nightmarish version of himself, but there were moments when he wasn’t himself at all. You’d blink, and suddenly you saw Captain Munson. Still in that uniform, however, you would try to make sense of it all. Still, before you could, he would disappear again, and you would be looking into Carver’s blank eyes, and you’d see the blood dripping from his mouth as he spat out his words.

‘Don’t trust him.’

‘What?’ You had tears in your eyes, and your wrist burned from his touch. There was another flash of light. Eddie stood before you again, just as you knew him.

‘Do not trust him.’

Don’t trust who? Who were you meant to trust, then? The questions rang through you as you woke up, head throbbing with pain, limbs sore and dehydrated. If you did not know any better, you would have blamed the rum you consumed the night before on everything, making you imagine all that had happened. Still, the sensation that Eddie had left on your whole body felt too real to be just a drunken dream or nightmare.

He was not in the cabin when you awoke, but you could hear him outside, yelling commands out. When you looked outside the window, you could tell by how the waves moved that you had departed the Saint Claire harbour and were on your way again.

You sat up in bed but remained still afterwards, uncertain what to do next. Some part of you wanted to go outside and see Eddie, talk to him about whatever it was that had happened that night. Still, a bigger side of you doubted you could ever look him in the eye again. Seeing your reflection from the glass doors of a cabinet in the room, of yourself in his bed, made you feel bad enough. So, staying in the room for the rest of the day was not an option either. You were already at the door, hand on the handle, when it opened, nearly crashing into you.

‘Sorry,’ his apology was muffled.

‘I was just on my way out,’ you muttered in the same awkward tone and walked past him.

‘Wait,’ Eddie reached for you, and the memory of your dream of Carver made you retract away from him, regretting it as soon as you did. Eddie wasn’t him, but you treated him the same because of something your exhausted mind had decided to conjure up. Eddie kept his distance. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Later,’ you pleaded. This was not the right time. You could tell that it would not end well if you stayed there.

But when would it be right? When would the stars align correctly for you to speak? It certainly wasn’t the next two days, as you kept walking in circles around eachother. You avoided him like the plague, and it was unlikely that he had not noticed yet.

You kept yourself occupied with anyone else but him, really. Talking to Robin, Steve, and anyone else who seemed to require company as much as you. Almost as much, at least. It shocked you as well as them how smoothly the conversations went. While only a little was exchanged, neither side being too keen on sharing too much of their past, somehow, you still managed to fill hours with polite pleasantries. Some even showed you how to work around the ship, probably more than happy to give you some of their workload now. You didn’t mind. It was alright if it stopped you from overthinking everything that had happened in the past weeks. But it was still hard to do when you felt Eddie’s eyes on you. He’d watch you work the sails or anything else from afar, but when you’d try and catch him, he’d be suddenly occupied with something and walk away.

The biggest surprise, however, came one evening when everyone had gathered for their final meal of the day. You had gotten your portion and were ready to return to the cabin when Robin pointed to the seat between her and Steve. You wanted to politely decline, feeling like you did not strictly belong in this dynamic—the crew’s meals felt more sacred, a moment for them to spend together, but they all saw your argument coming and shut it down.

‘Never thought I’d say this,’ Wheeler, one of the lankier crewmates, said at some point, ‘but I might actually miss you.’ There was a cloud of agreeable laughter to which you belonged. It was funny, but what scared you was that you would miss them too when that eventual day of your return home would come.

And it was coming.

Something about the air around you began to feel more familiar each day. And when you talked to Robin, you could sense that she knew how much time there was left. But each time you asked, she avoided answering straightforwardly.

‘Not sure. But you know how seatravels are, you can never be sure… I mean, we should have been there days ago and yet,’ she laughed nervously, tying knots in a piece of old rope that someone had cut off once.

‘I suppose you’re right.’ You had your own piece of rope and were toying with the frayed ends, pulling them apart mindlessly. You could hear Eddie talking to someone somewhere around, and you did your best not to look up. It had been days, but your tension still felt raw and strange. You wanted to simultaneously run into his arms and run away from him as far as possible, and you could not figure out which urge was the right one to follow.

‘It probably won’t take much longer, don’t worry.’ Robin said, her shoulder slumping as she untied another knot to remake it.

‘I’m not worried,’ you admitted.

‘No, and you don’t need to be,’ Robin panicked, not wanting to give you the wrong impression of what she had intended to say, ‘but I’m sure you’ll be glad to be home.’ To this, you had no response because, very much like in your last days on your old ship, you had been eagerly awaiting your return home but did not feel like you were actually happy to go back. On top of that, you actually had the sense that you would miss this crew. By leaving, you would be leaving something behind, and you had never felt that before.

But it still did not feel right. Like a kink in your neck that you were trying to stretch out until it disappeared.

‘Can I ask you something?’ you said cautiously.

Robin glanced up from her rope. ‘You always scare me when you say that.’

‘I hadn’t noticed I did it often.’

‘You’re quite inquisitive. It’s commendable, but dangerous.’

‘Should I be scared?’ You blinked.

‘Not here, but in other parts of the world they’re not too keen on it, so just beware.’ She had tied a knot she couldn’t loosen anymore. ‘But what was your question?’

You took a deep breath. ‘Why did you target the Red Tail? And I know it was targeted, since the captain was aware what ship you were attacking.’ There was that other puzzle piece that was missing in your brain. How would he know if you were supposed to be on that ship or not?

Robin froze and dropped her rope. You watched it fall to the ground and her reaching to pick it up clumsily. Once she did, she fumbled around even more with it. ‘I’m probably not the best person to ask this; I joined the crew late, I don’t know everything that’s going on around—’ she was getting distracted, losing the point of your question, or so you thought, ‘I had only heard things, but you have to know that people around here, we trust each other and that trust is earned. We might cheat once in a while in a game of cards or dice, but some things you just can’t lie about.

‘So, I didn’t need much convincing from the captain when he said that those— that those were bad men.’

‘He told you that my crew were bad men?’

‘They needed to be punished.’ Robin shrugged, but not in the way that made you think she thought indifferent. More so that, there was nothing she could do about it. It was a brief apology to you, not for what they had done, but as if she was sorry for being the bearer of the news.

‘Punished for what?’ you asked, but Robin shook her head. Right, she wouldn’t be able to know, and you didn’t blame her. Was there anyone around willing to share more of the specifics of this situation? You felt like you had the right to explain what had brought you to their ship, but it would go past some lines of comfort for the men. Could you dare ask Eddie?

But to ignore him for days just to come up with these questions could not be appreciated; then again, he owed you at least this after being the sole reason for your presence on this ship in the first place. He had caused all this mess. He could at least help you clean it up.

You finished your conversation with Robin slowly, without any urgency to actually put it to an end. It must have been confusing to Robin, who saw how you tried to tie your sentences up to walk away, just to disentangle them just as she had been doing with her rope and keep pulling it back. Ultimately, she stopped it all and excused herself from the argument she needed back on her lookout post. She walked away, giving you this look that made it clear to you that she knew what you were planning to do and how apprehensive you were to do it. And whatever for? You had fought, punched, slapped and kissed Eddie in the past days without hesitation; why could you not just talk to him now?

Because that would actually mean something to you. It would unblur all the lines that connected you into a clear pattern, and you would have to live with those results, and you just were not ready for that yet.

You took deep breaths as you walked up to the captain’s quarters. The door creaked as it slid open but was met with a resistant force as you collided with Eddie. He grunted lightly at the impact, and you began to apologise.

‘Sorry,’ you mumbled, not expecting him to be so close suddenly. You had hoped to catch him at his desk, where the furniture could keep some kind of barrier between you. Still, now he stood mere inches away, towering over you and the heat of his body radiating onto yours.

‘I was just on my way out.’ He scratched his beard casually, but his eyes said enough about how similarly he felt about your sudden appearance.

‘I hoped we could talk,’ you blurted out, and Eddie blinked.

‘Talk? Now?’ To this, you only nodded shyly. It had been too long. You had made him wait for days, which was simply too long. Why would he want to listen to what you had to say now? Eddie was ready to brush past you, but you were quicker, catching his arm and pulling eachother closer until your lips met in a chaste kiss. The suddenness stunned him, but for a blink of an eye before his muscles melted into position around you. It only confirmed your worst thoughts, how perfectly the two of you fit together, how your bodies simply locked into place with one another. The heat that grew between you could not only be felt by you. It was too strong for that. As much as you did not want to admit it, there was something there that you did not want to lose.

‘I’m sorry, ‘you said breathlessly, ‘for everything I’ve done in the past few days.’

‘You have done nothing to apologise for.’ He sighed.

‘Exactly,’ you jumped back at how loud you sounded. Still, his pull on your waist kept you close, ‘I have done nothing, while I should have stayed here with you, and we should have talked of, of whatever it is that stands between us, but—but I was scared. I thought I hadn’t been, but I was, and that, in turn, scared me even more, so I thought I needed time to think—’

‘And did you?’ He looked down at you inquisitively like he was observing a strange, yet highly fascinating, phenomenon in front of him. Something that he should not be enjoying as much as he was. The unwanted smirk appeared on his lips no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It made you aware of just how much you had tried to say in what short of an amount of time.

‘Yes,’ you said with a slow breath to help you calm down. At this, Eddie simply reacted with a gesture telling you to go on, to tell him what kind of discovery you had made. Would it be anything that could help your conundrum? Clear things up in your heads and maybe even hearts? You could not be sure, but it was a start if you just let those parts of you speak freely.

You took one more deep breath. ‘That night you asked me if I was scared, and I said “no”, but…’ you pushed past the shake of your voice. ‘But I realise now that that wasn’t the truth.’ As you announced this, the hand on your waist tightened its grip before leaving your body entirely. The immediate lack of contact made you regret your choice of words. Maybe you should have prepared what to say, but letting it come out unrehearsed and unplanned felt like the right thing to do. It would not cut out any of the emotions you felt. What you wanted him to know that you thought, so you stammered out your following words.

‘There is so much that I am scared of. It scares me how and how much I have changed in the past few days, and I am scared that I do not mind it. It scares me how much I enjoy being here and how much I want to be… with you.’ Your last words faded as you had not expected to hear yourself say them out loud. Eddie, who you had watched as he walked around the room in slow paces as he listened, must not have expected them, too, for he stopped to stare at you, dumbfounded.

‘Why?’ was the only thing he said in response.

‘Because…’ you let out an exasperated sigh, walking up to him. You had somehow managed to find yourselves at his throne, ‘because this is not who I am supposed to be. I shouldn’t be. You are you; I am me, and nothing here is right.’ Yet the puzzle had never fit tighter together than it did now. But at the same time… ‘As much as I want to spend my days with you, I cannot stop thinking about all the chaos you have caused in my life. Whether on purpose or not…There is blood on your hands, Eddie.’ there were tears in your eyes. Eddie looked down at his hands as if you had meant it literally. They were pale and had a shake to them, but he quickly put them down to his sides.

‘And yet you’re still here.’ He said it with a distance, more to himself than anyone else, narrating the events as if putting it all into words could make it make more sense somehow, and maybe to him, it did. However, you were still utterly clueless and running in the dark.

‘I am.’ You nodded your head lightly. ‘And I wish I could explain why. To you and to myself, but I simply do not know.’

‘Let me pose you these two questions then,’ he spoke sternly, and you got the unexpected feeling that this would be a test you had to ace. ‘Are you still scared of me? Do you regret anything that happened between us?

‘Answer yes to either of my questions,’ he held two fingers up, ‘and I will make all of this very easy for you and disappear. You will never have to see me again but be honest.’ Looking into his eyes the way you were, it was difficult to lie, or it would have been if you had any intention of doing so. The word came easier to you than anything else had in your life, but you still needed to know some things before sealing your fate.

‘Before I answer, I need to know your business with the admiral.’

Eddie scoffed, looking out the window, ‘I could not care less about the admiral.’ Something in him tensed up despite his attempt to make his reply come out casually. Everything besides his eyes, which flickered with so many emotions simultaneously, you could not distinguish between them soon enough.

‘But the attack on my ship was deliberate, was it not?’ You did not need this to become another one of your rows and spoke as carefully as you could manage. If one of you began to raise your voice or fill your words with anger, it would take over the other, exploding fatally in the middle, and that is not what you wanted.

‘What do you remember from that day?’ He looked at you, head cocked to the side as he studied your face. He saw you blink slowly, trying to understand what he was implying.

‘I remember everything.’ How could you not? It was one of the most terrifying days of your life. ‘I remember being on the deck and seeing your dark sails and how I hid under that desk as the canons went off–’

‘Whose canons?’ He stared at you blankly, and you mirrored him perfectly.

‘What?’

‘What canons did you hear go off? Who shot first?’ He did not say anything else, just stood still as you tried to reply with confidence that you lost as soon as you gave your answer some thought.

Everything had happened so quickly, and it was so loud. All you had tried was to block it out. But you heard the bangs. They came from all sides, but the first one... the first one was the closest.

Eddie must have seen the recognition on your face. ‘I know that those people were your friends. And I am sorry that that is how things-’

‘But you said I was not meant to be on board. You knew what ship it was.’ You cut him off at the memory. ‘You would have attacked either way, wouldn’t you?’

‘It is not that simple.’ He shook his head.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No, and I wish I could explain, but I fear that whatever I tell you will only make you see the worst in me and them.’

‘You could at least try.’ You reached for his hand, and a bit of you leapt in relief when you saw he did not pull away. ‘I want to understand, Eddie. You do not know how horrible it is to live in this realm of uncertainty and oblivion.’

‘Would you rather live with the horrors of the truth?’ He asked genuinely, with the pain that exactly this truth had caused him in his eyes.

‘Is that not a choice I deserve to make by myself?’ You once again found yourself up against him. Funny how it always came back to this and how you would not have wanted it any other way.

‘You’ve said it yourself; I’ve hurt you enough times. I can not risk doing it again. I will not let myself do that.’ He brushed a strand of hair from your face, brushing his fingers over your cheek. ‘Now, will you please answer my questions?’

‘No,’ and with that, you answered both. Whatever tugged at you from the inside to feel such anxiety had nothing to do with Eddie.

On the contrary, you felt a sense of calm whenever you saw him. And you had wanted, really wanted, to regret those kisses, but you still dreamt of them at night, and it was all with a magical wonder that you wished to experience once more. Despite everything in your life that had led to this that would have told you to turn around and run away, you stayed firmly in your place in front of him with no intention of ever running away again.

Eddie leaned in, and you anticipated a kiss that never came as he spoke against the corner of your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. ‘I need you to say it, darling.’

‘I’m not scared of you, Eddie.’ The tremble in your voice had nothing to do with fear but all with the way he held you. His hand had moved down your cheek onto your neck, fingers wrapped around your throat, thumb caressing your jaw. His eyes pierced through you. ‘And I do not regret anything.’

You knew Eddie had seen all the far corners of the world. You must have come across the grandest of riches. Yet standing in front of him, you could not help but think how seeing Captain Eddie Munson beam his most genuine smile was the rarest and most beautiful treasure of them all. It was infectious; you could not help but smile at it.

He let himself come close again, but just as your lips were about to touch, he spoke instead. Right against you, the hot air of his breath pricked at your skin with his light laugh. ‘Before all of this, had you ever imagined yourself here with me?’

As much as you had wished it was not true, ‘I did, actually.’ Your mind flashed to your dreams, the ones you had once thought were conjured up to plague you, but now you realised it was just your heart screaming out your deepest desires.

Like a reward, Eddie kissed your cheek for your reply. ‘Really? The princess had thought of me, a filthy pirate?’

‘I’m not a princess.’ You rolled your eyes playfully.

‘Out of all the things to dispute, you argue my words of affection?’ He chuckled, and you could feel the vibrations deep within his chest.

‘There was nothing else to correct.’ You wanted to laugh but instead froze at the sensation of Eddie lightly putting pressure on your throat as he was still kissing pieces of your face. Just like that, everything in the past minutes disappeared from your mind. When he pulled away, you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that once used to bring out fear of the worst in you.

‘Glad to know you haven’t changed too much, darling.’ With his hand around you, he gave you little choice but to look up at him. There was a moment in which both of you took everything of the other in. You tried to soak in all his features from this small distance, for some reason feeling the need to remember them all. Meanwhile, he read your face for any signs of reluctance, which he found none of. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you, princess?’

A question which brought a lot of enjoyment out of him.

Still taken aback by his actions, you stood there with your lips slightly parted, bewildered, so all you did was nod. And again, your response was rewarded with another kiss, finally letting you meet his lips while tightening his hold on you. The weak sound that came out of your mouth at the feeling was an instinct. You had never heard yourself make such a sound, and he must have known it somehow as his grin grew wider against you.

The kiss grew in strength by the fleeting second as you both lost control over your bodies, just letting them speak for themselves. It was messy and heated. The pent-up tension that had been sitting between you was finally finding its release. Eddie’s hands roamed over your body, almost in a hunger-like manner, devouring you with his touch alone. Maybe this hunger felt too real when Eddie’s teeth grazed over your neck, sending an unknown spark through your body at the sensation.

You held onto him tightly, one hand on his shoulder as the other rooted itself in his dark locks—which made you soon realise that the tiniest of motions of you caused a reaction in him as well, in the form of a low hiss as you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck. It had been an accident, as you tried to keep yourself up when the pleasure he brought you made you feel light as a feather.

Eddie hummed at your response as his hands continued their wandering path across your body. The pressure of his palms, combined with the slow and tantalising pace at which he moved, drove you to press your body eagerly against him, which, in turn, only spurred him on to continue down this track of your curves. His movements got rougher as he kept going.

With your urge to keep your bodies close, you quickly caught on Eddie walking backwards. You followed him mindlessly until he found his throne seat and pulled you along with him, right on top of his lap. At this proximity, you could feel all of him underneath you.

‘Tell me,’ he kissed you briefly between words, ‘have you ever been with a man before?’

‘Yes,’ you dared to reply with the truth. Anywhere else, it would have been considered a great shame, a sin of the highest degree, but with Eddie, somehow, you felt like he had wanted that to be your answer. You tried to focus on his face, that smile he shot up at you and the short answer you gave him, instead of how his hands roamed over your thighs. Even with the fabric of your trousers in between, his effect on you was immense. He must have felt how you tensed up when he reached your core.

‘Did anyone ever touch you like this?’

‘Uhm, no, not in this way.’ You struggled with the words as he let his fingers press over your most sensitive parts, everywhere all at once. You could barely keep track of it. Another moan escaped you as his hand moved over your breast. Even with the fabric keeping your modesty intact, he had still found a way for his fingers to move smoothly across your nipples. The feeling lulled you into comfort, brewing the heat inside your chest. And so, you gasped as, with one aggressive pull, Eddie ripped the material of your shirt in two, revealing you to him entirely. Your eyes were wide in shock as his darkened with want.

‘Not scared of me yet, are you, princess?’ His hand was on your ribs, waiting for permission to touch your bare skin.

‘No,’ your voice sounded like a hushed, airy whisper. Eddie smiled but still hesitated with his subsequent actions. As the shirt sleeve fell off your shoulder, he kissed you again. Except this time, his lips met your breast. The arch in your back, the tug of your hips towards him, was an almost mechanised reaction to it. And with it came the friction of his thigh against you.

‘Eddie.’ His name sounded shaky coming from you as you could barely inhale a steady breath, too occupied with him.

‘That’s right, princess.’ He groaned as his lips remained on your skin, kissing the valley of your chest. With each kiss, your want for him grew, but your movements over his thigh barely covered the needed friction. You dug your nails into his shoulders, making him groan out in pained pleasure. He cursed before taking you by the hips. ‘Stand up.’

You did as he asked, something that did not go unnoticed by either of you. Eddie chuckled as he looked up at you, chin on your stomach, lips nearly pressing against it, so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice.

‘So you can be good for me.’

A snide remark was already forming on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie was quicker. Smoothly, he pulled down your trousers and let them pool at your ankles. You stood in front of him in only your torn-up shirt. His large eyes were on you up until the moment his face made contact with your core, and at that moment, everything went black. You could just about make out that you held him close to you, pulling at his hair; as for the rest, the world was turning upside down and around at a speed that made everything seem like a sea full of stars. Your moans filled the room as his tongue licked through your slit.

You assumed that with how he held you with one hand, his fingers would leave marks for days, but the other was much lower. You could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling. He was clearly struggling to work around his clothes with only one hand, especially with most of him already preoccupied with you and your pleasure. Never before had you seen such kind of ferocity in a man. Not when he pulled himself closer to you and practically fell to his knees from the throne. You surely would have fallen back if it had not been for him and the desk that hit your legs and now acted as an extra grip. It was especially needed when Eddie pulled your leg over his shoulder, gaining even more access to you.

The desk kept sliding back with the force at which he held you in your place, grazing the floor, but it was all blocked out by your moans. They were filled with curses and the repetition of his name as your vision blurred with ecstasy and your body tightened with need. There was no possible way that the rest could not hear you through the thin walls of the cabin, but you could not care less about them. At this moment, they simply did not exist.

‘You taste absolutely divine.’ Eddie spoke while kissing your inner thigh, making your legs even weaker. You noticed his lips glistening, never looking more kissable than ever before.

He had run your mind through a mill; words were hard to come by. All you could muster out was a weak hum as you let your hand brush through his hair. At that, he nuzzled himself between your legs again, this time much gentler, and took his time kissing every inch of skin he had access to, giving you the time to catch your breath while still keeping you on that high edge.

‘I—I never…’ you still struggled to form a sentence.

‘Hmm,’ he kissed your stomach, ‘I know.’ And he slowly rose to his feet, catching your face in one more passionate kiss. You had gotten so used to how he tasted—rum, tobacco, sea air— that your flavour threw you off for a moment, but soon enough, you were sinking into him just as before. And again, you could hear the struggling twinkle of a locked belt buckle.

‘Would you be a doll,’ he said with his amusement running down your cheek, ‘and help a poor man out.’

You reached for his trousers, undoing the belt and unbuttoning them so they could drop down his thighs. You had felt it before, how aroused he had grown, but seeing it made you take a step back.

‘Nothing to be afraid of, darling.’ He grinned, placing a hand on your cheek. The other made itself comfortable between your legs, toying with your wetness.

‘I know.’ You looked into his eyes. The warmth of them had burned up into a dark and hungry desire. Putting a light pressure onto his shoulders, you pushed him back down into the chair. Eddie practically bounced in the seat, taking you all in as much as you took the moment to look at him. Your flicker of confidence in the moment when you thought you knew what you were doing fizzled, but he must have read that off of you, as the next second he was the one pulling you down.

‘Was this how you expected it to be,’ he murmured against your ear, ‘when you thought about us.’

‘No,’ you admitted. It was nothing like you had imagined. All your dreams had been of what you had thought he was; careless, dangerous, feeding off your fear. There had been none of this passion that you felt now. None of the heat, the tenderness or the feeling.

‘Anything you’d still like to change,’ he kissed the soft spot of skin behind your ear that made you shiver.

‘No,’ you gasped. You could feel him against you, just waiting for the moment to enter you. The two of you were dancing around it, letting other make that next move, the plunge off the cliff, with no return. You shuffled over his thighs. One more kiss would seal the final deal when you moved your hips up and he adjusted himself infront of you.

The moan you let out at the feeling of him inside you, of him stretching your walls and filling you whole, was impossible to miss. Ships from miles away could probably tell what was going on, but again, they were not a part of your universe in this moment. Just you. You concentrated at the pace he was making you keep up with. The roll of your hips against the grind of his. Each thrust went deeper and harder making Eddie more aggressive in the most blissful of ways. There was nothing else to think about, because why would you when this felt so good? Reality went lost on you, until you felt his fingers dig into your side, a pain rushing through you.

Both of you froze.

‘What’s wrong?’ Eddie immediately looked to where he had held you, pulling the remaining pieces of your shirt up to reveal the scar. The rough skin was a stark contrast to the rest of you. He met your eyes again. ‘Does it still hurt?’

‘It’s just sensitive.’ You wanted to push his hand away, cover the mark up again so neither of you had to be reminded of it. It had been a stupid mistake, that much you knew, and it was not as if you could change the past, so why let it pester you? But Eddie was not the kind to give up easily. He pushed the shirt material back up, keeping your hand away from him, to inspect the damage he had caused.

‘I’ve done a lot in my life that I will forever regret,’ he kissed your shoulder as his thumb traced over the scarred line, ‘but this will probably haunt me the longest.’ His words and touch, combined with how you sat in his lap, still full of him, got you lost for words. Because, of course, you had hoped that this was his sentiment, you understood and appreciated his words, but what else was there to say? The only thing you could think of replying, which felt silly to do seeing your current position, was ask for some clarification.

‘What happened? I would have thought you had more control over your sword than that.’ You aired the conversation with a bit of laughter, but it only spurred him on to thrust deeper into you.

‘I had thought so too,’ he kept moving his hips forcefully, ‘I had hoped so,’ he kissed you sloppily, ‘but I lost it all when I saw you with him.’

‘Who?’ you asked. Maybe under different circumstances, you could have thought more clearly to realise what he was speaking of, but that did not seem possible.

‘Harrington,’ the name came out of him with a bitter taste. Apparently, the feelings from that day had not disappeared as far as he had thought, but now he could let these frustrations out in a less hazardous manner. It still took a toll on you, but there was no pain to speak of. Just pure pleasure.

Still, the mention of the crew member had surprised you. ‘Why– why would you—’

‘The way he held you, smiled at you, don’t you think I had wanted to do that? From the moment I saw you—but all I did was drive you away. It was just another reminder of my failure and before I knew it I—’ he stopped himself, still unable to properly speak of what happened. You kissed the bridge of his nose.

‘For what it’s worth,’ you tugged at the words to come out cohesively, ‘I never thought of him as—’

‘It does not even matter what you think of him,’ he laughed, more so at himself, ‘You could fall for and by happy with any man on this earth and I could make my peace with it. I just don’t want to be the reason for your suffering.’

‘I think—’ a moan burst through your thought with another deep thrust, ‘I think you have managed to pay back any of your wrongdoings.’

‘Oh, darling, I haven’t even started to repay my debts.’ And so, Eddie kissed your neck, over and over, and with those kisses moved down to your brest. Your head rolled back with a soft whine at the attention he gave you, if not with his mouth, than the hand that kneaded your flesh and played with your nipples.

As he kept going, and as your hips met his and the pleasure burst through you, you could feel everything coming to a close. The tightness in your body swelled while your control over it strayed. There was no possible way you could hold on for much longer and from the looks of it, Eddie had no plans on making you wait. He bucked his hips into you harder and harder, almost impossibly for you to keep it all in. You could explode with this pleasure and that is exactly what he wanted.

‘Mmm c’mon, princess. Feel so good around me,’ he hummed, ‘could anyone make you feel this good?’

‘Just you,’ you moaned out, holding tightly on to him as you felt the tension build up in you.

‘That’s right,’ he had a smug smile across his face that you wished you could wipe off, and you would if you did not need him to keep doing whatever it was he did. Were his fingers back between your legs? Rubbing tight circles, sparking up your sensitivity. ‘Just me.’

‘Just you, Eddie,’ his named squeaked out from between your teeth when he reached the deepest part of you.

‘I’ll never get enough of you saying my name.’

‘Eddie,’ you repeated it in in a haze with his final thrusts that finally brought you over the edge. Stars fell over you in pleasure as Eddie slowed down his movements, letting you come down from the high. He held you tightly in his arms as you let your head fall on his shoulder until you fell into a comfortable silence. There was only the rush of the waves and your tired breaths that filled your ears.

Once your heart settled back to a steady pace, you knew it wasn’t safe. As good as this moment felt, it wouldn’t last. Whatever this was, there was no possibility in which it would outlive this voyage. Then, once it was over, it would hurt. That much you knew. Possibly more than anything had hurt before, and you would just have to be on the lookout for that end until then to let yourself become at peace with it. There wasn’t another choice, as this idea always stayed with you in the back of your head from that moment on. When you fell asleep in Eddie’s arms that night, you thought how many more days you got to wake to in such bliss as you did the next morning.

You could not tell if Eddie had these troubles, you could not tell, for he went through his following days much like before. The only difference was that his free minutes were now occupied with you.

It had not been your intention to make it so obvious to the crew, but there was also so little you could hide from them. Nothing could escape the dozens of interested eyes, so why hide your affection towards their captain? He certainly was not making any attempts. Any chance he got, he found himself at your side, holding you, kissing you, then behind closed doors, do all the other unspeakable things to you that made the others turn green of envy.

Your mornings and afternoons were much the same as they had been before the night of the storm and the Hellfire’s arrival at Saint Claire, as you still spent it in each other's company. The difference was now that instead of being separated by the large oak desk, Eddie would often pull you into his lap to sit in the throne, if not making himself comfortable with you on the bed. The nights began with kisses and limbs tangled with eachother and merged into a joined slumber. Unfortunately, as happy as your days felt, it would not stop the nightmares from coming, but each time you would awake in a cold sweat or with shaking hands, he would be right there to coax you back to peace. What surprised you, however, was that you would do the same to him.

Somehow, the thought of the notorious captain waking up screaming in the middle of the night, chest heaving, eyes wide with fear, had never occurred to you. You had never imagined him reaching for your thigh to ground himself as his reality spiralled in the dark.

‘Shh,’ you held him tightly, ‘it’s okay.’

Neither of you asked what the dreams were about, knowing you could do nothing about them. You could just help the other through it. And then, each time, the dreams that followed were much sweeter.

Then you’d wake up in each other’s arms long before the rest of the world seemed to. Those few blissful moments where nothing could disturb you and the time you could spend in that bed was endless.

Except it very much was not. And you realised it exactly through what you thought would be your escape.

It was a sunny morning. The golden sunrays illuminated the cabin as you reached for Eddie, just to find the side of the bed to be empty. Only his impression in the covers, the faint temperature his body had radiated onto them, was still there. It could not have been long since he had gotten up, and indeed, you caught him standing at the window—leaning against it, more like. His trousers were loose on his hips, and his shirt was still on the ground around you.

Grabbing that shirt and throwing it over your naked body, you walked over to him, and he looked in your direction as soon as he heard your footsteps. The smile in his eyes was genuine but weak. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into an embrace, twirling you around so your back would hit his chest and you could look out at the sea. With how the sunrays sparkled across the waves, it all felt like a dream, too good to be true, but you did not know yet that the dream was at the end of its tether.

‘I really am sorry,’ he mumbled, having his face already nuzzled in the crook of your neck, kissing the spot where it met your shoulder.

‘What for?’ Apologies had become a frequent appearance in his vocabulary, showing up in almost every conversation, if not sentence.

‘You know.’ Yes, you did know. For everything. He held a moment of silence, enjoying your presence in his arms for a little longer, before speaking again. ‘I just keep thinking about how everything between us happened, and if it had not been for me, we could have had more.’

‘I’m just as guilty.’ You had been stubborn, aggressive, and just as blind to your feelings.

‘Highly doubtful statement.’ He laughed, and his breath tickled the hairs on your neck.

‘I don’t think so.’ You shrugged in his hold.

‘Still just as stubborn, aren’t you, princess.’ He squeezed you tighter.

‘Is that not one of my most desirable attributes?’ You spun yourself around in his hold and quickly wrapped your arms around him. Doing so, hearing his tone and joy in his voice, you had expected to see him smiling, but he looked just as sombre as when you had walked up to him. ‘What’s wrong?’ Your hand mindlessly began to trace over the scars on his chest, knowing it brought comfort to both you and him by now.

Eddie shook his head, holding back a laugh. ‘You know…’ he kissed your forehead, ‘when I woke up, I saw you lying there, with the sun shining on your face, and you looked so peaceful, I had honesty considered just locking you away and keeping you forever, but I am a man of my word, am I not?’

‘I…don’t understand.’ You tried to see the meaning behind his words in his eyes, but there was nothing, and it only got harder to figure out when he held his forehead against yours, keeping you close. You still tried to make sense of what he said when you saw it. There, in the far back corner of your eye. So far, it could have been a play of light, and yet it was more real than anything. So undeniably real it crushed everything around you without question.

From the angle the ship stood at, that was as much as you could envision through the windows, and thus you ran out of the room. As much as you did not want to leave Eddie behind, knowing it could be one of the last moments the two of you had, you ran out onto the deck to meet the silhouette of mountains against the rising sun. The longer you looked at it, the clearer the details became. The ridges of the mountains, the forests, the watch towers and houses. The uniformed ships that stood in the harbour.

You knew this day was coming, you had been waiting for it, and yet, now that it was right there in front of you, you wished to be as far from it as possible. In what must have been shock, you took a couple of steps back just to collide with something—someone. You turned around to see Eddie and his soft but sad smile.

‘Welcome home,’ he announced.

Home, sweet home.

Your head turned between him and the land in the too-near distance, waiting for one of them to disappear, maybe even both. Why was this so difficult for your mind to comprehend? Why were the first words to come from your mouth, ‘Can we turn back?’

‘As much as I would want to,’ he sighed, ‘I’m sure they’ve noticed us by now.’ They must have. The watchers in those towers had the eyes of hawks, one of the reasons why your town was named after the bird.

‘So, what do we do?’ This is not how someone who is to be returning to their family after months spent with criminals was meant to respond. Everything about this was so wrong.

‘Go put your dress on.’ Eddie cocked his head back to the cabin. ‘I doubt they will appreciate you wearing this, as much as I adore it on you.’ That is when you realised you stood out on the main deck wearing only his shirt. ‘I’ll meet you in a few minutes.’ And with that, he gave you that look he had given you all those times before when you had been too headstrong in your own actions. Please, listen to me. It will be alright.

You walked back, feeling like you were floating, but not anywhere near the same way that you had the previous few days. It did not feel like you were weightless, on a cloud, free of worry or from the world. You were drifting. Far out into the abyss with nothing to hold on to. In this same state, you walked over to the wardrobe, where you had hung your dress, removed the item of clothing you had on and put on the old and tethered garment. It had once fit you like a glove, but you were far from the person it was measured for.

Just as you finished putting it on, the door opened, and Eddie walked in.

You didn’t want to look at him. Not because of anger, you had, after all, no reason to be angry at him at that moment, but because you were sure that if you looked into those brown irises again, you would break down. He must have had the same idea as you as he walked past you, only grabbing the nearest shirt off the rack, and making a headway to the desk.

‘What are you going to do now?’ After all, that had been what pulled you two together, the money your father would offer for your return. That is what kept you on this ship safe for as long as it did… although, in retrospect, you doubted that Eddie would have ever done anything to you. Maybe he had always intended to bring you home before even speaking to you. Perhaps the money made no difference. But funnily enough, you wanted him to get it. Something in you, a deep instinct, told you that it was what he deserved.

‘Write a random note,’ he said, and you could see he was doing his best not to laugh. ‘Then we’ll send the note out, hope it reaches your dearest, and we’ll make the exchange.’ His words were quick and emotionless, but you noted the hint of novice apprehension in his plan.

‘You’ve never done this before, have you?’ you asked as you made your way up to the chair across from him.

‘Try not to sound too disappointed over my lack of experience in selling beautiful maidens back to their prosperous fathers.’

‘Not at all,’ you shook your head, grabbing the piece of parchment and quill from him. ‘But let me. It will be proof of life, and besides, your handwriting is unrecognisable. He won’t be able to read any of it.’

Eddie stared at you blankly as you began writing.

Dear father,

But what were you to write? The ink dripped off the quill as you pondered on the words. For a message that was quite clear, it was hard to actually phrase it and write it out. By the time you had signed your name at the bottom of the page, the Hellfire had almost reached the coast. You read it through once more:

Dear Father,

I know it has been a long time since you last heard from me. The Red Tail is no more; I was the only survivor, to my knowledge, saved by a crew of rogue sailors. They have kept me locked away but are willing to free me for the price of 5.000 pounds. Please meet me at noon at the Star Port for the exchange.

Love,

Your daughter,

—

You had decided against the mention of piracy or anything specific about the ship’s sinking, knowing that it would only drive your father away from pain the ransom. Eddie had been unable to keep still while you wrote your drafts but now stood behind you, hands on the backrest of your chair, reading the note along with you, over your shoulder.

‘Who would have thought, my darling extorting her own father.’

‘I am doing no such thing!’ You looked up at him, ‘I am simply… aiding you in extorting my father.’ when it came to this, you had little sympathy for your father. He had plenty of money to spare and often spent it on ridiculous causes. A faux rescue of his only daughter could surely fit in between those other purchases.

There was a knock on the door, which Eddie welcomed, and Harrington walked in.

‘Got any mail for me to deliver, cap?’ it had been unanimously agreed that Harrington was the most inconspicuous of the whole crew and would be able to walk through the city unbothered to deliver the message.

You had just been in the middle of folding the parchment. The last thing left was to let the wax melt to keep the corners together. With the seal done, you handed Steve the letter. He smiled at you with thanks, but his face hid an expression of loss, almost. A farewell. But before he left, you clutched him in an embrace, almost knocking Steve over.

When the door closed behind him, it was only a matter of waiting. After your fifth round of pacing through the room, Eddie walked up in front of you, blocking your already quite well-outlined route. He had met you right in the middle.

‘I would prefer if you did not spend our last moments together walking holes into my carpet.’

‘You do not have a carpet,’ you quipped.

‘Must you be so difficult now?’ He laughed that laugh you cherished so much before he placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you the way you adored even more. The sun was almost at its peak, and so was your heart, and you had no idea what to do when it would finally fall. Either way, you would find out in a few minutes.

‘Do you think—’

‘Highly doubtful,’ Eddie said somberly before you could even finish your thought. ‘You had said it yourself, darling; you are you, I am me. This is not meant to work.’ But what if it could, you wanted to shout, shocking yourself for the millionth time on board this ship.

‘Well, then it had been an honour being your captive, captain.’ You said with a deep breath to keep your composure up.

‘Oh, don’t look so sad just yet, princess, the real fun is only about to begin.’ At this statement, you blinked slowly. ‘Or did you think you were done aiding me?’

‘What else do you need me to do?’

‘Since you mentioned it, I think we need to make you look the part of my sweet captive. Make your father believe we really had kept you all good and locked up, hmm?’ He grinned. ‘I really did not do a good job at this, did I? Got you all spoiled up here.’

‘It was much appreciated.’ You giggled, incapable of keeping a straight face when Eddie got like this. Looking back, you could barely imagine the cold and dark exterior that he had once posed in front of you since he had been an entirely different person underneath that. Then again, so were you. ‘So, what did you have in mind?’

‘A lot,’ he licked his lips, ‘but I don’t think we have the time for that. We’ll probably have to do with tying you up like a pretty gift—just your hands, of course,’ he quickly added as he saw your eyes widen. ‘And I’ll be sure to not make it too tight.

‘Alright,’ you nodded. After all, you trusted him. You watched him look through the room for something to wrap around your hands. In the end, he found a piece of rope hanging among the many items on his wall. It was a bit too long for even the intricate, but relatively weak, knot he tied over your wrists—enough to give the impression of captivity, but in reality, barely grazed your wrists. He made sure to check.

And then it was time. You walked out of the cabin for the final time. The room in which you had spent so many tumultuous days and nights. A silly part of you wanted to actually run down the ladder into the lower deck to see the holding cell one last time. For what reason, you could not fathom.

Eddie guided you with a hand on your back, down the gangplank, which wobbled with every step you took. You tried to keep your breathing under control, but then again, if this had been a real threat to your life, you would probably feel similarly. The walk down the harbour was the longest of your life. There just came no end to it, and you could not, frustratingly enough, make your mind up if you wanted that or not. After all, each step closer to the port was one step further away from him… and when had you become so dependent on him? Weeks ago, you had thought up visions of killing him in his sleep; now, you could not think of life without him.

Your thoughts were still fighting for some kind of cohesion when you saw him walk down the street. Accompanied by his usual entourage of guards. Two of them carried a large trunk between them, which must have been filled with gold or other treasures to meet the demand.

‘Papa!’ You screamed out; an incautious urge to run towards him propelled you forward, just to be pulled back by Eddie. You glanced his way, and your breath hitched at what you saw. In the short amount of time that might have felt like an eternity that it took you to walk down the harbour, he had turned into what you could only describe as his old self. The same version of him that you had seen when you were “welcomed’ aboard the Hellfire. The Eddie that terrorised your nightmares. His eyes were pointed like daggers at your father.

He, in turn, stood aback at the sight of who had been holding you. Most of the men around him did, in fact. It caused a bit of a stir, the murmur of his name travelled in disbelief, but Eddie was the first to speak up in full volume.

‘Governor. I see we meet again.’

‘Munson.’ Your father always had the skill to look unimpressed at the sight of any man, always seeming to be above them, and even now, he did a good job hiding any other emotion, but you could see the crack of fear breaking him on the edges. It was, however, quickly replaced as he spoke in his usual tone of business.

‘Munson. What are you doing here?’

‘Why, returning your precious jewel, of course.’ He grinned, pulling you closer to him. Some of the guards leapt forward but were stopped by your father and Eddie, who reached for the knife at his side. All eyes were on you and him as he let the blade slowly track over your arm. ‘Don’t wanna do that, gents. It will only cost us more trouble.’

‘You got the gold, Munson, now let her go!’ There were still several feet between the two sides of the deal. Eddie looked around theatrically.

‘Do I?’ He cocked his head in his own direction. The two men in charge of the trunk hauled it over to you. You had no idea how Eddie was meant to carry it back to the ship. As they brought the gold over, your father spoke again.

‘Is she well? Unharmed?’

You nodded, but Eddie nudged you with the hilt of his knife, his lips against your ear, ‘C’mon, darling, the man’s asked you a question.’

‘I am fine, father.’ You spoke. By that point, the men reached you and, with a final kiss to your temple, Eddie let you go. You were immediately pulled out of his reach by the guards. They must have thought they were holding you up as your legs objected to moving. You were unable to look away from him. All up until you felt your face pressed against your father’s jacket.

‘There, there, it is alright,’ he hushed, and it took you a moment to realise why. You were crying. And if only he, or anyone else, understood that it was for all the opposite reasons. No fear or relief was escaping you through those tears. It was a loss as you saw Eddie standing there, bowing down at the end of his performance, blowing you a kiss goodbye.

It was the panic when you saw the rest of the people in the harbour. All of their eyes on you. On him. None of them were simple bystanders or civilians.

Your dream had been crumbling into ruin all these days, but this was the final blow. All of it came down, all at once, and it started with your father’s call.

‘Guards!’, and suddenly the tenfold of guards appeared out of all possible directions. They had him surrounded, weapons at the ready. Eddie had nowhere to run. Your father spoke clearly, cutting the silence with the blade of his words. ‘Munson, I arrest you on charges of murder and high treason!’

Chapter 10

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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papercupids · 1 year ago

Text

and cut!

pairing -> director!reader × ex!mingyu ft. (ateez) actor!yunho + a heck lot of ocs

summary -> never take an artist seriously when they say their work is inspired from their "imagination."

or alternatively, where to get over mingyu you write a script about you and him.

warnings -> angst, drinking, there's a scene where the reader is drunk and there's profanities too.

a/n -> finally a one shot after constantly putting out <500 words blurbs/drabbles (?) i put my yunho/mingyu agenda here and hopefully someone will actually relate to it!! as usual feedback is v v appreciated <3

word count -> 4.5k

"come on, come on, this is my favourite song!" he's jumping up and extending his hand out to you as the speaker is playing some song which goes a bit like "dum da dum da dum da dum da dum," and you don't like it, but looking at his face, encouraging and eager for you to join him, you get up and slowly join mingyu.

the apartment was quiet, save for the soft music and the sounds of bare feet touching the floor, but no one cares, it’s summer. it’s sticky but the air conditioner's on. he spins you around and then when you turn he places his hand on your back trying to silly dance as much as he can to make you laugh.

maybe you love him, you think. but you don't want to say it out loud and risk a withdrawal from him.

and you laugh at him, he's pleased with himself after that, but he keeps on making you jump and spin and the laughing, it all is making you choke a little so you stop suddenly and try to catch your breath, still laughing. and when he stops, he's looking at you and laughing too except he's coming in closer and closer until there's no gap between you both and he's wrapping both of his arms around and leaning in to kiss you and then touching his forehead to yours afterwards.

"i love you," you whisper lowly.

"what?"

"i love you," you declare as you cup his face gently, and you don't mean to, but your voice shakes a little bit.

“AND CUT!” the producer yells, making you snap out of your fantasy in a second, and shake your head. the actors that were in front of you break character and get away from each other desperate to get to their vans and have a break.

seungcheol put down the microphone at your table and then gives you a fake grin, “earth to you, our beloved director,”

you close your eyes, “i was watching the scene, okay, i was just thinking if we could do something to-“

“save it,” he leans close, “look, babe, as much as i love you, we need to be on track, okay? we can’t afford to lose time, not even a little bit. you know the fans have been waiting for long, ” you nod. you knew how important this project was for you, after 2 years of radio silence and nobody to support your script except seungcheol. maybe that was why it was called 15 minutes of fame, because when it was over, nobody really cared.

but the response had been overwhelming when it was revealed to the fans that you were actually coming back with a film, and on top of that writing and directing your own story, it had a lot of hopes resting on it.

but what people or seungcheol did not know was that, the script was personal to you, as any piece of art to an artist, and it resembled a time in your life when you were truly happy, not the career high you felt when your first film got 80% rotten tomatoes, but a different, serene kind of happy. a happiness which could only exist there, and only with a certain kind of person, who was kim mingyu.

as the schedule for the day wrapped up, you sat on your computer at home, reviewing the footage from the past few days. the days after your college was over, moving in with him, dancing around the apartment… it made you pick up your phone, as it did since the day you thought of the script, or wait, scratch that, since the day you left him hanging there at the restaurant and you went to his contact.

your calls and texts were long since blocked by him, which was valid, ofcourse, but you desperately wanted him to know, you wanted to shout from the top of mountains if that could make him hear it, but you wanted him to know that "yes, mingyu, i miss you, and i made a mistake, but i don't know how to make it better, please help me!"

but nothing of that sort would happen. this was real life, not some sort of hallmark movie.

so when nothing resonated with you enough to write a script about, the idea came to you in a dream, to write about him. and you did, even if the probability of getting funded was about 20-80, you went ahead with it. and one of the top producers in the industry, known for his last two streaks of movies that were ranked number 1 on letterboxd, seungcheol decided to go through with it.

in his words, the story was raw, unique and heart-wrenching, it would make for a great contribution to a genre that closely resembled an indie movie type thing but also did not have the iconic manic pixie dream girl. he liked that.

the next scene was the aftermath of a party, of a new year’s party to be precise, and the feeling of a new year hadn’t quite settled into the both of you because you were too busy cleaning up the confetti and beer cups left by your drunk friends.

“i’m never hosting a party ever again,” you declared, picking up polaroids that were discarded being labeled ‘unsatisfactory’ this specific one was of vernon and seungkwan with the former crouched down to be shorter than seungkwan as he poses with an open mouth, it was attempted to look like seungkwan eating vernon’s head, but it had ended up as a hilarious mistake as seungkwan looked to be doing nowhere what he’d intended to. this was one to show them tomorrow sober, so you quickly put it in your pocket.

“i’m just thankful they left, it looked like some of them had plans to sleep over,”

“not a chance in hell,” you responded. you loved your friends, but they were probably making a mess of their sinks by throwing up, judging by the amount of alcohol they had.

“hey, wait, wait,” mingyu left the plastic bag he was collecting the trash in as he came walking to the living room, “do you hear that?” he went to the speaker which was set to the lowest volume. it was one of the songs that was in the first ever playlist you’d made for him.

he walks over to you, and you already know what’s coming, but you’ve long since accepted these impromptu sessions, so when he takes your hand and spins your around, it’s graceful, but afterwards, it’s just slow dancing in the living room.

“happy new year,” he wishes you.

“happy new year, my love. to this one and to so many more we’ll spend together,”

“CUT!” this time it’s you, not seungcheol. you were close to tears, the set, the music it was too familiar and it felt like walking on glass.

“great job, yunho!” he smiles as he walks up to you to monitor the footage.

he watches intently as you review it. he’s satisfied with it and you honestly couldn’t have had anybody better to portray mingyu.

“you’re perfect, really, you’re bringing the story to life really well,” you compliment him.

“is it, though?” he takes a chair and sits next to you, his assistant brings him a fan and he silently accepts it, keeping his eyes on you.

“is it what?”

“a story, i mean. either you have a intricate imagination or it’s a lie, it has actually happened,”

thankfully, to save you, your phone rings, you excuse yourself as yunho just smirks.

“seungcheol?”

“how’s it going? i wanted you to remind you to not get too deep into it, it’s fine if we need to push it back, just don’t overwork yourself,”

“aw, where’s this change of mind coming from? ah, i should really make you go home more, your wife is clearly the more rational one. i knew she would give you a piece of mind,”

“it’s me, yuri, how are you, baby? i hope seungcheol is not being too harsh on you,”

“ahah, no, no, he’s just giving me the push that i need, it’s alright,”

“what’s next on the schedule? i was thinking of coming down to watch the magic happen myself,”

“ofcourse, ofcourse,”

today’s shoot is about the time when you both first met.

you’d been new in town when your friend, alice had taken a quick liking to you and you’d both hit it off too, becoming the best of friends in no time almost.

but there’s one thing about that you absolutely dislike, her boyfriend vernon. they seemed to be perfectly alright with each other a minute and fighting the other, with the fighting mainly consisting of alice talking vernon’s ear off about how he didn’t value her as much as he should and how he never texts her, and vernon, constantly trying to make amends, i’ll be better, i’ll text you more.

one of those days though, the fight had ended with alice in your bed, passed out while crying and someone rung your bell - a tall guy with a fang-y smile that he didn’t hesitate to show even if he was here to solve a serious issue.

“i’m mingyu,”

and he’d tell you later on that he was determined to make the two patch up after that to get an excuse to hang out with you, to get to know you, and to keep you close. and he patched them up so well that they actually ended up getting married.

“wait, cut,”

you command and instantly, the actors turn to you and you walk over to yunho.

“we need a little teeth in the smile, please,”

he grins awkwardly.

“yunho, please,” the whole set has stopped to look at the conversation, and you talk in a lower voice to not let everybody hear you pleading.

“why does that even matter? i’m doing what i would normally to people when i’m introducing myself. isn’t that natural?”

“you don’t get it-“

“do i not smile like him?” he whispers, and you throw him a glare as you walk back to your chair, “rolling again,”

“oh god, i love it!” yuri exclaims after the last shoot is done, she’s in awe of the plot of the simplicity and yet intricity of it.

you wrap things up as she talks to you. “let’s go somewhere for dinner,” you’re tired but you nod, “okay,”

the first thing she does as you both sit down on your booth is lean in, her elbows on the table and her face leaned in, “now tell me, what inspired the script!”

“not this again,” you groan.

“it’s definitely something and i need to know, for science,”

“can we at least order first?” she giggles, “yes, okay,”

almost 2 hours later, as she scoops out the last spoon of her ice cream, you’ve finished your story.

she quietly enjoys that one bit and then comments, “i don’t think you’re to blame at all,”

“how? i was the one who left him,”

“well, because if you didn’t you wouldn’t be here right now, and i’m not talking like being with me here but this,” she points to the bag where the script is cozily snuggled up. “you wouldn’t have had this. and i’m not saying it’s his fault, because, ofcourse there’s nothing wrong with what he wanted either, it’s just that you both were different people who wanted different things. it was, simply put, circumstantial,”

she makes sense, but it doesn’t feel right to just blame the time when you’ve gotten so used to blaming yourself for choosing to leave.

“but it must have been beautiful, your love,” she puts a hand on your shoulder comfortingly, “i’m glad you experienced something like that and you can portray it so gracefully too,”

“and, um, yuri, don’t tell seungcheol, please,”

the movie was coming along exactly on time, all the actors were cooperative and the weather didn’t meddle much, seungcheol came around often and advise you about a particular scene should be reshot but he did not push a lot, something that you should probably thank yuri for.

and soon enough it was the day that filming would wrap up and you could finally shove your feelings in a movie and not look back, as much as it had been a dream to relieve it all again, the grave realization that these memories might be the only ones you would ever share with mingyu made you breakdown a lot of times.

yuri came down again, to congratulate you and she sat beside you for the last scene in the movie as well as shooting.

this scene, you could truthfully cross your heart and say that it’s fictional.

in this scene, they bump into each other once again, hopeful to start where they left off, looking at a stranger with a knowing smile, you knew him before and maybe, just maybe you’ll know him again.

but real life wasn’t anything like that, the film goes into post production, and you still haven’t gave up on your habit of lying on your side and scrolling through your phone looking at his photos and some screenshots of your chats (you had long since switched through multiple phones and had way too many drunk nights where you swore to get over him) but it was no use, every night ended the same, with your heart feeling hollowed out as you dreamt of his laughter and his touch, how was it that you had to go through your entire life without it now? it made you cry all over again.

“when are you going to come home?” the aspect chilled you but you decided that if you wanted to do something about it then you had to go home, and you had to face him. even if going home wasn’t necessarily that because your parents and mingyu lived on the opposite ends of town and had cut ties with each other after the way you ran away, enough time has passed for you to try and make amends, or just at least check up on him.

“mingyu?”

he’s sitting in the cafè where you used to frequent during your time together and you look at alice who encourages you to go talk to him as the said person turns and stands up after he recognizes you.

and it’s obvious, you run to him, throwing your arms around him.

“i’m so glad you’re back,” he looks into your eyes with the same hope he got down on one knee with. maybe this time you can say yes, your movies have been doing well and you’re no longer struggling and but he doesn’t want to get out of this town and-

the alarm rings, and you’re at home, miles away from the previous title holder of home and even farther away from mingyu himself. and who were you kidding? how can you even expect him to welcome you like that? you yourself didn’t deem yourself worthy of a normal conversation let alone a hug and a hopefulness to start over, the movie bit was really getting to you.

the time read 8:00 am, the premiere was today, if things went smoothly you could ditch after a few interviews and be on the way home and as early as tomorrow you could be breathing the same air as mingyu?

“i’m coming today,” you call your mom en route to the venue, and she visibly smiles, you haven’t gone home but home, your parents have been here a lot of times, understanding and empathizing with your choice.

muting the call, she nods to your father, the home was about to regain its fullness again.

“but isn’t the premiere today?”

“well, i can get out as soon as i’m doing with the mandatory obligations.”

“don’t rush and drive safe, okay?”

the lights flashing and the loud voices of the public, the flashy setting with pretentious people and their fake smiles and wishes about “i hope the movie does well,” but when in reality they hoped the exact opposite was too much for you even on normal days let alone the days when you were already itching to get out, and so you did, 2 hours after you entered, and painstakingly, turns out the superpower you’d want to have if someday was invisibility, take that TMZ!

but the very next memory is of the warmest bed you’ve ever known, the smell of the incense sticks your father lights every morning without fail and the country song playlist your mom has to play, what an odd combination.

“so, um,” sitting at the breakfast table, you can sense an odd shift in the atmosphere after you’ve settled down in the household and it’s almost tense, the bread and butter doesn’t seem appetizing now.

the look that your parents give each other is unmissable.

“okay,” your father clears his throat, “we’ve been beating around the bush and avoiding anything that’s related to mingyu or anything but,”

“but?”

“um,”

“he got married,” your mum says quickly and shoves food into her mouth, all the while they both look down at the dining table, the pattern become very interesting to them at that moment.

three words and it’s enough to slash your heart into two, but to be honest it hurt less compared to the times you’d thought of the possibility, you thought you’d be more hurt, the scene would be more dramatic, and everything. but it was a numb kind of pain, the kind that is in the next room, sleeping and you have to open drawers quietly to not wake it up, but still numb.

it’s okay, when you were out there you were desperate for a piece of home and found it in your memories of mingyu, but when you’re here, you realize that more than mingyu there were a lot of other chracters in your story.

speaking of characters, there were alice and vernon who had long since gotten married, had a kid recently and there was so much to catch up on.

“we go to the movies only for you, really. because it’s so hard to get this guy,” alice points to vernon who is sprawled on the sofa with his baby on the side, “out of the house,”

“hey, it’s not my fault that you can literally do everything without moving a finger out of the house,”

they hadn’t changed a single bit since college and you were glad, it was unbelievable that these were the same two people who were breaking up every 2 days a few years back, that was a great story to tell the baby about.

when you mention mingyu, they share the same look your parents did, “it’s okay, guys, i know he’s married. jeez, did everybody collectively know i was still pining over him?”

“it was obvious,”

“i wish you could have worked out though,” alice sighs. “i mean, his wife is great, we see them once a month but it would have been different if it were you, right?”

“are you sure they aren’t home?” mingyu whispers as he climbs in through your window. and you’re too tipsy to care if they are or not.

‘i don’t know!” you announce in a voice that was sure to wake up the neighbours enough.

mingyu wanted to laugh, the way you were swaying and struggling to walk straigh was adorable and so was the look in your eyes, that you could achieve anything, but he noticed it even when you were sober, the look which said, i know what i want and i’m not afraid of going for it. it scared him sometimes, but it was that very thrill that had attracted him to you in the first place.

“mingyuuu,” your voice dragged, thankfully and luckily your parents were either asleep or really not here.

“baby,” he place a finger on your lips, “you need to be quiet, okay? people are sleeping,”

“hmm,” you walk over to sit on your bed.

“mingyu,” you call his name out again. he looks at you with a smile on his face, your voice has dropped to a whisper, mocking him.

“come here,” you pat on the space beside you.

“here,” he sits down and grab onto his arm softly, snuggling into his chest.

“i love mingyu,” is the last thing you say when you drift off beside him, and you’ll never know that he said it too.

“i love you, always and forever,”

on the same bed, you sit alone now, the review are pouring in, people love the rawness of their love, people hate that it’s too slow, people love yunho’s acting, and people call out “loopholes” and it gets overwhelming to you at some point so you stop looking at it and decide to go out to clear your head.

the grocery store is a perfect place to do that and as soon as you tell your mom that, she has an entire list of things you need to get for her, ready.

and thankfully, just as you’re in the first aisle of biscuits and snacks, the caller id shows yuri’s number.

“i love how it turned out so much,”

you smile as you push the shopping trolley, that was one of the only opinions that matter.

“so you’re home?” she asks.

“home sweet home after like 6 years,”

“wow, that’s a lot.” she’s a little touchy around the subject but you know what she wants to ask.

“nope, yuri, i haven’t seen mingyu,”

“oh, haha, yes i wanted to ask that,”

the chips, and the nachos and now the sauce section. but you had to get some detergent for your mom, where was that aisle?

“but i’m actually thankful for that.” you take a deep breath, “yuri, he’s married.”

“shit…” she quietly mutters. and shifts her phone to the right ear, “are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m.. fine, it’s not something that i didn’t think about so it’s okay, i was prepared for it,”

a small girl is reaching up for a bread in the baked goods section and you have an involuntary grin plastered on your face, it suddenly reminded you of a time when you were like the same little kid.

“here, let me help,” you reach up for it and give it to her, but she gives you a blank look and runs away.

and you’re suddenly reminded of the whole stranger danger campaign your aprents used to do for you, maybe the same is for her parents.

but just as you turn and push your cart, still looking for the damned detergent, someone calls out to you.

“excuse me,”

and you turn before the voice registers itself in your brain.

mingyu.

and the kid from before, hiding behind his legs.

he’s looking down at her, “i’m sorry, normally she does say thank you. haneul, baby, say thank-“

and he looks at you.

“..y/n?”

“uh, yuri, let me call you back in a bit,”

nothing could have prepared you for that one moment, no matter how much you think about it in the shower, or try to practice a conversation.

shortly after your little reunion in the baked goods section, his wife follows, “should i get this or…?”

and thankfully, it wasn’t awkward (read, kinda awkward) but you greeted them formally and his wife seemed to know about you but she made the little girl greet you as her father's friend.

"how have you been?" he asks, and the wife, who introduces herself as hari, grabs his arm.

"come over to ours, i'm sure you both have to catch up."

and that is how you end up in the same house that well, you used to be practically living ij but out of respect for both haneul and hari, you shake off the memories, you had the rest of your life for them.

"haneul, can you go upto your room and make a drawing for your father's friend?" hari brings three cups of tea into the living room as you make small talk with mingyu, turns out his parents had both tragically passed away in a car accident 2 years ago so now he lived here.

and you don't even know what it means because you don't even live in the same rented apartment in a different city for too long, you couldn't imagine having a family in the place where you wete born, there was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn't what you wanted.

"we watched one of your movies together," she admits, "it was actually our first date and he said, the director is my ex, and i just laughed i couldn't believe him,"

and the conversation went on, scratching at the surface but not really going in, it was like catching up with work acquaintance.

when haneul called out for her mother, you took that time to tell mingyu that you want to be excused.

"i'll walk you out,"

and as soon as you're on the porch gate, you turn to him.

"i'm happy you got what you wanted, mingyu."

"i wanted you, y/n. this is what i needed."

"right, yes," it gets awkward for a bit as memories resurface.

"for what it's worth, i'm really sorry for that day," you confess. "i've never stopped thinking about what could've been if i didn't leave,"

he looked away, not wanting to go down the lane and be reminded of all of that again.

"it's alright, i wouldn’t have haneul and hari, and you wouldn't have another hit movie under your belt either,"

it stung a little but he was right.

a little hope inside you that was still alive even after all of these years died down slowly, like a candle wick melting out along with the wax, it ran its course, now it's time for another candle.

you exchanged goodbyes and you watched him go inside and the muffled squeals and laughter of him and his daughter, and then the door opened again, this time, it was hari.

"uh, i'll get going now," you signal to your watch, "it’s getting dark, i should reach home before that,"

"wait, but i made dinner for you,"

she was such a sweetheart, you were so glad that they'd both found each other. the kid would grow up to be such a gentle person.

"thank you so much, but i'll come by next time, maybe, i promise,"

she stands on the porch until you take your car out of their driveway, waving lightly.

there was no next time, for the sake of your mental health, it was the last time you would ever see kim mingyu.

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nofacednerd · 5 months ago

Text

okay finale thoughts

I don't think they took out any scenes but I do think it's funny that they renamed the title of the episode

hughie's... counter-proposal I guess? was so genuinely sweet that I'm mad it wasn't real

On that. 3rd time in back to back episodes not even 5 minutes in. That's gotta be a record. I thought they were actually going to acknowledge it as assault when he seemingly got very upset about the pegging joke she made and started squeezing the water bottle, but I guess not. My hope is that all the criticism they received while handling all of this, they'll actually take and acknowledge it in the show

Hughie canon bottom but at what cost...........

BUTCHER WITH THE TEMP-V INDUCED WHITE HAIR STREAKS. MY HEADCANON IS REAL

I think it's so funny that Butcher's last wish was for hughie to go to some random hooters in Nevada for him. Part of me wonders if he knew about the stupid Maid in Manhattan tour he went on entirely because it was his dad's last wish and wanted to see what he would agree to if he sounded sad enough about it

Ashley my problematic queen I hope you get to have fucking awesome scary superpowers next season and help take down the supes w the gang

Just. Shoutout to Erin Moriarty for being an insanely talented actress. Love that the shapeshifter just kept biting people as her go-to attack. Fucking knocked it out of the park

Annie choking the shapeshifter to death instead of using her powers felt symbolic somehow but it's 4 in the morning and I can't think about it rn. Good for her either way.

They also never actually explained why her powers just. Stopped working?? I'm guessing it was an emotional thing but I felt like things didn't change THAT much by the end of the season for her to suddenly be charged up enough to fly?

Okay but also. I'm kind of mad that they didn't acknowledge what the shapeshifter did to Hughie was assault and not only that but they had Annie get mad at HIM about it. Like girl hello???? Out of literally everyone I would expect at least Annie to understand, but for some reason they show loves having them have relationship drama that comes from fucking nowhere

That being said, I am SO glad they didn't break up again. That would have fucking sucked. Curious if the engagement thing will ever come up again since she got the ring back. I imagine if it does it'll be the end of the show

Also his little "FUCK YESSS" fist pump to himself. I just need to take a second to appreciate that that was so funny LMAO

I'm not gonna lie... I actually got pretty on-board with the Frenchie Kimiko QPR. aroace Kimiko you still live in my head rent free

I just know. I just KNOW. There's going to be SO MANY tentacle smut fics about Butcher by the end of the week. You horny motherfuckers are going to eat that shit up

Also going to be honest. I'm kind of mad they took out Neuman. She was such an interesting character and I always thought her views didn't conflict at all with the rest of The Boys, so I was really hoping for a redemption arc. She also had such an interesting dynamic with both Hughie and Annie (and Zoe having beef with Kimiko is fucking great). Idk she could have been a fun addition to the group

I was actually kind of excited to see The Boys split off to different countries and have to come back together next season, but I think them all getting kidnapped (and presumably thrown in prisons?) is much more interesting. I kind of hope they let Hughie be the main character again next season now that Butcher has gone off the rails and might? be a villain next season? But I know it's probably going to be Annie

Kimiko speaking I kind of assumed would happen at some point (since they established that as kind of her arc this season with the speech therapy) but I'm excited to see if that goes anywhere next season. I think best case scenario, she has selective mutism and only goes verbal sometimes. They've been pretty good about her disability so far

also speaking of, I've been trying to figure out what her sign for each of The Boys' names are and. is Hughie's supposed to look like someone running away because that's so funny if true (it's hard to tell because the captions are obviously not synced up with the visuals on her signing)

My overall thoughts are kinda... eh. This season ultimately felt directionless to me, too many plotlines trying to happen all at once and while I think individual episodes were really good, as a whole nothing felt super connected (I mean, in episode 6 Hughie was super fucked up over his dad's death and presumably what happened at Tek Knight's party, but episode 7 they just seem to have completely forgotten that he's having an active mental breakdown, a trend that continues into episode 8. And that's just one example from this season). I also think they fumbled the supes' plotline at the very end. I trusted the writers that they actually knew what Sage's plan was, but it mostly just seems like she swooped in at the end to tell us her plan worked, without saying what it actually was. I was hoping there was going to be actual clever writing there, but I guess it's hard to write the world's smartest character if she's only as smart as the writer's room can be.

I understand that, ultimately, it's incredibly difficult to write satisfying arcs with very limited time (this is an issue of streaming in general, not specifically an issue with The Boys), so I don't really fault them for that. I just hope next season is more focused.

The biggest problem with season 3 is, obviously, Hughie getting sexually assaulted three times in 3 back-to-back episodes, with zero acknowledgement (and on one occasion, implied mockery) from the show itself or anyone involved. I REALLY hope they take the criticism and actually make something of it next season, or at least acknowledge that it was fucked up.

Anyway, not a terrible season, but it had a lot of glaring issues. I'm holding out hope for season 5 being good, but it'll be another year or two before we get it anyway, so...

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys season 4 spoilers #in the meantime there's always fanfiction

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waywardsunlight · 2 years ago

Text

Post Hoot 4/28/2023

Cissy, Dana, Rebecca, Sarah, Avi, and Zelda Black

Reactions to the finale?

Sarah cried really hard when she saw the Quincera (“a whole chapter in my life is over” line). Avi was excited to play a villain, Sarah said they were scary. Avi liked to play with character. Dana loved seeing Avi’s evil Raine, said it was intense. They said they wanted to see more evil Raine, but Dana wanted to avoid it. Rebecca’s birthday was the week the finale came out, talked about their appearance in the episode. Cissy started crying, said it was neat.

Continue reading below:

Cissy had been travelling, and got back right on time to see the finale, she was super tired. Cissy was crying, her kids were asking her if she was crying. Avi cried too. Sarah said she was choked up but she was more excited. Avi felt like it was surreal. Cissy said “no sequel” “we can hope” “It would be fun to do more but it would require Disney to agree” Dana. Sometimes Dana gets so pissed off about the cancelling. Rebecca said the finale aired and they were back to being angry. Wished they had gotten more episodes. Sarah was angry, upset and sad about the cancellation but she loved the finale. “It couldn’t have been more impressive”.“There’s always gonna be a thousand things we want to improve but it came out well” Dana

Dana loved the fight scene between Luz, Eda, and King v Belos.

Music? How does it work? Brad has been on since season 2, he already knew the style of the show, so for every animatic, you put in temp music, and you send the composer the stuff and the spot notes, follow the concept of the temp music but add a horror genre spin on it. Brad’s first take on the episode was great. TJ did a remix for the epilogue, Dana cried hearing the remix for the epilogue.

They brought back every single actor for the bye. Everyone’s last line is bye!!! Hooty originally had a line where he kept saying goodbye. Hooty coming out of Papa Titan’s eye? “I won’t say much, in hopes I get to do more in the future (slim chance), this youtube reviewer- The3rdBill got it right in an offhand comment”

“How did the writing change for season 2/season 3?” Dana had an ending she wanted, wasn’t able to do it bc too much set up. All of season 2A was written without the knowledge of the cancellation, Follies was the first episode fully written with the knowledge it was cancelled. Dana wanted to do more with galdorstones, coven heads, Bat Queen, it’s easy to see what we had to prioritize. It was a hard situation in the writer’s room. We did our best and we’re happy people still connected to it.”

“Keep being loud about how much you love the show”

“Support the Etsy artists!” Had a pin by SophieScrubs

“It’s not like we had whole episodes written that were trashed, they were one sentence ideas”- they were in Dana’s head “I’m just happy with what came out”

“We kinda got to go out, 45 minute specials, it was fun to work with”

Cissy “There’s no way you can’t be a fan”, Cissy was wearing a King beanie and got recognized as a fan in Ireland!

Sarah met people who liked her shirt and the show lol (didn’t say if they knew who she was) Rebecca wore a king sweatshirt in DisneyLand, saw somebody else with a king sweatshirt and they side-eyed her lol “Anyone who ignores Rebecca can catch these claws”

Owlberts in the title of the show, Stringbean is there too, the L and S, when they made the pilot, they had a different logo, it wasn’t made intentionally but they saw it and they liked it.

Luz had a connection with snakes, having her reclaim snakes.

Sarah was a snake believer!!!

A lot of ppl had ideas in the writers room, Dana loves bad puns and loved snakeshifter (the guy who has Barkus named after him), Beastkeeping bc Dana loves animals, Oracle bc she could see the future of the show.

“Avi needs wrangling” Sarah, they joked around.

Raine’s Palisman: The Palisman was disguised as the violin, Raine smashes their violin- it was the staff part of the Palisman that was smashed.

Did they Clawthorne family ever discover they were descendants of Evelyn and Caleb? Eda and Hunter don’t know, the rest I won’t say.

Who had the old house? Who did that belong to?

Sarah has a Stringbean!

“The artistry of the fandom is inspiring” Cissy

Somebody’s making Cissy a Lilith one.

Caleb, Evelyn, Flapjack? “Save it for the spinoff” Dana: “One detail I like to think of, is when we were writing TTT, Flapjack is not Evelyn, to Belos he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother “if it weren’t for you”, you can see a hint at it in the halloween decorations, Evelyn’s hand had Flapjack. First magic Caleb was introduced to, Evelyn was hiding her ears and pretending to be human, follow this bird into this portal? “Dog owners passing eachother and becoming friends and bonding over dogs”. I like to think that Evelyn and Caleb was sweet- platonic curiosity to romantic, it was good for a bit.

“Who did the shack belong to?” We never got to explore this, it was originally the home of Caleb and Philip, Eda comes out there for the first time when coming out of the portal door. Eda fixed it!!! Everything doesn’t matter, google death of the author, I am just a fan now bc the show is finished. If you prefer your version, it’s valid rn.

Eda becomes the owl beast before getting Owlbert. There was going to be an episode where they showed her reclaiming the image of the owl and learning to carve palisman with Dell.

When Luz and Hunter went down to the basement originally, there were graves down there for Philip and Caleb, based off old buildings in connecticut (no story purpose)

Belos concepts when he was taking over animals, didn’t end up in the show, Belos animal designs, alluded to but not shown

Eye on the portal is Papa Titan? Yes.

Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual.

Amity and Lilith rekindled mentor relationship, Lilith has a lot of history, Amity likes history + reading. They liked the blueprints for the library.

Cissy hadn’t seen anything she didn’t speak lines for, Cissy just got her lines/scenes.

Apparently they’re not supposed to bring the scripts home, before the pandemic they got full scripts

“Excuse me I’m talking” Avi (joking), Avi and Sarah are high energy

Avi didn’t have time to read the script, Sarah was confused when Luz died

Sarah got the script when Flapjack died, she said “no! Take me!” and they said “you’re going too”

Avi had trouble with the “you’re fluffy” line

Rebecca sent animatics to help the actors, it was easier for them to see the animatics

“It’s always up to the showrunner to show as much as they can” we go pitches in house with our own voices, Dana did Terra in For the Future animatic.Dana hates hearing her own voice, she talks really fast in her reads. When you pitch, you also do the sound effects. When they did the pitch for the finale (hour and a half), the line that got Rebecca choked up when Dana did Luz’s “Eda, King, thank you” “we got you kiddo”

There’s a recording of all of season two b and season three of Dana pitching doing the lines.

If the show had not been cut short, would Amity and Hunter have had more time? Everyone would’ve gotten more of a chance to talk to each other- yes. Hunter would’ve talked to more characters like Vee and human realm kids, Camila. Literally everyone would’ve had more time. Dana loves the sibling relationship.

Luz and Raine barely interact, they’re bickering jokingly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to hang out” Dana, “we can’t get the hexsquad to hang out”

Where did Luz attend school after WAD? She went to human realm high school, she had renewed motivation, even if high school was difficult, she had a goal, having a safe space for her and a family outside of the human realm made high school more bearable (that was the cause for Dana, having that escape was good).

Gus’s hair!! :D Emmy designed him. Dana designed Emira, Skara, Eber for the finale. Dana had two others but she forgot.

King’s dad’s name is unpronounable.

Does the Collector visit often? Has their relationship with their siblings improve? (STRONG LAUGHS) Dana can’t say much about the Archivsts, the Collector didn’t have a flashforward design bc they didn’t grow up that much, got a little taller but not really. Immortal space child. Dana was inspired by creepy dolls, and a nightmare. JBO had a google folder with cool references of creepy dolls, liminal nightmare scapes, stars. We know who is the Collector is gonna be but what’s their vibe. That was one of the most fun parts after the shortening. The Collector was always a part of it, not solidified, but yeah they were a part of it. The Collector has stayed connected, visits. Dana loves fan comics about King and the Collector.

Won’t answer questions about the archvists.

Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the owl house if he doesn’t want to, the door has a star motif on it, when the door isn’t active, Hooty can be there, but the portal door can fold up but Hooty is buddy.

Who are the current residents of the Owl House? Raine and Eda’s business is their business, not all love stories end in marriage, that doesn’t diminism any kind of love? They live together in the owl house. Raine moved in.

Zach Markus invented Matt so he gets to answer Matt questions.

Vee and Masha dating? It’s hard to say, bc we didn’t include Masha in the finale, Vee has a crush on them. Yeah! Maybe.

Sarah’s husband is texting saying hi lol.

Odalia? Divorced. The kids happily live away from her. They see her when they have the energy to, they recognize she’s toxic and they don’t have to put up with her if she’s being awful. May have been explored if more episodes. Rachael MacFarlane (VA) is great. She’s not British, she’s just pretentious.

King’s Tower? Dana’s thinking… “dumb answer. The plans we had, it had something to do with… it was related to someone who you all know who may have amnesia

There was gonna be a moment for other characters to get eye glow (strong emotions)

What’s the mouse that looked like alador? In the boards, Dawn animated the scene, he has a pose where he looked like a t-rex, Dana saw it and thought he looked like Remy from Rattatoue, when they got to the scene with the lab, he remembered that convo and drew in the rat and Dana laughed so hard “keep it, don’t change it” “It’s his palisman”

“A show should be enjoyed as is, knowing how it’s made is also cool” “when the show got darker- we got to do the fun stuff we got to do, if we all tried to force ourselves to write a happy go-lucky show they’d be unhappy, we’re gonna put our feelings into this” It was a dark writers room for a bit.

Sarah likes the darker elements, mentioned the masks (maybe TTT?), not totally removed from reality

“It clearly struck a chord, we lived through a global quarantine, we’re feeling the fallout of it”

“What was extremely hopeful for the crew was that the characters would have a happy ending, Luz gets to study magic, the characters stay together and form a community”

They got questions they couldn’t answer like about the quince

They don’t know if this is the last post hoot

They opened presents but they didn’t get one for Avi bc they didn’t know they’d be there until 2 days before. Rebecca got them funko pops of Lilith and Luz. Rebecca said thank you.

“Hey disney, if you’re watching, this could be you”

Elizabeth (Camila VA) called her mom to translate stuff into spanish.

Said byeeee!

#the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #post hoot #I tried my best #some stuff is missing

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morgan-va · 23 days ago

Text

Chapter 5: No Rest for the Corporate Slave (Serial Designation N x Reader)

Masterlist

You glance over at the clock on the wall, its ticking oddly louder in the growing silence of the evening. The hour hand creeps past seven, reminding you that your afternoon has slipped away without much notice. Stretching your arms over your head, you let out a sigh. It’s been a long day of… whatever this was.

Your gaze falls to the remaining slices of pizza in the fridge as your stomach lets out a low grumble. Dinner practically decides itself. After pulling out the box, you toss the last couple of slices into the microwave and let the low hum of it fill the room as you step back.

“I’m going to put on a movie,” you announce absently, not sure if you’re speaking to N or just to yourself.

N perks up from the couch, where he’s still flipping through the old book you gave him earlier. His posture straightens, and his head tilts ever so slightly in curiosity. “A movie?”

“Yeah. Something light.” You shrug, grabbing the warmed pizza from the microwave and piling the slices onto a plate. “Figured it’s a nice way to wind down.”

“That sounds… fun!” N’s voice practically buzzes with excitement, his neon eyes gleaming. “May I join you?”

You hesitate for a split second, but only because his enthusiasm catches you off guard. “Sure,” you say, heading into the living room and plopping down on the couch. “You earned it.”

N gently closes the book, setting it aside with care, and practically floats over to sit beside you. There’s a moment where his closeness feels almost comical—like he doesn’t quite understand personal space—but the warmth of his cheer makes it hard to care.

“You like action, sci-fi, comedy?” you ask, scrolling through a list of films on your screen.

“What about… whatever you like!” he says with a grin.

You let out a small laugh, selecting something that fits his description. “Alright, let’s see how you handle classic Galaxy Battles V. It’s cheesy, but it gets the job done.”

As the opening credits roll, you lean back into the couch, pizza in hand, while N watches the screen with wide-eyed wonder. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you, clearly gauging your reactions to the movie just as much as he’s invested in the film itself.

N watches the movie with rapt attention, his expression lighting up every time a new character appears or an action sequence kicks off. About twenty minutes in, he tilts his head at the screen and gestures toward the hero, a scruffy rogue in a trench coat arguing with a galactic princess.

“Why is the Sky Corsair guy flirting with her? Aren’t they siblings?” he asks, his voice brimming with genuine curiosity.

You nearly choke on your pizza, coughing out a laugh. “Not yet. They don’t know that until the next movie.”

N’s eyes widen slightly, and he nods as though this is a perfectly reasonable narrative choice. “Ah. So this is foreshadowing. Smart.”

The scene shifts to a dramatic battle on an icy planet, where slow-moving walkers lumber toward a rebel base. N leans forward, pointing at one of the walkers as it collapses to the ground after being tripped by a harpoon cable.

“Wait,” he says, squinting. “Why don’t they just put wheels on those? Or better yet, hover tech? They work for a galactic empire, right? I’m pretty sure they can afford it.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah, you’d think. But then we wouldn’t get this whole cool scene of them tripping like giant toddlers.”

N nods again, though his expression turns contemplative. “Still… hover tech.”

Later, during a climactic showdown between the hero and his masked nemesis, the villain dramatically gestures with his glowing energy sword. “I am your paternal unit!” he booms.

N blinks, then turns to you. “Why didn’t he just say ‘Father’? Wouldn’t that be more concise?”

You glance at him, not sure how to respond. “Look, it’s all about the drama. You can’t just drop that kind of news casually.”

He tilts his head again, as though committing this rule of human behavior to memory. “Drama is important. Got it.”

The two of you watch the rest of the movie with a shared understanding of its ridiculousness, and for the first time in a while, you find yourself genuinely enjoying the night.

As the credits roll, the dramatic orchestral score fading into silence, you sit there for a moment, staring blankly at the screen. The empty pizza box rests on the coffee table, a quiet reminder of the mundane night you’d anticipated when this whole thing started. But now...

You glance at N, who’s still seated cross-legged on the couch, his bright eyes fixed on the credits as though they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. He doesn’t move, probably waiting for you to decide what to do next. His ever-present cheerfulness feels oddly comforting rather than grating.

And then it hits you—a feeling in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, spreading with every beat of your heart.

Did you just have… fun?

The thought alone is almost laughable. You’re not the type who enjoys socializing. Especially not with… well, anyone, let alone a worker drone. But here you are, having spent an evening watching a ridiculous movie and laughing at its absurdity with a machine. A machine who, if you’re honest with yourself, seems far more alive than half the people you’ve interacted with at JCJenson.

Your brow furrows, and you sink back into the couch. When was the last time you felt this way? It’s hard to recall. Years of corporate drudgery have a way of sanding down the edges of your humanity, leaving you jaded and detached. And yet, here’s N—so open, so eager to connect. He’s just a drone, sure, but there’s something disarming about his sincerity, his ability to find joy in even the smallest things.

You shake your head, letting out a dry laugh. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” you mutter under your breath.

N turns his head toward you, tilting it slightly in curiosity. “Did you say something?”

“Uh, no,” you reply quickly, waving a hand. “Just... thinking out loud.”

He smiles, apparently satisfied with that explanation. “Okay! Thinking is good. I do that sometimes too.”

You snort despite yourself. Yeah, you definitely need to process this later. For now, you glance at the stack of other DVDs near the TV and decide to put your thoughts on pause. “You wanna watch another one?”

N’s eyes brighten, and he nods enthusiastically. “Absolutely! What’s next? Something with dogs, maybe?”

“Sure,” you say, popping in the first movie you grab without even looking at the case.

As the screen lights up with a new title sequence, you let yourself relax again. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

As the final movie of the night trudges toward its dramatic climax, your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute. The long day, the lingering fullness of leftover pizza, and the low hum of the TV create the perfect storm of drowsiness. You barely notice the details of the movie anymore, the muffled dialogue blending into the cozy background noise.

You don’t even realize when your head starts to tilt forward, or when N turns his gaze toward you, noticing your sluggish blinks and nodding posture.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head. There’s no response. You’re too far gone, lost to the pull of sleep.

Recognizing what’s happening, N straightens up a bit, his gaze flicking between you and the couch with an uncharacteristically serious expression. After a moment, he makes a decision. Carefully, he stands and retrieves a pillow and blanket from the nearby armchair. Returning to his seat, he gently maneuvers you until your head rests against the pillow now placed in his lap.

His movements are deliberate, his hands steady despite their mechanical nature. He takes care not to disturb your sleep, adjusting the blanket over you with the same attentiveness as someone handling something fragile.

“There,” he whispers, more to himself than to you, his neon-white eyes softening as they scan your now-relaxed face.

For a while, N remains still, his gaze drifting back to the TV screen. The movie carries on, its dramatic music and dialogue doing nothing to stir you. Occasionally, N glances down at you, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs eventually, his voice quiet and warm. He doesn’t power down, though. Instead, he remains as he is, watching over you as you sleep, ensuring that if you wake, it’ll be to a peaceful scene.

The warm, cozy embrace of sleep begins to shift as your mind takes a detour into a far less relaxing place. In your dream, you’re back at the office, sitting at your usual desk under the harsh, fluorescent lights. The ambient hum of machinery and distant conversations fills the air, but none of it feels quite right.

The pile of reports on your desk seems endless, a looming monolith of paperwork that mocks your every attempt to make progress. You sigh and pick up the nearest sheet, typing the necessary data into your spreadsheet with practiced precision. Another report finished. Another task done.

You glance at the clock on the wall. 8:00 p.m.

A flicker of relief washes over you as you reach for the next document. It’s mindless work, but at least you’re getting through it. A few more minutes, and maybe you’ll be free to go home. You finish another report. Then another. And another.

Curious, you glance at the clock again. 8:00 p.m.

You blink. That can’t be right. Surely, some time must’ve passed. You glance down at the stack of papers, now noticeably shorter. You’ve been working, haven’t you? You rub your eyes and look back up.

8:00 p.m.

A chill runs down your spine. You work faster, your fingers flying across the keyboard. Page after page, report after report, you type with increasing desperation. You glance at the clock again.

8:00 p.m.

Your breathing quickens. Panic bubbles under the surface as you stare at the clock, willing it to move, begging it to shift even one minute forward. But the hands remain frozen, locked in place as if mocking your efforts.

The office grows darker, the fluorescent lights dimming until the only illumination comes from the eerie glow of your computer screen. The pile of papers on your desk grows larger, taller, towering over you. The sound of the clock ticks in your ears, though its hands remain still.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

You try to get up, but your chair won’t move. Your legs won’t move. The reports keep appearing, one after the other, the numbers on the page blurring into incomprehensible shapes.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

You slam your hands against the desk, desperate to escape, to stop the unrelenting monotony. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The ticking grows louder, pounding in your skull like a heartbeat.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Your eyes snap open.

The sound of your own breathing fills your ears as you stare at the wall, disoriented. The soft hum of the TV reaches you, a comforting background noise compared to the oppressive silence of the dream. Your body feels warm, a blanket draped over you and a firm yet gentle surface under your head. It takes you a moment to remember where you are—and who you’re with.

You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, your breath still coming out uneven. Your head feels warm and cushioned, and when you glance up, you see N’s glowing, concerned eyes fixed on you. His hand rests gently on your shoulder, a steadying presence that pulls you fully back into reality.

"You were breathing really fast," he says softly, his usual cheery tone tempered with worry. "I detected an elevated heart rate and thought it might be best to wake you. Are you okay?"

His words take a moment to register as you process where you are—still in your living room, the TV murmuring faintly in the background, and the blanket he must have placed over you tucked snugly around your shoulders.

"Y-yeah," you murmur, your voice hoarse from sleep. "It was just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about."

N doesn’t move, his hand staying where it is as he tilts his head. "Are you sure? It looked like you were… uh, struggling a lot. I didn’t want you to feel alone in it."

That simple, earnest statement catches you off guard, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You hadn’t expected such care from him—he’s a drone, after all. But the warmth in his voice and the gentleness of his touch feel unmistakably human.

You clear your throat, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks, N. I mean it. I’m okay now… I think."

He watches you closely, his gaze unwavering. "If you need anything—anything at all—I’ll help. You’ve been really nice to me, so… I want to make sure you’re okay too."

The sincerity in his voice chips away at the lingering tension in your chest, and you manage a small smile. "You’re too good at this, you know that?"

N brightens immediately, the concern in his expression melting into his usual cheerful demeanor. "Good at what?"

You chuckle weakly. "Looking out for people."

"Well, it’s what I’m made for!" he says with a laugh, though there’s a hint of pride in his tone.

"Yeah," you reply softly, glancing away. "I guess it is."

For a moment, the room falls silent, the nightmare already fading from your memory as you focus on the here and now. N’s presence, as odd as it still feels, is undeniably comforting.

The shrill buzz of your phone vibrating against the coffee table jolts you fully awake. You squint blearily at the screen, wondering who would be calling at this hour. Then you notice the faint light seeping in through the curtains, painting the room in soft, early-morning hues. It’s not that hour anymore—it’s morning.

Groaning, you grab the phone, grimacing when you see “JCJenson Corp” emblazoned across the screen. Of course, even on a Sunday. You swipe to answer.

“This is… me,” you say, voice thick with lingering grogginess.

“Good morning!” chirps a way-too-cheery voice on the other end. “This is Maggie from JCJenson Drone Operations, Experimental Testing/Monitoring, Order Fulfilment, and Gift Card Balance. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

You pause, suppressing the urge to ask why corporate thinks Sunday is a reasonable time for business calls. “Uh, kind of? What’s this about?”

“Well, we only needed one full day of testing, and pending the return of all the forms we gave you, there’s no need to keep the drone any longer. You’ll need to return it, along with the company truck, as soon as possible.”

You blink, her words taking a moment to sink in. “Wait, what?” you sputter, sitting upright. N, who had been quietly observing from the couch, perks up at your sudden movement.

“We only required a single day of observation,” Maggie continues, as if you should have known this. “It’s standard protocol for these kinds of field tests. The unit will be reassigned for further evaluation elsewhere.”

It feels like the floor just dropped out from under you. You glance toward N, who’s still watching you, his ever-present smile making the conversation feel heavier than it should. “You want me to return him? Today?”

“That’s correct,” Maggie says, her tone all business. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

You open your mouth to argue, to point out that this is one of your two precious days off, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you exhale sharply through your nose, your shoulders slumping. “Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll get it done.”

“Wonderful! Just make sure everything is returned in the condition it was delivered.”

You barely catch her goodbye before the call disconnects, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence, the phone still in your hand.

“You okay?” N asks, his tone a perfect blend of curiosity and concern.

You hesitate, looking at him, at the way he’s already adjusted to being part of your space. Part of your routine. You’ve only had him for a day, but the thought of sending him back feels… wrong.

“Yeah,” you say finally, forcing a small smile. “Looks like we’ve got to take a little trip today.”

N’s eyes brighten. “Ooh, where to?”

You grimace, avoiding his gaze as you stand and start gathering your things. “Back to corporate, we’re done with your testing.” you say, your voice quieter than you intend.

“Oh,” he says simply, though there’s no disappointment in his tone—just the usual warmth. “Okay! I’ll help pack up!”

You nod stiffly, unable to meet his glowing gaze. "Thanks."

As you move to get ready, a small knot forms in your chest. It shouldn’t feel like this, you remind yourself. It’s just a drone. Just a machine. But deep down, you’re starting to wonder if that’s really all there is to it.

N hoists the crate into the truck bed with ease, his movements smooth and precise. You watch him work, feeling the growing pit in your stomach. The crate is just a box, sure, but imagining N inside it for the long drive back feels wrong.

“Hey,” you call, stepping forward as he finishes securing it with a set of straps. “You’re riding up front with me.”

N turns to you, his glowing eyes widening in surprise. “Really? I thought I was supposed to go back in the box!”

You grimace at his wording. “Yeah, well… seems kind of cruel, doesn’t it? You’re not luggage.”

His smile broadens, and for a moment, you almost forget he’s a drone. “Thanks! I’ve always wanted a window seat!”

You shake your head, chuckling softly despite yourself. “Sure, knock yourself out- Not literally.”

The two of you climb into the cab, and N immediately starts fiddling with the seatbelt, managing to buckle it up without your help. You glance at him as you start the engine, trying to remind yourself that this is just another job. A task completed, a box checked. Nothing more.

The road stretches out ahead of you, the morning sun bright but not blinding. N hums softly, his head turning as he takes in the scenery passing by. You grip the steering wheel a little tighter, trying to ignore the strange feeling gnawing at your chest.

“So, what’s it like working for JCJenson?” N suddenly asks, breaking the silence.

The question catches you off guard. “Uh… it’s a job, I guess,” you say, your tone flat. “Pays the bills.”

“Sounds exciting,” he says cheerfully, oblivious to the sarcasm in your voice.

You glance at him, biting back a snort. “Yeah, thrilling stuff.”

He turns to face you, his digital eyes glimmering. “You don’t seem excited about it.”

You sigh, focusing on the road. “Let’s just say I’m not big on corporate nonsense.”

N tilts his head, considering your words. “But you’re really good at what you do! You’ve been nice to me, and you’ve done everything JCJenson asked you to. Isn’t that something to be proud of?”

You blink, his earnestness catching you off guard again. “I mean… sure. I guess.”

But even as you say it, the knot in your chest tightens. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s being genuine or because you don’t entirely believe him.

As the miles tick by, you try to focus on the road, on the task at hand. You’re returning the drone, doing your job, and that’s that. Nothing else to it.

So why does it feel like you’re leaving something behind?

As you drive in silence, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat, N suddenly perks up, his digital eyes lighting up as he points out the window.

“Look!” he exclaims, practically pressing his face to the glass.

You follow his gaze to a brightly colored sign outside a pet store: “Golden Retriever Puppies Available Today!” The display window even features a large cutout of an adorable, smiling puppy surrounded by bright paw prints.

“Can we stop and look?” N asks, his voice filled with childlike wonder.

You blink, caught off guard by the request. “What?”

“Please?” he says, turning to you with a hopeful grin. “Just for a minute! I’ve never seen a real Golden Retriever before, and they look so cool in videos!”

You open your mouth to say no, ready to remind him that you’re on a tight schedule, but the words don’t come. You glance at the clock on the dashboard. What’s the harm? You’re ahead of schedule, and it’s not like there’s a specific time you were told to return him.

You sigh, turning on your blinker and pulling into the small parking lot. “Fine. But just a minute.”

N claps his hands together with glee. “Thank you!”

As you park, you can’t help but chuckle softly under your breath. It’s not like he’s going to take one home, after all.

The two of you step out, and N practically bounds to the front of the store, his enthusiasm infectious. You follow behind, the knot in your chest loosening just a little. For now, you let yourself enjoy the moment.

The bell above the door chimes as you and N step inside the pet store. It’s a cozy little place, filled with the faint scent of wood shavings and pet food. A young attendant behind the counter greets you with a polite nod but quickly does a double-take when they spot N.

Before you can say anything, N gasps so loudly you swear it echoes through the entire store. His digital eyes widen to their full brightness as he spots the pen of Golden Retriever puppies near the front window.

“Oh my circuits! They’re real!” he exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement. He stumbles forward, nearly tripping over his own feet, before dropping to his knees right in front of the enclosure.

The puppies, a squirming mass of golden fur and floppy ears, immediately crowd against the glass to greet him, tails wagging furiously. One particularly adventurous pup presses its tiny paws on the glass, trying to get closer to the new arrival.

“They’re even cuter than the videos!” N squeals, clutching his cheeks as if he’s going to short-circuit from the sheer overload of adorableness.

The attendant, who has been staring this whole time, glances at you with wide eyes. You shrug helplessly.

“He’s… uh, very enthusiastic about dogs,” you explain, though even you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

“I can see that,” the attendant murmurs, watching as N gently places his hands on the glass, his grin as wide as you’ve ever seen it.

One of the puppies starts to chew on the corner of the glass, and N leans forward, speaking softly to it. “Oh no, little buddy, that’s not food. I’ve made that mistake before! But don’t worry, I’d totally get you some snacks if I could!”

You cross your arms, unable to resist laughing under your breath. For a worker drone designed for corporate tests, he’s surprisingly… alive.

N continues to marvel at the puppies, his neon eyes practically sparkling as he gently taps the glass to watch them follow his movements. One particularly energetic pup yips at him, and he responds with an equally enthusiastic, “Yip!” as if trying to communicate.

It’s oddly endearing, watching a fully mechanical drone interact with such pure, unrestrained joy. You lean against a nearby display, letting him have his moment, but as minutes tick by, the sense of time starts to weigh on you.

“N,” you say softly, not wanting to ruin the mood but knowing you have to.

He glances back at you, still kneeling on the floor. “Yes?”

“We’ve gotta get going,” you explain reluctantly. “Corporate’s expecting us, and, well… we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

The shift in his demeanor is subtle but noticeable. His shoulders sag ever so slightly, and his fingers, which had been gently tracing the outline of a particularly curious pup, lower to his lap. Still, he manages a smile as he stands up, brushing off his knees.

“Of course,” he says cheerfully, though there’s a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “It wouldn’t be very responsible to make you late. Thank you for letting me see them!”

As you turn toward the exit, the attendant offers you a polite wave, still watching N with a mix of curiosity and mild confusion. You step outside, the bell chiming behind you.

Before you get in the truck, you glance back at N. His gaze lingers on the pet store window for just a moment longer before he turns to follow you, his usual bright smile back in place.

Sliding into the cab, you start the engine, the warmth of his gratitude making the bittersweet ache in your chest just a little harder to ignore.

The massive warehouse looms ahead, a cold, impersonal monument to corporate efficiency. The hum of machinery and the distant beeping of forklifts fill the air as you pull into the shipping department's parking lot. With a heavy sigh, you kill the engine and glance over at N. His ever-cheerful expression hasn't faltered for a second, but you can feel your own mood souring as the reality of the situation sets in.

You’re just about to step out of the truck when your stomach drops. There, behind the wheel of a forklift, is him.

Brad.

The bane of your workday existence.

With his bleach blonde hair, mirrored sunglasses (despite being indoors), and a perpetual smirk that makes you grind your teeth, he’s somehow managed to embody every bad stereotype rolled into one human being. At this exact moment, he’s weaving the forklift back and forth, clearly more interested in showing off his so-called "drifting skills" than in actually doing his job.

"Hey, look who's back!" Brad calls out, spotting you as you step out of the truck. His voice carries that infuriating surfer-bro drawl that immediately sets your teeth on edge. "And who's the new guy? Your little robot buddy? Man, JCJenson sure hands out the fancy toys these days."

You can feel your fingers curling into fists as you try to keep your expression neutral. "Good to see you're still pretending to work, Brad."

"Oh, come on, dude." He flashes a grin, spinning the forklift in a lazy circle. "You know I bring the vibes. Anyway, lemme help you unload. Wouldn’t want you to, like, throw your back out or anything."

The fake concern in his voice is almost enough to make you reconsider the ethics of workplace violence. N steps forward before you can respond, his usual brightness undimmed.

"I’d be happy to assist!" N chirps. "It’s the least I can do after being such a fortunate passenger!"

Brad stares at him for a beat, then bursts into laughter. "Oh, man, this guy’s hilarious! You sure you’re not just keeping him as your personal assistant?"

You clench your jaw and mutter under your breath, "Just get the forklift, Brad."

He shrugs, still chuckling, and hops back onto the machine. As he drives it toward the truck, you glance at N.

"Sorry about him," you say quietly.

N tilts his head, his neon eyes flickering with confusion. "Why? He seems... enthusiastic."

You shake your head, letting out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. That’s one way to put it."

You lead N inside, his digital eyes scanning the warehouse with curious precision. Brad quickly unloads the empty crate from the truck, thankfully too preoccupied with his task to make any further commentary.

Once the crate is out of the truck and placed off to the side, you pull the manila envelope from your jacket pocket and hand it over. "Here. They told me to give you this."

Brad takes it with a mock salute, holding it up to the light like he’s just been handed classified documents. "What’s this? My promotion? Finally making me CEO?"

You roll your eyes. "Just make sure it gets to whoever’s in charge of shipping. I’m not sticking around."

Brad grins, tucking the envelope into his back pocket. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’re always such a ray of sunshine, y’know that?"

You turn away before you say something you’ll regret, only to find yourself face-to-face with N. He’s standing there, that same cheerful glow in his eyes, looking at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"I suppose this is goodbye," you say awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. The words feel heavier than you expected. "Thanks for, uh... helping out."

Before you can say anything else, N steps forward and pulls you into a tight, almost overwhelming hug.

"Thank you!" he says brightly, his voice buzzing with unfiltered gratitude. "You were amazing! I couldn’t have passed my performance review without you!"

You freeze for a moment, caught completely off guard. His grip is strong but careful, as though he’s worried about hurting you. Slowly, you manage to pat his back, unsure of what else to do.

"Uh... sure," you mumble, your face heating up.

He pulls back, still beaming. "Really! I mean it! You’ve been so kind, and I hope—" He pauses, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I hope I did a good job. For you."

You blink at him, your heart doing an odd little flip. "Yeah. You did great, N."

His smile widens, and you can’t help but feel a pang of something—loss, maybe—as Brad clears his throat loudly behind you.

"Alright, cyberpunk lovebirds, hate to break it up, but I gotta get this paperwork sorted."

You shoot Brad a glare, but he just winks and hops back onto his forklift.

Turning back to N, you manage a small smile. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

N nods, still glowing with happiness. "I will. And you too! I hope we get to see each other again someday."

You don’t have the heart to tell him that’s probably not going to happen. Instead, you give him one last nod before heading back to the truck, trying to ignore the ache that’s settled in your chest.

You take the truck back to the employee parking area, return the keys to the front desk, and make your way across the lot to your car. It’s still exactly where you left it Friday morning—tucked in the far corner of the employee lot, just outside the reach of the buzzing overhead lights.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you start the engine and let it idle for a moment, your thoughts drifting back to the weekend. N’s cheerful voice, his enthusiasm for the simplest things, his almost absurd knack for making even the most mundane tasks feel less tedious—it all swirls in your mind like the remnants of a dream.

You pull out onto the road, the radio humming faintly in the background as you let your mind wander. Drones. Machines. That’s what you’ve always thought of them as: tools to get a job done. You’ve filled out countless reports cataloging their defects and malfunctions, shredded documents detailing horrifying incidents with cold precision. It was always clinical, impersonal.

But N? He wasn’t just a tool. He was… something else.

The way he smiled when he saw those puppies, the way he looked genuinely proud after completing a task, the way he thanked you like it actually mattered. It all felt so human, and yet undeniably not. You try to shake the thought, reminding yourself that he’s just a drone, a prototype designed to pass some performance test. But it doesn’t quite stick.

The drive home feels longer than usual, the city’s usual chaos passing in a blur. When you finally pull into your driveway, you sit there for a moment, staring at your front door.

It feels different somehow.

With a sigh, you step out, trudging inside and kicking off your shoes near the door. You toss your keys onto the counter and head for the living room, sinking into your familiar armchair with a groan.

The house is quiet, as it always is, but tonight the silence feels heavier. The living room, so often your sanctuary of solitude, feels strangely empty now. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen is the only sound, but even that doesn’t fill the void.

Your eyes drift to the couch, and you can’t help but imagine N sitting there, flipping through that book with careful precision or watching one of those sci-fi movies with that bright, fascinated grin.

You rub your eyes and lean back, trying to push the thoughts away. This is how it’s always been—just you, your armchair, and the quiet.

So why does it feel like something’s missing?

A soft chime pulls you out of your thoughts, your phone vibrating against the armrest. You sigh and pick it up, expecting some useless promotional email or spam, but the sender catches your attention: JCJenson Corporate.

With a sense of dread settling in your chest, you open the email.

Subject: Unauthorized Use of Company Vehicle

Dear Employee,

Our records indicate that during your temporary assignment with Prototype N-0X0010010, the company truck was driven 0.01 miles off the authorized route as logged by the GPS tracking system. Per company policy, this deviation incurs a 20% deduction from your next paycheck.

Sincerely, JCJenson Accounting

You stare at the screen, reading and re-reading the email as the words sink in. Twenty percent. For a detour so insignificant it wouldn’t even register to a human. Of course, the truck’s GPS tracker had caught the stop at the pet store, and of course, corporate wouldn’t waste a second penalizing you for it. Brad’s insistent reminder now echoing in your mind.

"Figures," you mutter, tossing your phone onto the coffee table with a little more force than necessary.

It wasn’t even your idea to stop there. N had been so excited at the sight of the puppies, and… well, you’d thought there wouldn’t be any harm in it. The memory of his delighted squeals and the pure joy on his face almost makes the deduction sting more.

You sink further into the armchair, staring blankly at the ceiling. Was it worth it? Losing a chunk of your paycheck just to indulge a drone’s curiosity?

The answer comes almost immediately, and it surprises you.

Yeah. It was worth it.

Corporate could keep their money—you couldn’t bring yourself to regret that moment of genuine, unfiltered happiness, even if it had been for a machine.

With a defeated sigh, you pull out your phone and order another pizza—pepperoni again, because why not? It’s not like you’re in the mood to get creative. As you wait, you shuffle to the couch and turn on the TV, scrolling aimlessly through YouTube. After a moment, you settle on another video about dogs.

Golden Retrievers this time.

The video starts with the same cheerful narration as always, showing clips of playful pups running through fields and wagging their tails. You chuckle at a particularly goofy one tripping over its own ears. But as the video goes on, you can’t help but notice the quiet.

It’s not like it wasn’t always quiet. You live alone—this is your norm. But somehow, it feels different now.

The memory of N sitting cross-legged on the carpet flashes through your mind, his bright eyes fixed on the screen as he peppered you with questions. You remember the way he tilted his head, utterly fascinated, or how he practically glowed at every mention of Golden Retrievers.

You glance over at the empty space where he had sat, the realization sinking in: you actually… miss having him around.

The doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts. You shuffle over and grab your pizza, tipping the delivery driver and closing the door without much fanfare.

Sinking back onto the couch, you open the box and take a bite, but it tastes… flat. Like you’ve lost your appetite halfway through. The video continues to play, showing more adorable dogs, but you can’t focus. The room feels too big, too empty, too quiet.

You sigh, placing the slice back in the box. Maybe it’s just the weekend catching up with you. Or maybe, just maybe, a part of you isn’t ready to admit how much you actually enjoyed N’s company.

With a sigh, you grab the remote and shut the TV off, the screen going dark and leaving the room eerily silent. You close the pizza box, deciding you’ll just put it in the fridge and deal with it later. The taste didn’t hit the same anyway—not that it mattered much.

After stashing the box away in the fridge, you take one last glance at the empty living room. The armchair sits untouched, the carpet free of packing peanuts, and the couch feels too big without anyone else there. Shaking your head, you flick off the light and retreat to your bedroom.

Tomorrow’s Monday, which means it’s back to the grind at JCJenson. Back to your desk, your spreadsheets, and the endless stream of reports. Nothing to look forward to, just another routine day like every other.

But as you climb into bed, the thought lingers: this weekend wasn’t routine at all. It was chaotic and strange, sure—but it was also something more. Something that, despite everything, you found yourself… missing.

You bury your face in the pillow, letting out a muffled groan. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Work waits for no one.

#murder drones #murder drones x reader #murder drones fanfic #murder drones headcanon #murder drones n #murder drones n x reader #serial designation n

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orionabovethehorizon · 3 months ago

Text

When Your Pride is on the Floor, I’ll Make You Beg for More

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4k

Characters: Will Graham x Will Graham (brief mention of stagman)

Setting: Hannibal’s office, season 2 episode 8: Suzukana

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE thoughts of necrophilia, canon typical violence, canon typical religious themes, choking kink, autoerotic asphyxiation, blood kink, blood consumption, creampie, cum swallowing, p in v, obsessive and possessive behavior and thoughts, pain kink, light foot fetish if you squint, ftm character

Summary: That one scene where Hannibal asks if Will still wants to kill him and Will says he’d do it with his hands, except Hannibal continues on with his unconventional therapy and tells him to do it

NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH but it’s considered

Author’s note: my first work in this fandom 🙏🏽 Beta’d by @siffrin-enthusiast and a mutual of mine on a different platform, sorry !

Tell me if I should tag any other content warnings please 🫶🏽🫶🏽

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59147416 pls boost 🖤

“Tell me, how would you do it?”

Will, who despised eye contact, was unrelenting in his stare, his expression offering nothing. “With my hands.”

Hannibal seemed… pleased. Like he enjoyed the concept of Will trying, because he could overpower him easily. Or, perhaps actually excited by the prospect of letting Will overpower him. Given the look on his face, Will’s eyes dropped to Hannibal’s crossed legs and, not for the first time but having never allowed himself to entertain the train of thought, wondered if it was to hide.

His own stomach always coiled whenever he spared the time to fantasize about killing him, as Hannibal worded it. Though it would only make him more confused by all the different layers to their dynamic, it wouldn’t be surprising if Hannibal often felt the same. Or maybe Will was just mirroring back Hannibal’s own desire due to his empathy.

Anyways, there was a challenging lift of his eyebrows as Hannibal adjusted in his seat. Will didn’t know what to expect but it certainly wasn’t, “That sounds promising.”

There it went. A volcanic churning in his lower belly.

“Are you asking me to?” Will inclined forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands. Feeling a revolting twinge of excitement in his gut. Fingers twitching incomprehensibly at the need to grab.

“Should you find yourself in need of relief when it comes to the resentment you feel toward me, I must inform you that therapy sessions are precisely the place to do as such. It only serves to be doubly beneficial to you that your psychiatrist is the very source of your resentment. My job is to allow you to work through your emotional turmoil however you may need, so long as I am still alive by the time the hour we share has commenced. And you are well aware, intimately so, that I am unorthodox in my methods and willing to go much further than most.” No grin is evident on his face, but it is audible in his voice, and Will wants to reach out and suffocate him right now.

Will pushes himself to his feet, and it is not lost on him that Hannibal’s schooled expression of stoicism is an act. It does not falter at all, not even once, but he knows.

“I don’t want to kill you anymore, Doctor Lecter,” he hums as he rounds beside the black chair opposite his own. “Not now that I finally find you interesting.” The words practically purred out of him. The empath notes how Hannibal’s eyes trail him intrinsically and watches them sparkle—fucking glitter—as he reaches out to delicately card his fingers through tamed, aging wheat-blond hair and begins to unlatch his belt buckle with the other hand.

There’s a minuscule but disemboweling lilt to the killer’s lips while he gazes up at the man gifting him such a soft touch, and Will finds himself wondering when the last time Hannibal had that even was, and more, if he was the only person Hannibal would allow to coddle him. A lack of hesitation or questioning indicated requisition; how long had the monster yearned for this fairy tale?

That didn’t make it any harder to do what he did next.

The gentleness steeled into brutality when Will curled his fingers into a fist, slid his belt from the loops, dropped it to the floor, and grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder to relocate him to the same location the abandoned leather fell to.

Besides the huff of oxygen forced out of him in a rush, the man now beneath him gave no sound or other evidence of being phased. Even his eyes held no contempt; a bit of surprise, sure, and heat akin to the amber color of his irises as he watched the fabric of Will’s deep blue button-up slowly drift open. He didn’t dare move. Not when both sides of his shirt fluttered apart like curtains framing a window pane, and beyond the glass lie a glimpse of a secret regarding Will’s identity: two pale, thin, well managed scars cutting beneath each pectoral. Not when Hannibal realized that he would be receiving the full reveal of said identity as the younger man above him undid both the button and the zipper of his slacks.

If he moved, this might end before it begins.

So, while his eyes may have widened marginally, and his lips parted slightly in place of his jaw hanging, Hannibal laid there, watching, waiting, drinking it all in. Sketching this angle of Will in his mind to reproduce on paper later.

If there were even to be a later. Given where this seemed to be going, Hannibal now found himself very much open to the idea of perhaps falling homicide victim to Will’s darkest whims. It wouldn’t be the most dignified way to go, but it was certainly his most appealing threat thus far.

A good way to torture him would be to let him think this was going where he currently assumed it to be, only to kill him just before doing so. But when he scented the air, the thick, sweet, foggy thunderstorm that was Will’s arousal rushed his senses, growing stronger when pants and boxers alike were pulled down to bundle atop his shoes which he bent to unlace and remove, and he doubted the occurrence of such a punishment. This was accompanied by the stark, jagged waves of Will’s anger, ebbing away only to crash forward again on the rocks.

His beloved experiment and patient smelled of nature, but not in your typical way. Will didn’t smell like he had been outside, Will smelled like he was Nature herself; every feeling he experienced slotted with a different state or disaster, even. Right now, a rolling evening storm on the beach. Without any fabric between Hannibal’s nose and Will’s sex, his state of excitement struck down into his diaphragm and splintered throughout the bronchioles of his lungs like forked branches of lightning, thrumming in his chest and making him feel light, warm, electric.

"Will," he puffed out into the stifling, heady silence, dragging his eyes along the full length of his newly exposed body. The parted halves of Will's dress shirt maintained the barest sliver of his modesty and Hannibal dedicated the full power of his creative capabilities to completing the picture within his mind. As he laid there, pushed up on his elbows but otherwise stagnant, to now observe the way that Will kicked the pile of shoes, pants, and underwear at his feet off to the side, the killer set it all to memory. Once he had the time and space to himself to disappear into his mind palace uninterrupted, he would chisel a marble statue of the personified deity hovering over him now to preserve and revere. Again, and again, and again, until the very ground beneath him conformed to mold around the steady weight and pressure of his knees in their unwavering devotion.

Will’s eyes shadowed with a dark sheen of something primal. Something that made Hannibal’s person suit run cold and warm at the same time. The profiler smirked, sized him up, pausing at the no longer shieldable tent presenting itself at the crotch of his dress suit pants.

So, he had been trying to hide, just as suspected.

Curiously, the heel of his foot came down on the bulge between Hannibal’s thighs. Not hard, or malicious, barely even a press of contact. And when the recipient of said action groaned and spoke his name again, Will laid his toes over the man’s lips, still socked and all. Shushing him, with a gentle but sarcastic level of chastisement.

“None of that,” he scolded, clicking his tongue and ever so slightly shaking his head. “I believe you’ve said quite enough. I want you to be quiet. Do you understand?”

Hannibal was far too preoccupied with the spinning of the room. His cock swelled to its full potential so quickly that the southbound rush of blood had rendered him dizzy. His eyes were glossy, hazed over, and heavy lidded. He bit his tongue to the point that copper flooded his mouth when Will emphasized his question once more, doubly as stern, and used his foot to push Hannibal’s head to nod.

After Will stopped moving his foot, Hannibal continued the nod of his own volition to signify his agreement.

The satisfaction in those raucous blue eyes would have made the cannibal more offended had he not wanted this. Prayed for this in whatever capacity he could receive it, despite having lost his faith long ago.

He could have bitten them off. But he wanted this. No matter how his pride bristled at his current treatment. Could he truly have expected Will to be any other way?

No longer balancing a fraction of his body weight on Hannibal’s jaw, Will returned to his previous stance—one leg positioned at either side of Hannibal’s hips. It distantly dawned on the Lithuanian that he could see Will’s entire lower half, he wasn’t wearing a packer around his hips, and he tossed an askance, curious look over to the pants and boxers abandoned beside them to find that his counterpart had the custom underwear that came with a built in pouch for one to sit within. His fingers twitched towards them; suddenly, the want—no, need to smell them was so intense that it was practically electrifying.

But Will, ever studious, ever predatory, noticed this slight movement and this time it was his other foot to move and find its mark on Hannibal’s wrist. Uncomfortable. More demeaning even than having an arm, or arms, pinned down by his hands. Honestly, quite a fraction humiliating.

Just like the foot on his mouth had been.

And yet.

The frantic rise and fall of his chest was nearly animated in its dramatism, but it was very, very real. Their eyes, fire and ice, two different and completely incompatible elements of the earth, met in the middle with the same sharp, daring, scalding glare and held steadfast. Even as Will returned to his previous position once more and then lowered to his knees entirely, straddling Hannibal’s thighs and working at the fastenings of his dress pants while never even conceding to so much as a blink. Will, insistent on having the upper hand for once. Hannibal, knowing he had already succumbed and doing his inflated (deflating) ego one momentary final service before finally bidding it farewell and looking away.

For the first time in history, fire melted, and ice won.

“That’s it, Doctor Lecter,” Will enunciated slowly, and despite the airy atmosphere of patronization, Hannibal allowed the cheap praise to wash over him like a baptism. There was a physical, outward shiver that jittered through the body of the killer beneath him from the chill of such a thin, shallow compliment, and Will allowed his baneful smirk to present itself. “Let me have this,” he finished. At the same time as he’d successfully gotten the cock before him to spring free, expensive fabrics bunched haphazardly at Hannibal’s hips. And the man—no, the monster, stayed silent to such a disgrace.

He was behaving so well. The ache within him then was indiscernible between emotional yearning, or physical.

Either way, he knew how to fill the gaping emptiness within him right now; he was staring directly at it after being freed to do so by Hannibal’s surrender in their staring contest. Could it even be called that? Such a title made it seem so… juvenile, when this was anything but.

Though, when Will righted himself, raising higher on his knees with a dry and calloused palm wrapped around the fattened, flared base of the erection standing before him (at full attention despite receiving hardly any contact at all, the profiler did not miss that little detail), there was a horrifying flash of a moment where he felt much like a fumbling teenager, seeing, touching, fucking for the first time. Felt out of his depth with Hannibal. Hannibal, of all fucking people- no, Hannibal, of all fucking things.

His monster wasn’t even human. Will could, and would, take from it whatever he damn well pleased, thank you.

That in mind, Will Graham properly aligned himself, slicked the head through the arousal currently dampening his core, and sunk down in one fell swoop. He fell forward to shove a hand over Hannibal’s mouth and catch his upper body weight there just in time to cut off a catastrophic moan right as it began to crest out of him. Will didn’t want to hear how good it felt for him. Didn’t want any evidence that this could be for anyone but himself. His head hung low for the count of five deep breaths while he adjusted to accommodate such a stretch, dark curls shielding the pinched expression on his face from the magmatic color and heat of Hannibal’s eyes that would singe all his resolve if contact was made.

The hand he’d used to position himself found the wrist he’d already pinned before, and Will nearly blacked out when Hannibal brought the other up to lie beside it, held.

Once the lines of his face smoothed, with a cautionary rock of his hips, Will’s breath punched out of him at the first pleasant nudge of the cockhead within him doing its job—providing a service as a victory and a distraction. Then, again, his lungs stuttered and constricted when he finally allowed his gaze to find that of the creature he sat upon, whose skin turned as black as an inkwell to the quill it would likely use to account this interaction on paper later, only to return to its original golden tan hue after Will blinked it all away. Temporarily closing his sensitive eyes to what he saw in the ones below him.

Love.

Something deeper, and darker, and more twisted than that; an amalgamation of obsession and divinity and devotion, of hunger and carnality and despair. But, in simpler terms, the look in Hannibal’s eyes was love. This openness did not falter even when Will’s touch slid from smiling lips down to his throat and snatched it like a vice.

It was like looking in a mirror. One that he’d shattered with his fist. One that he’d covered with a torn sheet.

And Will loved Hannibal so much that he could kill him. Just to keep him to himself for all eternity. He would get to live with the knowledge that he was the last one to see, hear, touch, the person that he was in love with. It would make Hannibal his, forever. Momentarily, he considered it. The man was so pliant beneath him right now, staring up with red eyes rimmed with more adoration than pain, willing him to do whatever he pleased so long as he wanted it, and Will thought of visiting a grave with flowers every day and fucking himself senseless with Hannibal’s preserved fingers every night. It was as if a frenzy had triggered within his mind, and the thought of Hannibal no longer being alive to torment him as he had, but still being Will’s possession, was addictive. But… well, the cock within him twitched and he knew the warmth would be missed.

Hannibal wasn’t allowed to feel that way about him in return, but Will Graham knew it was far too late to draw that line between them. There wasn’t even space enough for a line to be drawn at all. In fact, they were stitched together much like the mural he’d been consulted on.

“Being so fuckin’ good for me, darlin’,” Will purred smoothly, southern accent laying thick, in place of complimenting Hannibal’s endowment as he wanted to. Why would he praise something he was taking for himself? He’d rather gloat about Hannibal surrendering and allowing Will to take this from him, restrained and balancing on the line between consciousness and not.

Speaking of restraints, the killer began fighting loosely against the hold on his wrists. Will genuinely considered slapping him so fucking hard his head snapped off to the side. Right after commending how well behaved he was? Temptation overtook, though, and Will slackened up his grip on Hannibal’s wrists while tightening it on his throat. Curious, wondering if he would fight back, flip them over, shove Will off; return the favor and choke him, perhaps.

There wasn’t enough time to bite back the moan that bubbled up when, rather than anything defensive for himself after nearly being killed, all Hannibal did was grab Will’s hips and press them down as far against himself as he could. Sinking in as deep as possible. Didn’t even bother with the hand around his neck.

“Feels that good, huh, Ripper?”

He emphasized his words with a slow circle of his hips, and reveled in the way Hannibal’s head rolled and his top lip drew back in a snarl, nails biting into Will’s soft skin. Warmth rolled down his outer thighs, indicative of blood. Which attributed to the warmth between them as well.

His monster beneath him was nodding his head, or at least something as closely resembling it as he could, considering Will’s hold was so tight now that his lips began fading into a slightly blue tone. Using his knees as leverage to push himself up, until Hannibal was nearly slipping out of him, his own lips twisted into a cocky grin when he sank back down and the only sound the man could make was a strangled whimper that was clearly supposed to be some kind of moan. Undignified, honestly bordering on pathetic because of who the sound was coming out of. Fingers tore down his legs and left bloody trails in their stead, and Will took the hand that had previously been pinning Hannibal’s wrists and slid his fingers along the new wounds to tap them against the paling lips. Before accepting them to suck, he was trying to verbalize something, starting with a kuh sound, and judging from the look on his face and the pulsating within his core, Will assumed it was either ‘close’ or ‘condom’… neither of which he could give a fuck less about right now. So, he just smirked wider, forced his fingers between his teeth, and went back to moving atop him. Dropping his head back as his swollen little cock ground against Hannibal’s pubic bone and left a sticky mess of arousal behind. The lips around his fingers and tongue sliding against them planted a glorious idea in his head.

When Hannibal drives his hips upward in a sharp thrust, Will releases his throat at the exact same time, and he nearly cums with him when he hears the pure depravity of the sound that leaves the cannibal as he sucks in air. Once his lungs are satiated, he begins imbuing the name of his patient over and over incessantly with each pulse, each shot of ejaculate that Will coaxes out of him with as much grace and intensity as bullets. His hands are slipping around on Will’s thighs because of the blood, his hips are stuttering from the overwhelming ecstatic bliss of tumbling over the edge so early, and the profiler is eating it all up. He wishes he could carve this moment into Hannibal’s skin down to the very detail, no matter how minute or insignificant it seemed, and strip the doctor any time he deemed fit to remind himself of this encounter and get off to it. The pinch of his brows, the curl of his upper lip that closely resembled a snarl, the way he was clawing at his legs, this was his monster.

There’s a slight tremor to Will’s thighs that he needs to mask when he dismounts the stag recovering below him.

Hannibal’s words are gravelly and grated practically beyond recognition due to the torture his throat endured when he asks, through heaving but slowly evening breaths, “Did you finish as well?” A question that a man hardly asks without already knowing the answer. And the sinful depth of Hannibal’s abused voice sends a tsunamic wave of arousal crashing over Will in a way that has his dick throbbing, begging for friction. He thinks that if this is how Hannibal sounds after he tries to strangle him, that he is going to have to do this much more frequently, and wonders distantly if he’ll ever be able to cum in the future without hearing it again. Considers that, and doubts it.

And surely, Hannibal would not object to whatever physical attention he offered. Especially if it ended like this. The doctor was well-guarded but his weaknesses had become obvious and Will could exacerbate them.

Fair is fair, after all.

Even Steven.

“Nup,” Will replies simply; relishes in the shameful tinge of pink that dusts over Hannibal’s already flushed face when his eyes lower. “Got me a solution for that, though.”

His country accent is still rearing, and he hardly notices it in the moment but to Hannibal, it’s completely dizzying. He watches intently, now back to not saying a word, waiting for whatever it is he can do to remedy such a massive inconsideration on his part. Oxygen is coming easier now, and yet the tension has his breath wavering.

Will stands, and for an agonizingly centurial second Hannibal thinks he’s going to leave, that he was so unsatisfactory that Will is going to take care of it himself and abandon him as a sweaty, sticky mess on the floor of his office to mull over the events and missteps of tonight. But then his feet plant themselves coolly on either side of Hannibal’s neck, and he lowers himself to hover above his chest momentarily, watching realization dawn on the powerful man lying so pliant below him. His eyes narrow scrutinizing but he does flash him a genuine, scintillating grin, full of teeth and desire and hatred and adoration and secrets. The blood stretched between them, the blood on them now, and the blood yet to come.

“Think it’s time you ate yourself for once,” he drawls, dipping a finger into the mingled wetness between his thighs and smearing it from his own lips to Hannibal’s, though both found at opposite ends of their respective anatomies. “Hmm?” He asks, like he’d even take a ‘no.’

The cannibal goes so far as to draw the finger into his mouth (once again) and pull it between his teeth—a sure risk for Will, but not so much as the one he was about to take—to lave his tongue over it and clean the mess. He honestly makes a show of wrapping his lips around it and the way he works his mouth around the intrusion; how his eyes threaten to roll back at the taste of them together, including the lingering tang of sweet pennies from where there had previously been blood on the same finger.

Hannibal nods, moving Will’s hand along with the movement of his head, eyes so intense in their direct contact that it sets the room on fire, and Will retracts his finger. He wrenches that same fist in ashen blond hair, tugs it back to position himself directly above it, and in a doting voice laced with thinly veiled condescension he instructs Hannibal to take a deep breath. Then he sits. Not really caring if the distribution of his weight or lack thereof makes it hard for Hannibal to breathe. He got a considerable break, far too long for Will’s liking even, and the enslaving saccharinity of the destruction a lack of oxygen impacted on his voice would likely have Will stirring Hannibal’s cock again to coax him into round two.

Maybe it would circle around and around all night in an endless loop. Or maybe Hannibal would suffocate.

Oh, well.

If he died, Will would keep it cycling anyways. He wouldn’t stop just for morality’s sake. And Hannibal’s Last Meal would be the one he most desired: Will.

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the-masked-reviewer · 5 months ago

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Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief Comparison

Book v. Show

What Changed

There are jokes in the book that are completely left out and never even alluded too. The episode named “We take a Zebra to Vegas”, shows you multiple animals that the smugglers are transporting, none of them being a Zebra. They kept the book’s corresponding chapter name but not the actual Zebra.

The show’s focus is more on Percy and Annabeth and their relationship, but in order to accomplish that, they pushed Grover into a more side character position making it far harder to see Percy and Grover’s relationship as the platonic soulmates they are.

The books show Gabe’s behavior in fairly subtle ways, mostly through Percy’s internal dialogue and not through direct scenes with Gabe. I think the show actually did a pretty good job at showing just how bad of a person Gabe is, though they did leave out a few scenes that would’ve helped. I don’t think changing the way Gabe turns to stone really does anything other than take away Sally’s revenge and make a dumbass die by cause of being a dumbass.

Celestial Bronze is explained early on in the book at the same time most of the basic general knowledge of demigod life is explained to Percy and the reader. However in the show, they don’t even tell you this is a material that exists until the fifth out of eight episodes, taking away both Percy’s growing knowledge of his new world and the importance of the material.

In the books, Percy describes when he meets Hades like, “He was the third god I’d met, but he was the first that really struck me as godlike” (pg. 309) but the show introduces him as a weird fruity twink. It just takes away all the power the man is supposed to hold. He is literally the King of The Underworld and he is shown as a guy I don’t think anyone could ever reasonably be afraid of Even when Percy describes Dionysus, the first god he meets, “He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life” (pg. 70-71). It’s clear that these beings have an aura and could never not have a large powerful presence. But here Hades, the King of The Underworld, is just a guy. Comparing the two descriptions from the book makes it so clear how powerful Hades is supposed to be if compared to the visions of death and people turning into dolphins doesn’t register as godlike.

The show never once tells the audience what Tartarus is, not even after Percy and Grover are nearly dragged into it by Luke’s flying shoes. There was never any real foreshadowing for Luke or parallel to him a Percy until later in the season where you get flashbacks to Luke and Percy training. At that point it feels more like an afterthought to add in the evidence that it’s been Luke the whole time.

The show lets the audience witness scenes we’ve never gotten the chance to see before, and I can’t understate enough how much I love that. Getting to see Grover and Ares both attempt psychological warfare on each other in a dinner is peak Percy Jackson. However, the way the show is written takes away the audiences ability to truly see just how smart Percy is.

One of the changes I actually ended up liking far more than I thought I would initially was the change in the number of pearls the gang is given. By being given four pearls it shows that Poseidon not only cares for Percy and is watching him as he goes through life, but that he also truly cares for Sally.

The flashbacks are some of my favorite scenes. They’re written so well, and are great at taking advantage of the visual story telling techniques you have when you make a television show.

Not wanting your show to have a very exposition heavy introduction is understandable, but the show’s way of working around this problem is to put information right before or during the thing that’s being explained is happening results in a very exposition heavy, slow show where your characters, in this case Percy, are completely clueless at worst. For example, the gang not only knows but has a plan for facing Procrustes. The audience does not get to see the gang making this plan, just them executing it, having Percy explain to Procrustes (and the invisible audience) who he is and why he’s bad. This isn’t the only example of explaining things for the audience, like when they go over the entirety of Hephaestus’ story and his relationship with Aphrodite when clearly both characters in the scene know the story. The information these 12 year olds (Grover is technically 24 yes, but in human years he is also 12) is just inconsistent. They know who Medusa, the fates, Hephaestus all are, and yeah I’d honestly kind of hope they would. But they also know Crusty’s whole story, and details about how monsters hunt and generally act? Echidna literally spelled out who she was before the gang was able to figure it out (they then seem to understand perfectly how the Chimera hunts while simultaneously not knowing what kind of monster it is). Yet they seem to not only know but be intimately familiar with Crusty’s entire mythos.

When the gang is traveling with the animal smugglers, the book audience learns these guy are not good people from the description Percy gives of the inside of the truck and how the animals are treated, whereas the show has Grover tell Annabeth and Percy “the men driving this truck are not nice people” (Episode 5, 4:35). This would’ve been such an easy moment to take advantage of the media they are using and tell us this visually in the same way the book did.

The fact that the gang knows what kind of situation they are walking into practically every time does more than just take away the surprise. It takes away the viewers ability to try and predict what’s happening because it has already been explained. And what’s worse is it takes the tension away from the story. Without impending unknown doom, and always having a plan may paint your characters, primarily Annabeth because she is the one who always knows and makes plans, as smart and prepared but it also takes away most of the stakes and point of the story.

A lot of the story stayed mostly the same, and details and deliveries changed the most. But two of the changes that bothered me the most were the lack of explaining what Riptide even is and its importance, which for a show that likes to explain everything is awfully surprising, and how they decided to turn Gabe to stone.

Why Change it/Care

Dialogue is an important thing in storytelling, obviously. But there are some things that work better when shown. You don’t need to explain out loud all of the “you’re ___”s and “This is how your story goes.” In order to tell an interesting story you have to get a balance of dialogue and showing the story in order for it to be interesting. You have to trust the audience to figure out what isn’t explained.

The Thrill Ride O’ Love scene is one of the best examples of being to reliant on dialogue. Instead of letting the beautiful animation play out and leave the viewers using their brains to figure out what’s happening (which isn’t very hard, the animation is done wonderfully and tells the story of Hephaestus brilliantly) they have Percy telling the story over the animation (and “what is love” which is a crime of its own) and narrate the story. This is especially annoying because the only other person witnessing this (aside from invisible audience) is Annabeth, who’s been the one in the gang who knows and explains everything. I already don’t like how they’ve been using the “Athena’s kid” and “six steps ahead” things as Practically all of Annabeth’s character traits, but in this instance it’s only the two of them and Percy is telling the story. Who is he supposed to be explaining this too other than the viewer, Annabeth clearly knows the story too.

The flashbacks are so well written that while rewatching they kept tricking me into thinking the show wasn’t over explaining what was going on and was instead letting the story do all the heavy lifting. Then of course it would cut back to the current story and I’d be reminded that the flashbacks were in fact the exceptions and not the rule in this shows case.

The heavy exposition, read just straight up telling the viewer what’s going on, was used mostly in the side adventures and for world building things to do what feels like an attempt at saving time. While exposition is usually used for basic world building things, it wouldn’t have taken any more time to have so many of those things be shown visually. There are places where it may have added time but the show’s episode lengths are inconsistent and range from having content in anywhere from roughly 27-40 minutes depending on the episode, so even if there was a time increase from doing things visually there’s space to shuffle things around and make consistent episode full of visual story telling.

In the notes I took for this project I only used the word “explains” nine times to cover the entirety of the book. In the first three episodes of notes alone I used “explains” 14 times. Meaning, in less than half of the show something is explained 1.5 times more than the complete book.

Sometimes you just have to trust the audience to understand what is happening in the story. I understand media literacy is going down (which is an insane fact given how much media people have access to now) but if you continue to talk down to them, they obviously aren’t going to learn how to figure it out themselves. I know “kids show” and all that, but if the kids who read the book were able to understand, and love, the story without it being almost all exposition, why would they not get it when it’s in the form of media they do know and consume now?

When adapting a story, it’s expected that things get cut and altered to fit the new media and really take all the advantages of that media to show pieces of the story that wouldn’t have worked in the original source. But in the case of Gabe turning to stone, it’s only talked about and isn’t actually in the book. Where in the show you show Gabe turning to stone but make it something he brought upon himself. It would not have taken more time or been any harder to have Sally take care of Gabe like we know she does. They could’ve shown her doing it, or followed the books way and only show the outcome. It is astounding how hard they worked to not have the story play out visually in visual media. This feels like the show version of the “highlight everything, if it wasn’t important it wouldn’t be included” mindset.

I understand the source material is a first person book, so everything is in the form of dialogue or internal monologue but you’re working with visual media, everyone doesn’t need to always state what is happening.

Needing to condense and simplify the story to work for the form of media you’re in is the whole point of adapting. It’s supposed to take advantage of the different things you can do that you couldn’t do in the original form of media. Having people explain what things are and what’s happening is definitely something that could happen in a book, but it didn’t happen in The Lightning Thief because it doesn’t make for a good story. So why would doing that in visual media make for any better of a story?

Is it Good

The build-up to the show was full of Rick promising it would be far more faithful then the [REDACTED] movie. All that press really helped get everyone excited because the fandom, much like Rick himself, hate the movies and how much they changed the story. Then the show comes along and repeats the mistake of the movies in different ways, a fact made all the more worse with everything Rick had promised. The show is more faithful to the books then the movies, but that isn’t a very high bar.

I’ve seen a few people mention that they should’ve made the show animated, with the main reason of character congruency since real life people obviously grow up. A thing made more obvious with the timeline most streaming shows end up taking. And while that probably would’ve been a better show, I think if they had just treated this like a real television show and made it on a classic (read mostly outdated, unfortunately) timeline it would’ve ended up a much better, more consistent show. There were also the points of special effects and the gods all looking better animated, which again they would have, but if done right, would look especially good in live action. I mean imagine watching a real Percy Jackson come face to face with a well-designed, perfectly intimidating Hades, and it all looks as real as they can get with CGI.

A friend of mine, who had to put up with my ramblings about this the whole time, said “As someone who isn’t a dedicated fan of the books and just read the first book for 6th grade English… I can’t say anything about the show as an adaptation but as its own thing, I’d honestly say it was between ‘ok’ and ‘great’ and I think the fanbase deserves better than halfway between ok and good”.

The flashback with Sally and Poseidon talking about Percy and Poseidon just being there to support her does so much. It’s easily the best scene in the entire show, and my favorite, hands down. The final episode of the season let the story work. It’s probably my favorite episode, even if I don’t like how they ended up handling Gabe. Since it’s a post-credit scene I’ve decided to not let it affect this.

The behind the scenes documentary was a chance for me to step back and look at the whole show not just all those tiny details that drive me crazy. Solidifying that the only real complaint is the writing, which is important, because the acting, set design, casting, direction, just everything except parts of the dialogue are so good. It isn’t even all the writing, just the over explaining. It’s one of those things where everything was set up to be perfect but one tiny thing didn’t hold it’s weight and tainted everything else.

The frustrating thing is I don’t think it’s the show (or even Disney) that’s at fault for why it wasn’t great. I think this is just the direction tv media (and all visual media) has been heading towards. If they had more time for the story, they would’ve been able to show us the in between moments and more interactions between our characters. The documentary really shows how much everyone working on it, both in the cast and crew, deeply care about the project. The way everyone talks about their work in the documentary make it so clear how much love and care went into to show. I’m more mad at the industry and streaming corruption making the show into what it was then the show as a whole.

It feels like the show version of not planning out where to write you letters on a poster. You start out all big and bold and slowly everything just gets more and more squished.

It’s a good show, and I did enjoy it. But it didn’t stand up to the expectations that were built up for it. Those expectations were so high, primarily because of Rick continuing to say it’ll be close to the book, and the knowledge that he was involved and hates the movies as much as the fans, gave me, and all of us, hope for the story. Then we got the story and while it wasn’t hugely changed, it was still fundamentally different. The moment I found out how long the show’s season was going to be, I knew it wasn’t going to be quite what I wanted or what it deserves to be because so much would have to be cut and/or altered to fit.

read all here <prev 2 next>

#percy jackson #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #the lightning thief #pjo series #PJO #pjo tv show #pjo criticism #annabeth chase #grover pjo #Dionysus pjo #hades pjo #disney pjo #pjo movies

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jaywalkers · 7 months ago

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hiii i recently finished reading sunset like survival (it was so so so fucking good. epic. amazing. is living in the most inner part of my ribs being cradled gently !!!!!!) and i was v bewitched and fascinated by how u handled andrew choking kevin and the consequences in each subsequent loop ! the guilt andrew felt and anger as well towards kevin for not like idk defending himself properly ? (sorry if that’s the wrong word) say no basically . the way kevin assumed their deal was broken bcs andrew hurt him and the betrayal suffocating him GOD ,,,,,,, and how they grew from it just wow wow wow laying at the bottom of ur feet looking up at u in wonder rn !!!!! i could FEEL the choking incident hovering above the two of them like a cloud and to see it resolved in a way that didn’t quite erase it entirely but allowed them to perhaps move on from it ? truly stunning ,,,,

did u have any specific thoughts on why u chose it to be a major focal point during the loop, ur thoughts on how it was handled in canon ( the way it was moved on from ? treated humorously) and anything else rlly that comes to mind ? also i love all ur writing sm <3 the way i’m able to immerse myself in ur fics and see the way u breathe life into these characters is beautiful. truly. ily 💖

ah! first of all thank you so much for not only reading s,ls, but also for loving it as much as you did! it's always such an honour that people took time to experience the gender-crisis fuelled monstrosity that is timeloop au even two years out.

to answer your two questions: (under a cut bcs she's LONG)

i don't like how it's handled in canon, and while i accept it and love to see other people's takes on it (how it is/isn't in character, that it proves/detracts from kevins role), i personally think it's out of character for andrew and is a point of no return for the kandreil dynamic that i love.

the baltimore scenes are the inherent breakdown of the kandreil dynamic; by the end of tkm, it's wildly different to how it was at the start of the novel and not in a way that serves kevin's character well (or even andrew, really). with andrew and kevin's deal percived to be broken and all neil's secrets out in the open, there's no need for kevin to be a part of that dynamic when it comes to the character-driven plot, only the moriyama narrative. andreil become the most prevalent dynamic, and kevin is detatched — shut out, really, right before the apex of his character arc. neil and andrew base their following opinions of him based on his choices during baltimore and give him little further choices.

during/following the choking incident, as seen in kevin and andrew's tiff on the court a few chapters later, andrew wants kevin to prove that he can stand up for himself without andrew's help — maybe to justify breaking the deal off on his end, or out of frustration with kevin. what he doesn't understand is that kevin has a formal relationship with violence, especially as a punishment. he won't — he was groomed not to. that ultimately leaves them at an impasse until kevin gets his tattoo, part of his character narrative that neil and andrew for once are not there to witness because they've excluded him from their inner dynamic by this point in the plot.

so why did i posit it as a major focal point in the loop?

first of all, i'd already decided to set it in the baltimore 'arc', and within that for kandreil in canon there are two key events that influence the rest of the plot, and in my mind the loop happens because these two events are so out of character for the universe that they warp reality. and those two events are:

neil dying (kidnapping)

andrew choking kevin

ergo — both of these things need to be fixed to fix the loop. the loop in my opinion does actually help facilitate that second one, because for kevin and andrew to help neil they cannot be at odds. kevin and andrew's pov's are first because they cannot fix neil's problem without first fixing their own, and that has always been the one of equal standing between them.

andrew wants kevin to stand up for himself and kevin wants to not be afraid. similar things but different at the core of them. the loop forces them into close proximity — kevin is always near andrew's hands and andrew is always near the reminder that he hurt someone who did not deserve it. bridging that is a way of andrew learning that he can relearn trust, and kevin learning he doesn't have to forgive to stop fearing something.

also the loop allows andrew to see that kevin wasn't withholding information because he doesn't care about neil — he was withholding it because he cares about neil. kevin sees that andrew hurt him not because he doesn't care about kevin, but because he was so blinded by fear for neil. it puts them eye to eye and forces them to put things out in the open at a pace that suits them, with a static environment they can't escape. i don't like the choking scene — but it lends well to forcing andrew and kevin to air all their other grievances alongside it.

i hope this all makes sense!!!!!! again thank you thank you thank you for reading it and loving it and engaging in it so fervently! s,ls is a fever dream of a fic but i do dearly adore it and im so glad someone wanted to hear me character dump for a few hundred words about it <333 get off anon so i can kiss you on the lips

#asks+answers #sunset; survival #my fic #tfc

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years ago

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One for the money, two for the show

AN: So this was a request from @gayhopefullove

Ok maybe only fans star Natasha Romanoff x oy fans star Steve Rogers . Maybe Steve contacts Natasha for a collaboration and when ever they meet they decide to make a video with Dom bottom Natasha and sub top Steve. I'm not good with plots. But can you include her squirting in him multiple times and he has a mommy kink. I'm thinking she also ties him up or something.

Sorry it took me so long, but I hope you enjoy this PWP!

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard/banner by me

Master list

Relationship: Subby! Camboy Steve Rogers x Soft! Mommy! Domme! Camgirl Natasha Romanova

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: Lots of smut. Exhibitionism (cos it’s an Only Fans style ‘verse), Grinding, Squirting, Oral (F receiving), Face sitting, Multiple Orgasms (for F) Hand job with sex toy, Edging (for M) Protected P in V sex, massive Mommy Kink.

When his subscribers had first brought up the idea of a collaboration, Steve wouldn’t say he’d been against it. He was more sceptical that someone as successful (and hot) as Natasha Romanova would even entertain the idea. Which meant it was a bit of a surprise when he was shuffling through his DM’s, and there, in between the outrageous propositions and hate mail, was a message from the woman herself.

It turned out she agreed with both his and her subscribers and, having reviewed his content, thought they could come up with a scene that would be mutually beneficial. Steve’s schtick was the wholesome, golden boy next door/boyfriend experience. He’d make his subscribers feel like the most important person on the earth as he talked them through their orgasms while touching himself.

“You’re making me feel so good, baby. Look at what you do to me. I hope you love it as much as I do. Wanna make you feel good too. Fuck!”

Natasha, on the other hand, had a different persona. The diminutive redhead was domineering, egging on her followers with degradation and commands, ruling over them like a queen to be worshipped.

“You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you? Getting all messy, just for me. But don’t forget, you can’t cum before I do. You want mommy to feel good first, don’t you?”

Steve was very obliging, and Natasha liked to be obliged. There was no reason why it shouldn’t work. So Steve agreed to a meeting with her, attempting to tell himself that it was just professional curiosity that was getting him excited…

He was a bag of nerves, even though he shouldn’t be. He kept telling himself that it was just work, and while at least part of his brain knew that, the other part, along with his dick, was just taken with how hotter Nat was in person. They’d met the first time to check for chemistry and then a second time to work through ideas for the scene. It hadn’t taken Nat, as she preferred to be called out of character, long to identify that Steve had a praise kink a mile wide.

“It’s cute, Stevie.” She patted the back of his hand and tried to suppress a mischievous smile as his cheeks flamed pink. “Never be ashamed of your kinks. And it’s good to know it’s not put on. Means we can get real reactions and make it really good for the viewers.” She walked her fingers further up his forearm and leaned forward so that her lips almost brushed his cheek. “And you wanna be a good boy and do your best, don’t you, Steve?” She sat back with a giggle as Steve choked on a mouthful of saliva.

They’d discussed other kinks, soft and hard limits, and set a date, and now the time had come.

Steve had arrived at Nat’s loft twenty minutes early and had wasted some time walking around the block. As she liked to use more toys for her videos, they’d agreed it would be easier for him to come to her. He had his ‘business’ backpack slung over one of his shoulders which contained his stash of condoms, lube, a change of briefs, a towel, a water bottle, snacks, and his favourite textured stroker. The last had been at the request of Nat; she wanted him to use something of his own that he was comfortable with.

With only a few minutes before their allotted meeting time, Steve jogged up the steps of Nat’s building and rang the buzzer. Nat’s sunny voice came through the speaker, loud and clear.

“Come on up, Steve!” She pressed the release button, and the front door opened. Shrugging his backpack up higher, Steve walked through and made his way up the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. When he got to the top, he was only slightly out of breath, thanks to his regular workout routine.

Nat was waiting for him at her door, a long red silk robe wrapped around her petite frame. Steve tried not to think too hard about what she might have on underneath it; he’d find out soon enough.

“You ready, big boy? Let me show you the setup.”

She turned, her robe floating out and allowing him a look at her strong legs, and strode across her apartment as Steve hurriedly entered, closed the door behind him, and toed off his sneakers.

The whole place was open plan, the large bed up on a short dias and beautifully made up with plain white linens.

“So, I’ve got one camera here, sideways pointing to the bed.” She gestured to the small camera on its stand. “And I’ve got another one here, just by the headboard.” Steve nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. In their discussions, he’d told Nat that this was his first collab. He hadn’t been in the erotic video scene that long - he’d only entered into it after some comments by his friends and a couple of exes had made him think that there might be some money in it. It turned out that Nat had done a few collaborations, but she was exceedingly picky. That knowledge had made Steve’s chest puff up.

“Umm, looks good. Where’s the bathroom? I just wanna freshen up. And I’m gonna start like this, aren’t I? He waved his hand at his skin-tight jeans and white t-shirt.”

“Yes, I think so. Very “All American Good Boy”, don’t you think? Just lose the socks.” Her scarlet-painted lips twitched up and the corners, making him smile as well.

“Absolutely. Back in a moment.”

Steve was true to his word, just taking the few minutes he was in the bathroom to compose himself as well as prepare himself. He did wonder if he should touch himself briefly, get his cock halfway there for the cameras, but just imagining what exactly Nat had in store for him - she’d said she liked to keep an element of mystery, but it would all be inside the bounds they’d discussed - was enough to start him chubbing up.

He walked back out, trying to inject a bit of swagger in his step.

“Where do you want me, Nat?”

“Just sit there on the bed and look cute. I’m going to turn on the cameras, and then from that point on, remember that I’m Mistress or Mommy. Whichever you prefer. Okay, Champ?”

Steve nodded, feeling a little light-headed about the fact that this beautiful woman was about to domme him. He couldn’t wait! He made his way up the small step and settled himself on the bed, facing towards the main camera, which Nat was switching on and focusing. He stashed his condoms, lube, and stroker under the pillows for easy retrieval and then the red ‘record’ light came on, and Steve made sure that now his eyes were firmly fixed on her lithe form.

Nat moved from behind the camera, making her way closer and closer to Steve with feline-like grace. As she did so, she undid the knot on the belt of her robe and let the red silk fall from her shoulders like water off a cliff. Steve’s reaction was all real, his eyes going wide and his face flushing as he took in the black leather bra and panties that looked painted onto her body. The contrast between her bright red hair and lips, milky white skin, and lingerie was striking, and it took all of Steve’s willpower to keep his hands on the bed. He knew he wasn’t to touch her until invited.

“Hey, Stevie.” Nat’s voice was a purr, and Steve gulped, his cock twitching inside his jeans. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

“Yes.”

One of her finely arched eyebrows rose as she looked down at him.

“Yes, what, baby?”

Steve’s eyelids fluttered at her tone, excitement rising within him.

“Yes. I’m going to be a good boy for you, Mommy.”

Nat smiled, dark and predatory, and cupped his cheek with her small hand. Steve found himself nuzzling into it instinctively.

“Take your shirt off then. Show me what you have hidden under there.”

Steve forced himself to take it slowly for the camera when all his body wanted to do was strip naked as quickly as possible for the goddess in front of him. The soft fabric dropped to the ground, and Nat stepped closer, wedging her body between Steve’s denim-covered thighs. Her hands ghosted over his chest, covered with a light sprinkling of golden hair, her palms oh-so-lightly brushing his small pink nipples, and Steve let out a pleasured sigh.

“You sensitive, Stevie? So responsive.”

Nat bent over and pressed her lips to Steve’s, one perfectly manicured hand sliding up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. She gave a slow tug, making Steve tip his head back, and she deepened the kiss, her lips pushing his apart and her tongue darting in to claim him. When he let out a whimper, Nat abruptly broke the kiss, pushing his head away.

“Take off your jeans, sweet boy, and then lie down on the bed. Mommy wants to take a ride.”

Steve did as she asked, letting his pants pool by the side of the bed, and then scooted backwards so he could lie down on his back. He watched Nat climb up onto the bed, body full of grace as she moved over him on all fours until her thighs straddled his hips. She lowered herself so that she was sitting right over his cock, and it was at that moment that Steve realised that her panties were split crotch. The only thing now separating them was the thin layer of his boxers.

“Oh, fuck!” The exclamation left his throat involuntarily, and his hands fisted into the sheets.

Nat smiled and placed one of her hands back on Steve’s chest. Then she started to rock against him.

“Just stay still for me, baby. Let me use you to get myself off. Mmmm, feels good.”

Steve watched as Nat palmed at her breast over her bra with her free hand, the fingers of the one resting on him curling, nails digging slightly into his flesh. His cock was so hard under her, and he could feel his underwear getting damp from her arousal.

“Please, can I touch you? You’re so pretty.”

Nat gasped as a particularly forceful rock nudged her clit over the tip of his cock.

“Yes, Stevie. Take off my bra and play with my tits. I want you to worship them.”

Steve sat up, hands going behind Nat’s back, and easily finding the clasp. He pulled the leather from her body to reveal her breasts, rosy nipples puckering as the cool air hit them. With a groan, Steve latched onto one with his mouth and the other with his hand. Nat gave a sharp inhale, and her hands went to Steve’s head, holding him in place as his tongue laved over one breast and then the other. She continued to rock, getting faster and grinding down harder as her orgasm approached.

“Such a good boy for me, gonna make me cum. You’re gonna make Mommy cum, baby. Oh God! Yes!”

Nat shuddered against him and he felt the gush of her release soaking his briefs and, dear lord, he almost came then and there. She continued to rub against him, her movements becoming jerky as she worked herself through the aftershocks. When she finally came back to earth, she looked down at Steve with a grin, easing his head away from her chest. Steve knew he must have the most dopey look on his face.

“Mmmm, I’m gonna have fun with you. Do you think you can give me more orgasms? I bet you’ve got a talented tongue. Do you wanna make me cum with it, Stevie?”

Steve couldn’t lie flat fast enough, his hands flying to Nat’s hip and trying to drag her up his body. He wanted to bury his face in her wet heat, feel her cum all over him. He let out another needy whine. She chuckled at his enthusiasm and allowed him to manhandle her, settling her over his face.

“Sit on me, please. Need to feel you, Mommy.”

“Music to my ears, baby.” She let her weight drop, and Steve was in heaven. His fingers gripped her thighs as he was enveloped by her musky scent. He thrust his tongue out, slotting it through her folds to find her clit. He started to tease it as she rocked on his face. Steve glanced up to find her gripping the headboard, head thrown back in pleasure.

“Oh, that’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck!” A small shift of her hips and Steve had moved Nat so that he could slide his tongue deep into her pussy and nudge his nose across her throbbing bundle of nerves. He delved into her, using his tongue to taste every part of her he could reach, getting pleasure from Nat receiving hers. Her moans filled his ears like the sweetest song, and her juices filled his mouth like the sweetest ambrosia. If he died now, he’d be a happy man.

Nat came again with a cry, flooding Steve’s face and mouth with her cum. He lapped up as much as he could, swallowing it down, his hands urging her hips to move more, wanting to wring every ounce of ecstasy from her body.

“Yes, Steve! Yes! Yes!”

A second wave hit her, Steve could feel her tremble and tasted another gush of cum, and he moved to suckle on her sensitive clit again, looking up at her from between her thighs. She looked both wrecked and goddess-like, and there was a swell of pride in his chest from making her feel this way.

Nat’s movements slowed, and Steve took that as a sign that he should stop and allow her to recover her equilibrium. Holding her with his strong hands, he rolled, gently depositing her on the bed next to him, closest to the camera.

“Kiss me, baby. Let me taste what you did to me.” Her voice was breathy as she tried to regain control of her lungs. Steve cupped the back of her head reverentially and pressed his lips to hers, letting her control the depth and intensity of the kiss. His cock, still clad in his sodden briefs, rubbed up against her thigh, reminding him how hard he was. Nat’s hands skimmed his body and started to push the fabric away.

“I’m gonna help you feel good now, sweet boy.”

Steve kicked his underwear off as Nat reached under the pillow, retrieving the bottle of lube and then the stroker. She squirted a healthy dollop inside the textured silicone tube and then took hold of Steve’s rock-hard dick. She gave it a few strokes, a twinkle in her eye as Steve let out a moan at the touch of her soft fingers.

“All of this for me? My, my, what a lucky girl I am. Now, listen carefully. I’m going to touch you, gonna give you what your want, but if you want a shot at fucking Mommy’s pussy, you won’t cum. Understand?”

When she squeezed her hand around him, Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He was already on a hair trigger, but he knew he could do it. He had too, and not just because of how good it would be for the video. He wanted to please Nat, and he wanted that ultimate reward. He opened his eyes again and looked right at her.

“I understand, Mommy. I can do it. I can do it for you.”

With a smile, Nat slid the stroker down Steve’s cock, then giggled at his sudden indrawn breath.

“Ohh, you do like that, don’t you?” She drew her lower lip between her teeth as she ran the stroker up and down him while he rested on his shaky knees next to her. His hands were palm down on his thighs, and he looked down at her through hooded eyelids as she worked him. Darts of sensation shot through him, and he couldn’t hold back the sounds that had been trying to escape him, which only seemed to spur Nat on more.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear those noises. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“It’s so good, Mommy. So good.”

“Yeah?” Nat stopped moving her hand, and Steve whimpered. “Fuck yourself into my hand. But remember, don’t cum. And don’t stop until I tell you.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded vigorously and snapped his hips, the tip of his cock sliding out of the end of the stroker. Nat lent forwards and let a string of saliva fall onto it. “Mommy!” Steve thought he was going to implode. His hips moved faster, the pleasure building. He was imagining rutting into her warm pussy, imagining how good it would feel. He needed to hold back, he needed to not cum, because he so wanted that chance, but it felt so good, and Nat hadn’t told him to stop…

“Nat! Mommy! I’m so close. Please! Can I stop? I don’t wanna cum yet. Don’t wanna cum like this.”

“You wanna fuck Mommy, baby? Wanna fill me up with this big cock of yours? Suck on my tits and cum inside me?”

Steve was light-headed from her words and the images in his head. “Yes! Yes! I want that, please! Please, can I stop?”

Nat didn’t respond with words but instead pulled the stroker off of Steve’s weeping dick without warning. His hips stuttered at the loss of sensation, and he gasped. Nat threw the toy to the side and settled back down on the bed, arms and legs wide, inviting him between them.

“You’ve earned it, baby. Fuck me til I cum again, and then you can cum. You can do that, can’t you?” Nat stroked her hand down Steve’s cheek as he settled on his knees, leaning over her. He kissed her then, with fierce passion, and she wound her arms around his neck. Steve snagged a condom from under the pillow and rolled it on with practised ease before letting himself sink into her.

His eyes almost rolled back in his head as he felt himself be enveloped by her, by her warm softness. His hips came down to rest in the cradle of her pelvis as he started to move. Nat lifted her legs to wrap around his narrow waist, locking her ankles together and pulling him even further into her, even as she broke the kiss.

“Play with my tits, baby. Wanna feel you suck on them.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked twice, trailing his mouth down her throat and back to the wondrous peaks he’d worshipped earlier, his arms wrapped around her body as he thrust into her like a man possessed. He’d almost forgotten he had to get Nat to cum first, but luckily his angle and the associated friction, along with her sensitivity, helped him out.

“That’s it, Stevie. Just like that. Keep going. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!”

When she started to spasm around him, Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven, wishing he’d been able to do this without the condom between them. He wanted to feel her warm cum soaking his cock, actually feel her without the thin but necessary barrier.

“Can I cum? Please, can I cum?” He knew he was whining, knew he sounded utterly pathetic, but he needed it now. Needed to find ecstasy within the clutch of her body. Nat pulled his face back up to hers and kissed his lips and jaw and neck, fingernails digging into his shoulders as bolts of pleasure continued to wrack her body.

“Yes. Cum for me, baby. Give Mommy your cum. It’s all for me, isn’t it?”

Steve knew she wanted an answer, but he was incapable of speech as he finally let go of the tenuous hold he’d had on his body’s control.

He came hard.

Harder than he had in any of his solo vids.

Harder than he had when playing alone in the privacy of his own room.

He was cumming, and cumming, and for a moment, was worried he’d completely flood the condom. His hips bucked, and his head was buried in the crook of Nat’s neck, the feeling of pleasure almost completely overwhelming him.

It took a few moments to realise that he’d stilled, Nat petting his hair and talking sweetly into his ear.

“Shh, baby. That’s it. That’s it. You’ve been such a good boy for me today. It’s alright.”

But all Steve could think about was how he’d really like to do this again, but next time, without the cameras.

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